Dirtha'vhen'an

by Hannehier

Summary:

I live forever, eternally alone,
Or leave my loved ones in life,
And find a filled eternity in death.
But in the end, this life will be cloaked in heartbreak,
Either mine or theirs.
*
*
*
When Saeris dies in her own world, she starts anew in the next one. Thedas. She’s there, and knows about nothing but that she is changed for ever, and will be so forever. Waking up in the Blessed Age, she ventures through forests, cities, countries, dreams and time itself, all the way up to the Dragon Age, to find out who she really is, and what curse holds onto her that makes her wander for eternity. Can she change her fate? Can she come to love and let go?

Or will she destroy everything.

*OLD CHAPTERS HAVE BEEN UPDATED*

Notes:

So, this is my first fanfiction. I played all the Dragon Age games multiple times on different consoles, read almost all fanfiction there is to read. And yes, I'm totally into that damned Solavellan Hell!
Now, this is the first time I write and post a fiction like this. So please be kind, I'm learning. English also isn't my first language, I have a beta (the best there is, nerdsaretotallyawesome), but if you find any mistakes, please tell me :)

I'm not a one shot writer, I want to create something big, lasting. I want this story developing over a long period of time, so many chapters will hopefully ensue.

Quick disclaimer: I don't own anything Dragon Age related, this is just a fanfiction. All the characters belong to Bioware, just not the main character I created myself.

Chapter 1: Blessed

Notes:

Updated 9/12/2024

“Death smiles at us all, all one can do is smile back.”

— Marcus Aurelius

 

***

Do you believe in fate? That everything happens for a certain reason? Do you think that there’s a road already created for you to walk on? Is there a greater being that decides things? And if so, are the choices you make real choices then? Do we have a choice, a voice, in our own lives? If not, maybe that then would be better since there are no good or bad choices because they are already made for you? You are not responsible. 

But what if everything’s a coincidence? A compilation of random situations that result in something good or bad? What if there isn’t a road, and you have to make it yourself and all the good or bad choices are your own responsibility? 

There are many questions one could ask in life—or in death. 

I remember never asking one of them, not even thinking about it. Who’d think someone as young as me would die? It’s not like I did anything life-threatening: didn’t do any dangerous sports, never travelled anywhere dangerous, didn’t rush into things… No, I was as normal as can be, as safe as can be. 

One day, it happened though. Like it would for all of us. Only sooner than expected. Death. 

But I didn’t just up and die. It grew, slowly, insipid. But it did have a beginning—I think—it started when I was about twenty-three years old. 

My friends wanted to celebrate something, I don’t even remember what. It’s been so long. 

We went to a new nightclub. There was music—of course—and alcohol. Neon lights flashed through the packed rooms, people squirming against each other. 

A man pushed himself against me tightly. I don’t recall his face, but I remembered I liked it. My hair stuck to my face, my body gliding against his. He grunted deeply, his hands caressing my sides, up to my stomach, where he held me against himself as we moved with the music. 

I turned around and lifted my chin, my mouth to his lips. Hot breath streamed into my mouth. But when I opened my eyes dreamily, I remember bright emerald eyes staring back into mine. I stopped moving then. Heart stilled. His hands grew colder and his grip tightened even more. His eyes. There was something wrong with his eyes. Then, his wet lips parted from mine and he said something to me. 

Suddenly, I was able to move again. I turned away and sprinted to the bathrooms. Girls shrieked as I pushed them aside. 

‘Hey, there’s a line!’ Someone called. 

I heaved myself over one of the sinks and vomited. Only blood came out. Dark, clogged, red. 

I had danced with death himself that night, I think. 

It only went downhill after that. Doctors couldn’t understand what was causing my illness. But it spread. It took years, and I slowly wasted away. Radiation, chemo, drugs, anything. It wasn’t cancer. It wasn’t anything anyone had ever seen before. 

My body was fighting against something. But it was only a matter of time. 

Describing how dying feels like, isn’t something I like doing. But here it is: it doesn’t feel like drifting off into a deep slumber. It doesn’t feel like going into the beyond, where it’s warm and cosy. It feels cold. Silent. One moment, I was still in the hospital bed. My mum was sitting next to me, her eyes watery but strong. My father kept on whispering my name as if it would keep me in this world. My older brother didn’t cry or say anything at all, he just held my hand, as by saying I wasn’t alone. But in the end, I was. Everyone is alone when they die. 

In truth? It was like switching off the lights in your room, or blinking your eyes when you go to sleep at night and the next moment it’s morning. But morning never came.

***

Pain was the first thing I felt. Blistering, sharp, and alive, it gnawed at every corner of my awareness. Then came the weight—the sensation of being pressed into the earth, as though the world itself sought to reclaim me. My chest heaved, dragging air into lungs that burned like they hadn’t been used in an age. I shouldn’t be able to feel anything, right? I was dead. I was dead. I remembered it clearly—the sickness, the sharp ache in my chest, the cold creeping up my spine. The way my breath had rattled, slowing to nothing. So why was there this pressure under my fingertips? Why could I feel the cool, rough texture of stone beneath my hands? 

My heart pounded in my chest, steady and strong, as if waking from a long sleep. Confusion surged through me, followed by a spike of fear. I forced my eyes open, blinking against the sudden brightness.

Green. 

A canopy of green above me, the tops of trees swaying gently in the breeze, their leaves shimmering as sunlight filtered through. The air was thick with the scent of earth and moss. The damp grass that peeked between the stones beneath me caressed my cheeks like my mother just did a moment ago. I pushed myself upright, groaning as I felt the muscles in my arms tremble. That was strange, too. I hadn’t felt strength like this in years. The illness had drained me of everything, leaving me brittle and weak. Yet, as I moved now, I felt... solid. Whole.

I glanced down at my hands, half-expecting to see the pale, thin fingers I was used to, the skin stretched taut over knobby bones. But that’s not what I saw.

My skin was smooth—a warm ivory instead of the sickly pallor I’d grown accustomed to. My hands looked... elegant. Strong. I turned them over slowly, a wave of unease creeping through me.

This wasn’t my body.

The wind picked up slightly, blowing through my hair and pushing it to my face. I touched the strands and looked down. My hair that had once waved over my frame, my hair that had fallen off due to the radiation, had now returned, curling softly around my long fair fingers.

Strange , I thought to myself. It used to be strawberry blonde, but now it’s… white? 

Heart racing, I scrambled to my feet, half-stumbling as I took in my surroundings. Ancient stone ruins rose around me, overgrown with vines and moss, crumbling but still standing tall in places. The ground was uneven, littered with fallen branches and scattered stones, the remnants of something long-forgotten. I spun in a slow circle, disoriented, trying to make sense of it all. A dense forest stretched out beyond the ruins, the trees towering high above me. The air here was alive, vibrant, humming with an energy I could almost feel under my skin.

But none of this makes sense. I shouldn’t be here. I should be... gone.

I sank back to my knees, a rush of cold dread suddenly filling my chest. I had died. I knew I had. So how could I be... here ? I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to calm the frantic pulse in my veins. This wasn’t a dream. The cool air brushing against my skin, the sounds of birds chirping in the distance, the smell of damp earth—everything was too real, too vivid.

My heart pounded louder, and I opened my eyes again, looking around, searching for answers. But there was nothing. No explanation, no clue as to why I was here. Only these ruins and the strange feeling of being... other .

I forced myself to stand again, trying to steady my breath. My legs felt stronger than they ever had, but I was still shaking. What had happened to me? 

I took a deep breath, trying to focus. 

My eyes wandered across the ruins again, and that’s when I saw it—half-hidden under a mound of moss and fallen stones. Something metallic glinted in the shadows.

I wobbled towards it and crouched down, brushing the debris aside. 

What’s this?

My fingers pricked as I uncovered an ancient-looking dagger, its hilt intricately carved with strange symbols that pulsed faintly in the light. And the blade… it was still sharp, its metal—or was it some sort of dark crystal—seemed to glow, pulsating as if it had a heartbeat. My hand hovered over it for a moment before I finally grasped the hilt.

The moment my fingers touched it, a strange warmth surged through me, like the blade was alive, like it was recognizing me. Energy thrummed under my skin, a quiet hum.

What the fuck is this?

The dagger felt light in my hand as I slowly straightened, the weight of it familiar despite the strangeness of everything around me. My heart was still racing, but the panic had dulled, replaced by a deep sense of curiosity. 

I looked around me yet again. The quiet ruins stretched out in front of me, overrun by nature. Vines crawled up crumbling stone walls, and moss covered the once-smooth floor, now cracked and uneven. Despite its state, there was something majestic about the place. It felt as though I had stumbled into the remnants of a forgotten world, long hidden from the rest of existence. There was a… sensation in the air, subtle but constant, like the stones were singing.

How did I get here? Is this some kind of burial place? A graveyard? Did they forget to bury me? Did the hospital make a mistake? 

As I took a step forward, a cool breeze swept through the clearing, and I shivered. The sensation startled me, pulling me out of my thoughts. I glanced down at myself, and for the first time, truly registered what I was—or wasn’t—wearing.

Well, shit.

I hadn’t even realised it, but I was completely bare. My cheeks flushed as a wave of embarrassment washed over me, though there was no one here to see. I wrapped my arms around myself instinctively, shielding my chest, feeling suddenly vulnerable.

I scanned the area, desperate for something— anything —I could wear. My eyes landed on a small archway leading deeper into the ruins. The stone beyond it looked more intact, sheltered from the elements. Maybe there was something there.

I hurried toward it, moving carefully across the uneven ground, each step echoing lightly against the stone. The air grew cooler as I entered the shadowy corridor, my feet silent on the moss-covered floor. The walls here were carved with intricate symbols—that kind of matched the dagger, if I think about it now—and patterns, worn down by time but still beautiful. 

At the end of the corridor, I found a small room—more of a chamber, really. The roof had partially caved in, but there was still enough protection to have kept this place more intact than the rest of the ruins. In the corner, partially buried under debris and fallen leaves, I spotted what looked like a chest, its wooden frame half-decayed but still holding together.

I knelt down, setting the weird dagger beside me as I brushed away the dirt and leaves, revealing the chest's lid. My fingers found the edges, and with a little effort, I pried it open. The hinges creaked in protest, but it opened, revealing a tangle of old, tattered cloth.

I pulled a piece out, shaking it free from the dirt and dust. It was a simple garment—an old, faded tunic, soft and worn but still intact enough to wear. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing. I slipped it over my head, the fabric falling loosely over my newly slender frame. It felt strange, like it belonged to someone else, but it was warm, and for that I was grateful.

As I stood, adjusting the tunic so it hung more comfortably, I caught a glimpse of something else at the bottom of the chest. I reached down, pulling out a thin, woven belt and a pair of worn leather boots. They, too, were old, but still serviceable. I slipped them on, feeling the sturdy leather wrap around my legs, the belt cinching the tunic at my waist. It wasn’t perfect, but it was enough to make me feel less exposed.

I exhaled, feeling a bit more like myself.

The dagger called to me again, its presence subtle but persistent. I picked it up and slid it into the belt at my side. It felt right there, like it belonged—no, like I belonged here, in this strange place.

I stepped out of the chamber, feeling a little more composed, my mind still buzzing with questions. As I explored further, I noticed more signs of the ruins' former glory. Broken statues lined the edges of the courtyard beyond, their faces worn smooth by time but still retaining a hint of their former majesty. At first, I had thought they were humans… but no. I slowly walked closer and ran my fingers over one of them, feeling the faint traces of a strange… thrum in the stone. These… creatures… looked unearthly, tall and slender and ethereal… And their ears… Those ears were pointed?

The worrying feeling of dread crept over me again, the wind howling through the open spaces between the faceless statues.

The forest around me seemed to whisper with the wind, the trees swaying in a rhythm I could almost understand. I never knew such a place existed. 

It does… exist, right? Does it? I looked back up to the statue in front of me. 

If this isn’t a human… am I still on earth? Can I be still on earth? Or is this actually… the beyond? Where am I? 

Trying to stop myself from overthinking again, I started wandering through the overgrown paths, brushing past ferns and vines, my eyes scanning for any other signs of life or answers. But the deeper I ventured, the more this place seemed unreal. And I was completely and utterly alone. 

As I came to a halt before another towering, crumbling archway, I stood still, listening to the wind as it whispered through the trees. I should have been terrified. By all rights, I should have been panicking, overwhelmed by the impossible reality I found myself in.

But instead, my thoughts were urging me to go on, to overcome the dread, to continue. 

***

I continued walking, going deeper and deeper into the forest, leaving the strangely comforting ruins behind me.

The forest seemed to stretch endlessly before me, a dense tangle of trees and underbrush, but as I pressed on, the ruins slowly faded into the distance behind me. The sunlight filtering through the canopy grew warmer, the sharp angles of the ancient stone giving way to the softness of nature. 

I moved carefully, listening to the soft crunch of leaves underfoot, feeling the gentle pull of the earth as my boots sank slightly into the forest floor. The dagger at my side provided a strange sense of comfort, though I hadn’t yet encountered anything to warrant using it. And let’s just not think about what could warrant it. 

Hours passed, I think—I wasn’t sure how long I’d been walking. The sun was sinking lower in the sky, casting long shadows through the trees, painting the world in shades of amber and gold. The warmth of the day began to cool, the breeze picking up as dusk approached.

Then, through the thick branches and leaves, I saw it—a small clearing up ahead, with some kind of small building in its centre.

I quickened my pace, heart lifting with hope, and as I emerged from the trees, I saw it clearly: a cottage. Small, quaint, with a thatched roof and stone walls, it looked like it had been plucked from another time entirely. A single wisp of smoke curled lazily from the chimney, and the scent of freshly turned earth mingled with the smell of woodsmoke.

My breath caught. This was the first sign of civilization I’d seen since waking up in the ruins.

Is this it? Was I sent back in time? 

As I stepped closer, my eyes were drawn to the figure in front of the cottage. A young man stood in the field surrounding the house, his back to me as he worked the earth with a hoe. His broad shoulders flexed with each movement, and his fiery red hair caught the last of the sunlight, glowing like embers. He seemed focused on his task, unaware of my approach.

I stopped at the edge of the clearing, suddenly unsure. What if he was dangerous? Or worse—what if he thought I was dangerous?

But I couldn’t turn back now. The sun was sinking fast, and I had no idea where I was or where I could find shelter for the night. This cottage, this stranger—they were my best chance.

I took a deep breath and stepped forward, trying to gather my courage. My boots crunched softly on the ground as I approached, and after a few steps, the man straightened, turning slightly as if he’d sensed me before hearing me.

He turned fully now, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. His eyes found mine, and I stopped in my tracks, heart thudding in my chest. Up close, he was even more striking than I’d first realised. His features were sharp, yet warm, with a strong jawline and high cheekbones. His eyes—a vibrant green—glinted with curiosity, but not suspicion.

For a moment, we just stared at each other, the silence stretching between us. Then he broke it with a soft, but rich voice.

‘Are you lost?’

There was no accusation in his tone, only genuine concern. His gaze flickered briefly to my worn tunic and boots, to the dagger at my side, before meeting my eyes again.

I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. I nodded silently, unsure what to say. Could I really explain everything to a stranger? Not when I didn’t even understand it myself?

His brow furrowed slightly, though his expression remained kind. He carefully dropped the hoe to the ground, then took a few steps toward me. ‘You’re not from around here, are you?’

I shook my head, not trusting myself to speak without my voice trembling.

He glanced back at the cottage, then at the sky, where the sun was now barely visible behind the treetops. ‘It's getting late,’ he said, almost to himself. Then his gaze returned to me, soft but intent. ‘You shouldn’t be out here alone, not with night coming. Why don’t you come inside? You can rest, and we can talk.’

There was a warmth in his offer that made me want to believe him. Still, a flicker of hesitation held me back. I didn’t know this man, or what he might want from me.

He must have sensed my uncertainty because he smiled—a small, reassuring smile that softened his features. ‘I’m Daniel,’ he said, his voice gentle but firm, like he wanted to make sure I knew he meant no harm. ‘I live here alone. No tricks, no traps. Just an open door if you need one.’

I let out a breath I hadn’t realised I was holding. ‘Saeris,’ I said quietly. ‘My name is Saeris.’

His smile grew a little wider, and he nodded. ‘Well, Saeris, you’re welcome to stay the night if you need. The forest can be dangerous after dark.’

I glanced at the trees behind me, the shadows growing thicker, darker, and realised he was right. The thought of spending the night alone in the forest made my skin prickle. The cottage felt like a sanctuary compared to the unknown wilderness beyond. 

Perhaps I should’ve stayed in those ruins?

‘Thank you,’ I said finally, the words awkward on my tongue but sincere. I stepped closer, and he motioned for me to follow him toward the door.

As we walked together, side by side, I stole a glance at him. There was something about Daniel—something grounded, something real—that made me feel safer than I had since waking up. And for the first time today, I felt a small flicker of hope.

Maybe I had finally found someone who could help me make sense of all this.

*** 

The inside of Daniel’s cottage was cosy, a warm contrast to the chill of dusk outside. A fire crackled in the hearth, casting flickering shadows on the wooden walls. The air smelled of burning wood and something savoury simmering over the fire—soup, maybe. The whole place felt lived in, well-loved, with shelves lined with books and jars of herbs, and a small table set with rough-hewn wooden chairs.

Daniel gestured for me to sit at the table, and I eased into one of the chairs, feeling the tension in my body slowly unwind. For the first time since waking in that strange place, I felt a momentary sense of normalcy. Like maybe, just maybe, everything would be alright.

But as Daniel sat across from me, his curious eyes watching me closely, the reality of my situation settled back in. I had so many questions—questions I didn’t even know how to begin asking.

I cleared my throat, hesitating for a moment. If I was sent back in time, I have to be careful. I don’t want to be called a witch and burned at the stake or something. ‘What... date is it?’

Daniel raised an eyebrow at the question but didn’t seem to find it odd. He leaned back slightly, thinking for a moment. ‘It’s the 15th of Bloomingtide,’ he said with a casual shrug, as though the answer should have been obvious. ‘8:11 Blessed Age.’

My heart skipped a beat. That wasn’t a date I recognized—none of it was. Bloomingtide? Blessed Age? My pulse quickened as I tried to make sense of it. Maybe it was some kind of local calendar system, something I just hadn’t heard of before. But... I should have. This wasn’t like any time—or place I knew.

I leaned forward, gripping the edge of the table a little tighter. ‘Where exactly am I?’

Daniel frowned slightly, clearly puzzled by my confusion. ‘You’re near Gwaren, in the southern edge of the Brecilian Forest.’ His eyes narrowed a bit, as if gauging my reaction. ‘You really don’t know where you are?’

I shook my head slowly, dread creeping up my spine. ‘No... Gwaren doesn’t sound familiar.’

His confusion deepened, and he seemed to choose his next words carefully, as though trying to figure out what I could possibly mean. ‘We’re in Ferelden.´ 

When I continued to stare at him blankly, Daniel shook his head and gave me a breathless laugh, as if he couldn’t believe I didn’t know, ´In Thedas?’

My mind went blank for a moment, then raced, tumbling through everything I knew. None of this made sense. Gwaren? Ferelden? Thedas? Those names meant nothing to me.

Or haven’t I heard of Thedas before? Where? When?

A cold knot of panic twisted in my chest. I stared at him, my vision narrowing as the room seemed to tilt. I shook my head, unable to process what he was saying. ‘No,’ I muttered, my voice barely a whisper. ‘That’s... that can’t be right.’

Is there a camera somewhere? Am I being Punked? Is that it? 

Daniel leaned forward, concern flickering in his eyes now. ‘Saeris—’

I stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor. My legs felt shaky beneath me, and I stumbled back, my breath coming in shallow gasps. ‘This isn’t Earth,’ I whispered, the realisation crashing down on me with a weight that made it hard to breathe.

Daniel stood as well, hands raised slightly, as if trying to calm me. ‘No, it’s not. I don’t know what “Earth” is, but you’re in Ferelden, in southern Thedas.’ He repeated.

I shook my head, backing up toward the door. ‘No... no, this isn’t real.’ I could feel the walls closing in, my heart racing, the panic building until it was a roar in my ears. This wasn’t just some remote corner of the world I didn’t recognize or a different time period I was somehow sent back to. This was an entirely different world altogether.

The dagger at my side felt heavy, like it was tethering me to this impossible reality. ‘I’m... I’m not supposed to be here,’ I whispered, my voice cracking. ‘I’m dead. I died .’

Daniel took a cautious step toward me, his voice soft but steady. ‘Saeris, please, just breathe. I don’t know what happened to you, but you’re here now. And you’re safe.’

Safe? The word felt hollow. How could I be safe when I didn’t even know what this world was? 

I stumbled back another step, the walls of the small cottage pressing in on me. 

Daniel’s voice was calm, but I could hear the concern beneath it. ‘Saeris... whatever’s happened, I’ll help you. I swear it. But you need to tell me more. Please.’

I wanted to tell him—wanted to explain everything that was swirling inside my head—but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, all I could think was that I wasn’t on Earth anymore. I wasn’t anywhere I knew.

I wasn’t home.

Tears welled up in my eyes, but I swallowed them back, my throat tight. I didn’t know what to do, where to go, or how to even begin processing this. How could I? How could anyone?

Daniel stayed where he was, his hands still raised in a gesture of calm, his eyes locked on mine. ‘We can figure this out together.’

But as I stood there, my breath threatening to choke me, I felt more alone than I ever had in my entire life. I shook my head. I need to go back. Back to… what? I was dead. A tear rolled down my cheek. Dead. My mum, my father, my brother, my friends, I will never see them again. Do they miss me? Will they bury me? 

Daniel stood a few paces away from me, his hands still raised slightly, like he was trying to soothe a frightened animal. His expression was steady, but his eyes were full of concern. After a long pause, he spoke again, his voice soft. ‘Please, if you don’t tell me what happened, I can’t help you. What is an elf wandering around these forests? You don’t look Dalish? Did you run from an alienage? You don’t look like a city elf either. Are you a slave? Did you run away from the Imperium?’ He looked me up and down. ‘Did someone hurt you?’ 

One of his questions had hit me like a slap, jolting me out of my spiralling panic. I blinked at him, my mind struggling to make sense of what he had just said.

‘An elf?’ I echoed, my voice barely a whisper. ‘What do you mean, an elf?’

Daniel’s brow furrowed, clearly confused by my reaction. ‘You... you’re an elf. I thought you knew.’

For a heartbeat, the room was silent, my mind whirling in confusion. Slowly, like I was afraid of what I might find, I reached up and touched the side of my head. My fingers brushed over something unfamiliar—something pointed.

My heart skipped a beat, and my breath hitched in my throat. 

No. That can’t be...

I stumbled toward the corner of the room where a small mirror hung on the wall, my footsteps uneven and heavy. The world felt like it was spinning again, tilting off its axis. I gripped the edge of the wooden table for support as I reached the mirror, my gaze fixed on the ground. I didn’t want to look—didn’t want to confirm what I already knew.

But I had to.

Slowly, I lifted my head, forcing my eyes to meet my reflection. And when I did, I shrieked.

The face staring back at me wasn’t truly mine. It resembled me , but... not. 

My heart thundered in my chest as I leaned closer to the mirror, my hands trembling as they reached up to touch the face in the reflection. My skin was still pale, but sharper somehow, more delicate. My cheekbones were higher, my features refined, and there, framed by my long hair, were the pointed ears of an elf. I traced the shape of them with shaking fingers, unable to comprehend what I was seeing.

And my hair... it wasn’t just white. It was pure silver, like moonlight cascading down my back in soft waves. And my eyes—oh, God, my eyes .

I gasped as I stared at them, panic rising in my throat like bile.

My right eye was the same as it had always been; a soft, pale blue. But my left ...

My left eye was a brilliant emerald green, glowing faintly like there was magic swirling beneath the surface of my iris. It felt... wrong. Alien. Like I was looking at someone else entirely. It didn’t just reflect light—it held it, pulsing with an energy I couldn’t understand.

I backed away from the mirror, my heart racing. ‘No... no, this isn’t right. This isn’t me .’ My voice trembled as I spoke, but the reflection didn’t change. I turned to Daniel, who stood watching me, his expression a mixture of sympathy and worry. ‘I’m not an elf,’ I whispered, shaking my head as if I could will it to be true. ‘I wasn’t... I wasn’t like this.’

Daniel took a careful step forward, his eyes never leaving mine. ‘You didn’t know?’

‘I didn’t—’ I stopped, pressing my hands to my face, trying to suppress the panic bubbling up again. ‘I wasn’t like this before,’ I repeated, my voice weak. ‘I wasn’t this .’

Daniel hesitated, then slowly moved toward the table, sitting down across from me. ‘You’ve... changed?’ he asked carefully. ‘From what? Who were you before?’

I looked at him. How could I even begin to explain this? I didn’t understand it myself. All I knew was that I had died. I had died as a human, and somehow, I had woken up here— like this . ‘I am human,’ I whispered, my voice barely audible. ‘I was human.’

Daniel’s eyes widened in shock, but he stayed silent, waiting for me to continue.

‘I died,’ I said, my voice shaking. ’I... I don’t know how I ended up here. I woke up in the ruins, and I—’ I stopped, choking on the words. My reflection in the mirror felt like a cruel joke. This wasn’t me. This wasn’t the person I had known my whole life. These pointed ears, the sharp features, the silver hair, and the eyes …

Tears welled up, but I blinked them away, my hands gripping the edge of the table to steady myself. The world felt like it was crumbling around me, everything I had known torn away.

The reflection in the mirror seemed to blur as my breathing quickened, each shallow gasp clawing at my throat. My chest felt tight, like the world was closing in around me, suffocating me. I gripped the edge of the table so hard my knuckles turned white, trying to steady myself, trying to pull myself out of the spiral of panic that was swallowing me whole. But every time I looked back at the mirror—at those pointed ears, that silver hair, and the glowing green eye—I felt myself falling deeper into it.

‘No, no, no…’ I whispered, shaking my head, as if denial could somehow undo this nightmare. My hands went to my face, trembling uncontrollably. My heart pounded so fast it felt like it might burst out of my chest.

The air in the room suddenly felt colder, heavier, as if it were thickening around me. The fire in the hearth flickered, and the shadows in the room seemed to stretch, creeping toward me like a living thing. I barely noticed it, too consumed by the storm inside me, but something in the room had shifted—something dark.

‘I can’t— I can’t breathe,’ I gasped, feeling as if the very air had been sucked out of the room. My vision narrowed, dark spots dancing in my periphery, and I stumbled back, the world spinning. My skin felt cold, my whole body trembling. I couldn't escape it, the sheer terror of the truth I was staring at.

I wasn’t me . I was something else. Something wrong .

Suddenly, Daniel jolted up from his chair, his expression no longer just concerned—it was wary, alert. His body tensed, eyes scanning the room as if sensing something I couldn’t.

‘Saeris!’ he called sharply, his voice cutting through the haze of my panic. ‘Do you—do you know you’re a mage?’

But I didn’t hear him. I shook while I was still looking in the mirror. And a stranger looked right back at me. 

Chapter 2: Changed

Notes:

So, this chapter is very much about setting the story, describing, forming a basis. I kept the explanation about everything quite simple. The more information Saeris'll get, the more confused she'll probably become. Let's not overwhelm her ;-)

The cottage was dark, too dark. It was as if all the air was sucked right out of it. I could only see the flickering of my green eye in the mirror, and my new, strange face alight by its dancing shadows. Sharp. Ethereal, like those statues before. Strange. Wrong.

‘Saeris…’ Daniel called behind me again. ‘Are you a mage?’

His words barely registered at first, the panic in my chest still gripping me too tightly. But then, slowly, through the fog of fear, his question began to sink in. The darkness cleared slightly.

A mage?

I looked around, trying to understand what he meant, and that’s when I noticed it.

The room— the room . The warm, cosy light that had filled the cottage earlier was almost entirely gone. Shadows loomed in the corners, darker than they should have been, twisting unnaturally. The fire in the hearth had dimmed to little more than embers, the flames flickering weakly as if smothered by an unseen force.

I stumbled back, my eyes wide as I realised what was happening. The darkness... the heaviness in the air... it was coming from me .

‘I—I don’t—’ I stammered, my voice breaking. ‘I’m not—I didn’t—’

But my denial felt hollow even as I spoke it. I could feel it now, like something inside me was uncoiling, reaching out into the room, warping the very light and air around me.

Daniel’s posture shifted, his hands raising slightly, not in defence, but in caution, like he was readying himself for something. ‘Saeris, calm down. You need to calm down. You’re losing control.’

‘I’m not a mage!’ I cried, backing away from the mirror, but my voice was shaky, full of fear and confusion. I didn’t know how to stop it—didn’t even know what it was.

The shadows thickened yet again, the darkness creeping closer, wrapping itself around the room. The fire flickered out completely, plunging us into near-total darkness. Only the faint glow of my left eye—pulsing that unnatural green—cast any light in the room now.

‘I—I don’t know how to—’ I started, but my breath hitched, and the panic surged again. I could feel something pulling at me, something inside me.

Daniel took a careful step toward me, his voice calm but urgent. ‘Listen to me. You are a mage, Saeris. Whether you knew it or not, the magic is there. You have to breathe. Focus. Or you’ll lose control completely.’

I shook my head violently, the fear overwhelming me. ‘No, I can’t— I don’t know how to do this!’

‘ Yes, you can, ’ he said firmly, his eyes locked on mine, grounding me. ‘You have to try. Just breathe. Breathe and focus on me.’

I tried to focus, tried to slow my breathing, but my heart was still racing, my body trembling with fear. The shadows writhed around us, pulsing in time with my panic.

‘Breathe, Saeris,’ Daniel repeated, his voice steady, unyielding. ‘You can control this. You have to.’

My breaths came out in ragged gasps, but I forced myself to focus on his voice, on his presence. Painfully slowly, I closed my eyes and tried to calm the storm inside me. My hands were still shaking, but I clenched them into fists, forcing myself to breathe deeper. 

In. Out.

For a moment, nothing changed. The darkness still clung to the room, and the weight of the magic inside me still pressed down on my chest. But little by little, the shadows began to recede, slinking back into the corners where they belonged. The air lightened, and the fire in the hearth flickered back to life, casting its warm glow over the cottage once more.

I opened my eyes, my breath still shaky but steadying.

The room was quiet again.

Daniel let out a slow breath, his shoulders relaxing, though he still looked at me with a mix of wariness and concern. ‘You didn’t know, did you?’

I shook my head weakly, my hands trembling as I wiped at my face. ‘No... I didn’t.’

Daniel sat back down, watching me carefully. ‘It looks like there’s a lot about yourself you’re just starting to understand.’

I let out a shaky breath, my chest still tight. I wasn’t just in a new world. I wasn’t just in a new body.

I can wield magic.

And I had no idea how to control it.

I laughed breathlessly, ‘You have no idea.’

***

Daniel’s voice had been gentle as he guided me toward the bed. His words echoed in my mind, though exhaustion blurred the edges of them.

‘Rest,’ he had said, his tone filled with quiet reassurance. ‘I’ll go find someone in the morning. Someone who can help.’

I hadn’t argued. I didn’t have the energy. Everything that had happened—the strange world, the new body, the magic I didn’t understand—it was too much. My body and mind felt like they were on the verge of collapse, and the moment I lay down in Daniel’s bed, sleep overtook me.

When I woke the next morning, the sunlight filtered softly through the window, casting a golden glow over the small room. The warmth of the bed clung to me, but when I turned to face the table where Daniel had been sitting at, I realised I was alone. I sat up slowly, disoriented for a moment, before what happened yesterday crashed down on me all over again.

I glanced around the room. The table near the fire had a small loaf of bread and a cup of water waiting for me. Numb and hollow from exhaustion, I climbed out of bed and walked toward the table, sitting down and tearing a piece of bread mechanically. I ate without tasting it, my mind still trying to process everything that had happened.

I wasn’t human. I wasn’t even on Earth. And I had magic.

I closed my eyes, trying to shove away the wave of panic that threatened to rise again. I couldn’t deal with it. Not now. I had to just... get through this moment.

As I finished the bread, the sound of footsteps approached from outside. A few moments later, the door creaked open, and Daniel entered, his face calm but his eyes serious.

‘I brought someone,’ he said quietly.

Behind him stepped an older woman, her presence immediately striking. She was small, her posture straight, yet there was an air of quiet authority about her. Her large brown eyes were sharp and assessing as they flicked over me. Her black hair was threaded with grey, pulled back into a long braid, and curling green tattoos covered her face in delicate, swirling patterns. She wore simple, practical clothing, and the scent of the forest on her was unmistakable.

‘This is Elgadira,’ Daniel said, stepping aside to let her fully into the room. ‘You can trust her.’

Elgadira approached me slowly, and as she did, I realised she was watching me both with suspicion, and with curiosity.

‘So,’ she said, her voice firm, ‘you are the one causing all this ruckus.’

Her tone wasn’t accusatory, just matter-of-fact, but I couldn’t stop the cold knot of anxiety tightening in my chest. I swallowed hard, glancing quickly at Daniel, who gave me a small nod, as if silently encouraging me.

‘I don’t know what’s happening to me,’ I said, my voice hoarse and uncertain. ‘I wasn’t always... like this.’ I motioned vaguely to my elven features, my hands trembling slightly.

The old elf walked around me, her eyes studying me as if I was a rare specimen. ‘Are you sure?’ She said after staring at me for a while. 

‘I think so.’ I answered. ‘But I’m not sure of anything anymore, if I’m being honest.’

Elgadira cocked her head left, then right. ‘What is your name, girl?’ Her voice was loud in the small room. 

‘Saeris,’ I, on the other hand, sounded scared. 

Then, the elf looked into my eyes and stared. ‘Born with that?’

‘No, just got it.’

‘You sure?’

‘As sure as everything else.’

The elf walked around me, almost checking if I was real. 

‘You indeed don’t look Dalish, or like a flat-ear.’

‘A what?’ My ears are definitely pointy… And what does Dalish mean?

‘City elf. So you’re not a slave, you say. Don’t lie to me, child.’

‘No, I’m not, didn’t know there were slaves in… Terdas… Temas… No, Thedas.’

The woman tutted like a schoolteacher would do to an ignorant child. ‘You’re a mage’, she stated, ‘but you didn’t know.’ 

‘I still don’t know,’ I mumbled. 

For the first time, Elgadira’s expression softened, a glimmer of sympathy flickering behind her sharp eyes. She nodded thoughtfully, as though my situation, strange as it was, made some sense to her. ‘But I do, child, I can sense it all over you. There is magic in you. Powerful magic. And uncontrolled, it could consume you.’

I swallowed hard, the fear rising again. ‘I don’t know how to control it,’ I admitted. ‘Yesterday, I—something happened. The room went dark. The shadows... it was like I couldn’t stop them.’

Elgadira nodded, her gaze unwavering. ‘That is to be expected. It is not unusual for a young mage to struggle with control, especially one who has no training.’

I blinked at her, my mind reeling. ‘But... I wasn’t a mage before. I didn’t have magic.’

The older woman tilted her head slightly. ‘Perhaps not on the surface. But magic often lies dormant in some. And in times of… heightened stress… such power can be awakened.’

Her words settled over me like a heavy blanket. Was that what had happened? Had this strange rebirth awakened something that had been sleeping inside me all along?

I wasn’t sure whether to feel terrified or... something else.

Elgadira watched me carefully, her sharp eyes never leaving mine. ‘You must understand, magic is a gift and a burden. If you cannot control it, it will control you. And given the chaos you nearly caused, your power may be more dangerous than you realise.’

I shuddered, recalling the creeping darkness in the cottage the night before, the way it had seemed to warp the very air around me. ‘I didn’t mean to do any of that.’

‘I know,’ Elgadira said gently—gentleness suited her more than the rigidness from before. ‘But that does not change the fact that it happened.’ Elgadira turned around and looked at Daniel. ‘It’s good you took me to her, Daniel, I can take her to my clan for further… inspection.’ Elgadira gave me a sideway look.

‘Clan?’ I looked panicked at Daniel, who at least tried to smile back at me reassuringly. 

‘Yes, my clan. We are camped not far from here, as luck may have it, child.’

Daniel, who had been silent until now, spoke up, his voice calm but concerned. ‘Elgadira, can you help her?’

‘Maybe,’ Elgadira said, ‘I have to observe her, maybe look in the Fade.’

‘The what?’ I asked. 

Elgadira sighed again deeply.

***

As I stood by the door of Daniel’s cottage, the reality of leaving hit me harder than I expected. Daniel had been kind, and had sheltered me in a time of overwhelming fear and confusion. I hadn’t known him long, but he had become something of an anchor. A human. A normal human. Like I… was. Saying goodbye felt like letting go of the last familiar thing I had.

Daniel gave me a soft, reassuring smile as he stood by the door. ‘You’ll be fine, Saeris,’ he said, his voice warm. ‘Elgadira knows what she’s doing. And… I’ll be here when you need me.’

I forced a smile in return, though it felt fragile. ‘Thank you, Daniel. For everything.’

He gave a small nod, the quiet strength in his presence comforting me one last time. ‘Take care of yourself. And… don’t be afraid to come back if you need help.’

With that, I reluctantly turned to follow Elgadira, her small figure leading the way into the dense forest surrounding his home. As we walked, the silence between us felt heavy, filled with questions I didn’t yet know how to ask.

It wasn’t long before my curiosity got the better of me, and I started staring at the small woman before me, walking slightly hunched over, yet fluidly. She used a long stick—or was it a staff—to balance herself. It was taller than her, made with what looked like intertwining roots. It had a sort of giant pearl embedded at the top. 

‘You can stop staring at me now, da’len.’ Elgadira said as she noticed my stare.

‘Da—what?’

Sigh. ‘Da’len, young one, child. It’s Elven.’

‘Oh,’ I murmured. ‘Is that… your language?’

‘Yes,’ Elgadira hummed, ‘though most do not speak it anymore. Only the Dalish still use the words… correctly.’

‘And… who are the Dalish?’ I asked, trying to fill the silence, my eyes flicking to Elgadira’s tattooed face as she looked over her shoulder to glance at me, her expression calm but thoughtful. 

‘We are the last of our people who live free, away from the cities and the shemlen—humans,’ she clarified. ‘We travel in clans with our aravels, keeping to the old ways, preserving the history and traditions of our ancestors. We are nomads, moving from one area to another, never staying in one place too long. These forests, they are our home.’

Sounds like a cult.

‘And,’ I hesitated, ‘you are… also a mage?’

Elgadira gave a small nod, her gaze never leaving the path ahead. ‘Yes. Among my people, I am the Keeper, the leader of my clan. Keepers are always mages, as are our Firsts and Seconds.’

I processed this in silence, feeling a mix of relief and fear. At least I wasn’t the only one here who had magic, but the thought of being able to control it still terrified me.

Elgadira seemed to sense my unease, and after a long pause, she spoke again, her voice gentle but probing. ‘And you, Saeris… Daniel mentioned you claimed you were human before. That you died. But what happened after? Where did you come from?’

I stiffened at the question, my mind racing as I searched for a response that wouldn’t make me sound insane. I couldn’t exactly tell her the truth—that I was from an entirely different world, from Earth. How could I explain something like that without sounding mad?

‘I don’t remember much,’ I lied, my voice tight. ‘I was human. I was… not here. Somewhere else. And I remember dying. And then… I don’t know. I woke up in some ruins, not far from here.’

Elgadira’s brow furrowed slightly. ‘Ruins?’ She glanced at me again, confusion in her dark eyes. ‘There are no ruins nearby. Not for miles. Are you certain that’s where you woke?’

I swallowed, unsure of how to explain what I had experienced. ‘I’m… not sure,’ I admitted, feeling more lost than ever. ‘It felt real, but… everything is different now. Maybe it wasn’t real. Maybe it was something else.’

Elgadira studied me for a long moment, her gaze searching, but she didn’t press further. Instead, she simply nodded and continued walking, the path narrowing as the trees grew thicker.

After about an hour, the forest began to thin slightly, and soon, we emerged into a clearing. My breath caught as I took in the sight before me.

The Dalish camp was nestled in the heart of the forest, a small village of large tents and intricately painted “aravels”—wooden wagons with brightly coloured fabric roofs—spread out in a circle around a large central fire. The aravels were decorated with symbols and—what I guessed—Elven script, each one unique, its vibrant hues standing out against the green of the forest. Banners hung between them, fluttering gently in the breeze, some bearing the same swirling designs that adorned Elgadira’s face.

Elves moved about the camp, their faces marked with similar tattoos like Elgadira’s, though each had a different pattern, denoting something important I didn’t yet understand. Children ran between the tents and aravels, laughing and playing, while others tended to animals, cooking, and crafting. There was a sense of harmony here, a feeling of community that was palpable in the air. I had never seen anything like it. It felt… timeless. 

It’s definitely a cult.

Elgadira led me further into the camp, and I noticed the way the others glanced at me—some curious, others wary. It made sense; I was a stranger here. And they had no idea how much of a stranger I actually was. 

A few of the elves exchanged quiet words with Elgadira as we passed, their eyes flicking to me as they spoke in soft Elven. I couldn’t understand the language, but the look in their gazes made me feel exposed, as though I were somehow out of place in this world they so clearly belonged to—and they were right.

Elgadira must have sensed my discomfort because she slowed her pace and glanced at me again. ‘You are a stranger to them,’ she said softly, ‘but the Dalish welcome those who seek to learn.’

I nodded, though I wasn’t sure how to respond. I was still reeling from the sheer strangeness of it all, from the overwhelming sense of being somewhere so far from anything I’d ever known.

We reached the centre of the camp, where a large tent stood near the fire. Elgadira held the flap of the tent open and gestured for me to enter. And so I did. 

***

Inside the tent, the air was thick with the scent of herbs and old parchment. Shelves lined the walls, crowded with scrolls, and vials of strange liquids. Elgadira motioned for me to sit on one of the cushions by the circle of candles in the middle of the space. She moved with a fluid grace, her green-vined tattoos catching the light as she settled opposite me.

‘If I may ask…’ I muttered as we settled. ‘What are those tattoos for?’ 

‘They are Vallaslin.’ Elgadira’s voice felt too loud inside. ‘The Vallaslin are not mere decoration. They are sacred. A rite of passage for the Dalish, marking our devotion to the ancient Elven Gods, the Creators. Each symbol tells a story, a connection to the divine. They are given when one comes of age, as a symbol of maturity and dedication to our people’s heritage.’

‘And… Are there a lot of Dalish… in Tha—Thedas?’

Elgadira cocked her head. ‘There are, but our numbers are dwindling.’ She was silent for a second, then continued. ‘How much do you… remember … about Thedas?’

‘Nothing, I’m afraid.’ 

Elgadira straightened her back, a curious glint in her wary eyes. ‘Well, Thedas is a vast continent, divided into many lands and peoples. To the north lies the Tevinter Imperium, ruled by powerful magisters. They do not welcome our kind. Do not go near it.’ She raised an eyebrow towards me and I nodded. 

Yes, our kind… Elves.

‘Orlais lies to the west. Ferelden is where we now are—our clan roams the southern Brecilian Forest.’

She listed the countries as if I should know them, as if these names should mean something to me. But they didn’t. Each word felt foreign, like a puzzle I couldn’t solve.

‘To the north and east, beyond the Waking Sea, are the Free Marches, Nevarra, and Antiva. And farther up east, Rivain. To the north-west are the Anderfels.’

‘And earlier… You said something about the, uhm, the Fade ? Is that a place as well?’

The Keeper sat calmly, her dark brown eyes studying me as if measuring how much I was ready to hear. ‘The Fade,’ she said, her voice lowering as if the word itself carried great weight. ‘It is the realm of dreams, a place where all living beings go when they sleep. It is connected to our world—the physical world—but it is separate. Spirits and demons reside there, and it is from the Fade that all magic flows.’

Spirits and demons?

I listened intently, her words painting a vivid picture in my mind. ‘The Fade…’ I whispered. ‘Is it… like another dimension? Can you go there physically?’

Elgadira’s gaze sharpened at the question, and she shook her head slowly. ‘No. The Fade cannot be entered physically. It is a place of the mind, of the spirit. Even the most powerful mages can only enter it in dreams or through meditation, and always at great risk. To go there in body… it is unnatural .’

My heart sank at her words. Just now, part of me had hoped that maybe the Fade could be some sort of bridge, a way to return to Earth, to everything I had known. ‘But… if it’s connected to this world,’ I ventured, ‘isn’t there a chance that it’s connected to other worlds too?’

Elgadira’s expression deepened, and there was a firmness to her tone that told me there was no room for negotiation. ‘The Fade is not a pathway between worlds. It is a reflection of our own world, shaped by thoughts, dreams, and emotions. While spirits and mages can interact with it, it is a place of chaos and unpredictability. To try and use it to enter another world—it is not only impossible, but it would be dangerous beyond imagining.’

I frowned, frustration rising in my chest. ‘But you said it’s a place where spirits live. They’re not bound by the same rules we are, right? Isn’t there some way—’

Elgadira cut me off with a gentle, but firm hand. ‘Spirits are not bound by the same rules, no. But they are also not bound by your understanding of existence. The Fade reflects our world, and while it can influence us, it cannot change the laws of nature.’

I looked down, feeling the weight of her words settle like a stone in my chest. My last flicker of hope, extinguished. The idea that I might never find a way back—that I might be trapped here forever—was suffocating.

‘I’m sorry, Saeris,’ Elgadira said softly, her voice filled with genuine sympathy. ‘But you must understand—the Fade is dangerous. Many mages have lost themselves in it, lured by promises that were nothing more than illusions. You cannot allow yourself to be swayed by false hope.’

I swallowed hard, trying to push down the rising panic. 

Elgadira studied me for a moment, then added gently, ‘The Fade may not be the answer you seek, but there is still much you can learn from it. As a mage, you will need to understand its power, its dangers. Always remember, it is a place of the spirit, not the body. It will not lead you home.’

Home. Did this woman—Elf—know where I came from? 

Elgadira stared at me in thought, her eyes scanning me in silence as I contemplated. Her gaze fell to the dagger tucked into my belt. At that, her eyes widened. ‘Where did you get that dagger, da’len?’

I cocked my head and, instinctively, reached for the hilt, touching it carefully, then unsheathed it. I held up the dagger to Elgadira in both hands. The blade seemed almost alight in the condensed space of the Keeper’s tent. ‘I found it… when I woke up.’ 

‘May I?’ Elgadira reached out her hands carefully, her eyes fully on the dagger. Her gaze looked cautious, yet there was a strange glint in them that I couldn’t yet place.

With slight reluctance, I handed over the dagger, which thrummed as if in tandem with my heart. I felt it in my body as the dagger passed from my fingers to hers. 

Keep me close, keep me close, keep me close.

Elgadira took the dagger from me with great care, moving it around in her hands and bringing it closer to her face. She inspected every inch of it: from the pommel, the grip and the hilt, to the intricate cross-guard and the gleaming edge. ‘Curious.’ She mumbled. ‘This is a very… very old dagger. Are you sure you… found it?’

I scoffed. ‘Do you think I stole it? No! I found it in those…’ I swallowed and looked into Elgadira’s big eyes. ‘In those ruins.’ 

The ones you told me do not exist.

Elgadira turned the dagger in her hands again. ‘I do not think you have stolen this, child.’ She answered curtly. ‘However, I have never seen… such a blade this ancient. It is imbued with a quite powerful spell which has preserved incredibly well for its age.’ She turned the blade over again. ‘I reckon it is a protection spell of some sorts.’ 

‘That’s… good, no?’ I swallowed, feeling cold sweat drip from my spine.

Keep me close.

Elgadira stroked the hilt of the dagger again, across the intricately carved symbols. ‘These runes are Elven. Ancient. Forgotten.’

‘So you do not know what they mean?’ I tried.

I noticed how the Keeper’s eyes widened slightly as she peered at the symbols—runes—and her bottom lip trembled ever so slightly. The sight was over in a heartbeat, before the elf composed herself again. ‘No.’ She sighed, blinking her eyes as if to unsee something. ‘Here. Take it. Keep it safe.’ She held the dagger back out to me. 

Keep me close . 

I swallowed hard and took the dagger from her hands and I felt a shiver of assurance. I tucked it back in my belt, where I felt it belonged. 

Elgadira rose to her feet, her posture still regal despite her small stature. ‘Come,’ she said, gesturing for me to follow. ‘Until we understand more, you must remain with us. The forest is dangerous, and your magic—untamed as it is—may draw unwanted attention.’

I followed her out of the tent and back into the clearing, where the soft hum of camp life continued. Elves were going about their daily tasks—tending to animals, cooking over small fires, repairing tents—but I felt their gazes flicker toward me as I passed, subtle and curious.

Elgadira led me to a tent on the outskirts of the camp, smaller than the others but still beautifully crafted, with painted canvas and wooden supports. She pulled back the flap and motioned for me to step inside. The space was simple but comfortable—there was a small bedroll on the ground topped with furs and blankets, a few shelves with basic supplies, and a basin of water.

‘This will be your tent for now,’ Elgadira said. ‘Until we can figure out more about your situation. The clan is your home as long as you need it.’

I stood in the entrance, hesitant. ‘You’re… you’re keeping me here?’

Her eyes softened. ‘Not as a prisoner. But you must understand, you are an unknown here. We need to know more before we can let you wander freely. The Dalish protect their own, and until we know what you are—whether your magic is dangerous or not—it is safest for you and for the clan to stay close.’

I bit my lip, feeling both gratitude and frustration warring within me. She was right—I had no control over whatever power was inside me, and the thought of hurting someone or drawing attention was terrifying. But at the same time, the idea of being confined, even in a place as beautiful as this, made my chest tighten with unease.

I nodded slowly. ‘I understand.’

Elgadira gave me a small smile, one filled with both understanding and caution. ‘We will begin your training soon. For now, rest. Tomorrow, we will speak further.’

With that, she left me alone in the tent, the flap falling closed behind her. 

The quiet settled around me like a heavy blanket, and I found myself standing there, staring at the simple space I was now supposed to call home.

I sank onto the bedroll, the soft furs cushioning me, but my mind was far from calm. My thoughts raced, spiralling between the life I had known and the strange reality I now found myself in. The idea of being an elf, of having magic—none of it felt real. And yet, the pointed ears, the strange new body, the wild power simmering beneath my skin… it was undeniable.

I closed my eyes, trying to steady my breathing, but my mind kept circling back to the same question: Who am I now?

The answer, I feared, would take far more than a night’s sleep to uncover.

Notes:

Hope you liked it. You can always leave me a kudo or a comment, they make my day.

Chapter 3: Cultured

Notes:

Trying to include the Elven language in my fanfiction using the works of FenxShiral.
I'm probably butchering everything... I apologize in advance!

Life doesn’t always turn out the way you want it to. Sometimes you just follow a different path than you first planned to. But do you have to accept that path? Learn to live with it? Or should you do anything in your power to get back to the path you first planned on walking? 

***

The sky had darkened, casting the camp in shades of deep blue and silver, as the distant stars began to glimmer through the canopy of trees. I could hear the faint sounds of laughter and voices carried by the breeze, the crackle of the campfire mingling with the soft hum of insects in the forest. 

How can I even hear these things? 

Restless, I found myself unable to stay cooped up inside the small tent Elgadira had assigned to me. 

I stepped outside, pulling my blanket I decided to wear as a cloak tighter around my shoulders against the cool night air. The elves moved like shadows through the camp, tending to their tasks as the firelight danced in their eyes. 

I wasn’t sure what I was expecting—a warm welcome? A meet-cute? I had no idea what I was supposed to do here, or what was expected of me. But as I approached the group gathered around the fire, I quickly noticed the shift in the air. Their voices hushed slightly, and I felt their gazes flick toward me, not with hostility, but with a kind of guarded wariness.

Their eyes lingered a little too long, studying me. I tried to meet their eyes, but most looked away quickly, returning to whatever they were doing. A knot of discomfort twisted in my stomach.

‘By the Dread Wolf,’ someone muttered and pulled me back by my arm. 

I found myself staring at an elf with long, dark brown hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. Her sharp, angular features were striking, made even more so by the strange black tattoo curling along the left side of her face, a series of intricate, swirling marks that seemed to ripple like smoke. Her posture was straight, almost rigid, and her eyes—deep and watchful—held mine with a cool intensity.

‘You don’t come here, alin ,’ she hissed, ‘you already make the others uncomfortable.’

There was anger in her gaze, and something about her presence felt authoritative. I hesitated, my heart pounding a little faster, unsure of what I had done wrong.

‘But…’ I tried to say something, anything, to explain that I wasn’t trying to disturb them, but the words caught in my throat. The elf didn’t budge, and eventually, I realised there would be no persuading her.

‘We don’t allow outsiders here, certainly not in our camp. The Keeper is already being resented by her choice, don’t make it worse.’ She said, eyeing me warily.

Feeling a mixture of embarrassment and frustration, I nodded slightly and turned back toward my tent. I could still feel her gaze on me as I walked away, as if she were silently evaluating me, deciding if I was a threat or just another burden the clan would have to deal with.

Inside the tent, I sank back onto the furs that made up my bed, the warmth of the blankets doing little to calm the growing unease inside me. I forced myself to close my eyes, trying to will sleep to come. The night deepened, the camp grew quieter, and slowly, I felt the heavy pull of exhaustion dragging me toward unconsciousness.

Sometime later, I woke with a start. My eyes snapped open, and for a moment, I wasn’t sure why. The camp was silent, save for the occasional crackle of the dying fire outside and the faint rustle of leaves in the wind. But something was different. There was a presence.

My heart quickened as I strained to listen. Footsteps. Quiet, deliberate, just outside the tent.

I held my breath, sitting up carefully, my ears straining to catch the faintest sound. The footsteps stopped, and through the thin canvas of the tent, I saw a faint shadow moving outside. Whoever it was, they were close—too close.

Fear crept up my spine. My mind raced with possibilities—who would be out there at this hour? And why were they standing so still, so close to my tent?

The shadow bent down, their hands moving in intricate patterns. For a split second, I thought they might be trying to enter, but the strange gestures told me otherwise. There was something deliberate about their movements, something almost… ritualistic.

I couldn’t see clearly, but I felt a faint tingle in the air, like the soft hum of magic brushing against my skin. It made the hairs on my arms rise. I watched, frozen, as the figure’s hands glowed faintly for a moment, the magic barely perceptible before it faded into the night.

My heart pounded as the figure straightened, standing there for a moment longer before turning and walking away, their footsteps fading into the darkness of the camp.

I let out a shaky breath, my pulse still racing in my ears. I didn’t understand what I had just seen—whoever that had been, they hadn’t tried to harm me. They had done something else, something I couldn’t explain. But I was too exhausted and overwhelmed to make sense of it.

I lay back down, pulling the blankets tighter around me, trying to convince myself that it was nothing. Just one of the elves, maybe checking on me, making sure I hadn’t run off into the night.

Eventually, the heaviness of sleep returned, dragging me back into its embrace.

***

Pickles purred as I patted her head. The cat peered at me with half-closed eyes and laid her head on the cushion. I smiled softly. I jumped onto my bed and let myself fall into the fluffy blanket laying on top of it and stared at my ceiling. There was still sticking a ‘Team Jacob’ poster on the pink wall from back in the days when I was really into that stuff. This is good, I thought while I was laying there. The sun was shining outside and I could hear my father mowing the lawn. A sweet smell was also entering my room through the cracks of my door. Mum was baking banana bread, my favourite. 

‘Goddammit Solas!’ My brother screamed next door while slamming his console into what probably was his bean bag. I snickered. 

This was good. Everything was fine. 

Suddenly, someone knocked at my door. I sat up and stared at it. 

‘Yes?’ I prodded. 

No answer. I could feel someone’s presence. 

‘Hello?’ I asked again. 

Still no answer. I walked to the door and grabbed the handle. But it didn’t matter how strong I pulled or how much I writhed, it would not open. The presence was still standing there though, silently asking to come in. 

‘I’m sorry, but I think the door is stuck?!’ I yelled. Then I sank to my knees and closed my right eye to peek through the keyhole. I had assumed it was my mum, but it wasn’t a she or a he or an anything. Something dark was standing there, the contours of its figure smoking. The creature bent its head and looked straight into my left eye. 

***

I woke up, sweaty. I’m still… no. I’m still dead. I’m not home. 

I plopped back on my bedroll, though I didn’t sleep anymore that night, because every time I closed my eyes, two bright red ones stared back at me. 

***

Day one with the elves.

The morning sun was just breaking through the trees as Elgadira led me toward the centre of the camp. My new clothes, strange and unfamiliar, rustled softly with each step. They were light and flowing, made from finely woven fabric, intricately embroidered with delicate patterns that reminded me of leaves and vines. The sleeves were long and tapered, the tunic belted with a leather strap around my waist, my dagger attached in its sheath, and the trousers were fitted but allowed for easy movement. My feet were bound in leather footwraps that reached just underneath my knees. I couldn’t help but feel out of place in them—like I was trying to fit into a role that wasn’t mine.

Elgadira walked calmly beside me, her face serene as always, but I noticed the faintest flicker of a smile tugging at her lips when she saw me fidgeting with the unfamiliar clothing.

‘Comfortable?’ she asked with an arched brow, her tone gentle but amused.

‘Comfortable enough,’ I muttered, tugging at the sleeves. It was too small. I had noticed how most elves seemed shorter than me. It added to my strangeness, I guessed. ‘It’s just… different.’

She gave a quiet nod of understanding but said nothing more. As we approached the far side of the camp, I recognized the figure waiting for us by a group of tents—the same elf who had stopped me the night before. Her long, brown hair was again pulled back into a tight ponytail, the dark lines of her face tattoo even more striking in the morning light. The wary look in her eyes hadn’t softened.

Elgadira stopped beside her and gestured for me to step forward. ‘Saeris, this is Nenhara, my First. She will help you become accustomed to our ways and the camp. You will also train with her. Nenhara, this is Saeris, but I sense you two met already.’

‘Aneth ara, Keeper. And yes, we did.’ Nenhara said pleasantly, but her eyes narrowed as she turned to me. 

I met Nenhara’s gaze, half-expecting some sort of greeting or acknowledgment, but the elf simply crossed her arms over her chest and tilted her head slightly, a sceptical smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. Nenhara’s eyes flicked over me, her gaze assessing. ‘You don’t look like much. A bit scrawny.’ 

I blinked, not entirely sure how to respond to that. She said that so confidently, but she had to strain her neck to look me in the face… Elgadira gave her a warning look, but Nenhara didn’t seem fazed. Her attitude was clear—she wasn’t impressed by me, and she wasn’t going to make this easy.

‘Yesterday,’ Elgadira continued, as if Nenhara’s sass was an everyday occurrence, ‘you may have noticed Nenhara outside your tent. She placed protective wards to keep you safe.’

I stared at Nenhara in surprise, my mind flashing back to the shadowy figure outside my tent the night before. That was her?

‘Wards?’

Elgadira tapped her foot on the grass. ‘Wards are protective spells, da’len, they can, for example, keep unwanted guests from entering your dreams when you’re in the Fade. I will teach you this soon.’

‘Oh.’ I said that sounding like I understood completely, but I didn’t. ‘I kind of saw something yesterday in my dream, it was standing behind my door.’

‘Did you let it in?’

‘No.’

‘Good. Never let it in.’ Elgadira now looked straight at me to make sure I understood.
Quickly, I nodded again. 

I turned back to Nenhara. ‘Thank you for the wards… I didn’t know…’ I started, feeling a bit guilty. ‘I thought someone was sneaking up on me.’

Nenhara let out a short laugh. ‘If I’d wanted to sneak up to you, you wouldn’t have noticed.’

I swallowed, the uneasy feeling from yesterday coming back in full force.

‘Nenhara…’ Elgadira tutted. ‘Be nice.’

Nenhara gave a casual shrug. 

‘Now,’ Elgadira said, steering the conversation back on track, ‘we need to see what you’re capable of, Saeris. Follow us.’

***

Without another word, Elgadira led us away from the camp, Nenhara falling into step beside her. I followed behind them, nerves beginning to tangle in my stomach. The forest around us was dense, sunlight filtering through the canopy in soft rays as we moved deeper into the woods. Eventually, we reached a small clearing, bordered by tall, old trees. The ground was soft underfoot, covered in moss and wild grasses, and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves above.

Elgadira stepped into the centre of the clearing, turning to face me. ‘This will do.’

Nenhara stood to the side, arms crossed as she leaned casually against a tree, watching with that same sceptical expression.

‘We don’t know much about your magic yet, Saeris,’ Elgadira said, her voice taking on the calm, measured tone she used when explaining something important. ‘But I sense that it’s… unusual. You’ve already demonstrated an ability to manipulate your surroundings, even without meaning to.’

I felt my heart rate quicken. The memory of the room darkening two nights ago, of Daniel’s warning, flashed through my mind. ‘What if I can’t control it?’

‘That’s what we’re here to discover,’ Elgadira replied. ‘Control comes with practice and understanding. We will guide you.’

I nodded, though doubt gnawed at me. This wasn’t some simple exercise—I didn’t even understand what kind of magic I had, let alone how to wield it. 

Elgadira motioned for me to step into the clearing, and with a deep breath, I did.

‘Start small,’ she instructed, her eyes steady on me. ‘Focus on the feeling of the magic inside you. Let it flow, but don’t force it. We need to see what form it takes.’

I stared at her blankly.

‘Let me show you.’ Elgadira sighed and walked to where I stood. I watched her intently as she raised her hands slightly, just in front of her chest. I scurried a little closer. My left eye buzzed. I never experienced such a feeling before.

Just then, a blue and green fire appeared in the palm of Elgadira’s hands. It crackled gently, nipping at her fingertips. 

‘Doesn’t it hurt?’ I gasped.

‘No,’ she smiled motherly, for once, ‘this is Veilfire. It does not burn.’

It was so strange, the way she held the flames in her hands. 

‘Magic was once a second nature to our kind.’ She continued. ‘You didn’t need to learn it, to train it. It was as easy as breathing.’

I held my breath instinctively. ‘What happened?’ I asked after a second or two of silence. 

Elgadira gazed into my eyes. ‘That is a long story, one for another day.’ She clasped her hands suddenly together, and the flames extinguished. 

I jumped at the gesture, somewhat sad the Veilfire was gone. Then, my gaze shifted to the wooden staff next to her, the one she used yesterday as a walking stick. ‘If you can cast magic with your hands… Why are you then using a staff?’ 

‘A good question, for once.’ Elgadira chuckled softly. ‘Look at a mage’s staff as their foci. It helps concentrate one’s magic, making it more concrete, and efficient. You will receive one when the time is right.’

‘When’s that?’ I asked enthusiastically. 

The elf curled a thinning eyebrow at that and then shifted her eyes to me. At my hands. ‘That time will not come if you continue to stall your training, da’len.’

Muttering slightly, I closed my eyes, trying to centre myself, to reach for whatever strange force had surfaced before. There was a tingling sensation deep in my chest, like a spark waiting to ignite, but it felt wild and untamed. I tried to focus on it, to draw it out, but nothing happened.

‘Come on, then,’ Nenhara’s voice cut through the quiet. ‘You can’t possibly be worse than when I started. You’re like, what, twenty-six?’

Her words, though teasing, hit a nerve. I clenched my fists, frustration bubbling up inside me. I had magic— I felt it. Why wasn’t it working?

And then, all at once, the magic flared.

A gust of wind swept through the clearing, stronger than the gentle breeze that had been blowing moments before. I opened my eyes in time to see the leaves swirling around me in a spiral, lifted by some unseen force. The air hummed with energy, crackling like distant lightning.

But the power wasn’t controlled. It was raw, chaotic, lashing out in all directions.

‘Careful!’ Elgadira’s voice was calm but firm, her hands raised slightly in preparation, though she hadn’t stepped forward to intervene yet.

I tried to reel it back in, but the harder I fought, the wilder the magic seemed to become. The swirling wind picked up speed, and the ground beneath my feet trembled slightly.

Nenhara stepped forward, eyes narrowing. ‘You need to focus, Saeris. Stop fighting it.’

Her words broke through my panic. I took a deep breath, closing my eyes again, and instead of trying to force the magic down, I let it flow naturally. Slowly, the wind died down, the trembling in the earth subsided, and the clearing fell back into stillness.

When I opened my eyes again, the only sign of what had happened were the scattered leaves lying in messy piles around the clearing.

Elgadira smiled softly. ‘Good. You have power, Saeris. But it’s wild, elvar’las—untrained. That will come with time.’

Nenhara, for her part, pushed off from where she’d been leaning and gave a small, begrudging nod. ‘Not bad for your first try. But don’t get cocky.’

I exhaled, feeling a mixture of relief and exhaustion. I had done it—sort of.

Elgadira clapped in her hands to get my attention. ‘Now, let’s try that again.’

*** 

The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows over the clearing as we continued training. My attempts to control the wild magic swirling inside me had been met with failure after failure. Every time I tried to summon it, the result was either too weak to notice or so chaotic that Elgadira had to step in to keep me from tearing up the clearing with gusts of wind or random bursts of energy. My head was pounding, my frustration building with each botched attempt.

‘Again,’ Elgadira said, her voice patient, but I could see the exhaustion in her eyes.

I clenched my fists, trying to steady my breath. Nenhara, who had been leaning against a tree earlier, now stood with her arms crossed, her face twisted into an expression of barely-contained irritation. Every failure seemed to annoy her more.

‘Is this really all you can do?’ Nenhara asked, her tone sharp. ‘We’ve been out here for hours, and you’re still flailing around like a lost child.’

I shot her a glare, the frustration bubbling over. ‘I’m trying ,’ I snapped, harsher than I meant to.

Nenhara’s lips curled into a smirk. ‘Doesn’t look like it.’

Heat rose in my chest. I wasn’t used to being mocked like this—especially when I didn’t even understand what was happening to me. I wasn’t some weakling. I wasn’t just going to stand here and let Nenhara treat me like one, either.

Elgadira, sensing the tension, stepped between us. ‘Focus on the magic, Saeris,’ she instructed, her tone calm but firm. ‘Not your emotions. Try again.’

I took a deep breath, closing my eyes to shut out the world around me. I could still feel Nenhara’s judgmental gaze burning into my back, but I tried to block it out. I had to concentrate. I had to prove I wasn’t useless.

The magic stirred inside me again—chaotic, wild, but there. I reached for it, focusing on keeping it calm, keeping it controlled. Slowly, I felt it flow through me, warm and tingling under my skin. This time, I poured my concentration into making something happen, something small. Something simple.

The air around me shifted, and when I opened my eyes, I gasped.

The ground beneath my feet was no longer bare. Pale blue flowers, delicate and almost translucent, had bloomed in a perfect circle around me. The sight was… beautiful. It was the first time I had managed to create something, and it took my breath away.

For a moment, I was filled with triumph. I had done it. I had made something.

‘Did you see that?’ I said, excitement taking over as I looked toward Elgadira. ‘I actually—’

But Elgadira wasn’t smiling. Her face had gone still, her eyes sharp and filled with something I couldn’t quite read—concern? Worry?

‘That’s... unexpected,’ she muttered under her breath, almost too softly for me to hear.

I blinked, confused. ‘What do you mean?’

Elgadira took a slow step forward, her gaze fixed on the flowers, as if trying to make sense of what she was seeing. She crouched down and touched one of the blooms, the petals delicate under her fingers. Then she stood abruptly, her expression carefully guarded.

‘Creation magic,’ she said, more to herself than to me. ‘This… is not something a beginner should be able to do. Not without years of training.’

The triumph I had felt moments before began to fade, replaced by a cold knot of anxiety in my chest. ‘But I didn’t… I didn’t do anything special. I just… made them grow.’

Elgadira’s eyes flickered back to me, and for the first time since we had met, there was a hint of unease in her gaze. She hesitated before speaking again. ‘Magic of this nature requires precision. Intent. You should not have been able to manifest life so easily.’

Nenhara, who had been scowling in the background, finally spoke up, though her tone was more curious than annoyed now. ‘Is that bad?’

‘Easy magic is always dangerous.’ She whispered. Then, without warning, Elgadira turned to Nenhara, her voice regaining its usual commanding tone. ‘Take her to where she can bathe. She’s earned a rest.’

Nenhara, though clearly still unsure of what had just happened, gave a short nod. She didn’t question the command.

Elgadira lingered a moment longer, her gaze lingering on the flowers before she finally turned away, walking back toward the camp without another word. 

‘What did she mean?’ I asked Nenhara, my voice quieter now. ‘About easy magic being dangerous?’

Nenhara shrugged, though her face was a little less hostile now. ‘The Keeper doesn’t say things without reason. Come on. I’ll show you where to wash off. You smell like a nug.’

‘A nug?’ I shot her an annoyed and confused look but followed her, my mind still turning over Elgadira’s words. As we walked, I glanced down at the flowers one last time.

They were still there, pale and beautiful.

But now they felt like a warning.

***

I dreamed that night that I was walking around camp. The sky was dark and stars were scattered everywhere. You didn’t see this anymore on Earth, there were too many lights in the streets. The camp was empty, silent like nobody was actually there. I walked to where the campfire was yesterday. The burned wood still felt warm. Strange. 

I was about to turn around when I saw a light coming from Elgadira’s tent. I moved closer. 

‘Is she an era’harel, Keeper?’ It was Nenhara, her voice high and worried. 

‘No, esha’lin, she’s not. She’s eralin, like you and me.’

‘Why are you allowing her here? We have enough mages.’

There was a silence. Then, I heard movement. 

‘Ir abelas, I cannot say.’ Elgadira’s voice felt directed to me instead of to Nenhara, as if she knew where I was standing. 

And then I woke up. 

***

Day seven.

The sun had dipped behind the treetops, casting the forest in shades of deep amber and gold, by the time Nenhara and I finished our training session. Another round of flowers had bloomed under my feet—not quite what I had intended, but at least it was controlled. Nenhara’s sigh had been loud enough to echo through the trees. I bit my lip, knowing I was testing her patience, even if I couldn’t help it.

‘More flowers, really?’ Nenhara muttered, flicking one of the blossoms with her finger. ‘You’re like a bloody flower shop.’

I crossed my arms, frustrated with myself, but also with her. ‘I don’t know how to stop it. I’m trying.’

Nenhara gave me a look that said she didn’t quite believe me. She had been harder on me lately, her sharp words biting deeper than before. At first, I thought it was just her way of pushing me to improve, but lately, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something else was going on. Elgadira had been distant as well, keeping to herself more than usual, and my questions about the flowers—and my magic—had been met with vague answers or deflections.

After a long silence, Nenhara finally spoke again, though her voice was more neutral this time. ‘You’re allowed to leave for the weekend.’

I blinked, confused. ‘What?’

‘You heard me,’ Nenhara said, brushing some dirt off her tunic. ‘You can go visit your shemlen. Daniel, wasn’t it? If you want to.’

A rush of excitement shot through me. ‘Wait, really?’ I could hardly believe it. A whole week had passed since I had met Daniel, and I had wondered if I’d be stuck in the camp forever. The thought of returning to his warm, familiar cottage, of seeing someone who had welcomed me without suspicion, made me feel lighter.

‘Why now?’ I asked, curious about the timing. The Dalish had kept me close since I arrived, never letting me venture too far, and certainly never offering me the chance to leave.

‘Daniel came by during his weekly trade with the clan. Asked about you,’ Nenhara explained, though her expression remained flat. ‘The Keeper requested if you could stay with him for the weekend. He agreed. It seems the clan has some business a little further away, and you’re not part of that business.’

I frowned. ‘Business?’

Nenhara’s lips tightened. ‘Not something for outsiders.’ She didn’t offer more details, and I didn’t press. There was always something they weren’t telling me, but I had learned by now not to ask too many questions—especially about things that involved the clan.

I couldn't hide my smile as I realised I’d get to see Daniel again. ‘When can I go?’

‘Tonight,’ Nenhara said, not sharing in my enthusiasm. ‘Pack your things, whatever you’ve got. We’ll head out after sundown. I’ll take you to him.’

***

The night had settled into a cool, quiet darkness by the time we left the camp. Nenhara led the way through the forest, her movements swift and silent. She didn’t speak much as we walked, and I didn’t push for conversation. After what felt like an hour of walking, the trees began to thin, and I caught sight of the warm glow of a lantern up ahead. My heart skipped a beat when I saw Daniel standing by the edge of the clearing, his familiar red hair catching the light, his figure outlined against the dark forest. He was waiting for me.

‘There he is,’ Nenhara said, stopping a few paces from the edge of the forest. Her tone was dry, as if this whole thing was just an inconvenience to her. ‘Go on.’

I shot her a sideways glance. ‘You’re not coming with me?’

Nenhara shook her head. ‘No. I’ve got other things to do, alin . The clan’s leaving soon, and I need to be ready.’

She didn’t say goodbye. Instead, she gave me a final look—one I couldn’t quite read—then turned and disappeared back into the forest without another word.

I stood there for a moment, watching her vanish into the trees, before turning back toward Daniel. He had seen me now, and his face broke into a wide, welcoming smile. He waved, his movements casual, as if he had been waiting for me all along.

‘Saeris!’ Daniel called, his voice warm and familiar, and suddenly, all the tension I had been carrying melted away.

I walked up to him, feeling a sense of relief wash over me. Being here felt… safe, like returning to a place I belonged. As I reached him, he gave me a grin, his eyes bright in the soft lantern light.

‘Good to see you again,’ he said. ‘I was starting to think they wouldn’t let you out.’

I chuckled, shaking my head. ‘Me too. But here I am.’ There was something to Daniel. Like my newfound instincts whispered: Stay with him. Don’t wander far. Not yet. 

Daniel studied me for a moment, as if making sure I was really alright. His smile faded slightly, replaced by something more serious. ‘You look like you’ve been through a lot.’

I shrugged, not really sure how to explain everything that had happened. ‘It’s been… an adjustment.’

He nodded, understanding without needing more words. ‘Well, come on in. We’ll talk inside. You must be exhausted.’

I followed him toward the cottage, glancing back over my shoulder once to where Nenhara had disappeared into the woods. The camp, the Dalish… it all felt so far away now, like a strange, distant world.

With Daniel, I feel like a human woman again. Myself.

For the first time in days, I felt like I could breathe again.

***

The fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting a warm glow over the small cottage. Daniel and I sat across from each other at the wooden table, sharing a simple meal—bread, roasted vegetables, and a bit of smoked meat. It felt like the first real, peaceful moment I’d had in days. I hadn’t realised how much I missed the comfort of this place until I was back, sitting here with him.

Daniel had already begun telling me about his life, his tone more reflective now that we were alone. ‘My mother was a mage, you know,’ he said, poking at his food. ‘But she wasn’t like the ones you’ve probably seen. She was… Tranquil.’

I frowned, unsure of what he meant. ‘Tranquil?’

His gaze flickered toward me, then back to the fire. ‘Here, in Thedas, mages are—if they are not Dalish— kept in Circle towers. It is to control them, make sure they aren’t corrupted by their magic. Templars guard the Circles and the mages within. And… Tranquillity… it’s something the Circle does to mages. To strip away their emotions, their connection to the Fade. They make them calm, detached… empty.’ His voice tightened slightly, as if the words were heavy to say. ‘They say it’s to control those who might be too dangerous otherwise.’

A cold shiver ran down my spine. ‘And that happened to your mother?’

Daniel nodded. ‘Yeah. She was made Tranquil in the Circle at Kinloch Hold. She wasn’t dangerous—she was just… unlucky, I suppose.’ He sighed, leaning back in his chair. ‘She was a shell of who she had been, but even like that, she found ways to survive. Then…’ His voice trailed off, as if the next part was harder to say.

‘You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,’ I said softly, feeling the weight of the conversation shift.

But he shook his head. ‘No, it’s alright.’ He took a deep breath. ‘A Templar at the Circle forced himself on her. I’m the result of that.’

My heart ached for him. The sorrow in his voice, the rawness of it, made me want to reach out and take his hand. But I stayed still, not wanting to push too far.

‘When I was born,’ he continued, his voice steady but sombre, ‘my mother left the Circle—Tranquil mages are allowed to leave. Most don’t, as they know they are safer within those prisons. But after what happened, my mother understood that it was only logical to leave, for me. We travelled south to Gwaren, living a poor life on the edges of town. She worked where she could, but it was hard. People don’t look kindly on the Tranquil—they’re treated like… tools. Like they’re not really people.’

I swallowed, feeling the anger rise in me at the thought of anyone being treated that way.

‘Then, when I was about five,’ Daniel said, his voice softening, ‘Elgadira’s clan came through the Brecilian Forest. They made camp not far from Gwaren, and the Keeper would come into town to trade with the humans. One day, she found us—found my mother. I don’t know why, but she took an interest in her. Maybe she pitied her, or maybe she just saw something no one else did. Elgadira led us here, to this cottage. She thought it would be safer, away from the judgement of the humans.’

He smiled faintly, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. ‘We have stayed here ever since. My mother… She died a few years ago, but I’ve kept in contact with the clan. Elgadira’s been kind to me. I owe her a lot.’

There was a quiet sadness that lingered in the room as Daniel finished his story. I could see how much he had endured, how much he had lost, and yet, here he was—strong, kind, and somehow still hopeful. It made my chest tighten with something I didn’t quite understand, a mix of empathy and admiration.

‘I’m sorry, Daniel,’ I said softly. ‘I can’t imagine how hard that must’ve been for you.’

He gave a small, bittersweet smile. ‘I survived. Thanks to her.’ His gaze drifted toward the window, where the dark outlines of the trees were barely visible in the night. ‘And now, you’re here. Life has a strange way of throwing people together.’

Strange is one way to call it.

The fire crackled again, and for a moment, we just sat in the now comfortable silence, the warmth of the hearth wrapping around us. I looked at Daniel, really looked at him—the way his red hair caught the firelight, his strong arms resting on the table and the gentle curve of his lips, the kindness in his eyes. 

His presence was calming but charged, like a storm just waiting to break.

Daniel’s voice was quieter now, more intimate, as he said, ‘I’m glad you’re here, Saeris.’

My heart skipped a beat at the way he said my name, the softness in his voice. I met his gaze, feeling the tension between us shift into something deeper, something more. The air seemed to thicken with it, a warmth that had nothing to do with the fire.

‘I’m glad too,’ my voice was barely audible over the crackling of the fire, but he heard me. His eyes lifted to mine, and I saw it there, that same tension, that unspoken pull between us.

The warmth in his gaze stirred something in me, something I couldn’t quite control. My body felt heavy with the closeness of him, the softness of the room dimming everything else but this moment. I leaned forward slightly, my heart pounding in my chest as if it might escape. Daniel moved closer too, his breath soft and warm as he reached out, brushing a strand of my hair behind my ear. The touch was gentle, almost hesitant, but it sent a shiver through me, as if he had set fire to every nerve in my body.

‘Saeris…’ he murmured, his voice rougher now, low and filled with the same unspoken need. The way he said my name was like a tether, pulling me toward him, pulling me into something I hadn’t expected but couldn’t resist.

I swallowed hard, my heart racing. Every part of me screamed to close the space between us, to drown out the ache of loneliness with something, someone real. Slowly, without thinking, I reached out and placed my hand over his, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath mine.

His eyes darkened, and before I could second-guess what I was doing, he leaned forward, his lips barely brushing mine. It was soft at first, tentative, but that tentative touch ignited something deep inside me. I leaned into him, pressing my lips more firmly against his, and that was all it took.

In an instant, the floodgates opened. His hand cupped the back of my neck, pulling me closer, and I responded in kind, fingers curling into his shirt as if holding onto him would anchor me in this strange, shifting world. The kiss deepened, grew urgent, a desperate need to feel, to forget, to find comfort in something, someone who understood the weight of being so utterly alone in this world. I moaned against his mouth, my tongue flicking against his. 

Daniel stood, pulling me with him, his hands firm yet gentle as they guided me away from the table. His lips never left mine as we stumbled toward the small bed, the world around us fading into nothing but this moment, this connection. His hands found my waist, lifting me slightly, and I wrapped my arms around his neck, letting the weight of everything fall away.

There was no hesitation now, no second-guessing. His touch was hungry, his lips moving from my mouth to my neck, sending shivers down my spine. I gasped softly as he pressed me back onto the bed, his body warm and solid above mine. It felt right, even though none of this made sense. It was like we were both trying to fill the void of loneliness with each other, to find solace in the closeness we so desperately needed. 

My hands stroked his chest, feeling the muscles underneath. I trailed down, trailing his hardness against my legs. Energy burst through me. My hands slipped underneath his cotton shirt, exploring the smooth muscles underneath. He moved with me as I pulled the shirt over his head, his eyes not leaving mine. Once his chest was bare, his hands were on me again, his lips against mine. His hands glided over my chest, from my waist to my stomach and then to my breasts. He pushed my tunic over my head, until I was bare beneath him. Daniel’s breath rattled in his throat as his hand slid from my heart to my breast and cupped it, stroking. 

As the night deepened, we lost ourselves in each other again and again—his hands exploring, mine clinging to him like a lifeline. For the first time since waking up in this strange new world, I didn’t feel lost. I didn’t feel alone.

For a moment, it was just us—two people, seeking comfort in the only way we knew how.

If I think about it now, maybe Daniel was a kind offer of whatever had sent me here. An apologetic gift of happiness, for a while. To compensate for the long, and difficult years that would follow. 

A life more difficult… and longer than I ever would’ve imagined. 

Notes:

So this was again a very descriptive chapter needed to set my story on its way.
But don't worry... shit will hit the fan soon ;-)

Chapter 4: Silenced

8:23 Blessed

The air was warm, the scent of soil and fresh crops heavy in the breeze. I stood by the garden, watching as the flowers bloomed and vines stretched toward the sky, all with a gentle nudge of magic from my fingertips. The fields had flourished under my care, more than they ever had when I first came here. Each stem, each leaf, seemed to respond to my will, growing strong and vibrant. It was something that felt natural now, as natural as breathing. 

I smiled softly, feeling a sense of pride at how far I’d come in these past ten years. The garden was flourishing, a reflection of the life Daniel and I had built together. The cottage had grown too, expanded slightly to accommodate the years we’d spent here, and the plans we’d made for the future. We’d talked about travelling—exploring Ferelden, seeing the places we’d only heard about in stories. Next year, we will finally make it happen.

‘You're doing it again,’ Daniel’s voice called out from behind me, teasing but warm. I turned, smiling as I saw him walking toward me from the cottage. He wiped his hands on his tunic, his red hair flecked with grey now, his face weathered by time but still carrying the same gentle warmth that had drawn me to him all those years ago.

‘I can’t help it,’ I replied, looking down at the small patch of vegetables I had grown in the span of a few minutes. ‘It’s too easy.’

Daniel chuckled softly, coming to stand beside me, his arm slipping around my waist as he admired the garden with me. I leaned into him, enjoying the comforting weight of his presence. We had built this life together, made this cottage a home. It was peaceful, simple, and it was ours. 

I glanced up at Daniel, noticing the slight lines that had deepened around his eyes, his face carrying the subtle marks of a life lived. The years were beginning to show, no matter how hard I tried to ignore it.

And then there was me.

Ten years had passed, but I hadn’t changed. Not in the way he had. My reflection in the small, worn mirror in the cottage was still the same as the day I’d woken up in the ruins—long, white hair falling down my back, smooth skin, unmarked by time. My eyes, one still a bright blue and the other that strange, emerald green, stared back at me with the same unnerving intensity.

For me, time flew by so fast. Unbelievably fast. I wondered if everyone felt that. Days felt like minutes. And I wasn’t ageing. I knew that much, even if I tried not to dwell on it. Daniel never said anything about it, but I knew he noticed. He had to. It was impossible not to. Yet, he never let it come between us. Not once.

‘You’re thinking again,’ he said softly, breaking the silence.

I met his gaze, smiling a little. ‘Just about next year,’ I said, trying to keep the conversation light. ‘Travelling, seeing Ferelden... it’ll be nice.’

‘It will,’ he agreed, his eyes warm. ‘We’ve been saving up for so long. We’ll go wherever we want, see whatever we want to see. Just you and me.’

I smiled again, this time more genuinely, feeling the excitement stir within me. I had been looking forward to our travels for years. It would be an adventure—just the two of us, no ties holding us back. We had no children, nothing to keep us anchored here, and the thought of exploring the world with him by my side filled me with excitement.

Daniel watched me for a moment longer, his gaze softening. ‘I can see you’re worried about something, Saeris.’ He said quietly, his hand moving to brush a strand of hair behind my ear. ‘You don’t have to hide that from me.’

I looked away briefly, my fingers trailing over the flowers I had grown. ‘It’s just... strange. Sometimes I feel like I’m standing still while everything else moves around me.’

He let out a soft sigh, his hand lifting to cup my cheek, guiding my gaze back to his. ‘You don’t need to worry about that. Maybe it’ll come. Maybe you’re just different. But it doesn’t change anything between us.’

I nodded, though I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to it than I was ready to face. But Daniel was here, and he didn’t seem to mind. And for now, that was enough.

‘Alright, come, dinner is almost ready and you still have to tell me about your trip to Gwaren!’ I kissed Daniel on the cheek and turned, pulling him to the cottage, ready to talk about anything else. Daniel laughed and followed me inside. 

His visits to the port town of Gwaren had become a regular part of our lives, a necessity for trading goods and picking up supplies we couldn’t get from the Dalish clan. I hadn’t gone this time, and truth be told, I never enjoyed it as much as I wanted to.

‘I still don’t get why they call you that,’ Daniel said, a faint smile on his lips as he glanced at me over his mug of ale I had just poured for him. 

‘Rabbit?’ I asked, shaking my head with a small laugh. ‘Racism, I guess. They’re just being extra sappy over me because I’m tall for an elf and…’ I trailed off, touching my face lightly as I considered my two differently coloured eyes. ‘I stand out, even among other elves. And humans tend to be suspicious of anything that doesn’t fit their idea of ‘normal.’

I’m not human. I don’t feel human. Not anymore.

Daniel frowned slightly. ‘They’re idiots,’ he said simply, his voice rough with frustration. ‘They don’t know you like I do.’

I smiled at him. ‘I don’t mind so much anymore. The town’s not home to me like it is for you. It’s different when I’m there, like I’m being watched from all sides.’

‘That’s because they don’t know how to appreciate what’s right in front of them,’ he said, taking a drink before setting the mug down with a soft thud. ‘You’d think after all this time, they’d be used to seeing elves.’

‘Used to seeing Dalish, maybe,’ I replied. ‘But I’m something else to them. Even the Dalish don’t know what to make of me sometimes.’

A soft knock on the door broke our conversation, and Daniel got up to answer it. I already knew who it would be.

The door swung open, and Nenhara stood on the threshold, her sharp eyes meeting mine immediately. She had long since shed the suspicion she’d harboured toward me when we first met, though her humour was still as cutting as ever. The dark, curling tattoos on her face gave her a fierce appearance, but I knew now that beneath her sharp exterior was a loyal friend. Her long brown hair was tied back in its usual tight ponytail, and her arms were crossed over her chest.

‘Ready?’ she asked without preamble, though there was a glint of warmth in her eyes.

I nodded, standing up from the table. ‘I’ll get my things.’

Daniel smiled at Nenhara as I moved to grab my travel pack. ‘You’re taking her away again?’

‘She’s got training to do,’ Nenhara replied, smirking slightly. ‘I can’t have her slacking off just because she’s living with you now.’

‘Hard to argue with that,’ he said, chuckling as he turned back to me. ‘Take care of yourself.’

I smiled at him, knowing I’d be back in a week, as I always was. ‘I will. Try not to miss me too much.’

Daniel kissed me lightly, the touch of his lips warm and familiar, before I followed Nenhara out into the night. The air was cool, and the forest around us was alive with the sounds of insects and the rustling of leaves. We started the familiar trek deeper into the Brecilian Forest, toward where the clan had moved. They’d relocated further up the forest since I’d last visited—a response to the unsettling increase in Orlesian activity along the borders.

We walked in comfortable silence for a while, the light of the moon filtering through the dense canopy overhead. Nenhara glanced at me from time to time, her expression unreadable.

‘It feels like visiting family, you know,’ I said, breaking the quiet. ‘Coming back to the clan.’

Nenhara snorted, but I could hear the smile in her voice. ‘Family, huh? Don’t get too sentimental on me, Saeris.’

I grinned at her. ‘You’ve gotten softer, Nenhara. I remember when you wouldn’t even look me in the eye without suspicion.’

‘That’s because I thought you were some strange forest spirit come to mess with us,’ she shot back, her smirk widening. ‘Turns out, you’re just a weird elf with too much magic and a penchant for flowers.’

We both laughed, the sound echoing through the trees. But as the laughter faded, Nenhara’s expression grew more serious.

‘Things have been tense at camp lately,’ she said, her voice quieter now. ‘More Orlesian spies have been spotted near the forest. Elgadira thinks something’s coming.’

I nodded, having sensed the unease during my last visit. ‘Orlesians don’t usually come this far into Ferelden, do they?’

‘They do now,’ Nenhara muttered. ‘The Mad Emperor’s been quiet for too long. Everyone’s on edge, and with Elgadira growing weaker…’ She trailed off, her gaze sharpening as she looked ahead. ‘I don’t like it.’

Elgadira had indeed grown more reclusive over the past months. Her age was finally catching up with her, and the once-vibrant Keeper now spent most of her days in quiet solitude. Nenhara had been preparing to take on the mantle of Keeper, but it was clear she felt the weight of that responsibility pressing down on her.

‘How is Elgadira?’ I asked softly. ‘I haven’t seen much of her lately.’

‘Old,’ Nenhara replied simply, though her voice was tinged with sadness. ‘She still does what she can, but... she’s not the same. I think she’s ready to pass the Keeper’s title soon. I’ve been preparing for it, but Creators, it feels like there’s too much happening at once.’

I didn’t have much to say to that. The thought of Elgadira stepping down felt strange, as if the world itself was shifting beneath us. She had been my teacher, my guide through the world of Thedas, even if we hadn’t always agreed on everything. Even if… she found no answers for what had happened to me. The idea of her being gone... I didn’t want to think about it.

We reached the clearing where the clan had set up camp, the familiar sight of elven tents nestled among the trees greeting us. The camp was more subdued than usual, though. There were fewer fires, fewer voices carrying through the night air. Everyone seemed on edge, and I could feel the tension prickling in the air.

As we entered, I noticed the watchful eyes of the clan members on us, their expressions wary but familiar. They whispered ‘lethallin’ when I passed them. It means, friend. It did feel like coming home, despite the growing unease. The clan always welcomed me back, even after I refused the Vallaslin years ago and went to live with Daniel full-time. I know some had been angered by that. But not Elgadira. 

Nenhara led me to my tent, offering a curt nod before disappearing into the night to tend to her own duties.

I stood for a moment outside my tent, listening to the sounds of the camp. Whatever the future held, I knew it would be difficult. But for now, I would focus on my training and do what I could to help the clan. However, for a fleeting moment, I allowed myself to wonder what kind of future Daniel and I would have in a world that was slowly shifting beneath our feet. 

Maybe we should leave for our trip sooner… I will talk to him about it next week.

***

Three days later, I woke up earlier than usual. The camp was quiet in the early morning, the sun barely peeking over the tops of the ancient trees that encircled the Dalish settlement. I slipped out of my tent, the crisp air brushing against my skin as I fastened my cloak around my shoulders. In my hand, I carried the staff Elgadira had gifted me seven years ago, its surface etched with delicate runes that hummed faintly with the magic I could now control. The wood felt warm, familiar in my grip, though I still wasn’t used to carrying it daily.

Magic came to me naturally—this staff, though beautiful, was more a symbol of responsibility than practicality.

I made my way toward the healer's tent, where I had spent much of my time since returning to the clan. Helping here gave me purpose, a way to give back to the Dalish who had, over the years, become like a second family. Inside, the familiar scent of herbs filled the air, and the faint glow of magic hung around the space. The healer, called ‘Ladarelan’ in Elven, was a kind and patient elf named Rogelan. She greeted me with a tired smile.

‘Saeris,’ she said softly. ‘You’re here early. But I’m not complaining. The hunters just came back, can you help?’

I smiled back and nodded, setting my staff against the wall before getting to work. Due to the tension in the area, the hunters would go out before dawn. It was safer to hunt that way, but they were now more prone to fall or slip in the dark. I tended to minor injuries, a sprain here, a small cut there. Nothing too serious, but enough to keep my hands busy. As always, my magic flowed through me like water, instinctive and warm. Together with creation magic, healing magic came more easily to me. Perhaps they were connected. To create and to make whole. Either way, it felt good to use magic for something tangible, something that helped people.

By midday, the sun hung high in the sky, filtering through the canopy of trees above. I wiped my hands on a cloth, satisfied that the healer’s tent was calm for now.

‘Thank you for your help, Saeris,’ Rogelan said as I gathered my things.

I gave her a soft smile. ‘Anytime. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

With that, I left the tent and made my way to the clearing where I’d meet Nenhara and Elgadira for our training session. Though I enjoyed learning about magic, I found myself dreading today’s lesson. Primal magic—ice and air, lighting and fire—was my worst subject. The storms I created were always too uncontrolled, my ice too watery, and the sparks I could manage to conjure were so small, they would make an opponent giggle. And today, fire was on the menu. I hadn’t yet been able to create as much as an ember. But to be honest, my heart wasn’t into it. Fire was destructive, volatile. Healing and creation felt more natural to me, more in line with who I was. But Elgadira insisted I learn all aspects of magic, especially now, with tensions rising on the outskirts of the forest. 

When I arrived at the clearing, Nenhara was already there, her arms crossed over her chest as she tapped her foot impatiently. The black tattoos on her face were more pronounced in the midday light, and her usual smirk tugged at the corners of her mouth.

‘Late again,’ she said, her tone teasing.

‘By a minute,’ I replied, matching her grin.

Elgadira stood nearby, watching us with her piercing, tired eyes. She was older now, frailer than when I’d first met her, but her presence still commanded respect. There was something about her—an ageless wisdom, even as her body began to fail her. She leaned on her staff, which bore similar runes to mine, though far more intricate.

‘Enough chatter,’ Elgadira said, her voice soft but firm. ‘Let’s begin.’

I braced myself, knowing what was coming. Elgadira began instructing me on fire magic, explaining the importance of control and precision when wielding something so dangerous. Nenhara, as usual, stood off to the side, watching with a mix of amusement and impatience. She’d mastered fire magic long ago, and I knew she thought I was too soft for this kind of magic.

‘Focus,’ Elgadira said as I raised my staff, trying to channel the energy. I felt the heat flicker at my fingertips, moving along the hilt of the staff, a small ember taking form at the top. But as I attempted to direct it outward, it fizzled, the magic slipping from my grasp like smoke in the wind.

I sighed, frustration bubbling up in my chest. ‘Blegh, I don’t like this.’

‘You must learn to defend yourself,’ Elgadira said calmly, though her eyes were sharp. ‘Magic is not only for healing and growth. In these times, you must be prepared for more.’

I nodded, though reluctantly. Still, I tried again, this time managing to conjure a small flame. It flickered weakly in front of me, but it was progress. Elgadira gave a slight nod, and Nenhara made a sound of approval, though I could tell she was still unimpressed.

‘Now, Saeris,’ Elgadira continued, her tone shifting slightly, ‘while you train today, let us continue with our cultural lessons as well.’

I glanced at her, surprised. Elgadira had always been insistent that I learn more about Dalish culture, but lately, her lessons had taken on a new urgency, as though she knew something I didn’t. Today, her focus was on the Trickster God, Fen’Harel.

‘Fen’Harel, the Dread Wolf,’ she began, her voice low and steady. ‘He is a god, but not like the others in our pantheon. He is the trickster, the betrayer, the one who locked both the gods and the Forgotten Ones away, leaving the People to fend for themselves.’

I frowned, my concentration on the fire spell faltering as I listened. ‘I already know the Dread Wolf. Why are you bringing him up again now?’ It was one of my first lessons. Never let the Dread Wolf catch your scent.

Elgadira’s gaze darkened, her expression unreadable. ‘You need to know the stories of our people, Saeris. You need to understand the gods and their influence, especially Fen’Harel. He is a figure of power and change, and in a world like ours, you must be aware of what lies beneath the surface of our history.’

There was something cryptic in her words, something that made my skin prickle. I extinguished the flame, turning my full attention to the Keeper. 

Elgadira stepped closer, her staff tapping softly against the ground as she approached. Nenhara watched from a distance, though she seemed less interested in this part of the lesson. I could feel her growing impatience, but Elgadira’s gaze held me firmly in place.

‘We call it the Great Betrayal.’ She began, her voice softer now, ‘Fen’Harel was once one of the Evanuris, the gods of the Elven people.’

I frowned, listening intently. The stories I’d heard about the elven gods always painted Fen’Harel as a distant figure—dangerous, yes, but removed from the world as it is now. He was just a myth, a story to warn children about deception. Right?

Elgadira continued, her expression darkening. ‘He locked them all away. He broke the balance between our people and our gods, leaving us to fend for ourselves in the world. For centuries, we have lived with the consequences of his trickery.’

She paused, her eyes narrowing slightly as if sensing something in the distance. ‘And now... I feel his presence again. His influence stirs. There is chaos on the horizon, and chaos is always his doing.’

‘Chaos?’ I repeated, trying to make sense of what she was saying. ‘Do you think he’s still... out there?’

Elgadira didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she looked up at the trees, her expression tight with thought. ‘Fen’Harel has never truly left us, Saeris. He lingers in this world. And whenever there is unrest, whenever the world tilts toward chaos, it is his hand that pulls the strings.’

My chest tightened at her words. ‘And this unrest in Ferelden, the Orlesian spies... is it his doing?’

Elgadira turned her gaze back to me, and the weight of her stare was palpable. ‘I don’t know. But I sense the same currents I have felt before. The Dread Wolf’s shadow is long, and it falls across us now.’

The air seemed to grow colder as she spoke, her words pressing down on me like a weight. 

‘You must be wary of the Wolf,’ Elgadira said, her voice lowering again to that soft, cautious tone. ‘He is the master of deception, and even the wisest among us have fallen to his tricks. If chaos truly stirs, you will need to be prepared—for anything.’

I nodded, though my heart raced with uncertainty. The fire magic at my fingertips flickered again as I tried to regain my focus, but the image of the Dread Wolf loomed large in my mind.

Elgadira stepped back, signalling that the lesson was over for now. She glanced at Nenhara, who had been listening quietly but not adding to the conversation.

‘Nenhara,’ the Keeper said softly. ‘Go get some dinner with Saeris. We will continue tomorrow.’

Nenhara gave a small nod. As we walked away from the clearing, I couldn’t help but glance over my shoulder, seeing Elgadira still standing there, her gaze far away as if sensing something just beyond the trees.

***

The tent was warm as Nenhara and I sat side by side, sharing stories like we had done every night I stayed at the camp. Ten years had passed since my first night here, and though I still felt out of place in this world at times, moments like these—laughing with Nenhara, reminiscing about the past—made me feel like I had a sister. I had always wanted one.

‘I remember when you tried to sneak out that first night,’ Nenhara said with a smirk, pulling her knees to her chest as she sat on her bedroll. ‘Thought you could just wander into the forest without anyone noticing.’

I chuckled softly. ‘No, that wasn’t what happened! I just wanted to… look around. And you stopped me before I could even get past the first tent. You were terrifying back then.’

Nenhara raised an eyebrow, feigning offence. ‘Back then? I’m still terrifying.’ Her expression softened into a grin. ‘But I suppose I’ve mellowed a little.’ She wrinkled her nose as she smirked. ‘Talking about terrifying, I still owe you that story about the witch.’

I leaned forward. We had been telling each other creepy tales last night. Tonight was her turn.

‘Have you heard about the Beast of the Tellari Swamps?’ Nenhara wiggled her eyebrows. ‘The story goes that the Beast is a beautiful woman, a Witch of the Wilds. They say that Queen Madrigal of Antiva had made a deal with her, but something happened that made Madrigal challenge the witch in the woods,’ she wiggled her eyebrows, ‘and later the queen was found impaled on four swords!’ Nenhara made a gurgling sound. 

I stuck out my tongue. ‘That’s horrible!’

Nenhara curled closer. ‘They named the Steel Age after this event, didn’t you know?’ She huffed. ‘I bet that witch is still out there. Legend has it that—’ 

Suddenly, the tent flap flew open with a gust of cold night air, and Elgadira rushed inside. Her face was pale, her usual calmness shattered by something urgent, something frightening.

‘Saeris,’ she said, her voice tight and filled with an uncharacteristic edge of fear. ‘You have to leave. Now.’

Both Nenhara and I stood up immediately, the sudden shift in energy sending a spike of panic through me. ‘What? Why?’ I asked, my voice trembling.

Elgadira’s eyes met mine, ‘I sensed it in the Fade. Something is wrong... with Daniel.’

The world seemed to tilt for a moment, and my breath caught in my throat. ‘Daniel?’ I whispered, barely able to get the word out.

‘There's no time!’ Elgadira’s voice cracked, an urgency in her tone I had never heard before. ‘You must go. Now. Nenhara, go with her.’

Nenhara grabbed our staffs and my arm, pulling me toward the tent entrance, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from Elgadira. The way she looked at me—it was as if she were saying goodbye. Forever.

‘Elgadira…’ I began, but she shook her head, her expression softening into something I couldn’t place—sorrow, resignation, love.

‘Go, Saeris. And may the Creators guide you.’ Her words were low, almost a whisper, but they weighed heavy. ‘Dareth shiral.’

I hesitated for only a second longer before Nenhara yanked me forward, and then we ran—ran like we had never run before. The night blurred around us, the trees a dark wall of shapes as we sprinted through the forest, hearts pounding, panic rising with each step.

Daniel. Something was wrong. Something had warned Elgadira, and now... now I was racing against time, against a fear that clawed at the edges of my mind.

We ran for hours, though the time passed in a haze of adrenaline and terror. Nenhara, usually so composed, was breathing hard beside me, her face tense with worry. We didn’t speak; there was nothing to say. The only sound was the pounding of our feet and the rush of our breath as we pushed forward, faster, harder, desperate to reach the cottage.

But as we neared the clearing where Daniel and I had built our life together, my heart sank. Smoke. Thick, black smoke billowing into the sky.

‘No…’ I whispered, the word lost in the wind as we rounded the final bend.

The cottage was engulfed in flames. ‘Fenedhis,’ mumbled Nenhara under her breath.

Everything—the cottage, the fields, the flower garden where I had spent so many hours coaxing life from the earth—everything was burning.

‘No!’ I screamed, breaking into a full sprint, my legs shaking beneath me as I stumbled toward the flames. Nenhara was right behind me, but I didn’t look back. I couldn’t.

I burst into the garden, and that’s when I saw him.

Daniel.

He was lying in the middle of the flower bed, the one I had grown so carefully, the flowers now singed and withering from the heat. A sword was buried deep in his chest, and blood stained the petals around him, pooling beneath his still body.

‘Daniel!’ I dropped to my knees beside him, my hands shaking as I reached out, touching his face, his chest, trying to pull the sword free. My magic—it had to work. It always worked. ‘Stay with me. Please, stay with me!’

His eyes fluttered open, and he looked at me, his lips trembling as he struggled to speak. ‘Saeris…’

Tears blurred my vision as I pressed my hands over his wound, calling on every ounce of magic I had, trying to heal him, trying to stop the blood, but... it wasn’t working. My hands hurt, they pricked. I looked at them and saw the purple slime that was oozing from his wound. The sword must’ve had poison on it. Why did they do this? To an unarmed farmer? 

I tried putting my hands on his wound again, biting my tongue to not feel the prickling pain of the poison on my hands. I felt my magic flow through him, trying to knit the wound back together. But the magic refused—the poison coiling, burning the magic away like fire to water. What was this? I screamed now. 

‘Saeris…’ he whispered again, his voice weak, pained. ‘The... Orlesians.’

I froze, my mind barely registering the words. Orlesians. The spies in the forest, the growing tension Elgadira had warned us about. But I couldn’t focus on that now. All that mattered was him—saving him.

But I couldn’t.

His hand reached up, trembling, and he touched my face, a faint smile on his lips. ‘My flower. I love you.’

I shook my head, sobbing now, the tears falling freely. ‘No, don’t... You’re going to be okay. I’m going to fix this. I can fix this!’

But his eyes were already glazing over, the light fading as his breathing slowed. His hand slipped from my cheek, falling limp to the ground.

And then he was gone.

‘No!’ I screamed, clutching his body to mine, sobbing into his chest as the fire raged around us, the world collapsing into chaos and grief.

I couldn’t save him. I couldn’t save the one person who had anchored me to this world.

And now, I was alone.

***

We buried Daniel in the field next to where the cottage once had been—where he had told me he had once laid his mother’s ashes to rest. Blue forget-me-nots covered his grave. A simple stone adorned his resting place, no name, no date. A single flower grew on top of the tombstone, a soft green one this time, the colour of his eyes. 

Nenhara put her hand on my shoulder. And silently cried with me. She panted and then closed her eyes. I did the same. Then, she started to sing. Her voice was shaky, but it was steadily carried along the wind.

Melava inan enansal
ir su aravel tu elvaral
u na emma abelas
in elgar sa vir mana
in tu setheneran din emma na

lath sulevin
lath araval ena
arla ven tu vir mahvir
melana ‘nehn
enasal ir sa lethalin

Time was once a blessing
but long journeys are made longer
when alone within.
Take spirit from the long ago
but do not dwell in lands no longer yours.

Be certain in need,
and the path will emerge
to a home tomorrow
and time will again
be the joy it once was

Nenhara let go of my shoulder. ‘Ir abelas, lethallin. Mala suledin nadas.’

I nodded and stood up from where I was sitting. ‘Dareth Shiral.’

Notes:

So, this happened.
If you liked it, you can always leave a comment or a kudo!

Chapter 5: Hooked

It was already dark outside. I lit up a candle and looked into the little fire as it flickered.
My ears twitched as I heard him come in. He threw his nugskin cape from his shoulders and sighed. He had worked hard today, going all the way to Gwaren to barter with the merchants. 

He was holding a basket filled with blue forget-me-nots he always picked for me from the flowerbed I’d made, and put them on the table in a simple vase. I smiled as he carefully replaced the old ones with the new. His eyes were searching mine, and I saw them squeeze together as he tried to see my face in the dim-lit room. 

With his big hands, he combed through his red hair. How long it had become. His broad shoulders sagged a bit when he finally found my eyes. 

‘My flower,’ he smiled. 

I stood up from behind the table and took his hand and kissed his knuckles that had grown rough from working in the field. He lowered his head and kissed my brow, taking up my smell. The ends of his lips curled into a grin. 

‘Welcome home, Daniel.’  

***

The cold wind from the Waking Sea whipped at my face as I stood on the stony shore, my cloak pulled tightly around me. Waves lapped against the rocks, the spray of saltwater dampening the hem of my worn boots. Before me, the ferry swayed gently in the water, tethered to the dock by a frayed rope. It would carry me across the sea, away from Ferelden, away from everything I had known.

I glanced down at the letter tucked into the pocket of my cloak—Nenhara’s handwriting scrawled across the parchment, her words a plea for me to stay, to reconsider. But I couldn’t. Not after what had happened.

Daniel’s face haunted me, his dying words replaying in my mind, over and over. My flower. It had been two months since I found him in our garden, his blood soaking the flowers we had tended together. Two months since his death had hollowed out a piece of me I knew could never be filled again. The weight of the sword in his chest, the poison coursing through him, the helplessness I felt as I tried to heal him with magic that had failed me.

Magic. I had given my staff to Nenhara before we parted ways—left it in her hands like a burden I no longer wanted to carry. Magic couldn’t save Daniel. It had only reminded me of my failure, of my uselessness. What good was power if I couldn’t even protect the one person I loved?

Now, I stood on this shore, waiting to leave it all behind.

I took a deep breath, the salty air filling my lungs as I walked toward the dwarf selling tickets by the dock. He eyed me warily, as so many did, his gaze lingering on my face, my height, the stark contrast of my white hair and mismatched eyes—too tall for an elf, too strange for comfort. I didn’t care anymore. Let them stare. Let them judge.

‘They’re idiots.’ Daniel had said. ‘They don’t know you like I do.’

‘One ticket to Kirkwall,’ I said, my voice steady, though my heart pounded beneath my ribs. Kirkwall had been liberated from Orlais nearly 18 years ago. They were independent now and had started anew, as I would do soon too. The dwarf raised an eyebrow but shrugged, accepting the coin I handed him. The last of what Nenhara had given me. It was all the money she had. 

‘Just a one-way, then?’ the dwarf asked, his gruff voice curious.

‘One-way,’ I confirmed, nodding. There was no going back. Not to the clan, not to Ferelden. I couldn’t stay anywhere that held memories of what Daniel and I had planned. No, I had to move forward. 

The dwarf handed me the ticket with a curt nod, and I made my way to the ferry, stepping onto the swaying deck. The sea stretched out before me, vast and dark, the waves churning beneath the boat like the roiling turmoil inside me.

I glanced around at the other passengers—there were all kinds of people here, their faces as worn and weary as mine. Humans, elves, dwarves—all of them seeking passage to the Free Marches, to Kirkwall, each with their own reasons for leaving their lives behind. 

A human woman with a child clutched to her side cast a wary glance in my direction, her eyes lingering on my pointed ears and mismatched eyes before quickly looking away. A pair of dwarves stood near the bow, muttering to each other about their wares, their beards glistening with seawater spray. An elven man leaned against the rail, staring out at the horizon with an expression of grim determination. All of them had a story. All of them were running from something.

And so was I.

The boat creaked beneath my feet as I made my way toward the side, my gaze drifting to the distant shoreline. The outline of Ferelden faded into the mist, the towering trees of the forests of the Storm Coast shrinking away as the boat pushed off from the dock.

I closed my eyes, letting the sea breeze wash over me, my mind drifting back to the Brecilian Passage, to Nenhara’s face as we said our goodbyes. She had pressed her coin into my hands, wrapped me in a thick, warm cloak for the journey, and yet I had seen the sadness in her eyes. The worry. 

‘Are you sure about this?’ she had asked, her voice soft, hesitant.

‘I can’t stay, Nenhara,’ I replied. ‘Not after Daniel... I need to leave. Start over. Somewhere far away.’

She had nodded, though I could see the struggle in her expression, the desire to convince me otherwise. But she didn’t. She knew me well enough to know I had made up my mind.

Now, as I stood on this ferry, leaving the shores of Ferelden behind, I felt the finality of it all settling in. There was no turning back. Only forward. To Kirkwall. To whatever awaited me there.

I rested my hand on the hilt of the ancient dagger strapped to my side. It was all I had left now. No magic, no staff—just this blade, a reminder that I would have to rely on myself from now on. Whatever came next, I would face it alone.

The boat rocked gently as we sailed into the open waters of the Waking Sea, and I turned my gaze to the horizon. The sky was a murky grey, the sun hidden behind thick clouds, casting the world in a muted, sombre light.

As the shoreline disappeared, I whispered a quiet farewell to the life I had known. To Daniel. To the clan. To the person I used to be. And then, I turned my eyes to the horizon, to the unknown future that awaited me across the sea. 

***

I found a quiet corner on the deck, away from the bustling crowd of passengers. I wrapped my thick cloak tighter around myself, the familiar weight of the dagger at my side. The rhythmic thrum of the sea beneath the ferry lulled me into a light sleep, the rocking waves and salty air soothing, almost comforting. 

But then, a piercing scream shattered the quiet.

‘Raiders!’ The shout echoed across the deck, followed by the frantic sound of footsteps and panicked voices.

My eyes flew open, and my heart lurched into my throat. I scrambled to my feet, my hand instinctively reaching for the dagger at my side. The ferry rocked, not from the waves, but from something far worse. I looked toward the horizon and saw it—a sleek, dark ship with blood-red sails. Figures swarmed the deck, leaping from ropes, swords drawn, faces hidden behind scarves and masks. Pirates.

Panic spread across the deck. People screamed and ran in all directions. Some threw themselves overboard in blind desperation. Chaos erupted around me. I stood frozen for a moment, trying to gather my thoughts. I had to do something—but what? I had my magic, but it wasn’t strong enough to fight off an entire crew of pirates.

Before I could act, I heard a small voice below me.

‘Mamae!’

I looked down and saw a little elven girl clinging to my leg, her brown hair a tangled mess, her wide hazel eyes filled with terror. She couldn’t have been older than five.

‘Mamae…’ she whimpered, her tiny hands clutching at my cloak like a lifeline.

Mamae? I froze, confusion swirling through me. Where did this child come from? Why was she calling me her mother? I didn’t recognize her from boarding, and yet here she was, holding onto me as if I was the only thing keeping her safe.

Before I could even process what was happening, the chaos around us intensified. Raiders swarmed the deck, rounding up the passengers, stripping them of their valuables. One man tried to fight back, swinging a broken plank at a tall woman with long, bright red hair… and unlike Daniel’s, hers was the colour of blood. She disarmed him effortlessly, smiling as she drove her blade through his chest.

‘Stay calm!’ She yelled—though how could we, seeing she just stabbed someone? 

The incredibly tall woman had one grey eye, the other one was scratched out of her beautiful face. She wore black leather armour with intricate designs patched all over it, big brown boots and golden jewellery that hung all over her arms, neck and ears.

I swallowed hard, gripping the hilt of my dagger tighter as I shielded the girl behind me.

The passengers got quiet—nobody dared to move. Suddenly, someone screamed again, I looked over my shoulder and saw a brawny man furiously clearing his path towards the female Raider. With one swift movement, he threw a dagger towards the woman. But before it could hit her, one of the Raiders jumped in front of her. The dagger struck the dark-skinned muscled pirate in his stomach and he moaned as he fell onto his knees. The female pirate looked at him, bending her body for a second to help the man, but she almost immediately straightened her back again as she swiftly snatched her own dagger from its sheath and threw it fluently in the assailant’s gut. 

‘If you throw a knife, my dear, don’t miss,’ she snickered, her wicked smile reflecting in the dying man’s eyes.

While two men of the Raiders’ crew tried lifting the dark-skinned pirate up, the female Raider almost looked concerned. Then, she straightened her face again. 

‘The Felicisima Armada is here to help you poor fools get rid of all those damned valuables,’ she almost sounded proud.

An older dwarven man with pitch-black hair collected their prize. Nobody refused, nobody dared to. The dwarf stepped forward, sneering as he approached. His arms were laden with stolen treasures, and his beady eyes settled on me, or rather, on my dagger.

 

‘Oi, what do we have here?’ he rasped, his voice rough like gravel. ‘That’s a fine blade you’ve got there, elf. Hand it over.’

I shook my head. ‘No.’

The dwarf’s grin disappeared, replaced by an ugly scowl. ‘That wasn’t a request.’

‘I’m not giving it to you,’ I said, my voice steadier than I felt. The girl pressed herself closer to me, trembling.

The dwarf’s hand shot out to grab the dagger, but I stepped back, pulling it free from my belt. Magic crackled at my fingertips, a flicker of energy ready to spring forth. He lunged at me, and I swung the dagger upward, grazing his arm and forcing him back. But he wasn’t deterred. He snarled in anger, pulling out a heavy cudgel from his belt.

I barely dodged his next swing, my heart pounding as I tried to summon more magic. The air crackled around me, but all I could manage was a small whoosh of wind that made him stumble back ever so slightly. The dwarf laughed, and I knew I couldn’t hold him off for long.

The female Raider’s eyes now focused on me from across the deck. I shivered. But the woman smiled and her eyes focussed on the young elven child behind me.

‘Take the kid, Heril, she will make a fine Raider.’ The woman’s eyes grew more wicked. 

As Heril tried to grab the young elven girl’s shoulder, I stood defensively before her. 

‘Don’t you dare.’ I hissed and felt tiny sparks glittering around my fingertips. 

Then the pirate woman finally moved towards me, her walk graceful and confident. Heril stepped aside as the woman grabbed my chin from under my hood and yanked. I yelped when my hood fell down and stared into her one grey eye. She tutted. 

‘A pretty elf, with pretty eyes,’ she stated, ‘we’ll just take the both of you.’ 

My blood turned cold.

When I wanted to step back, two strong arms grabbed my biceps, holding me tight. The little girl screamed as she was thrown over the shoulders of a very tall horned man. My mouth fell open, a Qunari? I was told about them, but I never imagined how… huge they were. 

‘Do something! Help us!’ I cried at the passengers, but they all looked to the ground, cowering and trembling. 

I kicked and bit and screamed as I was dragged across the plank onto the Raiders’ ship.

Finally, the sparks left my fingertips and bore into the skin of the Raider holding me. He roared and almost dropped me into the desolate sea. I smacked to the wooden floor of the ship.

The Raider barely stumbled before recovering, his dark eyes narrowing. In one swift motion, he struck me across the temple with the flat of his blade. Pain exploded in my skull, and the world tilted around me.

The last thing I heard before everything went black was the child’s voice, calling out for me, ‘Mamae!’ as the sound of the crashing waves swallowed me whole.

***

‘Mi amor,’ a soft voice whimpered.

A small moan answered. I heard yelling, asking for help. 

‘This is beyond my skills, Cecilia.’ 

‘Mierda!’ 

I jolted awake, the ground cold and hard beneath me. Pain throbbed in my head, a sharp reminder of what had just happened. I blinked against the dim light, trying to make sense of my surroundings. Blood dripped down my temple, warm and sticky. A man was lying on the floor not far from me, blood guttering from his stomach. A woman—the one-eyed Raider from before—knelt next to him and held his hand, throwing curse words at everyone standing near. 

Confused and barely conscious, I slowly turned my head. My chin scraped across the hardwood floor of the ship. I was still on the ground, blood dripping down beside my right eye from my temple. I found two scared big eyes boring into mine from across where I was laying. The child! She was bound to a barrel, her little arms turning blue by the friction of the rope. My heart lurched as I took in her terrified expression, wide hazel eyes glistening with tears. 

My head hurt. Where was the ferryboat? I tried to roll over and look around, but saw nothing but open sea and sky. What did they do? I groaned as I tried to roll over again. My dagger! Shit! It’s gone. 

I had to keep it close. No! 

The woman, her name must’ve been Cecilia, looked up and eyed me with an annoyed grimace. ‘The elf! Tie her up before she jumps!’ She yelled, but her eyes were already back on the man. ‘Damn it, Aarón, don’t you dare leave me!’ Cecilia shouted, her voice sharp with urgency and anger. The crew members were gathered around, their expressions grim. I could hear snippets of their conversation, a mix of concern and frustration.

‘He’s done for, Cecilia,’ the Qunari raider said, who was already making his way towards me.

My mind raced. This is my chance. I pushed myself up, ignoring the waves of dizziness. ‘Wait!’ I shouted, my voice raw. ‘I can help him. If you promise not to kill me or the girl, I can heal him!’

Cecilia paused, her one eye narrowing on me. There was a flicker of something—hope? Desperation?—but it quickly vanished. ‘You’re a healer?’ she asked, scepticism lacing her tone.

‘Yes!’ I pleaded. ‘Just let me help him.’

She glanced at the crew, who were watching with mixed expressions. After a moment that felt like an eternity, she nodded. ‘Fine. But if you screw this up, I’ll make you wish you were dead.’

With a nod, I crawled toward Aarón. He lay there, face contorted in pain, and I could see the dark stain spreading on his shirt where the blade had pierced him. I took a deep breath, focusing on the energy within me, feeling it stir and hum, eager to help.

As I placed my hands over his wound, I summoned the warmth, channelling my magic. The glow enveloped my fingers, and I felt the familiar surge of power flow through me, weaving into Aarón’s flesh. I could sense the injury knitting together, the blood retreating. His breathing steadied, and after a few moments, he opened his eyes, meeting my gaze.

‘Thank you,’ he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

I healed him. I did it. Why couldn’t I have done this for Daniel?

But before I could respond, I felt rough hands grabbing me, pulling me back. I struggled, panic rising as I was bound to the barrel next to the child. ‘What are you doing?’ I cried, looking up at Cecilia, who was laughing, a cruel glint in her eyes.

‘I said you could heal him and that I would not kill you, not that you’d get to walk away,’ she sneered, her satisfaction evident. ‘You’re not going anywhere, mage.’

I sank against the barrel, dread pooling in my stomach. I had saved us, but now we were trapped—my only hope slipping away as the realisation settled in. Cecilia had agreed not to take our lives, but she had no intention of letting us leave. We were stuck on this damned ship, and I could only hope that I had made the right choice.

The little girl next to me sobbed again, her red-trimmed eyes desperately searching for mine. 

‘Mamae?’ she sniffed. 

I shook my head. Had she been alone on the ferry? 

Cecilia whispered something to Aarón and helped him stand up. After that, she walked towards me and the child, her hips swaying as her hair. ‘What is an apostate doing on a ferry to the Free Marches?’ she hummed. 

I bit my lips. 

‘You could’ve just killed us all,’ Cecilia looked confused. ‘You don’t know how to defend yourself, darling?’ At the last word she almost laughed.

Cecilia took a step closer, squatting to get on my eye height, and took out one of her daggers. She dragged it across my face, slowly, taunting, from my cheek to my cheekbone to my green eye. 

‘You want me to teach you?’ There was a challenge in her eyes. 

I spat at her, and she snickered. ‘Good, finally an answer,’ she grinned and stood up, wiping my spit from her face. ‘You’ll feel right at home on my ship.’ 

Fuck.

The woman straightened and winked at me. After that, she strutted back to Aarón, who stared at us with an odd expression. Shortly after, the both of them turned back and disappeared into the cabin below deck.

The little elf next to me hiccuped, barely holding back her tears. 

‘Don’t worry, you’ll be fine,’ I hushed, my voice hoarse. ‘What is your name?’ 

The girl looked up. ‘Sybil,’ her voice trembled.  

‘Hey Sybil, you’re from Ferelden?’ 

Sybil nodded. 

‘I’m from Ferelden too!’ I comforted her, and she gave me a faint smile. 

‘Have you seen my mamae?’ 

‘Oh,’ should I lie? ‘Uhm, she might be still on the ferry! We’ll look for her when we arrive in Kirkwall!’

If we ever get there…

***

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting the sky in shades of orange and purple. Out of exhaustion, Sybil had fallen asleep next to me two hours ago. Now, she stirred again, hoping, yet realising, she had not dreamed up this whole ordeal. With a jolt, she turned to me, checking if I was still beside her. ‘Hey, Sybil,’ I said softly, trying to soothe her. ‘It’s going to be okay. I’m here.’

She sniffled, her bottom lip trembling. ‘I want my mamae,’ she whimpered, tears pooling in her eyes. I felt a sharp pang in my chest; I couldn’t imagine what she must be feeling.

‘Let’s think about something else, okay?’ I said, forcing a smile. ‘Do you like flowers?’

Her curiosity flickered through her fear. ‘Flowers?’

I nodded and focused, feeling the familiar warmth of my magic bubbling up inside me. With a flick of my fingers, pale blue flowers sprang from the wooden deck, blooming between us. ‘See? These are called forget-me-nots.’

Her eyes widened, a small gasp escaping her lips. ‘They’re pretty!’

‘Yes, they are,’ I replied, my heart swelling with relief as I watched her smile for the first time. ‘And they smell lovely too.’ I conjured more flowers, vibrant yellows and soft whites, and scattered them around us.

As darkness enveloped the ship, the crew began to gather on the deck, their chatter rising around us. I could see Cecilia return from her cabin, Aarón followed behind her with a fiddle under his arm. He was strikingly handsome, as was Cecilia. The crew greeted them with cheers and laughter, their spirits seemingly unshaken by the chaos of the day.

Aarón raised the fiddle to his chin and began to play a lively tune. The music floated through the air, bright and infectious, and soon the crew was singing shanties, their voices blending in a raucous harmony.

I glanced at Sybil, who was trying to follow the melody, her small body swaying slightly. 

But as the laughter and song filled the air, it struck me—no one was paying attention to us. I was still bound, and so was the child, while the crew lost themselves in merriment, dancing and singing as if they had forgotten we were even there.

‘Look at the flowers, Sybil,’ I whispered, trying to keep her focused. ‘They’re blooming just for us.’ I conjured more, filling the space with colour, desperately hoping to keep her calm.

But inside, I felt a growing anxiety. What would happen when the music stopped? The thought of being left alone, forgotten, sent chills down my spine. The warmth of the flowers didn’t chase away the fear completely, but I clung to the hope that somehow, we would find a way out of this nightmare together.

Aarón started playing a lighter tune, some men started singing. 

I've been a wild rover for many a year
And I spent all my money on whiskey and beer,
But now I'm returning with gold in great store
And I never will play the wild rover no more.

What if they lied? What if they decide to kill us in our sleep?

And it's no, nay, never,
No nay never no more,
Will I play the wild rover
No never no more.

Would there be a beyond this time? Will Daniel be there?

I went in to an ale-house I used to frequent
And I told the landlady my money was spent.
I asked her for credit, she answered me "nay
Such a custom as yours I can have every day.”

Why did I have to go through all this, if dying here is my fate?

I, then, took from my pocket ten sovereigns bright
And the landlady's eyes opened wide with delight.
She said "I have whiskey and wines of the best
And the words that you told me were only in jest."

I'll go home to my parents, confess what I've done
And I'll ask them to pardon their prodigal son.
And when they've correct me as ofttimes before
I never will play the wild rover no more.

Will it be just the end this time? Dark, silent and cold forever?

And it's no, nay, never,
No nay never no more,
Will I play the wild rover

Will I ever go back again?

No never no more.

Notes:

Hey, here we are. If you liked it, leave a kudo or a comment, it makes my day!

Chapter 6: Alienated

I’ve always been intrigued by immortality. What would happen if no one would die? Would we be happier? Or would we just get bored with life? Isn’t the reason we get up each day, more or less, because every day could always be our last? 

***

I woke up sore and stiff from spending the entire night on the deck, the rough wood beneath me offering little comfort. The sky was painted with the soft hues of dawn, but the morning chill cut through the sea-sprayed clothes I wore. Sybil stirred next to me, her tiny body curled up against mine, and for a brief moment, I allowed myself to believe it was just another morning. But the ropes that still bound us, were a stark reminder of our reality.

The clank of boots against the deck caught my attention. I turned to see Heril, the dwarf raider, approaching us. His expression was as indifferent as ever, though his movements were a bit more deliberate than the night before. Without a word, he crouched down and untied the last knots around my wrists and ankles, freeing us both.

‘Get up, knife-ear. Captain wants to see you,’ he muttered, standing up and dusting his hands on his trousers.

I glanced at Sybil, who was still half-asleep, her face pressed against my arm. ‘What about her?’

Heril shrugged, jerking his thumb toward the looming figure of the Qunari raider, standing by the mast. ‘Alek’ll take the girl to the cells below.’

My heart skipped a beat. ‘No, please—she's just a child. She doesn’t deserve this.’

Heril’s gaze softened for a brief second, but he didn’t relent. ‘Captain’s orders.’

Before I could protest further, Alek stepped forward, scooping up Sybil with ease. She woke with a start, clinging to me in panic. ‘Saeris!’ she cried, reaching for me as Alek carried her away.

‘I’ll be back,’ I called after her, my voice catching. ‘I’ll come for you, I promise.’

I tried to steel myself as Heril led me across the deck, past the crew who were going about their morning tasks, paying little attention to us. My mind raced, wondering what Cecilia could possibly want from me. 

Heril stopped outside a door and rapped on it twice. When a voice inside called out, he opened it and nudged me in.

The room was a stark contrast to the rest of the ship. Richly decorated with velvet drapes and an ornate rug, it felt almost like stepping into a noble’s quarters. But the clutter of bottles and the lingering scent of rum gave it an edge of disarray. A large map of the Waking Sea was spread out across the table, with pins and markings scattered across its surface.

Aarón was lounging in Cecilia’s bed, his shirt half-unbuttoned and his dark hair tousled from sleep. As I entered, he glanced at me with a lazy smile but said nothing. 

Seems like I’d healed him quite well.

He snickered as he saw the expression on my face. ‘Cecilia, you have a guest, I’ll be out of your way then.’ 

Cecilia smiled back, ‘Oh, please come back later!’ 

Aarón slipped out of the bed and brushed past me as he exited the cabin.

Cecilia sat at her table, her piercing gaze fixed on the map before she finally looked up at me. Her eyes were sharp, calculating. ‘Sit,’ she commanded, gesturing to a chair across from her.

I hesitated but complied, sinking into the chair and bracing myself for whatever was to come.

‘Good, what’s your name?’ Cecilia ordered. 

‘Saeris.’

She leaned back, one hand resting on the hilt of her sword as she studied me. ‘Alright, Saeris. Aarón thinks you should be dropped off in Kirkwall. Says it’s not worth keeping you or the brat around.’

I felt a flicker of hope at the mention of Kirkwall. ‘You’ll let us go?’

Her lips curled into a half-smile. ‘I don’t need an apostate mage on my ship, especially not one whose magic can’t be trusted. And, in truth, I’ve no use for a child.’ She waved a hand dismissively. ‘Aarón’s got a soft spot for you, it seems. Saving his life was a good call on your part. So, I’ll drop you at Kirkwall, as he asked.’

Relief surged through me, though it was tempered by suspicion. ‘That’s it? You’ll just let us go?’

Cecilia’s eyes narrowed. ‘You’ll go because I say so. Not because you think you’ve earned anything.’ Her voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. ‘I could have slit your throat and thrown you overboard. Don’t mistake this for kindness.’

I swallowed hard, biting back the retort I wanted to throw at her. Instead, I nodded, grateful that we were at least being spared our lives. ‘Thank you,’ I muttered.

She didn’t respond, simply flicking her hand toward the door in a silent command for Heril to escort me out.

As I was led back below deck, my thoughts were spinning. Kirkwall. We could be free soon. But something about Cecilia’s demeanour, the tension in her voice, gnawed at me. There was no telling what Kirkwall held for us, but at least it was a chance—more than I’d had since we’d been captured.

I was thrown into the small, dark cell where Sybil was waiting, her tear-streaked face lighting up the moment she saw me. ‘Saeris!’ she cried, running toward me. I wrapped my arms around her, feeling her tiny body shake against me.

‘It’s okay,’ I whispered, holding her close. ‘We’re going to be okay.’

But in truth, I didn’t know how long we would be stuck in that cramped cell, waiting for our fate to unfold. 

***

Hours later, by the sounds of the fiddle and the rummaging above deck, I guessed it was nightfall.

‘Are we there yet?’ Sybil’s voice broke the silence. 

‘I don’t know.’ 

‘What if we don’t find my mamae?’

‘I will take care of you until we do, Sybil,’ I winked at her. 

‘Why is your eye so strange?’ So many questions. 

‘Magic gave it to me.’ I didn’t even know if that was a lie, and wiggled my fingers. Soft green sparkles danced around the tips, creating some more light for Sybil and me. She smiled at that, creeping a little bit closer to where I sat. 

The hatch that led to the deck creaked open, making the sparks around my fingers fade away.

‘Go stand over there, Sybil, out of sight.’ Sybil nodded and shuffled away as quickly and silently as she could. I was silent too, listening to the steps coming closer. 

‘Hey, pretty bunny,’ someone lisped, ‘care for some of this?’

I don’t know who it was, just some unknown Raider with his friends. He came closer to my cell door and put his face against the bars. I could smell his foul breath. 

‘I can take care of you real good,’ he winked. 

Sparks danced around my fingers again. I took a step closer, the Raider’s face lighting up from my response. 

‘No, thank you!’ I grinned as I touched the bars with my hand. The Raider winced and he fell to the ground, electricity prodding through his body like a thousand needles. 

Had I done that? 

I immediately regretted it. 

The Raider’s friends swore as they tried helping him up. ‘You,’ someone pointed his dagger at me, ready to throw. 

‘I wouldn't touch her if I were you.’ Aarón coiled from behind the hatch, stepping down carefully. His eyes went to the drunk Raider who was still squirming on the ground. ‘Damn, little mage,’ he grinned and then looked back at his crew, ‘Out!’

The drunk men seemed to sober up immediately. What did he do to gain such respect? The men straightened up and dragged the squirming Raider back on his feet. 

‘Yes, Ser.’ And gone they were. 

Aarón looked back at me again. And then left the room without saying anything. Nobody bothered me again. 

***

I don’t know how long Sybil and I stayed in the cells. Heril came by twice a day with food, dropping off scraps that barely sustained us. At night, Aarón’s music drifted down from the deck, the haunting melodies filling the empty silence of the ship. I’d tried counting the times I heard his fiddle to keep track, but after a while, it all overlapped with each other. So in the end, we didn’t have a clue how long we were down there. Days? Weeks? 

The cell door creaked open, and I blinked against the sudden flood of light. Heril stood there, his broad frame blocking most of the brightness, a familiar scowl on his face.

‘Up,’ he grunted. ‘Captain wants you.’

I helped Sybil to her feet, feeling the stiffness in my limbs. Sybil clung to my hand as we followed Heril up the narrow steps, my heart pounding faster with each one. 

When we emerged onto the deck, the salt air hit me like a wave, fresh and cold after so long below. I took in the sight of the open sea and, in the distance, the jagged silhouette of a city perched on the cliffs. Kirkwall. It loomed before us, dark and foreboding, its spires cutting into the sky like the claws of a beast.

Cecilia stood by the railing, arms crossed, her expression unreadable. Aarón was beside her, idly plucking the strings of his fiddle. Heril stopped us a few paces away, and I stepped forward, holding Sybil protectively behind me.

‘You're at Kirkwall,’ Cecilia said, her voice flat. ‘You and the girl are free to go. I’d say don’t let me see you again, but I doubt we’ll cross paths.’

I swallowed. After everything—the fear, the uncertainty—freedom felt both exhilarating and terrifying.

Cecilia tossed something at me, and I caught it on reflex. It was an eyepatch, black leather, simple but sturdy. I stared at it, confused for a moment, before her cold voice cut through the haze.

‘Put that on. Your green eye stands out too much. You’ll thank me for it when you’re walking those streets.’ Her gaze was hard as iron. ‘And keep your magic to yourself. The Templars here aren’t like the ones in Ferelden—death is the kindest thing they will do to you.’

My stomach twisted as I thought of Daniel’s mother. Tranquillity. I nodded mutely, slipping the eyepatch over my vibrant green eye.

‘Take the pinnace,’ Cecilia added, nodding toward a small rowing boat tied to the side of the ship. ‘You’ll row yourselves to port. Sooner you’re off my ship, the better.’

Just as I turned to leave, she raised a hand. ‘One more thing.’ She tossed me my dagger, the familiar weight of it landing in my palm. Its cold metal and ancient runes gave me a strange sense of comfort.

‘Take it,’ she said, her voice low. ‘The blighted thing gave me nightmares. Don’t want it on my ship anymore.’

I clutched the dagger, trying to ignore the chill that ran up my spine at her words. I had no idea why the blade haunted her dreams, but I was relieved to have it back, all the same.

As I turned to head for the boat, Aarón stepped forward, holding his fiddle in both hands. He stopped just a foot away and pressed the instrument into my hands.

‘A gift,’ he said softly, his dark eyes meeting mine. ‘For saving my life. You didn’t have to do that.’

For a moment, I was speechless. The fiddle was worn, the wood smooth from years of use, and though it wasn’t extravagant, it was clearly well-loved. I cradled it in my arms like something precious. ‘But I don’t play.’ 

He smiled, ‘You’ll learn.’ 

‘Row fast, little rabbit,’ Cecilia called out as we climbed into the pinnace. ‘And don’t come back. You’ve run out of luck.’

With Sybil settled beside me, I took the oars and pushed off from the ship. The salty wind caught in my hair as we drifted away, and I glanced back once at the ship, its shadow stretching long against the rising sun. Cecilia watched from the deck, her eye sharp as ever, and Aarón stood beside her, his gaze unreadable.

The sea stretched out before us, vast and unknowable, and Kirkwall rose higher as we neared the port. Sybil huddled close to me, her small hand gripping the edge of the boat, her face pale but calm.

I squeezed the dagger in my hand, the runes humming faintly against my skin. The past was behind us now. All that remained was the uncertain road ahead.

*** 

The crowd outside Kirkwall’s gates was overwhelming. The air reeked of sweat, sea salt, and the desperation of travellers trying to make it into the city. I clutched Sybil’s hand tightly as we moved forward in the crush of bodies. Behind us was the churning expanse of the Waking Sea; ahead, the towering black walls of Kirkwall loomed like some grim sentinel. The Gate of the Gallows was massive, flanked by Templars, their silver armour gleaming under the morning light, casting a long shadow over the line of people. 

‘Ferelden?’ a city guard asked us when it was our turn. The man eyed us disapprovingly. 

‘Yes, Ser.’

He nodded and scribbled something down. 

‘To your right, elves.’ 

Humans and dwarves were lined up to the right, the line crawling forward slowly as guards and Templars picked through their belongings. To the left, as usual, were the elves—our kind separated and scrutinised under the watchful eyes of the city guards. The disdain in their expressions was hard to miss.

As we waited in line, one Templar passed us and stopped, looking at me. Sybil clamped my hand, softly shivering. The Templar squatted and looked at Sybil and then at me. Then he straightened again and moved on to the next in line. 

I adjusted the eyepatch Cecilia had given me, pulling it snug over my green eye. My skin prickled under the gaze of the Templars as they passed us by. They were looking for mages—apostates, specifically. I had heard stories of how they handled magic here in Kirkwall, and I shuddered at the thought. The Gallows, the fortress just ahead, had once been a prison for slaves and now housed the Templars and their mage-prisoners. It cast an ominous presence, a reminder of the horrors awaiting any who defied their order.

The line moved at a snail's pace. A group of humans walked through easily, their papers barely checked, while the elves were searched carefully, prodded for any hint of danger. My heart pounded harder as we neared the Templars. The stories I’d heard of the Circle—the horrors of mages turned Tranquil, like Daniel's mother—flashed through my mind. The Circle here was said to be among the most brutal in all of Thedas. They silenced any mage they couldn’t control.

Finally, it was our turn. 

After tucking my dagger deeper under my tunic, I took Sybil by her hand, whispering, ‘Say I’m your sister, okay?’ 

She nodded, scared. 

‘Next!’ a Templar barked, stepping toward me. His cold eyes swept over me, lingering on my eyepatch. I tried to keep my expression neutral, offering only a small nod. Sybil shrank behind my leg, her grip on my hand tightening. The Templar’s gaze was hard and searching, as if he could sense my magic, the thing I tried so hard to suppress.

‘What's your business in Kirkwall?’ His voice was sharp, his gauntleted hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

‘Refuge,’ I replied calmly, though my heart raced. ‘We’ve come to seek shelter in the city.’

The Templar’s gaze lingered on me a moment longer before he gave a dismissive grunt. ‘Move along,’ he finally said, waving us forward.

I let out a breath of relief, guiding Sybil quickly past the checkpoint. As we passed through the gate, the walls of Kirkwall rose even higher around us. The blackened stone seemed to absorb the light, making the whole place feel darker than it should. I felt trapped already.

We followed a group of elves, who were being herded by the guards. 

Sybil tugged at my sleeve, her small face peeking up at me, confused and scared. ‘I don’t see my mamae?’ she whispered. 

I gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. ‘Don’t worry, Sybil, we are going to find us a new home and then look for your mamae, okay?’ Sybil smiled at me, reassured again. 

‘You know where we’re going right?’ the elf before me whispered to me, his big eyes confused. How could he be so skinny and still be breathing?   

‘No?’ I answered. 

‘The Alienage.’ the skinny elf whimpered. 

‘The what?’

The Alienage sat near the docks, a small, walled-off section of the city filled with decrepit buildings and narrow, winding alleys. The gates here were watched, too—not to keep people out, but to keep us in. The Vhenadahl stood tall in the centre, its massive branches offering a semblance of peace, a tie to the culture the city-elves had lost.

The guards ushered us into one of the smaller buildings, its walls barely holding together. The room was cramped, filled with too many people, all packed in together like animals. Thin mats were scattered on the floor, some already claimed by families who had been here far longer than us. The air was thick with the scent of mildew and unwashed bodies, and a low murmur of hopeless conversations filled the space.

I found a corner for Sybil and me, pulling her close as she pressed herself against me. She hadn’t said much since we arrived, her brown eyes wide with fear and confusion. She was only five. What could she understand about all this?

‘I don’t like it here,’ she whispered, her voice so small.

‘I know,’ I replied softly, running a hand through her hair. ‘But we’re safe here. That’s all that matters.’

Sybil looked up at me, her gaze filled with questions she didn’t know how to ask. I smiled gently, though my heart felt heavy. She deserved better than being trapped in a place like this.

After a moment, Sybil spotted a group of children playing in the corner. She hesitated, her fingers still clutching my sleeve. ‘Go on,’ I said softly. ‘Play with them. I’ll be right here.’

She gave a tiny nod and slowly let go of my hand, shuffling over to where the children were playing. As I watched her, I couldn’t help but feel the hopelessness of our situation. The people here were worn down, their spirits as broken as the buildings they lived in. The city of chains had no place for elves except in this forgotten corner, and we were no different.

I rose to my feet and approached a group of older elves, their faces lined with the weariness of years spent in this place. They huddled together, speaking in hushed tones, their expressions grim.

‘Excuse me,’ I said, hoping to catch their attention. ‘I’m new here. What happens next? What should I expect?’

One of the older women looked up at me, her face hard but not unkind. ‘New, are you?’ she rasped. ‘You’ll learn quick. The Alienage is all we have here. You won’t find work easily unless you’re willing to be at the humans’ beck and call. Cleaning, running errands… if they let you. But don’t expect much.’

I frowned. ‘And what about the Templars?’

‘They watch us. Always watching. Especially for magic,’ the woman said bitterly. ‘Don’t give them a reason to look at you too closely, girl. They’ll drag you off to the Gallows before you know what’s happening.’

‘How can they do this to us? Where are all the humans and dwarves at?’ I asked the elf. 

She looked at me like I was crazy, ‘They are either in Hightown or in Lowtown, we don’t get to live with them.’ 

‘It’s better than Darktown,’ someone else muttered.

‘Darktown?’ My face must’ve looked panicked, as the elf next to me patted my shoulder.

‘It’s for criminals and outcasts, as long as you keep your head low, you’ll be fine.’ Someone assured me.  

I nodded, the pit in my stomach deepening. Kirkwall was supposed to be a fresh start, a place where we could find refuge. But now, looking around at the broken, weary faces of the elves in the Alienage, I realised that we were as trapped here as anywhere else.

***

The next morning, I took Sybil by the hand, and we made our way to the small market inside the Alienage. It’s a humble gathering—barely more than a few stalls, their goods sparse, wilted vegetables and worn tools exchanged for whatever coin or bartering the elves here could scrape together. My stomach tightened with hunger, a reminder that we have nothing. No coin, no goods, no plan.

Sybil clung to me, her hazel eyes wide as she watched the people move about. She’s quiet, but I can feel her confusion and fear, a mirror of my own. 

We moved among the elves, hoping for some small act of mercy. I caught the eyes of a few passersby, silently begging for anything—food, a coin, anything to keep Sybil from going hungry another day. But most look away, their own struggles etched into their faces. After what felt like hours of wandering and whispering pleas, an older man finally stopped in front of us. His face is weathered, deep lines carved by time and hardship, but his expression is kinder than most. He glanced down at Sybil, then back at me.

‘Not much to go around here,’ he said gruffly, scratching his chin, ‘but a child shouldn’t starve.’

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak, the relief washing over me as he turned to one of the stalls and bought us some food—a small loaf of bread and a piece of dried meat. It’s not much, but right now it feels like a feast.

‘Thank you,’ I whispered, feeling a lump in my throat as I handed a piece of the bread to Sybil. She smiled up at me, the first sign of joy I’ve seen from her since we arrived, and started nibbling on the bread eagerly.

The old man watched us for a moment, then lowered his voice. ‘That accent… you’re from Ferelden, aren’t you? Did you run from the invasion?’’

I paused mid-bite, feeling my heart quicken. ‘The what?’

He glanced around, leaning in slightly. ‘You’ve heard about Orlais, haven’t you?’

My stomach twisted at the name. ‘Orlais? What about Orlais?’

He sighed heavily, shaking his head. ‘Orlais is invading Ferelden. There’s been a battle at Lothering. King Valen Theirin is dead.’

I froze, the bread forgotten in my hands. The words hit me like a blow. The king is dead? And if Orlais is invading Ferelden… Nenhara. The clan! 

I grabbed the man’s arm, my voice barely more than a whisper. ‘Have they invaded all of Ferelden?’

His eyes softened at the panic in my voice. ‘I don’t know, girl. But with Orlais on the move…’

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my thoughts steady.

 Nenhara. The clan. Are they safe?

The old man patted my arm, trying to offer some comfort. ‘Don’t borrow trouble before it’s here. Orlais won’t come near Kirkwall again. Not since the rebellion!’ 

I nodded numbly, though the fear gnawed at me.

His eyes flicked down to the fiddle strapped on my back. ‘That’s an old thing you’re carrying,’ he said, his tone shifting. ‘You play?’

I glanced back at the fiddle, suddenly aware of its weight. ‘I... yes. A little.’ I lied.

He studied me for a moment, then said, ‘The Hanged Man in Lowtown is looking for a minstrel. You might try your luck there. It won’t get you rich, but it’ll put food in your belly.’

A minstrel? I looked down at Sybil, wondering how long we can survive like this—begging for scraps, hoping for kindness. 

‘How do I…?’ I started to ask.

‘You’ll need a work permit for the guards,’ he said with a grimace. ‘Not easy to come by for an elf, especially one new to the city. But it’s worth trying. Lowtown’s rough, but it’ll give you something to live on.’

The dread of it all pressed down on me—the thought of Nenhara, the uncertainty of the invasion, the hopelessness of our situation in Kirkwall. But the man is right. I can’t do anything about Ferelden. All I can do now is survive.

‘Thank you,’ I said again, the words sounding hollow in my ears. The man nodded, giving Sybil a sad smile before turning and walking away.

I knelt down to Sybil’s level, brushing a strand of hair from her face. ‘We’ll be alright,’ I told her softly, though I’m not sure if I believed it. But she smiled back at me, her trust unwavering, and I knew I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her safe.

***

That night, I left Sybil with the older elves in the cramped apartment. I tell her to be good and stay quiet, promising I’ll be back before dawn. She hugged me tight, her small arms around my waist.

I made my way to the Alienage gates. The guards, as expected, sneered as I approach. They towered over me in their heavy armour, looking down at me like I’m no more than a piece of dirt under their boots.

‘I need to get out for one night,’ I said, keeping my voice steady. ‘There’s a job at the Hanged Man, in Lowtown. A minstrel position. If I can get it, I’ll have a work permit by morning.’

The one on the left, a burly man with a twisted grin, laughed under his breath. ‘A minstrel, eh?’ His eyes flicked over me, lingering on the eyepatch covering my green eye. ‘You’d be better off trying for the Blooming Rose. They like ‘em strange-looking there.’

The other guard, younger but no less cruel, chuckled. ‘I hear they pay better, too.’

I bit back a retort, knowing I can’t afford to make enemies here. ‘Please,’ I said, swallowing my pride. ‘Just let me through. I’ll be back before sunrise.’

They glanced at each other, sharing some unspoken joke, then stepped aside. ‘Go on, rabbit,’ the older one said with a sneer. ‘But if you don’t come back with a permit…’

I didn’t say anything as I slipped past them, feeling their eyes follow me into the dark streets of Lowtown. The air here smelled of rot and sweat, the narrow alleyways lit by the dim flicker of lanterns and the occasional guttering torch. After weaving through the winding streets, I finally spotted the sign for the Hanged Man swaying above the door. I stepped inside, and the heat and noise of the tavern hit me like a wave. It’s packed tonight, full of sailors, mercenaries, and drunks. The clink of mugs and the din of voices fills the air, the scent of stale ale and sweat hanging thick.

I made my way to the bar, where the barman—a large man with a thick beard and tired eyes—leaned against the counter, wiping a mug with a filthy rag. His gaze swept over me, dismissing me almost instantly.

‘I’m here for the minstrel position,’ I said, louder than I intended, trying to make myself heard over the noise.

He glanced at me, unimpressed. ‘You and half the street, elf. Move along.’

‘Wait,’ I said, pulling the fiddle from my back, holding it in front of me like a shield. ‘I can play.’

‘Where did you get that!’ The barman suddenly swore as he stormed from behind the bar. 

‘I… It was given to me?’ 

The barman huffed, ‘By who?’

‘A Raider…’

‘Which Raider, dimwit!’ The drunken customers had all gone quiet by now, gaping at the scene. 

‘A… Aarón, Ser.’ I nodded, my grip tightening on the fiddle. ‘He… gave me this.’

For a moment, I saw suspicion flare in his eyes. He leaned in closer, his voice a low growl. ‘Aarón’s not one to give out gifts lightly. You steal it?’

‘No,’ I said quickly, shaking my head. ‘He gave it to me. I swear.’

The barman studied me for a long, tense moment, then let out a grunt, muttering something under his breath. ‘Aarón’s got a strange taste, that’s for sure,’ he said, eyeing me up and down. ‘But I trust his judgement. Fine. You can have the job.’ The barman tutted and went back behind the bar to take something. ‘Your name.’ He sighed. 

‘Saeris.’

‘Alright,’ the barman scribbled something down, ‘here’s your permit, don’t ever lose it. Come back at noon tomorrow. Don’t be late.’

I could only nod, still in shock that it worked. As I turned to leave, he called after me, ‘And for Andraste’s sake, don’t play any of that fancy elf music. The crowd here likes things loud and simple.’ 

I gave him a brief nod before stepping back into the cold night air. My legs felt unsteady beneath me as I started the long walk back to the Alienage. The streets of Lowtown twisted and turned, the flicker of torches casting long shadows across the walls. But despite the chill, there was a spark of hope igniting in my chest.

I got the job. The permit. Tomorrow, I’ll start work at the Hanged Man, and maybe, just maybe, I’ll find a way for Sybil and me to survive in this city.

When I returned to the Alienage, I immediately showed the guards my new permit. They nodded disapprovingly and let me through. I ran back to our rundown apartment. I entered and heard Sybil jumping up from where she and an elder elf were still sitting. 

I smiled as I waved the permit in the air, ‘I have a job, kid!’

Sybil smiled, ‘Did you find mamae?’ 

Fenedhis. ‘No, kid, but I got work, so from now on I can go out and look for her!’

Sybil smiled, a little sadly though, at that. 

The next day, I went back to the Hanged Man a little before noon, the fiddle proudly in my hands. As I opened the door, the grumpy barman looked up from the dirty goblet he was trying to get clean and sighed. 

‘You’re here, good.’ Though he didn’t sound relieved. ‘Go over there, start playing something, you’ll learn by doing it.’ 

I nodded. 

‘You’ll play from noon until sunrise, understood?’ He grumbled, ‘You can take a very small break every two hours.’ 

I nodded again. Hard work, but I could earn money, that’s what counted. Then, I took out my fiddle, proudly eyeing every customer in the tavern. There were five, all drunk, but still, a crowd is a crowd. I smiled as I played a simple note on the fiddle, sounding just a little out of tune, and started singing. 

‘I've been a wild rover for many a year…’

Notes:

If you liked it, you can always leave a comment or a kudo, they make my insides smile :D

& Just a quick, but big, shout-out to the best beta ever, nerdsaretotallyawesome !!!

Chapter 7: Returned

"Where we love is home—home that our feet may leave, but not our hearts."

— Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr. 

 

8:44 Blessed 

‘Saeris, darling! One more time!’ the patron yelled while holding his tankard in the air.

I sat in my usual spot near the corner of the tavern, fingers dancing across the strings of my fiddle. I sang with the voice I had honed for years now, and the drunken patrons tapped their feet or raised their mugs. The Hanged Man was buzzing tonight, more than usual. The smell of sweat, stale ale, and sea salt filled the air, and I could feel the tension hanging thick as a cloud. Kirkwall had always been a harsh, restless place, but there was something different today. Something sharper.

‘Ah, my pretty one-eyed elfy darling,’ a drunk man lisped while standing next to me. 

‘Yes, Rodd, she’s good, we know, now let Saeris play.’ Garrick yelled from behind the bar, laughing as the drunkard stumbled back to his seat. 

I smiled back at Garrick, the bartender who had given me this job twenty years ago. He was like family to me now, grumpy and all. 

‘Argh!’ Someone near me cursed with a thick Fereldan tongue, ‘Those blasted Orlesians.’ The groan was followed by low murmurs all around the room.

I lowered my voice, fingers still playing the familiar song, trying to catch more of what was being said. The man who had cursed was holding a small piece of paper, his hands shaking. 

‘Dudley, lad, what’s wrong?’ Garrick said, his eyes also worried.

‘Brandel Theirin… he’s dead,’ he swore, other customers gasped, ‘Orlais, they have put a king of their own on the throne.’

‘Who?’ someone yelled.

‘A bastard called Meghren!’ Dudley answered, and other people started swearing. ‘After Denerim fell, I thought Brandel would still….’ The man shook. 

The tavern exploded into noise—outrage, disbelief, more curses. The patrons closest to me, mostly Ferelden refugees who had fled here years ago, clenched their fists or gripped their mugs so hard I thought they’d shatter. I swallowed hard, my fingers faltering on the strings for a moment. Brandel Theirin, the last hope for the Ferelden throne, dead? And Meghren—an Orlesian—sitting on it? I glanced around the room, searching for Sybil. The Hanged Man was packed this evening, and it took me a moment to spot her near the back, surrounded by a few of her friends from the Alienage. I let the song drift to a close and set my fiddle down, watching as Sybil stood abruptly from her seat. She shoved her chair back, her eyes blazing with determination.

‘I’m done with this place,’ she said, loud enough for the people around her to hear. ‘We should be fighting back, not rotting away in this pit!’ Her friends were silent, trying to look away. They didn’t have her spirit.

I felt a knot form in my chest. I knew Sybil. When she got an idea in her head, it was nearly impossible to talk her out of it. She had grown up with a fierce sense of justice, always wanting to protect the people around her, especially our fellow elves. That’s why she had trained so hard to protect them—her archery skills were unmatched by any in the Alienage. On top of that, she was brave and big-mouthed, but good-hearted. And talented, so talented! If only she hadn’t been an elf, she would have made a fine warrior. Even the guards were impressed by her, and allowed her to stroll through Lowtown from time to time, or join me at the tavern with some of her friends. She became as determined as a weed. But this… this was something else. The rebellion in Ferelden wasn’t some local dispute or a squabble in Lowtown. It was a war. And war was nothing like the fights she had seen in Kirkwall’s back alleys.

‘We’re closing, everyone out!’ Garrick looked as pale as a sheet, his eyes watery. His family back in Ferelden had been openly supporting Brandel, they would not… 

The customers stood up, some cursing, but not arguing as they all knew what was wrong. 

‘Saeris, go home,’ Garrick mumbled as he hastily searched for some paper so he could write to his cousin. 

As everyone was being ushered out, I slowly made my way toward Sybil. She saw me coming but didn’t back down. Her chin lifted defiantly, and I could see the stubborn set of her jaw, a mirror of so many arguments we’d had over the years.

‘Sybil,’ I said, my voice quiet but firm. ‘You’re not thinking this through.’ I took her elbow and dragged her outside, as Garrick had requested.

‘Am I not?’ she shot back, eyes narrowing as she yanked her arm from my grip. ‘You heard what they said, Saeris. Meghren's taken our throne. Ferelden’s throne! The Orlesians already burned us out once, and now they think they can waltz in and claim it as their own. We can’t just sit here and do nothing!’

I stepped closer, lowering my voice. ‘I understand that you’re angry. But this isn’t just some noble cause you can jump into. This is war. You have no idea what it’s like, what it can do to people. You could—’ I swallowed hard, memories of Daniel’s face flashing in my mind, blood staining the soil of our garden. ‘You could get hurt.’

She clenched her fists, her face flushed with a mix of frustration and conviction. ‘You sound like you don’t care, like you’re content to just… stay here, in this hellhole, while Ferelden burns.’

‘It’s not that I don’t care,’ I said, my voice barely above a whisper. ‘I care more than you know. But running off to fight… that’s not the answer, Sybil. There are other ways.’

Sybil’s eyes softened for a brief moment, but then her resolve hardened again. ‘This isn’t just about me. Ferelden needs help, they need people who aren’t afraid to stand up and fight for what’s right.’

‘Sybil—’ 

‘No, I don’t want to hear it!’

‘I—’ 

‘Stop it, Saeris! Don’t you care? I know you’re a mage! You can help! As you did with that raider, remember? Because I do! What are you so scared of? That you’ll die?’ she heaved. 

‘No,’ I whispered, ‘I’m scared that you will.’ I will not let them take someone else from me, not again. 

‘I’m stronger than you think I am!’ She looked up, her big hazel eyes determined. Her short brown hair stuck to her tanned face, her droopy ears peeking out at the sides. She was of a small stature, but she stood straight, a wooden bow attached to her back, arrows close by. 

My heart sank, and I knew I was losing her. She had made up her mind. And deep down, I couldn’t blame her. She was young, full of hope and fire, and desperate to fight for a better world. But I couldn’t bear the thought of losing her—not after everything we’d been through.

‘Alright, I’m coming with you then.’ I said suddenly, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

Sybil turned, blinking in surprise. ‘What?’ 

‘You heard me,’ I said, taking a deep breath. ‘If you’re going to Ferelden, I’m coming with you.’

She shook her head. ‘No, Saeris, you don’t have to—’

‘I do.’ I stepped closer to her, my eyes locking onto hers. ‘You’re all I have, Sybil. I’m not letting you go into a war without me.’ We would need to leave Kirkwall sooner than later, either way. People were already becoming suspicious of me… that I wasn’t ageing. I should be in my forties in their minds, but I looked like I was in my twenties. By now, I stopped counting the years, but I should be around my mid-fifties. People around me grew older, even Sybil looked as old as me now, but I was still frozen, and I didn’t know why. 

For a long moment, Sybil just stared at me, her expression unreadable. Then, finally, she let out a long sigh and nodded. ‘Alright. But I’m not going to let you hold me back. If we’re doing this, we’re doing it together.’

I nodded, feeling a weight settle in my chest. Together. Just like we had always been. But the fear gnawed at the edges of my mind, whispering that this time, things would be different.

***

Garrick nodded sadly, ‘Stupid girl, I’m too old to look for a new minstrel.’ 

‘I’m going to miss you too.’ I smiled. I just told him I was leaving, after deciding to do so with Sybil yesterday.

‘If you see my cousin, Kirby, tell ‘em I have a place for him to stay at!’ he grumbled while mopping the tavern floor. 

‘Will do, boss!’ I waved as I walked towards the door. When I closed it behind me, I saw how Garrick lifted his head towards me, a sad gaze troubling his view. Another goodbye I had to say. 

As I strolled back towards the Alienage, I looked one last time at the streets of Lowtown and smiled. This place had become a home for me, almost letting me forget the other homes I’d lost. Now, I had to leave it again. But I had to, I knew that. I couldn’t stay here, the people would notice, the Templars would, and I wasn’t planning on becoming the Circle’s experiment. What would they do to me if they knew I wasn’t ageing? And Sybil, I can’t just let her go on her own. I must do this. 

Home is wherever I am. 

I looked up at the Vhenadahl as I entered the Alienage. Though the elves had it hard in here, they were still happy. They were there for each other, content with living among their own kind. There were worse places to live. Though I didn’t have much attachment to most people here—I kept to myself—I still knew many of them.

Sybil stood at the door of our little room, her bow and arrows neatly strapped to her back, travel gear on and prepared. 

‘You done with everything?’ She looked up at me. 

‘Yes, are you?’ 

‘Yes, I’m ready.’ 

‘Good,’ I said as I put my cloak back on, covering my face. 

‘Are you finally going to lose that eyepatch of yours?’ 

‘No, not yet.’ I smiled. 

I strapped the fiddle to my back. Sybil shook her head, ‘You’re going to sing when they attack you?’

I laughed at that and closed the door of our rundown apartment behind us.

***

The ferry ride across the Waking Sea was as nerve-wracking as I’d feared. The waves rolled beneath us, a steady rhythm that somehow mirrored the anxiety thrumming in my chest. I clutched the railing, eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of trouble, but it felt like an endless stretch of calm water. No raiders. No signs of danger. Just the quiet hum of travellers around me. I kept glancing at Sybil, who stood confidently at the edge of the boat, short hair whipping in the salty breeze. When we finally disembarked at Jader, the air was thick with tension. I could feel the threat of the Orlesian occupation hanging over us like a storm cloud. 

We spent our days weaving through crowded markets and dark alleys, ducking into taverns where the air was thick with smoke and gossip. I sang my heart out, playing for coin, while Sybil leaned in close to the bartenders, always searching for the slightest whisper of the rebellion.

One evening, after a particularly lively set, I found myself outside in the cool night air, fiddling absentmindedly with the strings of my instrument. 

Sybil had been chatting with the bartender, her face earnest, eyes shining with determination. Now, she stormed back outside to where I was waiting, covered by darkness in the alley behind the bar. ‘We need to find Moira Theirin,’ Sybil said, her voice low and urgent. ‘She’s gathering supporters. If we can get close to her—’

Before she could finish, a rustle in the shadows caught my attention. My heart raced, a familiar fear rising in my throat. I knew that feeling, the way the air seemed to thicken, warning of danger. And then they were upon us.

Three heavy-armoured figures emerged from the darkness, their faces obscured by menacing helmets. My breath caught in my throat, and panic surged through me. 

‘Look what we got!’ One soldier grimaced with a thick French accent. ‘Elles sont faits comme les rats!’ 

I felt the familiar weight of my dagger at my side, but it was useless against their armour. I cursed my magic, the way I had let it stagnate. Healing and creation were my gifts, but they were no good in a fight. If only I had paid better attention during Elgadira’s defence lessons. I should have learned to fight with fire or ice, something that could stand against these attackers.

‘Qu’allons nous faire d’eux?’ One said to the other, grinning.

‘Vous allez voir qu’on va bien s’amuser.’ Another answered, looking me up and down.

‘Sybil!’ I shouted, my voice cracking. ‘Get back!’

But she was already in motion, her bow drawn, swift and agile. I barely registered the soft thud of arrows flying through the air before one of the assailants staggered back, an arrow lodged in his shoulder. ‘Keep back!’ she yelled, her voice fierce, confidence radiating from her like a beacon.

I stood there, heart racing, torn between wanting to help and knowing that I was little more than a liability. Sybil took aim again, her hands steady even as the other two raiders rushed toward her. I wanted to call out, to urge her to retreat, but the words caught in my throat. My eyes darted around for anything I could use—anything at all.

Another raider lunged at Sybil, and I felt a surge of fear in my chest as she did so. She ducked just in time, her reflexes sharp, and I watched in awe as she drew another arrow, firing it with deadly precision. It struck true, and the raider fell to the ground. The third man turned toward me, and I realised with dread that he had seen me, the vulnerable mage with nothing but a dagger at her side.

At that moment, I felt powerless. My heart raced as the man advanced, sword raised, and all I could do was back away. ‘Stay back!’ I shouted, clutching my dagger like a child’s security blanket. But what could I do? My magic wouldn’t save me; I couldn’t conjure healing or flowers in the face of death.

Then, just as he lunged, I caught a glimpse of Sybil moving like a whirlwind, darting to my side. She fired another arrow, but it missed. In a blur of motion, she tackled me aside, and the man stumbled, thrown off balance. I gasped, adrenaline flooding my system as I hit the ground, my dagger clattering away from my hand.

‘Get up!’ Sybil shouted, her voice fierce as she shot another arrow, but she missed. The man hovered above her now, his sword looming overhead. 

No!

I reached out my hand, desperately hoping my magic could create… Create! That’s it! 

Two large vines sprouted from the ground, trapping the attacker. I heaved as the magic coiled along my fingers, desperate to be led out. I obliged and moved my fingers, the vines curling tighter and tighter around his body, around his neck. Sybil fired another arrow and hit the man right in his face, through the slit of his helmet. Blood splattered all over his armour as his body became limp. 

But there was no time to rejoice.

‘Une mage!’ someone yelled as multiple men now started ambushing us from all around. 

Sybil screamed, firing her arrows as fast as she could, but the men kept coming. One grabbed my arm, trying to gut me with a dagger. I turned on his arm, making it bend the other way and let butterflies sprout from my fingertips. The man started waving his arms to get them out of his face, letting me go in the process. I smiled as I let vines covered in large, black mandrels curl up from the ground, trapping the soldier in thorns. 

I can fight!

‘Yes, Saeris!’ Sybil yelled proudly. I looked at my hands. ‘Duck!’ She then suddenly cried. I fell to the ground and heard a sword swish above my head, almost cutting off the tips of my ears. Small sparks curled around my fingers. I grabbed the Orlesian soldier’s shin and let the sparks glide through his armour. The sparks weren’t much, but it was enough to make him stagger back and run.

I smiled proudly and turned around to watch Sybil. But she was down, two soldiers grappling her to the ground. I screamed as I charged at them, the ground shaking as I ran. Someone tackled me, and I fell face-first onto the hard ground. I turned on my back, roots and sparks circling around my hands. The giant soldier held his sword to my throat, making a small cut just by caressing me. 

‘Now!’ someone yelled, and another group stormed from behind the bushes. I smiled at the giant who was holding me down. The man cursed as arrows started shooting down at them. 

‘La resistance!’ someone yelled as I saw the Fereldan soldiers cutting the Orlesian ones down. Sybil was up again, sprinting from across the path towards me. But the giant had seen her, and then I felt it. Air. Air glided through my body, through a place I never felt before. I moaned as my hand tried to find the hole in my side. The pain started then, first like something was pinching me, all over my body. 

Heal, I must heal myself!

But my magic wasn’t coming out as I panicked. The pain grew, and it spread. I could feel it now, my blood, and how warm it was in contrast to how cold I felt. I knew this feeling all too well. My view went blurry as the giant Orlesian soldier pulled his sword out of me, and Sybil crashed into him, disarming him on her way. 

‘Saeris!’ I heard Sybil’s voice, distant and frantic, but I couldn’t respond. The world blurred. Faces swam in and out of view as the sounds of battle faded into a low hum.

It became dark again.

‘Saeris, come on!’

And so cold.

‘Please, sister!’

Death is close now, it’ll be over soon, 

‘PLEASE!’

Soon. 

***

Pickles purred, rolling on her belly as I scratched her fuzzy head. I smiled, here I am again, home. This room was the place the Fade always took me, I’ve never been anywhere else, and I never wanted to. This is fine. Mum was baking bread—I could smell it—father was mowing the lawn, and my brother, I could hear him cursing names from his games again. 

‘Slightly disapproves? WHY THIS TIME?’ I heard him yell against his screen. 

I smiled as I mimed Pickles, rolling on my back like her, purring in the soft, clean sheets on my bed. But, wait, something is different today. I sat up again. Where is the presence behind my door? It was always there, waiting, prodding. Where is it now? 

‘Oh dear, you look hungry! You want some?’ 

I yelped. Was that… mum? She was standing right there, in the corner of my room, her blonde hair neatly put in a bun, wearing her blue stained jeans and yellow camisole. How did she get here? She never came in? 

‘Saeris, honey?’ she tilted her head as she presented me with a piece of bread, ‘Take some.’

How did she come in? The door is always locked? The wards… did I forget to…?

Suddenly, it wasn’t my mum standing there anymore, it was my father holding a blue forget-me-not. 

‘Hey Saeris, can you put this in a vase for me? I accidentally pulled this one out,’ he winked at me, ‘Please Saeris, before it withers?’ 

I glanced at the door. It was open, just a little bit, but open. How did it open? I could never open it before. 

‘My flower,’ that was… I looked back at my father, but it wasn’t my father anymore, it was Daniel. He held the flower in his hand, looking at it lovingly. ‘I’ve missed you,’ he sighed as he held out his hand to me, ‘come, let’s go home.’ Memories flashed by—those hands caressing my face, my body… I blinked, how was he here? Suddenly, Daniel’s vision became blurred, distorted almost, like the outlines of his figure were smoking and curling. 

‘Who are you?’ I took a step back, blinking rapidly. 

‘I’m here, Saeris please, I’ve missed you so,’ his hand was still stretched towards me, ‘come home to me!’ 

I blinked again, why is he so distorted? Is there something wrong with my sight? I rubbed my eyes, but that made my right eye only sting a little bit more. As I closed it, winking, and it finally became clear. 

‘You are not Daniel!’ I roared at the smoking presence before me, its red eyes staring at me confused. 

‘You can see me, mage?’ Its voice coiled, high pitched and screeching. 

I opened my right eye again, and Daniel was back again. Then I closed it, and the presence was there once more. Does my left eye… see through its disguise? 

‘Don’t you want me, want this man? I can give him back to you, just take my hand.’ It screeched. 

‘No, Daniel is dead!’ I screamed as my left eye twisted and turned, breaking the grasp the demon had on me, seeing what it truly was. Desire.

‘Don’t you want answers, Saeris? Don’t you want to know who you are?’ it hissed, ‘I can give it all to you, just take my hand, give me that pretty eye of yours, that’s all.’ 

‘NO! Get out!’ 

‘I know you want it! But you don’t need that eye! I can make more use of it! Think of what I can give you, my flower!’ 

‘GET. OUT.’

***

‘She’s healing incredibly fast. I’ve never seen this before.’

‘She should be dead… Is she an abomination?’

‘No, she isn’t! She’s my sister!’

‘Calm down, elf, let her rest.’

*** 

When I awoke, the first thing I felt was pain. A dull, persistent ache in my abdomen that flared with every shallow breath I took. I tried to move, but my body protested. Slowly, I opened my eyes. I was lying on a rough cot, covered in blankets. The smell of herbs and poultices filled the air. Around me, I could hear the murmur of voices, the soft shuffle of boots on dirt floors. A healer’s tent.

‘Saeris!’

Sybil’s face appeared above me, her eyes red from crying, but she was smiling—relief flooding her features. ‘You’re awake! I thought I’d lost you.’

‘Sybil,’ I whispered, my throat dry. ‘What... happened?’

‘You were struck down in the fight, but the healers here... they saved you. They’re impressed with how quickly you healed, though,’ she added with a smirk. ‘Turns out you’ve got more strength than you thought.’

I blinked, still dazed. ‘How long?’

‘Two days.’ Sybil sat down beside me, her hand reaching out to squeeze mine. ‘Two long days, Saeris. But you made it.’

I winced as I tried to move. I sighed at the red bloody scar near my midriff. My hands found the gash then, and I pressed hard, holding my screams as my magic flowed through my fingertips, making me twist to reach the nearly-healed wound.

Just then, the flap of the tent rustled, and someone entered.

‘A healer, that’ll come in handy.’ A woman strode in—no, not a woman, a girl. She couldn’t have been more than sixteen, with a wild mane of golden blonde hair and bright, sharp eyes that seemed to take in everything at once. There was a weight to her, though—an authority that was hard to deny. Even Sybil lowered her gaze and bowed her head as the girl approached.

‘My Queen,’ Sybil murmured reverently.

Queen? Then this must be… Moira Theirin. The rebel queen.

My heart raced as the young queen turned her gaze toward me. She studied me for a moment, her expression unreadable, and then she spoke, her voice calm but firm. ‘You’re an apostate.’

It wasn’t a question, but I nodded anyway, forcing myself to sit up a little. ‘Yes... but I mean no harm. I—’

Moira smiled faintly, cutting me off with a raised hand. ‘You and your sister fought well. Ferelden needs fighters like you.’

She stepped closer, her gaze softening as she took in my weakened state. ‘Thank you. You risked your lives for the rebellion, even if you didn’t mean to. That’s something I don’t take lightly.’

I blinked, still struggling to grasp the situation. ‘We didn’t—’

‘You’re part of us now,’ Moira said, her voice steady, but there was a warmth to it. ‘You’re welcome here. Both of you.’

Sybil straightened beside me, pride shining in her eyes. She had wanted this—wanted to fight for a cause, to find a way back to Ferelden and make a difference. And now we were standing in the presence of Moira Theirin, the one who was leading the charge against Orlais.

Moira glanced at me again, her expression soft but firm. ‘Rest now, Saeris. There will be more battles ahead, and I’ll need you strong.’ She gently placed my old dagger on the table next to me and winked. With that, she turned and left the tent, her presence lingering long after she’d gone.

Sybil leaned in closer to me, her excitement barely contained. ‘We’re part of the rebellion, Saeris. We’re really doing this.’

Notes:

*Jumps on a table* VIVA LA RESISTANCE!

Chapter 8: Rebelled

Where there is war, where there is injustice, there will be rebellion. But what is this rebellion claiming? Peace? Justice? Freedom? Or is it just more power? More war?

The rebel camp was larger than I expected, sprawling across the Ferelden countryside like a hidden city. Tents were scattered in clusters, with soldiers moving about purposefully, preparing for the next battle, the next skirmish, the next day of survival. It was hard to believe that Sybil and I had found our way here, thrust into the heart of the rebellion.

Moira Theirin had introduced us to the camp with an air of authority you wouldn’t think a girl her age could have. The soldiers treated her with reverence, their respect for the young queen clear in the way they bowed their heads or stiffened when she passed by. Sybil, walking at my side, was practically glowing with excitement. She had dreamed of this moment—being part of something bigger than herself.

But I wasn’t so sure. As much as I admired Sybil’s passion, I had no illusions about what lay ahead. This was war. And no matter how noble the cause, war was unforgiving.

We were led to a large tent at the centre of the camp, where two figures were already waiting. One was tall, broad-shouldered, and dark-skinned. His expression was stony, and I could feel his disapproval of us before he even opened his mouth. The other was more slender, with sharp, intelligent eyes and a smirk that seemed permanently etched on his face.

‘We are not enlisting an apostate,’ the dark-skinned man said. His face was stern and worried. 

‘We are enlisting a healer, General.’ Moira answered, her voice like honey. 

‘We cannot trust her. She should be sent to the Circle, let the Templars take care of her.’ The General insisted. 

‘When I asked her if she was a mage, she didn’t lie. She knew I could’ve just killed her, turned her over, but she didn’t lie. That is someone I can trust, Corran.’ Moira held her chin up high. ‘She’s as Fereldan as you are. Do you want to survive this war? You better accept a healer when she comes.’ 

‘I… uhm… I also sing.’ I smiled, dangling the fiddle in my hands. 

‘Yes. A singing apostate will surely help our cause,' the General—Corran—snapped at me, ‘Maker…’

‘You will not regret this, my Queen!’ Sybil smiled as she grabbed my shoulder, almost having to jump to reach it. ‘I can shoot anything you want, and if I miss and shoot the wrong target, my sister here will heal it—or him or her—for you!’

‘Good way to put it, Sybil.’ I grinned. 

‘Great!’ Moira laughed as she turned to us, ‘So you’re sisters, huh?’ 

Sybil and I both nodded. 

‘Who’s the oldest?' Moira smiled. 

‘I am.’ Sybil answered and looked at me, winking.

I looked at her with a twang of pain in my chest. 

‘What’s with the eyepatch?’ the other man asked, standing to Moira’s left. 

‘Subtle,' Moira tutted, ‘This is Erik, my Spymaster. He makes sure this rebellion gets the right information.’ Erik winked at us, and I saw Sybil turning bright red. The Spymaster was a tall but slim young man, maybe just around his mid-twenties, just like Sybil. He had long black hair, which he had bound into a tight ponytail. He wasn’t wearing armour like Moira or her General, but a woollen shirt with travelling pants and boots. I poked Sybil in her side and wiggled my eyebrows at her, but she ignored me. Or tried to. He was just her type.

‘Welcome to the rebellion,’ Erik said, his tone light but his eyes sharp. ‘You two have travelled far to find us. How did you manage that, I wonder?’ His question was casual, but I could feel the weight behind it. Erik wasn’t just being polite—he was interrogating us, trying to gauge whether we were trustworthy.

Sybil, ever eager, jumped in before I could speak. ‘We’ve been searching for the rebellion ever since we heard about it in Kirkwall. Ferelden is our home, and we wanted to fight for it. We’ve been moving from tavern to tavern, gathering information, following the whispers.’

Erik nodded slowly, his smile never faltering. ‘Impressive. And dangerous. Orlesian spies are everywhere, especially here, near the border.’

Sybil’s face lit up with curiosity, and before I could stop her, she fired back with her own question. ‘Speaking of the border, why was the rebellion so close to Orlesian territory? That seems risky.’

Erik’s smirk deepened, his eyes gleaming with amusement. ‘A good question, Sybil.’ He folded his arms across his chest, glancing briefly at Corran before turning back to us. ‘We were searching for something. Something important.’

‘What kind of something?’ Sybil pressed, her brow furrowing.

Erik’s smile turned cryptic, his tone playful. ‘That, I’m afraid, is not for me to share. But rest assured, we have our reasons.’

Sybil seemed both intrigued and frustrated by the answer, but she let it drop, her eyes lingering on Erik with a mixture of admiration and curiosity. 

‘You are not asking the questions here, elf.’ The General crossed his arms and fixed us with a hard stare. 

Before I could respond, Moira spoke, her voice calm but firm. ‘Sybil and Saeris are part of this rebellion now, Corran. They are allowed to question us as we do them.’

Her words silenced him, and I couldn’t help but feel a rush of gratitude. Even though I was still unsure about this path, it was clear that Moira had made her decision. We were one of them now, whether I liked it or not.

***

As the sun set, casting long shadows over the Ferelden countryside, Sybil and I arrived at Greenthorn, the rebellion's stronghold. The fortress loomed ahead, a sturdy structure of stone nestled deep within the wilderness. A large stone tower rose above the treeline, its presence solid and imposing. For all the rebellion’s secrecy, this place seemed like a fortress built to endure.

We were greeted by an elderly man as we entered the grounds, his face weathered but his posture firm. His eyes, sharp and alert, scanned us with the same quiet intensity I had seen in Moira and Erik. 

‘Victor!’ Moira smiled, ‘My friend, how are you!’ 

The man, Victor, grinned. ‘My Queen, I bid you welcome.’ 

Sybil and I dismounted as well, never letting go of each other’s hands. 

Moira turned her head towards us again, telling us to come and stand closer. ‘This is Sybil and Saeris, our newest recruits.’ Erik pointed towards us, and I could hear the General grunt silently. 

Victor nodded at us, ‘I am Ser Victor Greenthorn, Commander of this fortress.’ 

Sybil and I both dipped our heads respectfully. 

‘Welcome to Greenthorn,’ Victor said, his voice gravelly yet warm. ‘Her Grace already told me of your arrival. We don’t usually take to strangers so quickly, but it seems you’ve made an impression.’

‘Thank you,’ I replied quietly, unsure of what else to say.

We were ushered inside the main tower, the walls lined with banners of the Fereldan hound and torches flickering in the growing darkness. The air smelled faintly of damp stone and smoke. 

‘So, I’ve been meaning to ask,’ Erik said smoothly, ‘where exactly did you two come from before you moved to Kirkwall?.’

Sybil stiffened slightly, but her expression remained steady. I knew this was Erik’s way—interrogating us without making it feel like an interrogation. He had that ability to make you feel at ease, even when he was digging for information. Still, Sybil had held back the truth until now, avoiding specifics. But it seemed she had finally reached her limit. I decided to give them something specific and release Sybil from her misery. 

‘We’re originally from Gwaren.’ I admitted. Only a half-truth, but no lie.

At my words, Erik and Moira exchanged a brief glance, something unreadable passing between them. I couldn’t tell what it meant, but my heart skipped a beat. Why did it matter?

‘Gwaren, you say,’ Erik mused, his eyes narrowing just slightly. ‘Interesting.’

Before I could ask what was going on, Moira stepped forward, her expression more serious than before. She held something in her hands—something small and delicate, encased in a glass jar. As she turned it toward me, I saw that it was a leaf, dark green with veins of deep red running through it. 

‘This plant,’ Moira said, watching my reaction closely. ‘Do you know it?’

I knew this plant, and had seen it grow in the Brecilian Forest, deep within Dalish territory. My mind flashed back to my time with Elgadira’s clan, how the Dalish had always warned us to avoid it like the plague. The elders spoke of it in hushed tones, cautioning the younger ones not to touch it, not even to go near it.

I took a step back, shaking my head. ‘I... I know it. We were told to stay far away from it. The Dalish believe it’s cursed.’

Moira’s eyes flicked to Erik again before she placed the jar on the table between us. ‘It’s not cursed. Or rather, it’s more than just a curse. We’ve discovered that this plant is being used by the Orlesians as a poison. A very specific poison.’

I stared at the leaf, my chest tightening at her words. ‘A poison?’

Erik stepped closer, pulling out a small flask and placing it beside the jar. The liquid inside was a deep, swirling purple, and it shimmered faintly in the torchlight. I felt my stomach churn at the sight of it. 

How I despised that shade of purple. The colour that had mixed with the red of Daniel’s blood.

‘This is what they’re using,’ Erik said, his voice quieter now. ‘We’ve seen it in the wounds of our soldiers. It’s impossible to heal when inflicted with a wound from it. And we believe the Orlesians have been using it to weaken Ferelden even before their full invasion.’

I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the flask. A memory flashed through my mind—Daniel, lying in the garden, blood pooling beneath him. The helplessness I had felt as I tried to heal him, only to realise there was nothing I could do. The poison had already taken hold.

‘It… I tried healing someone who was stabbed with this long ago,' I swallowed, ‘my magic couldn’t even reach the wound.’ I nodded slowly, the pieces falling into place. It all made sense now. The poison, the way Daniel had died, the Orlesian involvement—it had all been connected, and I had been too blind to see it.

Moira nodded, ‘You’ve been lucky the sword you were stabbed with didn’t have this dirt on it. Meghren has been using it to torture and kill “traitors”, and is testing it on citizens as we speak.’ Moira studied me carefully. ‘We need your help, Saeris. You know this plant. You’ve seen it before. If we can understand how it works—how the Orlesians are using it—we might be able to develop a cure, or at least a countermeasure.’

As I looked at the leaf in the jar, understanding what I had just been asked. To stay. To help. Indefinitely. The path ahead was uncertain, but I knew one thing for sure: I would not let Daniel’s death be in vain. I would find the answers we needed, and I would fight for Ferelden, for Sybil, and for everything we had lost.

‘I’ll… try.’ For Daniel. 

***

The room they gave us was perched high up in one of the towers of Greenthorn, overlooking the sprawling fortress and the forests beyond. It was small, just enough space for two simple cots and a single window that let in the moonlight, but it felt like a refuge after everything we’d been through. But despite the security of the fortress, I couldn’t shake the unease crawling under my skin.

Sybil, on the other hand, couldn’t stop grinning.

‘I feel like I’m finally doing what I’m meant to do!’ she said, dropping her pack onto the floor by her cot and stretching her arms. 

I watched her from my cot, my fingers absently tracing the edge of the blanket. She looked so full of hope, so ready to throw herself into the rebellion, into the fight for Ferelden. But I couldn’t share in her excitement. Not after what we had learned about the poison. Not after realising that the same damned thing that killed Daniel might take others—and that Sybil could be among them.

She caught the look on my face and sighed, her grin softening into something more sympathetic. ‘You’re worried.’

‘Of course, I’m worried,’ I muttered, pulling my knees up to my chest and wrapping my arms around them. ‘This poison… Sybil, it’s dangerous. More dangerous than we realise. And now we’re right in the middle of it.’

She sat down on the edge of her cot, her face serious but calm. ‘I know it’s dangerous, Saeris. But that’s why we’re here, right? To stop it. You’re the only one who knows the plant. They need you.’

Her words were meant to comfort me, but they only made the responsibility feel heavier. I was no expert in poisons, and I wasn’t even the most powerful mage. My magic had failed me more times than I cared to count. What if I couldn’t figure it out? What if I made a mistake? What if—

‘Hey,’ Sybil said softly, cutting through my spiralling thoughts. ‘I believe in you. You’ve always protected me, Saeris. I know you’ll do it again.’ Her voice was warm, filled with the confidence that had always carried her through the darkest times. I wanted to believe her, to believe that I was strong enough to protect her from something as deadly as this. But I couldn’t. 

‘What if I can’t?’ I whispered, my voice barely audible in the stillness of the room.

Sybil leaned over, resting her hand gently on mine. ‘You can. You always have. And we’ll face it together, like we always do.’

Her hand was warm, steady, and for a brief moment, I felt some of the tension ease from my shoulders. Sybil had always been stronger than I gave her credit for, even when she was little. She had a fire in her, a strength that had gotten us through so many hard times. But she still needed me, and that was what scared me the most.

The room fell quiet, the din of the camp outside growing distant as the night deepened. Sybil stretched out on her cot, folding her arms behind her head and staring up at the ceiling.

‘Can I ask you for something?’ she said after a moment, her voice quieter now.

‘Of course,’ I replied, watching her curiously.

‘Will you sing for me? Like when I was little?’

I blinked in surprise. It had been years since I’d sung a lullaby for Sybil, but I remembered the nights back in Kirkwall when she was small, scared of the dark or the storms that would batter the city. I’d sit by her bed, singing softly until she fell asleep, and even as she grew older, there were nights when the sound of my voice was the only thing that could calm her.

‘Do you still need that?’ I asked gently.

Sybil turned her head, offering me a soft smile. ‘It helps me sleep. Always has.’

I nodded, feeling a warmth rise in my chest. ‘Alright. Just like when you were little.’

I shifted on my cot, sitting up straighter and taking a deep breath. The song I chose was an old one, a lullaby I had learned from the Dalish years ago, back when we still believed in simple comforts. I began to hum the familiar tune, the melody soft and lilting, like a breeze through the trees. Then, the words came, flowing easily from my lips.

As I sang, I watched Sybil’s eyes flutter closed, her body relaxing into the cot as the tension of the day slowly drained away. She listened, her breathing slowing to a steady rhythm, the lines on her face smoothing as sleep began to take hold.

The moonlight bathed the room in silver, and for a moment, everything felt peaceful. The war, the rebellion, the poison—it all faded away as the lullaby filled the air. For now, we were safe. For now, I could protect her.

Elgara vallas, da'len Sun sets, little one,
Melava somniar Time to dream
Mala taren aravas Your mind journeys,
Ara ma'desen melar But I will hold you here.

Iras ma ghilas, da'len Where will you go, little one
Ara ma'nedan ashir Lost to me in sleep?
Dirthara lothlenan'as Seek truth in a forgotten land
Bal emma mala dir Deep within your heart.

Tel'enfenim, da'len Never fear, little one,
Irassal ma ghilas Wherever you shall go.
Ma garas mir renan Follow my voice
Ara ma'athlan vhenas I will call you home.
Ara ma'athlan vhenas I will call you home.

***

That night I dreamt once more that I was in my old bedroom. The room filled itself with familiar noises. Pickles’ purr, my brother’s voice, my father’s lawnmower, my mother’s baking. The door was closed again, and wouldn’t open anymore. 

I stood up from my bed and crept closer to the door and squatted to look through the keyhole with my left eye. No red eyes stared back at me. No one whispered deadly promises. The never-ending corridor behind my door was empty, silent. Nothing was standing there anymore. I was alone. 

***

The morning air was crisp as I stepped outside into the courtyard. The sounds of swords clashing and arrows thudding into targets filled the space. Sybil was out there, in the centre of it all, training with Moira’s guards. Her bow was drawn tight, her posture perfect, as she lined up another shot. The guards, most of them seasoned soldiers, stood in a semi-circle around her, watching with growing admiration.

Sybil loosed an arrow, and it flew true, striking the bullseye with a resounding thud. A murmur of approval passed through the crowd. She nocked another arrow with smooth precision, her face focused, calm. I couldn’t help but smile, feeling a surge of pride as I watched her. This was where she belonged—among warriors, proving herself. 

As I moved closer, standing at the edge of the courtyard, I noticed the sideways glances from the soldiers. Some were wary, their eyes lingering a little too long on my eyepatch. Others seemed more intrigued, their gazes scanning me top to bottom. I had grown used to the stares over the years, but here, where the rebellion valued skill and trust above all, I felt out of place. An apostate in their midst. Someone who didn’t quite belong.

As if sensing my unease, Moira appeared at my side, her presence easy and relaxed. She followed the gazes of her guards and smirked, leaning in slightly as she spoke.

‘You know,’ she said with a teasing smile, ‘you’re distracting my men.’

I raised an eyebrow, half-smiling at her joke. ‘Hardly. They’re more interested in Sybil’s skill than in me.’

Moira chuckled softly, crossing her arms as she watched Sybil release another perfect shot. ‘She’s impressive. You must be proud of her.’

‘I am,’ I replied, my voice quieter. ‘I just hope she’s not taking on more than she can handle.’

‘She’s strong.’ Moira stared at Sybil for a second in silence, then turned to face me wholly. ‘Come with me,’ she said. ‘There’s something I need to show you.’

Curiosity tugged at me as I followed her through the stone corridors of Greenthorn. The air grew cooler as we descended into the lower levels. Moira led me through a heavy door, its iron hinges creaking as it opened, revealing a dimly lit room filled with various alchemical tools and vials, their contents glowing faintly in the torchlight. At the centre of it all stood Erik, the spymaster, his ever-present smirk nowhere to be seen. He glanced up as we entered, giving me a nod before holding up a pair of leather gloves.

‘Thought these might be useful,’ he said, tossing them to me. ‘Don’t want you burning yourself—or worse.’

I caught the gloves and slid them on, the soft leather fitting snugly around my fingers. ‘Thank you.’ I mumbled, knowing immediately why they had brought me here. Let's get to it, I guess.

Under the watchful eye of Erik and Moira, I set to work immediately, pouring a small amount of the poison into a dish and carefully observing its reaction. The plant was like any other plant you could find here in Thedas or on Earth. There didn’t seem to be anything special about it. It had the texture of a cactus, its prickly thorns protruding from the sides to protect it from certain bugs. But it was its sap, the purple slime, that bothered me. I tested my magic on it, and it burned it away like I was trying to put out a big fire with a glass of water. It burned away magic, elfroot, and even Lyrium. And when I boiled it, it would only become thicker. When mixed with blood, the slime really showed its power. It ate it, absorbed it like a snack. Like blood magic.

Erik stepped forward, watching me with keen eyes. ‘Anything new?’

I shook my head, frustration tightening in my chest. ‘It’s only reacting to blood. Magic, potions, even heat—nothing affects it. The moment it touches blood, it activates, but beyond that…’

Erik’s brow furrowed. ‘We need more. A cure, a way to stop it.’

‘I know,’ I said quietly, my eyes fixed on the poison. ‘I just haven’t figured it out yet.’ Rome wasn’t built in a day. ‘I’ll keep working,’ I said, though my voice was laced with doubt. ‘There has to be something we’re missing.’

Erik nodded, though his expression remained unreadable. ’Thank you, Saeris.’ With that, he turned and left the room, leaving Moira and me in the cool, dim light. The silence that followed was heavy, filled with the weight of what still needed to be done.

Moira glanced at me, her sharp eyes softening for a moment. ‘I know we’re asking a lot. No mage or alchemist has agreed to help us. It seems, for now, you’re our only hope.’

***

As the weeks passed, the pattern repeated. I spent my days in the lab, poring over every detail of the poison, testing it again and again, hoping for a breakthrough. And yet, no matter what I tried, the answer eluded me. The poison was unlike anything I had ever encountered. Erik kept bringing me more and more herbs, explaining what each herb was, because I really didn’t have a clue. And I tried casting all kinds of spells on it. I cast other plants to absorb the poison, but the poisonous slime burned them. I cast lightning, but it deflected it. I cast wards to try to wall around the plant, but the poison ate through it. Nothing would help. 

Meanwhile, Sybil was out there—training, fighting, joining Moira’s guards on various missions. She was becoming more of a soldier every day, her skills with the bow earning her the respect of the queen’s men. She returned from each mission with stories, her eyes shining with excitement and pride, but all I could feel was a growing sense of dread. The deeper she got into this fight, the more danger she faced.

One morning, I was standing in the war room with Moira, General Corran, and Commander Greenthorn, reviewing maps and discussing the state of the rebellion. My mind, however, was still fixated on the poison. Every night was filled with experiments and failed attempts to find a solution, but my mornings were spent updating Moira and her commanders on my progress—or lack thereof.

‘Anything new?’ General Corran asked, his arms crossed over his broad chest, his favourite stance.

‘Nothing yet,’ I said, my voice tired. ‘The poison reacts only to blood. I’ve tried every method I know, but… there’s nothing else that works.’

Moira gave me a subtle nod of understanding. ‘Keep at it, Saeris. We’ll find something, I know we will.’

Before I could respond, the door to the war room swung open, and Erik strode in, his usual smirk gone, replaced by an expression of urgency. His eyes flicked to Moira, then to Victor and Corran, and I knew something was wrong before he even spoke.

‘We have a problem,’ Erik said, his voice low and tense. ‘My spies just returned—Orlais is closing in on us. Henri LaPointe is marching this way with a massive army as we speak.’

For a moment, the room was still. The words hung in the air, the tension palpable. Then chaos erupted. General Corran cursed under his breath, his fist slamming into the table. Victor’s usually calm demeanour hardened, and Moira’s face paled, though she remained composed.

‘LaPointe,’ Moira muttered, her eyes narrowing. ‘Damn it. I knew they’d come, but not this soon.’

‘They’re marching straight toward Greenthorn,’ Erik added, his tone grim. ‘We don’t have much time.’

‘We need to fight,’ Corran growled, already reaching for his sword. ‘We can’t let them take the tower.’

Victor shook his head, his voice steady. ‘We can’t win a direct battle, not with the numbers LaPointe will be bringing. We need another plan.’

Moira’s eyes flickered with thought, her mind already working through options. Then, after a long pause, she spoke. ‘What if we don’t stay?’ she said, her voice calm but commanding. ‘What if we retreat? Remember the fortress in West Hill we were discussing months ago? Perhaps it’s time to move in more quickly. We can hide and rebuild there.’

‘But you will need a chance for escape, otherwise, LaPointe will follow you there either way.’ Erik bowed over the map, eyes scanning the Storm Coast area.

Victor straightened his back. ‘My men can lead a force to cover your escape. Ambush LaPointe’s soldiers, make them think you’re still here. I’ll lead them straight to this tower, and when they assault it, you’ll be long gone.’

‘That might work.’ Corran turned to Victor. ‘I can assist with the assault, as a General should. Your Grace, you, the spymaster, and the apostate and her sister can head for the woods, along with the rest of our forces.’

Victor nodded immediately. ‘They’ll think you’re holed up here with your entire force. However, you will have retreated hours ago before they even attack the tower.’

The plan was taking shape fast, but this wasn’t just an escape—it was a sacrifice. Victor and the others would be staying behind to draw the Orlesians away, and it was likely that many of them wouldn’t survive.

‘Victor,’ Moira said, her voice softening slightly as she looked at the old commander. ‘You’ll be luring them straight to the tower. Are you sure?’

Victor smiled faintly, a glint of determination in his eyes. ‘I’ve spent my life fighting for Ferelden, Your Majesty. If this is how I go, then so be it. I’ll give them one hell of a fight.’

Corran, ever stoic, gave a firm nod. ‘We’ll hold them off. But you have to go. The rebellion dies with you if you’re captured.’

Moira gave a sharp nod. ‘We’ll leave at first light. Make your preparations.’

Shit…

I quickly went outside after the meeting, running up to Sybil as she finished up her training. 

‘I want to stay and fight.’ She said, her face set with determination. We had done this dance before. But I wouldn’t let her win this time.

‘No.’

She turned to me, her eyes blazing with the same fierce resolve she’d always had. ‘Saeris, I’m a soldier now. I can help. I can fight with them.’

‘You are not staying here to die!’ I shot back, my voice sharper than I intended. ‘This isn’t your battle to fight. You’re coming with me.’

Sybil shook her head, her jaw clenched. ‘I’ve trained for this. I can help hold the tower. I should help—’

‘No,’ I interrupted, my voice breaking slightly. ‘You’re not staying behind. I won’t lose you too. You’re coming with me, Sybil. And…’ I swallowed, knowing I was playing on her character with this, ‘the Queen will need you to protect her during the escape.’

For a moment, she stared at me, the fire in her eyes wavering. I knew how badly she wanted to prove herself, how deeply she believed in this cause. But I couldn’t bear the thought of her staying behind to face LaPointe’s army. Not when I knew what that poison could do.

Finally, she relented. Her shoulders slumped, and she gave a small, defeated nod. ‘Fine. But I’m fighting when we get to the next stronghold.’

I exhaled, the tension easing from my chest. ‘We’ll figure it out. But for now, you’re coming with me.’

***

The plan was put into motion at dawn. The soldiers in the tower prepared for the ambush, Victor and General Corran giving orders as they readied themselves for battle. I could see it in their faces—the knowledge that many of them wouldn’t live to see the sunset. But they were determined, focused on buying us enough time to escape. The General, wearing a brilliant steel armour, walked up to his men, his black horse waiting for him, tapping its hooves nervously at the thought of battle. Erik walked towards the General and put a hand on his serious face. 

‘I will protect her, Corran,' Erik smiled up to the General, who, for the first time ever, warmly smiled back at him. 

‘I know,' he whispered and bent his head to kiss the spymaster on his lips. It was ever so softly, ever so quick, but I saw the world flash before their eyes, knowing they would never see each other again. Sybil stared at the ground, and I saw a heartbroken tear escape her big eyes. But then she looked up again—assured and confident. She thought the same thing I did, all of us were thinking. Their deaths would not be in vain. 

‘For Ferelden!’ Moira yelled as she lifted her sword in the air. The men roared and rode towards the forest, where an Orlesian force would await them. But they didn’t look back, they rode towards their destiny, with no fear, no regrets.

Erik’s shoulders didn’t slump as he watched his lover ride off into the fray. He turned on his heels, towards Moira, and they both shared a look. 

As the sun began to rise, we slipped out of the stronghold and into the woods. Moira, Erik, Sybil, and I moved quickly, the sound of the approaching Orlesian army echoing in the distance. My heart pounded as we reached the waiting horses, the fear of what was to come clawing at the edges of my mind.

Sybil rode beside me, her face tense but resolute. I knew she was still thinking about the battle we had left behind, about the soldiers she had wanted to fight beside. But I couldn’t let her throw her life away, not when there was still so much left to fight for.

As we rode through the dense forest, the sound of battle erupted in the distance. The clash of steel, the shouts of soldiers—it was a battle we couldn’t afford to look back on. 

We had to keep moving.

Notes:

*Southern voice* Run, Saeris, Run !!

If you liked this chapter, you can always leave me a kudo or a comment. They are hugs. Virtual hugs. And I like hugs.

Chapter 9: Stilled

8:54 Blessed

‘Be still, little one, don’t cry. It’ll all be over soon. Don’t cry.’

The room was quiet, save for the soft sound of my fingers working over the little elven girl’s leg. The cut was deep, but I had seen worse. Much worse. I murmured softly as I concentrated, the faint glow of my magic flowing from my fingertips into her wound, knitting the torn flesh back together. The girl, no older than seven, winced as the magic did its work, but she was brave. She didn’t cry, just stared up at me with wide eyes, her little hands gripping the edge of the cot.

‘There,’ I said gently, pulling back and giving her a reassuring smile. ‘You’ll be fine. But next time, don’t climb those rocks so recklessly, alright?’

The girl nodded quickly, her eyes still wide with a mix of awe and relief. 

‘Ma serannas,' her mother smiled, her face relieved and thankful.

‘Sathem lasa halani.’ I smiled at her, how long has it been since someone had spoken Elven to me? ‘Next please!' I yelled as the mother dragged the girl away, and the next person came to the healer’s hut. 

I exhaled slowly, wiping my hands on a cloth and leaning back against the wooden table. Healing was a second nature to me after all these decades, but the toll it took never really left. It was the constant undercurrent of exhaustion that had become my companion. This was my life now—healing the wounded, mending broken bones, soothing fevers and injuries. The strange healer apostate with an eyepatch was good enough if she just kept doing her job well. And I did. The others had grown used to me by now, no longer seeing me as a threat. Just another part of the rebellion.

The sound of heavy boots approaching the tent pulled me from my thoughts, and I looked up just as Sybil pushed her way inside.

Her presence filled the room immediately, as it always did. She had grown stronger over the years, not just in skill but in stature. Her frame was more robust, her muscles thick with years of training, her face sharper, though still familiar to me in ways only I could see. She was no longer the wide-eyed girl who had joined the rebellion with me. Now, she was Captain Sybil—the leader of the Queen’s guards and Moira’s most trusted soldier.

But at the moment, she looked anything but invincible. She clutched her arm, which had been cut by an arrow. Blood was seeping through the fabric of her sleeve, though she wore it with the same stubborn determination she always had.

I narrowed my eyes at the sight. ‘Another injury, Sybil? How many times have I told you to be more careful?’

She gave me a lopsided grin, though I could see the weariness behind her bravado. ‘It’s just a scratch, Saeris. An arrow nicked me. Nothing poisonous.’

‘It could have been,’ I shot back, grabbing her uninjured arm and pulling her toward the cot where the little girl had just been sitting. ‘Sit. Let me see it.’

Sybil rolled her eyes but obeyed, sitting down heavily as I inspected the wound. It wasn’t too deep, but it would need to be cleaned and healed. As I set to work, she winced slightly but didn’t complain. She never complained.

‘You need to stop being so reckless,’ I muttered, my hands caressing the wound. ‘Just because you’re captain doesn’t mean you’re invincible.’

‘It’s my duty to protect my men,’ Sybil replied, her voice firm. ‘They look to me for guidance. I can’t let them down.’

I paused for a moment, glancing up at her. There it was again—that shadow of guilt that had lingered over her ever since Greenthorn fell. Sybil had never truly forgiven herself for not being there when the battle had taken so many of our men. 

Sighing, I finished the last of the healing spell. The magic closed the wound, leaving not even a faint scar behind. Greenthorn had been a blow not just to the rebellion but to Sybil personally. She had lost more than just comrades that day—she had lost a part of herself. Now, the rebellion had become her everything. It was the only way she knew how to cope.

She stood, flexing her now-healed arm and testing the movement. ‘Thanks, Saeris. Again. I don’t know what we’d do without you.’

I waved her off, my smile returning. ‘Just try not to get shot next time.’

Sybil laughed softly, heading for the door. ‘No promises.’

When Sybil left, another patient rushed in. And so, my mornings were always busy. More and more people had joined the rebellion since the battle of Greenthorn. Meghren, Ferelden’s occupying king, was a vile man. The more monstrous he became, the more people he drove into our arms. He took away the people’s rights, slaughtered who he wanted, and took who he desired. Everyone feared him, but not Moira. Her legacy was quickly becoming an escape for the Fereldans from their miserable existence under the occupation.

After some hours of healing in the morning, I would restart my research again in my study, my room—my sanctuary. West Hill’s stronghold had become a refuge for the rebellion, but this tower had become my world. My bed was tucked into a corner, but the rest of the space was taken over by books, notes, alchemical supplies, and remnants of my endless experiments. This room, high above the others, was where I worked late into the night, hoping to find a cure for the poison that had haunted us for years. And in my case, decades.

Today was no different. I stood over the large table in the centre of the room, bent over a series of flasks and vials, my brow furrowed in concentration. The poison had become my obsession, the key to stopping Orlais from crippling Ferelden. But no matter how many combinations I tried, how many nights I spent poring over every ingredient and spell I could think of, the poison remained as deadly as ever. It felt like I was chasing shadows.

With a sigh, I wiped the sweat from my brow and leaned back in my chair, staring at the swirling liquid in the flask before me. It was another dead end, just like the others. The answer was slipping further from my grasp, no matter how hard I pushed.

As I sat there, contemplating whether to start again or give up for the night, a soft knock came from the door at the far end of the room. I looked up, surprised to see Erik standing in the doorway.

He had aged well over the past ten years, the lines of age adding a certain ruggedness to his features. It made him appear even more distinguished, though there was a weariness in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. The loss of General Corran at Greenthorn had changed him. The General had been Erik’s lover, though few knew it, and his death had left a wound that time hadn’t yet healed. Since that day, Erik had thrown himself even deeper into the rebellion, his devotion relentless.

But despite everything, there was a warmth in his gaze as he stepped into the room, shutting the door softly behind him.

‘Still working?’ he asked, his voice smooth as ever, though I could hear the undercurrent of concern.

I offered a tired smile. ‘I don’t know how to do anything else anymore.’

Erik chuckled softly and walked over to the table, leaning against it casually as he glanced at the various vials and notes scattered around. ‘You’re going to burn yourself out if you keep this up, Saeris.’

‘Maybe,’ I admitted, rubbing my eyes. ‘But I have to keep trying.’

Erik’s gaze lingered on me for a moment, and I could see the empathy in his eyes. He understood that weight, the burden of responsibility that never seemed to lift. He carried it, too.

‘I come bearing good news for once,’ Erik said, breaking the silence.

I raised an eyebrow, leaning back in my chair. ‘Good news? That’s rare. What is it?’

Erik smiled, a hint of excitement flashing in his eyes. ‘We’ve received a letter. From someone who claims to know the cure for the poison.’

I sat up straight, my heart skipping a beat. ‘What? Who?’

‘We don’t know the full details yet,’ Erik replied, his voice growing more serious. ‘But according to my sources, this person may be legitimate. They seem to have knowledge of the poison that matches what we’ve discovered so far.’

I stared at him, his words sinking in. After all this time—after years of searching, testing, and failing—was it possible that the answer had come from somewhere else? A part of me wanted to leap at the chance, to believe that this letter was the solution we’d been waiting for. But the other part, the part that had been worn down by years of disappointment, was more cautious. ‘You think this could be real?’ 

Erik’s expression softened. ‘I do. We’ve vetted it as much as we can. It’s worth looking into, Saeris.’

For a moment, I didn’t know what to say. I had spent so long chasing this answer, and now it was being handed to me in the form of a letter from someone I didn’t know. The irony wasn’t lost on me.

Erik must have sensed my hesitation because he reached out, placing a hand on my shoulder. His touch was gentle, grounding. ‘You’ve done more than anyone could have expected, Saeris.’

I looked up at him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. He had been a pillar of strength for the rebellion, despite his own grief. And though he had been seeing Sybil—casually, I think—his loyalty to the cause never wavered. Sybil, too, had found a way to channel her pain into purpose. We all had. 

‘I don’t want to let anyone down,’ I said softly, my eyes flicking to the experiment before me.

Erik’s hand squeezed my shoulder gently. ‘You won’t. You’ve done more than enough.’

I sighed, my gaze returning to the table. ‘What’s the next step, then?’

Erik smiled. ‘We’re going to send a team to meet this informant. Discreetly. I’ve already suggested that Sybil and I lead the group.’

Of course, Sybil would be going. The thought of her walking into another potential trap made my stomach twist, but I knew better than to argue. She was too strong-willed to be swayed.

‘And I’m guessing you’re not going to give me a choice in whether I come along,’ I said dryly.

Erik chuckled. ‘You know me well, Saeris. It’s your research, after all. We need you there.’

I nodded, though my mind was still reeling from the sudden shift. The cure. It could be within our reach. After years of chasing it, after all the lives lost to the poison… maybe there was hope.

‘Alright,’ I said, standing and pulling off my gloves. ‘When do we leave?’

‘First light tomorrow,’ Erik said, his eyes glinting with that familiar confidence. ‘Get some rest. It’s going to be a long journey.’

I smiled faintly. Rest wasn’t something I was used to anymore, but for the first time in a long while, I allowed myself a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, the end of this long battle was in sight.

As Erik turned to leave, I glanced back at the table one more time, my heart lighter than it had been in years. Soon, we might finally get the answers we needed.

***

The journey took longer than any of us had anticipated. Weeks passed as we wound our way through the dense forests and across the rolling fields of The Bannorn. We stayed off the main roads, moving carefully through the wilderness, through the shadows of the trees—our constant companions. Sybil was ever-vigilant, riding ahead with Erik to scout the way, her sharp eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of danger. I remained quiet for most of the trip, lost in my own thoughts as the landscape shifted around us.

It had been years since I had ventured this far into the heart of Ferelden. The forests and plains that stretched between the Bannorn and the Hinterlands were familiar in some distant way. 

As we neared the edge of the Hinterlands, the landscape became more rugged, the air cooler. Erik signalled for us to slow as we approached a small, hidden camp tucked away in the hills. There, waiting by the edge of the camp, was Landolf, one of the rebellion’s scouts and a member of the Queen’s guard. He had been sent forwards to secure the area, along with his fellow soldiers Callan and Siana. 

He greeted us with a stiff nod, but his gaze lingered on me, a flash of something passing through his eyes. I met his stare for a brief moment, then nodded curtly. Landolf and I had shared a few nights together during those long stretches in West Hill, when the stress of everything became too much to bear. It wasn’t something I was proud of, but I had welcomed the distraction. There was no relationship, nothing. Just… fun. 

‘Saeris,’ Landolf said, his voice even but his expression expectant.

‘Landolf,’ I replied, keeping my voice steady as I dismounted. His eyes followed me as I joined Erik and Sybil, but I offered him no further acknowledgment. I wasn’t here for pleasantries. There were more important things to focus on now.

He gestured toward the camp. ‘The informant’s been waiting. She’s set up further in. Follow me.’ Sybil exchanged a glance with Erik, then nodded. We followed Landolf deeper into the woods, my heart pounding faster with each step. ‘She’s a weird one, claiming to have gathered the information from a “most trustworthy person” or something. Says she has been trying to contact us for months.’ Landolf continued in a hushed voice. ‘She keeps calling me a stupid “shemlen.” I don’t know what she’s saying by that.’

We approached a secluded tent, its canvas flapping softly in the wind. The air around it was thick with the scent of damp earth and pine, a heavy stillness clinging to the trees. Landolf stepped aside, and as I peered inside the tent, I froze.

Standing before me, her back turned as she rummaged through a satchel, was a woman who looked so familiar, it stopped my breath. I blinked, my heart stuttering in my chest.

‘Elgadira?’ I whispered, the name slipping out before I could stop myself.

The woman turned slowly, her face illuminated by the faint light seeping into the tent. It wasn’t Elgadira. But the resemblance was so strong, it took me a moment to realise who it really was. The lines on her face were deeper, her dark hair almost completely grey and pulled back in a tight ponytail. Her posture was still sharp, though age had taken some of the edge from her. And her eyes, though older, still sparkled with that unmistakable wit and sass.

‘Nenhara,’ I breathed, disbelief washing over me. Holy Mythal. 

The Dalish woman smirked, crossing her arms over her chest. ‘Took you long enough to recognize me, alin .’ She quipped, though there was warmth in her voice. 

I let out a breath I didn’t realise I’d been holding, a mixture of relief and shock washing over me. ‘I thought I’d never see you again!’ I cried, thick tears leaving my eyes, soaking my eyepatch. 

‘Dirthara-ma, you know you won’t get rid of me that easily!’ Nenhara smiled, slapping me on my back. ‘You haven’t changed a thing.’ She grinned knowingly. ‘Well, except for…’ She pointed at the eyepatch and winked. 

Sybil and Erik stepped inside, exchanging curious glances, but neither spoke. I stepped forward. ‘You’re the one who sent the letter? You’re the informant?’

Her smirk faded slightly, replaced by something more serious. She nodded, glancing at the others who had gathered behind me. ‘Yes. I’m the one who knows the cure for that poison you’ve been chasing.’

My heart skipped a beat at her words. ‘You really know how to stop it?’

Nenhara’s expression grew solemn. ‘I wouldn’t have brought you all this way if I didn’t.’ She reached into her satchel, pulling out a small vial filled with a dark green liquid. It was carefully wrapped in cloth, nestled with a collection of dried herbs. She set it on the table between us, her expression grave but steady.

‘This is it,’ Nenhara said quietly. ‘The antidote.’

I stared at it, the culmination of years of searching, of late nights and desperate hope. It felt surreal. ‘You’re sure?’ I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Nenhara nodded. ‘It was given to me by Asha'bellanar . She’s here to help, she said you needed a little push.’ 

I squinted my eye. ‘Ehn, lethallin?’

Nenhara looked up at me. ‘Asha’bellanar.’ That was a word I didn’t know. ‘Ir abelas, alin. Ar te'elan dirth.’ I’m sorry, I cannot tell. Nenhara grimaced as if she couldn’t say anything more. Like she physically couldn’t. 

‘Translate please.’ Erik’s voice cut through before I could ask the same, his usual charm replaced by cautious suspicion. He leaned forward, eyes narrowing. ‘Who is Asha’bellanar? And why would they want to help us?’

Nenhara met his gaze, her expression hardening. ‘That’s not for you to know, shemlen .’

Erik frowned, clearly not satisfied with her answer. He took a step closer, his tone more insistent. ‘We’re talking about the cure for a poison that could turn the tide of this war. We need to know who we’re dealing with.’

But Nenhara didn’t flinch. ‘All you need to know is that this antidote works. Asha'bellanar gave it to me because she believes in the cause. Nothing more.’

Erik opened his mouth to argue, but I stepped in, placing a hand on his arm. ‘Erik,’ I said softly, ‘let it go.’

He glanced down at me, then back at Nenhara, the tension clear in his eyes. But after a moment, he relented, stepping back with a frustrated sigh. ‘Fine,’ he muttered. ‘But we’re putting a lot of trust in someone we know nothing about.’

‘I trust Nenhara,’ I replied firmly, my eyes meeting Nenhara’s. ‘That is enough. You have my word for it.’

Nenhara’s sharp gaze softened just a fraction. 

Erik looked between us, then gave a curt nod. ‘Alright… Then, I’ll leave you two to talk.’ He cast one more lingering glance at Nenhara before turning and walking out of the tent, taking a confused Sybil with him and leaving us alone.

As the tent flap closed behind him, the silence between us felt heavier. 

‘There’s something else I need to tell you,’ she muttered, her voice softer now. ‘The clan… we left Ferelden decades ago. After Elgadira’s passing, we moved to the Dales.’

My heart sank at her words. Elgadira is dead, and the Brecilian Forest, the clan’s home for so long, was no longer theirs. ‘The Dales?’ I repeated, the surprise evident in my voice. ‘Why?’

‘The Brecilian became too dangerous,’ she explained, shaking her head. ‘The Orlesians were pushing further in, and we couldn’t risk it. We had to find a new home. The Dales seemed safer at the time. But now…’ She trailed off, her eyes growing distant. ‘There aren’t many of us left, Saeris. The years haven’t been kind.’

The sadness in her voice cut deep. I had always known the Dalish struggled, but to hear that the clan—the people I once knew so well—had dwindled so much… It was a painful reminder of how much the world had changed.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said, my voice barely a whisper.

Nenhara shook her head. ‘Don’t be. It’s the way of things. We’ve always been few in number, and our way of life has always been fragile. But that’s not why I’m here.’

She paused, her eyes locking onto mine, the intensity in her gaze startling me. ‘My time in this world is ending, Saeris. I’ve felt it for some time now.’

The air seemed to still around us, and I felt a cold weight settle in my chest. ‘What do you mean?’

Nenhara smiled faintly, though it didn’t reach her eyes. ‘I’m not the same woman you knew all those years ago. I’m old, Saeris. My body… it’s failing. Asha'bellanar found me when I was ready to go. She gave me this final quest—to bring you the antidote.’

I swallowed hard, the realisation sinking in. Nenhara had come all this way, risking everything, knowing she wouldn’t have much time left. This was her final act.

‘I’m happy I was able to see you again,’ she said softly, her voice trembling just slightly. ‘I wasn’t sure if I ever would.’

I blinked back the sudden sting of tears, overwhelmed by the flood of emotions. ‘Nenhara…’

She reached across the table, placing a hand on mine. ‘Don’t give up, Saeris. No matter how long it takes. You’re stronger than you think. And this war… it won’t end easily. But you have something worth fighting for. Don’t let go of that.’

I nodded, unable to speak for a moment. My heart ached, knowing this was goodbye. Real, final. 

‘Thank you,’ I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. ‘For everything.’

Nenhara smiled again, a true smile this time. ‘Don’t make this too sentimental, alin . I’m not dead yet.’

I laughed softly, despite the tears threatening to fall. ‘I’ll miss you, lethallin .’

‘And I you,’ she said. ‘But it’s time for you to go now. There’s no time to waste.’

We stood there for a moment, the unspoken understanding passing between us. I then took her in my arms, hugging her in a grieving silence. She hugged me back tightly. Then, without another word, I turned and left the tent, the flap swaying softly behind me. I knew I would never see her again. This was the end of her journey.

We moved away from the clearing, my head snapping back and forth again towards the border of the forest. 

The last time I looked back before passing into the forest, I saw how Nenhara stepped outside the tent, tears streaking down her face.

I didn’t look back again. 

***

Back in West Hill, the atmosphere was charged with excitement. Moira stood with us in the high tower. She was no longer the girl I had first met, the young queen barely out of her childhood years. She was now a woman of fierce resolve, her blonde hair braided into a regal crown atop her head. The pressure of the rebellion and the war had aged her, but it had also given her a strength that radiated through the room. Erik stood nearby, his arms crossed, watching with sharp eyes as I prepared the final experiment.

The antidote Nenhara had given me sat on the table, a mixture of herbs that seemed so simple and yet held the promise of so much. I had followed the instructions meticulously, grinding the herbs into a fine powder and mixing them with a few drops of the poison we had collected over the years. This was it. After all these years, all the failure, all the hope—this was our chance.

My hands trembled slightly as I added the final ingredient, stirring the mixture in a small vial. The purple liquid shimmered, reacting to the antidote as I watched, holding my breath. Slowly, miraculously, the poison began to fade, dissolving into nothing.

‘It’s working,’ I whispered, my voice filled with awe.

Moira stepped closer, her eyes wide. ‘Is it—?’

‘The poison’s completely gone,’ I confirmed, a mixture of disbelief and joy rushing through me. ‘It worked.’

For a moment, the room was silent as the realisation sank in. Then, in an explosion of emotion, Erik let out a triumphant laugh, his hand clapping me on the back.

‘You did it, Saeris!’ he said, his voice full of pride. ‘After all this time, you finally did it!’

I exhaled with a chuckle. Moira, too, broke into a smile, her regal composure giving way to something more youthful, more exuberant.

‘We need to start producing this immediately,’ Moira said, her voice filled with determination. ‘We can use this antidote to counter Orlais’ poison. It could turn the tide of the war.’

‘There’s a mission in two days,’ Erik added, his eyes gleaming. ‘In Amaranthine. We’re freeing prisoners there, and we’ve had reports of Orlesians using the poison on their captives. If we can distribute the antidote…’

Moira nodded eagerly. ‘Yes. We’ll take it with us.’

‘I don’t think we’re ready for that,’ I said cautiously. ‘The antidote worked here, but we haven’t tested it thoroughly. I don’t know if I can produce enough in time, let alone guarantee that it’s safe.’ I had no idea how stable it was, how long it would last, or if there were side effects we hadn’t discovered yet. And now they were talking about taking it into the field—immediately. 

Moira’s face hardened slightly, her years of leadership making her more decisive than she once had been. ‘We don’t have the luxury of time, Saeris. If this works, we need to use it. We’ve already lost too many to that poison. We can’t afford to wait.’

Her stubbornness was something I’d grown used to over the years, but it grated on me now. This wasn’t just about rushing into action. This was about safety—about making sure the antidote didn’t do more harm than good. I took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves.

‘If you insist on using the antidote,’ I said slowly, ‘then I’ll agree to produce as much as I can in two days. But only under one condition.’

Moira raised an eyebrow. ‘What condition?’

‘Sybil doesn’t go on the mission,’ I said, my voice firmer than I expected.

Moira frowned, clearly taken aback. ‘Sybil? Why?’

‘She’s too valuable to risk on an untested antidote. And you know she’ll push herself harder than anyone else. I don’t want her to go.’

Moira’s eyes softened slightly, but there was a hint of frustration in her gaze. ‘Sybil is one of our best soldiers, Saeris. We need her.’

‘I know she’s a good soldier,’ I replied, my voice steady. ‘But if she goes, she’ll be the first to volunteer to take the antidote. And if something goes wrong…’

Moira sighed, clearly torn. She glanced at Erik, who remained silent, watching the exchange with his usual calm demeanour. ‘Saeris,’ she began, her voice firm, ‘I need all my best people for this mission.’

‘And I need you to keep her safe,’ I countered. ‘If you want this antidote, Moira, you’ll keep Sybil here. Promise me.’

There was a long pause as Moira considered my words. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she relented, her shoulders relaxing slightly. ‘Alright,’ she said, though her tone was reluctant. ‘Sybil won’t go. But I expect you to have enough of that antidote ready in two days, Saeris.’

***

That evening, the tension of the day gave way to a rare moment of celebration. Word had spread through the stronghold about the success of the antidote, and the soldiers gathered in the great hall for a banquet. It was a welcome break from the constant strain of war, and for the first time in a long while, I saw smiles on the faces of the men and women who had fought so hard for so long.

I found myself at the edge of the room, watching the festivities from a distance. Sybil, as always, was at the centre of the attention, laughing and joking with her men. Her presence filled the room. She caught my eye from across the hall, smiling that familiar smile that always made my heart ache with a mixture of pride and worry. She made her way over to me, her usual swagger in every step.

‘You’re not celebrating,’ Sybil said, nudging me playfully. ‘I thought you’d be overjoyed.’

‘I am,’ I replied, though my voice was quieter. ‘I just… there’s still so much work to do.’

Sybil laughed. ‘There’s always more work, Saeris. But tonight, we celebrate. You deserve it.’

She leaned in closer, lowering her voice. ‘Come on. Play us a tune.’

I blinked, caught off guard. ‘What?’

‘You still have your fiddle, don’t you?’ she asked, a mischievous glint in her eyes. ‘Play something. For old times’ sake.’

I hesitated for a moment, but then, seeing the hopeful look on her face, I nodded. ‘Alright,’ I said, unable to refuse her. ‘Just for you.’

I retrieved my old fiddle from my quarters and returned to the hall, where the mood was light and the soldiers were eagerly awaiting the music. As I stood before them, fiddle in hand, I felt a strange sense of nostalgia wash over me. It had been years since I’d played in front of so many people, and the memories of simpler times—of playing in the Hanged Man—came flooding back.

I began to play, the notes filling the room. The soldiers cheered, raising their mugs and clapping along. For a moment, it felt like the war was far away, like we were just people enjoying the music and the warmth of each other’s company.

Sybil stood near the front, her eyes on me, her smile wide. 

As I bury my enemies deep in the sea
No, no loser’s grave is waiting for me
I will be winning the stolen crown
As I watch the bastard king drown. 

Rejoice, with victory, rejoice!
C’mon, rebellion make noise!
As we fooled them once more
We open the door
To victory, men, rejoice! 

Put up your cups,
And scream for your Queen
Let her hear you roar
For she will lead us to victory
To free Ferelden once more.

Rejoice, with victory, rejoice!
C’mon, rebellion make noise!
As we fooled them once more
We open the door
To victory, men, rejoice! 

*** 

Sybil leant against the barracks’ wall, watching as the new recruits trained. ‘You need to at least touch the target with the arrow, guys. Make sure you hit them hard enough. Tickling your opponent isn’t going to work.’ 

‘Aye,' the recruits said nervously while I walked towards them. 

Sybil looked up at me and smiled. 

‘How’s the hangover, little brat?’ I grinned as I walked up to her. 

‘Watch what you say, little sister,' she winked at me. ‘I feel fine, though, this body can handle more than you think.’ Some of the recruits started snickering at that. ‘Oh, shush it!' Sybil rolled her eyes. 

‘I wouldn’t doubt that.’ I winked at her. We stood there for a moment, side by side, watching the recruits spar. The familiar ease between us was comforting, but I could feel Sybil’s curiosity simmering beneath the surface. She glanced at me, her expression shifting slightly.

‘So… the informant,’ Sybil said carefully. ‘Nenhara, was it? You knew her.’

I nodded, my gaze distant. ‘I did. She was like a sister to me once.’

‘She seemed quite full of herself.’

‘Yes, you two could be practically twins.’ I grinned. 

Sybil was silent for a moment, clearly weighing her next words. ‘You never told me much about your time with the Dalish. What was it like?’

I hesitated, feeling the familiar tug of discomfort at the memory. I had never been able to fully explain to Sybil why I had left the Dalish all those years ago. It wasn’t something I liked to talk about.

‘It was… different,’ I said vaguely. ‘But it’s not my life anymore. I had to leave.’

Sybil however, didn’t relent. ‘Why didn’t you tell me of her? That she was like a sister to you, like I am?’ Sybil looked to the ground, blinking. 

‘Because I didn’t want to think about who I left behind. I wanted to go forward. I had someone else to take care of.’ I smiled at her when she looked back up at me.

‘You know, Saeris, I’ve been looking for my mamae all my life now. I’ve come to terms with the fact that I will never find her.’ She shook her head. ‘But I found you. I think that my mother would’ve been happy to know I had you. I’m glad that you’re my sister, Saeris.’ 

‘I love you too, my dear Sybil.’ I smiled at her. 

Sybil smiled back.

That night, after the antidotes had been delivered to Moira, Sybil came to my room, as she sometimes did. We had our own quarters, but every now and then, she would slip into my bed, just like she had done when she was younger. There was something soothing about those nights—something that made it feel like, for a brief moment, the war was far away and it was just the two of us again.

Sybil had fallen asleep quickly, her steady breathing filling the room.

I dressed for bed and wrote down my findings about the antidote in my journal. The ingredients were so simple, it was almost frustrating how easily they came together. After all these years of searching for a cure, the solution had been right in front of me, as if mocking me for how long it had taken.

I glanced over at Sybil as she slept, her face peaceful, the soft light from the lantern casting gentle shadows across her features. The lines of worry that had etched themselves into her face over the years were gone in sleep, and I felt a pang of affection rise in my chest. I stood, walking over to her side of the bed, and leaned down to place a soft kiss on her forehead, my lips brushing her skin. She wiggled her nose in response. 

‘Sleep tight, sister.’

***

I smiled as Pickles turned on her back. 

‘Yes, I’ll rub your belly! Yes, I will!’ I smothered. The fuzzy cat purred with contentment. 

As I lay on my bed, hearing all of the familiar sounds, I could almost think that this was what heaven felt like. No prodding, no disturbance, no magic, no elfy ears, no rebellion, no war. 

I heard my brother move in his beanbag. 

‘Who do I choose?’ he was asking himself, walking from his TV to his door and back. 

I smiled. 

I heard my father curse as the lawnmower got clogged again. ‘Mother of God! Just let it work, just for once!’ he cursed while pulling the motor over and over again as the machine huffed. 

My mother yelled through the kitchen window. ‘Honey, just leave the thing be! Come get some dessert, I just finished it!’ 

I sighed. This was how it was supposed to be. I wish I could just stay here, and sleep forever.
Then, I heard someone laugh. I sat up from my bed, startling Pickles, who jumped up and looked at me with discontent. 

‘Shhh, sorry!’ I hushed her. 

Someone laughed again. I know that voice. There it was again! Behind my door! 

I crept closer. Was the presence back again? I squatted and looked through the keyhole and held my breath. 

‘Sybil?’ She was standing there, a big smile on her lips. 

‘Hey! What are you doing here?’ I swore to her. 

Sybil looked at me, smiling and waving in the corridor behind my door. I touched the doorknob, wringing, pushing. ‘Open, dammit!’ I yelled at it. ‘Sybil, just wait!’ 

Sybil waved, laughingly turning around. 

‘Sybil, stop it! Come back!’ 

She winked at me, her big hazel eyes full of glee. 

‘SYBIL!’ 

But she didn’t hear me and walked further away, disappearing into the distant horizon, towards what lay beyond the corridor. Gone.

***

The next morning, I woke with a start, drenched in sweat. My heart raced, and for a moment, I couldn’t remember why. Then I heard the screaming. It was faint at first, but it grew louder, the sound of panic and chaos filtering up from the courtyard.

‘Sybil?’ I called out groggily, turning toward the other side of the bed—only to find it empty. The sheets were cold.

I threw off the blankets and rushed to the window, my heart pounding in my chest. Below, the courtyard was in a frenzy. Soldiers were running, shouting orders. Panic gripped me as I threw on my cloak and bolted out of the room, racing down the stairs two steps at a time.

When I reached the courtyard, the scene was chaotic. Erik stood with Moira, surrounded by soldiers, their faces tense. But it wasn’t the usual preparations for battle—it was something else. Something had happened.

‘Erik!’ I shouted as I ran up to them, breathless. ‘Where’s Sybil? What’s going on?’

Erik turned to me, his face grim. ‘Saeris…’

Fear tightened around my throat. ‘Where is she?’

Moira’s voice was calm, but I could hear the tension beneath it. ‘The mission to Amaranthine—it was last night.’

My heart stopped. ‘What?’ At night?

‘The mission went ahead without warning,’ Erik said, his voice tight. ‘The team was ambushed. Sybil—she led them.’

The world tilted beneath me. My knees buckled, and I barely managed to stay upright. ‘She’s—she’s not here. I—I told you—Moira, I told you she wasn’t supposed to go!’

Moira’s face looked horror-struck, her guilt clear in her eyes. ‘She wanted to go, begged me to,' she whispered, her breath sticking in her throat. 

‘You promised!’ I screamed, the words tearing from my throat like a wild animal. My vision blurred as anger overtook me. ‘You promised me, Moira! You said she wouldn’t go!’

Moira took a step back, her face pale. ‘Saeris, I—’

But I didn’t let her finish. The ground beneath me trembled, a low rumble building as my magic surged uncontrollably. Cracks splintered through the stone, racing across the courtyard. The air around me shimmered with raw energy, and I could feel the earth responding to my fury, quaking as if it, too, felt the depth of my rage.

‘You lied to me!’ I roared, my voice echoing through the courtyard. 

Erik staggered back, his eyes wide with fear as the ground shook. Moira, too, took several steps away, her hand instinctively reaching for her sword. They were afraid— of me . The soldiers around them were tense, their hands going to their weapons, unsure of whether to step in or flee from the shaking ground. My magic lashed out like a storm, and for a moment, I didn’t care. I wanted them to feel what I was feeling. I wanted them to understand the worry that was ripping me apart.

My eye started coiling. Burning. I ripped the eyepatch off, my left eye spitting green sparks. Erik took a step back, pushing Moira behind him. They looked at my eye, and death reflected them. 

And then, through the haze of my fury, I heard the soldiers shouting.

‘They’re back!’

I froze, the magic stilling for just a moment, the trembling earth coming to a stop. My heart lurched in my chest, and without thinking, I ran toward the entrance to the courtyard, my feet stumbling over the cracked stones as I fought to make sense of the chaos around me.

Please let her be alive. Please let her be okay.

I pushed past wounded soldiers, my breath coming in ragged gasps as I reached the entrance. My vision swam, and I barely registered the crowd of people surrounding the returning party. All I could focus on was one thing—one person.

Sybil.

‘They knew it. We were ambushed. They were tipped off.’ A man moaned, a deep cut in his stomach.

I stopped dead in my tracks. ‘Where is my sister!’ I screamed at him, grabbing the man by his shoulder. He winced. 

‘Saeris, stop this.’ Moira begged, her once confident eyes now faltering. How had I ever seen this woman as brilliant? Radiating? Now I could only see a scared little girl.  

‘I’m sorry,' the guard said and raised his head—it was Landolf. ‘I didn’t see them coming. She saved me,' he cried softly.

‘No,’ I whispered, my voice cracking. ‘No, no, no…’

And then they brought her in through the gate, draped over a horse like a ragdoll. 

‘No!’ I screamed and ran towards the gate, towards the horse. 

I pulled Sybil off it, dragging her onto the ground and into my lap. How could she feel so cold? She looked perfect, serene. Like she was sleeping, like I had seen her last night. Her big hazel eyes were closed, a numb expression on her lips. Her brown hair draped flatly over her damp face. There was no rise and fall of her chest. 

‘Sybil, my dear?’ I whispered to her, slightly slapping her cheek. 

‘Saeris,' Erik said behind me, his voice cracking. 

‘Little Sybil?’ I huffed, touching her cold cheek. ‘Wake up.’ I pulled her into my arms, cradling her body like I had when she was a child, tears streaming down my face. ‘Sybil, no… please,’ I sobbed, my voice breaking. ‘Please don’t leave me…’ 

Her pale face was turned to the side, her neck bent the wrong way. How could a neck bend like that? 

My fingers traced her cheek, brushing the strands of hair away from her face, but there was no warmth there. The life I had fought so hard to protect was gone, snuffed out in an instant. I rocked back and forth, clutching her body tightly, as if I could somehow bring her back by sheer will alone.

‘Please,' I whispered again, my hands slightly pressing on her neck. My magic twisted and turned, shaping the neck like it had been before. But my Sybil didn’t open her eyes. I pressed again, my magic flowing through her body, through her veins, filling her up with a soft light. But when I stopped touching her, the light faded away again. 

The courtyard was silent now, the soldiers standing back, their faces turned away in grief and discomfort. I could feel their eyes on me, but I didn’t care. I didn’t care about any of them. I didn’t care about the rebellion, or the war, or the antidote I had worked so hard to create. 

‘My sister,' I whispered, not letting her go. 

‘Saeris, she’s gone.’ It was Erik, silently touching my shoulder.

‘Stay back!’ I screamed at the people around me, my voice hoarse from crying. ‘Don’t you dare come near her! She’s still here, she’s still here.’ 

But my Sybil, my sister, my child, was gone. 

Notes:

If you liked this chapter, you can always leave me a comment or a kudo.

Chapter 10: Betrayed

Sybil

‘You are not on this mission, Sybil,' the Queen nodded at me sternly, her steel armour rattling as she spoke. 

‘My Queen, I need to. These are my men, my responsibility. I have vowed to protect you, to support you. And I do not break my vows.’ 

‘I order you, Sybil. You may be my captain, but you will still listen to me.’ The Queen looked me in the eyes. This wasn’t like her. She had a sense of duty and justice, she understood me, my will to fight, and my desire to. 

‘Did my sister put you up to this?’ Saeris always wants me to stay home, like she did. But I am not my sister. 

The guards standing behind me held their position but slightly faltered as they heard my accusatory tone.

‘I’m sorry, Sybil, but I…’

‘I am going.’ I lifted my chin up. 

‘No. That is an order, Sybil.’ 

I always listened to Moira, my Queen. I respected her. Saeris talked to her like an elder would to a wild child, but I didn’t. The Queen was my superior, and I her subordinate. I never questioned her, I always did what she ordered me to do. For her cause, for Ferelden, for my home, I would do anything, even stand up to the Maker himself. 

‘I will.’ I took a step closer, stretching my neck to look up at her. Why are humans so tall? ‘Don’t take this away from me. If I can’t join my men, protect them, it feels like a killing blow.’ 

The Queen grimaced.

‘Besides, I am the best you’ve got. If you want this mission to succeed, you are going to need me.’ 

The Queen shook her head again. 

‘My sister won’t even notice!’ I lied, Saeris noticed everything. ‘Please, give me your blessing to join them. I won’t be able to live with myself if something happened and I wasn’t there. This is my choice, my life, don’t hold me here because my sister is afraid of death.’ 

‘I can’t Sybil. I gave her my word.’ 

‘But you are keeping your word! You have ordered me not to go! I just didn’t listen.’ I would crawl on my knees for this woman. ‘I just need your blessing to go into battle, like any normal soldier. I will be fine with just your blessing, not your order. A blessing will keep me safe.’ Please, please, please. 

The Queen sighed, scratching the back of her neck, thinking, considering.

‘My Queen,' one of the guards, Landolf, bowed, ‘please, give us your blessing.’ 

The other guards of the chosen party nodded and did the same, bowing, and asking.
‘Your blessing, my Queen.’

The Queen looked up, her eyes sparkling with confidence, caught in the moment of pride, not for her having power, but for her men having so much courage. 

‘I will extend you, all of you,' she looked at me and sighed deeply, ‘my blessing for battle.’ 

The men roared, for their Queen, but also for their captain. I held my head up high. This was my destiny. I am meant for this. Saeris would kill me if she knew. But I am doing this for her, I am fighting for her security, to give her a true home, where she won’t be afraid to lose anyone, where she doesn’t have to hide. 

***

Saeris put the blankets on her bed. Her room was high up in the tower, where nobody would notice she was there. 

Why is she so afraid to stand out? Everyone knew who she was. No eye could unsee her, she called every attention in the room. But she never wanted it, instead, she crawled away in a dark corner. People would go to her to get healed, even if they weren’t wounded or sick, but just to get a small glimpse of her. 

‘I spy with my little eye,' Saeris looked up to me, ‘a peeping captain.’

I grinned at her, ‘A very beautiful captain I hope, because I don’t see any other here!’ 

Saeris bared her pearly white teeth, squinting her blue eye as she laughed. Why was she always wearing that eyepatch, even when we were alone? 

‘Can I sleep here tonight? For old time’s sake?’ I felt guilty for breaking the promise my Queen made to her. But she would understand, I’ll tell her after the mission. She will be proud of me. 

Saeris cocked her head to the side, her white hair dangling partly over her flawless face. ‘Of course.’ She smiled again, ‘Are you having bad dreams? Do I have to set a ward over you while you sleep?’ Always the mother hen. 

‘No, no I just wanted to, it has been a while, and I like your room.' I lied, her room was dusty and dark. ‘My dreams are great. Last night Erik…’ 

‘No, I believe you, I don’t need to know what they are about,’ she snickered.

‘Are you going to bed right now?’ I looked at her, the sun had just gone down. 

Saeris nodded. She always loved to go to bed early, like she was waiting for it all day. What did she dream about? Where did the Fade take her that was so good that she wanted to go there as quickly as possible? 

‘I am joining!’ 

‘This early? Sybil you don’t have to, you won’t wake me up if you come in later.’ 

‘I know, I know, I’m just tired, I trained hard today.’ I lied again. Just white lies. 

‘Alright,' Saeris nodded, her face suspicious, nervous. Why is she always like that? 

I crawled into the bed as Saeris undressed to put on her nightgown and quickly closed my eyes, feeling how Saeris stared at me, watching over me like I was going to disappear at any moment. I could hear the blankets rustling, how she came a little closer. I felt her soft lips graze my forehead, a loving kiss placed between my brows. 

‘Sleep tight, sister,' Saeris whispered. 

I am sorry. 

*** 

The moon twinkled now high in the night sky. I had left Saeris’ room, looking over my shoulder towards her serene face once more, before disappearing into the night. 

‘This is the plan, everyone got it?’ Erik explained, his head concealed in his raven hood. 

The group nodded. Ten of us—ready for our mission: Landolf, Callan, Bronwen, Ysolde, Angus, Bran, Saina, Kenneth, Elias and me. 

The horses stood prepared, the fastest we got. Erik eyed us all separately, locking eyes with me two seconds longer. ‘Are you sure?’ he spoke, his soft deep voice filling my ears. 

‘I am,' the Queen spoke, her voice louder than anyone had expected. She stepped from behind Erik, and we all straightened our backs respectfully. 

‘Men, this is a very important mission. You will change this war.’ Her voice echoed through the deserted courtyard. ‘All of you already made me proud. Now make your country proud too.’ 

‘Hail the Rebel Queen!’ We cried as we raised up our swords, daggers and bows. 

The Queen nodded, her eyes now again resting on mine. ‘I hope my blessing is enough,' she whispered. 

‘It always is,' I inclined. 

The Queen shook her head, took a step back, and bowed to us all as she did before all of our missions. It gave us courage, we knew we were respected for this. We all bowed back once more. 

The men walked towards their horses, preparing, and checking everything one last time. 

‘Sybil,' It was Erik, he stood behind me, his arms crossed in front of him. ‘Be careful, don’t do anything rash.’ 

I grinned, ‘Are you worried? For me? Aw!’ 

Erik shook his head and wanted to turn on his heels, but I grabbed his arm. He looked back at me, his eyes expecting like I had forgotten to say something. I stood on the tips of my toes as I reached towards him. My arms twisted around his neck, pushing him down. My lips found his, softly kissing them, like a small prayer. I felt his warm breath flowing through my throat as he responded, slowly kissing me back, his lips harder on mine. I felt how his hand glided from my shoulder to my waist, holding me in place. 

Then he pushed me away. ‘Good luck,' he grinned at me. 

I licked my lips as I looked at him. Will he ever care for me like he had for his General? I knew he never would. He liked me, but love, no. Though at least I gave it a try.

‘I’ll be back in no time!’ I waved at him as I raced towards my horse, jumping on it, and rode off with my men into the night.  

***

The night air was cold, biting through the gaps in my armour as we moved silently through the dark woods of Morcrest. The large pine trees loomed over us, casting long shadows in the moonlight. The leaves of the path rustled as the horses raced, almost separating the wind into two like a sharp blade. We had been riding for two hours now, the sky still dark, concealing our every move. All of our faces were serious, damp from sweat as we never loosened our formation. I rode in front, the rest in a V-shape behind me, checking for movement. I focused on the path ahead, and how it led deeper into the forest. 

Landolf and Callan rode right behind me, their hoods pulled low over their faces. Callan had been with the rebellion for years, a soldier we had come to trust, but tonight he was quieter than usual. His shoulders were tense, his movements stiff. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye, but I said nothing. We were all on edge. 

The trees seemed to close in around us as we continued, their twisted branches casting long, skeletal shadows on the ground. I glanced back at the rest of the group—ten of us. All good fighters, loyal to the cause. We had prepared for this mission for weeks, and we knew what was at stake. There could be no mistakes.

I nodded, signalling for the others to stay quiet as we approached another clearing. The forest felt too still, the usual sounds of night—birds, insects, rustling leaves—muted to a whisper. I could feel the hair on the back of my neck prickling with unease, but I forced the feeling down. We had a mission to complete.

The clearing ahead was bathed in pale moonlight, the ground littered with fallen branches and rocks. Callan now moved ahead of us, leading the way as he knew this particular area well, and I followed, my bow raised, eyes scanning the treeline. I couldn’t see any movement, but that only made me more nervous.

‘Why aren’t there any patrols?’ I whispered, frowning. ‘This close to Amaranthine, we should’ve seen something by now.’

Callan didn’t respond. He just kept driving his horse forwards.

Something was wrong.

I stopped, holding up my hand to signal the others to halt. My heart began to race as I stared at Callan’s back. The air felt thick with tension, the kind that comes just before a storm. Even the horses trapped around nervously. Slowly, I turned to the others, my voice low but urgent.

‘Stay sharp. Something’s not right.’

Before I could say anything else, I heard it—the unmistakable sound of swords being drawn, the rustle of armour moving through the trees. My heart sank as I spun my horse around, my bow drawn in an instant.

But it was too late.

Out of the shadows, Orlesian soldiers poured into the clearing, their armour gleaming in the moonlight. They moved with precision, surrounding us before we had time to react. My horse retreated in its steps nervously, my breath catching in my throat. This was an ambush.

‘How did they—’ Bran started, but the answer came before he could finish.

Callan turned to face me, his hood falling back, revealing a face full of regret and desperation. His eyes locked onto mine, and in that moment, I knew.

‘We’ve been betrayed,’ I whispered, the realisation hitting me like a blow to the gut.

I would have given my life for him, for any of them.

Callan moved forward, his hands raised in a gesture of surrender, though his face twisted with guilt. ‘I’m sorry, Sybil. I had no choice.’

I could barely hear him over the sound of my own heartbeat pounding in my ears. ‘What did you do?’

‘They have my family,’ he said, his voice trembling. ‘The Orlesians… they’re holding them in Amaranthine. They said they’d let them go if I gave you up. I didn’t—’ He swallowed hard. ‘I didn’t know what else to do.’

Rage and betrayal surged through me, blurring my vision. ‘You sold us out?’

‘I had no choice!’ Callan shouted, desperation in his voice. ‘You would’ve done the same!’

‘I would never do this,’ I hissed, my grip tightening on my bow. I could see the fear in his eyes, but it was too late. The Orlesians were already closing in around us, their swords drawn, ready to cut us down.

‘Sybil,’ Ysolde, one of my soldiers called out, panic in her voice. ‘What do we do?’

I looked around, weighing our options. There were too many of them. We were outnumbered, and they had the advantage of surprise. But we couldn’t just give up. Not like this.

‘Form up!’ I shouted, snapping out of my shock. ‘Hold the line and fight!’

The men moved quickly, but the Orlesians were faster. The clearing erupted into chaos as swords clashed, arrows flew, horses whinnied as they stumbled, and the sounds of battle filled the night. I drove my horse through the fray, my bow a blur as I loosed arrows into the oncoming soldiers, each shot finding its mark. But for every Orlesian that fell, two more seemed to take their place.

We were losing. Fast.

One of the guards roared as a sharp dagger pierced his armour. 

‘Dammit!’ I grunted, and turned my horse around, pointing the arrow towards the guard’s attacker. But then my horse neighed, toppling over its own feet as a huge man cut its legs. 

‘Shit’ I yelled as I jumped off the falling horse. It fell to the ground, whining as the blood seeped from its hind legs. A sword came crashing down on it, bashing its head in one second. I looked up. The Orlesian soldier, a Chevalier by the looks of it, looked me up and down and smiled. 

‘This will be easy!’ He roared as he swished his longsword towards me. I dodged it, rolling over the ground and jumping back onto my feet. ‘Stay still, now,’ he huffed and waved the sword again, but I jumped away as the sword came crashing down onto the ground. I might be small, but I was fast. My body lunged forward as I jumped at the man. I turned, swiftly snagging the small dagger that hung around my thigh. The man grunted and threw me onto the ground, trying to crash the sword into me again. But I pulled up my legs, flipping over again, dodging his attack. I grinned as the man stumbled when his sword crashed into rustling air. I jumped onto his back, buckling him even more. The giant tumbled over, dropping his sword on the ground. 

‘Really easy!’ I exclaimed as I plunged my dagger into his chest, just between his armour. The man grunted, squirming and then stopped moving altogether. 

I wanted to rejoice, but I heard more men roar as a few more Orlesians jumped out of the forest. We wouldn’t be able to win this. We were outnumbered.
I looked up towards the small battlefield. How many of my men were left? I think I could count them on one hand. 

I ducked under a soldier’s swing, rolling to my feet and firing another arrow into his chest. Another Orlesian soldier came at me, his sword raised high. I dodged, but I was too slow. His blade grazed my arm, and I felt the sting of pain as warm blood ran down my sleeve. I stumbled back, gritting my teeth against the pain, but I couldn’t stop. Not now.

And then, I felt my blood boil. I screamed as I never had before. 

Poison! No, no, no! 

It felt as if my whole body was being burned alive. Drop by drop. Quickly, I grabbed the dark flask from my belt and drank. The concoction tasted sweet, hot and then bitter. The pain ebbed away.

It works! You’re a genius, Saeris!

I turned and saw how Bran was also drinking the antidote—there was a purple cut on his cheek where an arrow had nicked him. He answered my gaze with a reassuring grin. It was working! 

And then, a Chevalier drove his sword through his abdomen.

I screamed, but no antidote could remedy that. Bran died instantly.

There, as Bran dropped down to the ground, I saw it—Callan, standing there next to his horse, watching as my men fell one by one. And I felt something snap inside me.

With a snarl, I ran toward him, my vision narrowing to a single point. I barely noticed the Orlesians around me, barely registered the shouts of my men. All I could see was Callan—the man who had betrayed us, his country, me .

‘You killed us,’ I hissed, closing the distance between us, my bow forgotten as I pulled my dagger from my belt. ‘You killed us all.’

Callan’s eyes widened in fear as I approached, and he stumbled back, raising his hands. ‘I didn’t mean for this to happen. I swear, I didn’t—’

But his words were drowned out by the roar of blood in my ears. I lunged at him, my dagger flashing in the moonlight. I would have given my life for him, for every single one of them. He would betray us no more. 

Callan heaved as the dagger cut through his chest, right in his heart. I stared as he dropped down, as if in slow motion.

‘I’m sorry.’ He winced. Then, his eyes rolled back, his face paled. 

Without looking away from his body, I yelled to my remaining soldiers, ‘Retreat! Fall back! NOW!’ 

I turned on my heels, dropping low as an arrow almost grazed my cheek. 

I need to run, I need to run. 

Three of my remaining soldiers followed me back, and we crossed into the treeline.

But then I heard someone cry for help. I looked up again from behind the front. It was Landolf! The man grunted as another arrow struck his back. He squatted, eyes big and raw. Two men encircled him, like wolves ready to eat their wounded prey. I wasn’t able to protect them all, my men. But I would protect those I could. This was my duty. I am their protector. 

I jumped up from behind my cover, rolling, sprinting, leaping over the bloodied path. Landolf looked up at me, his eyes dark and wet, begging me to run, leave him to die. But how could I do that? I arched an arrow, one, two, and struck one of the men as they wanted to drag another sword in the unarmed guard’s back. The soldier grunted as the arrow pierced his neck, blood splattering on Landolf’s face. The other Orlesian roared as his ally fell down face first. The last man standing, another giant Chevalier, bawled as he swung his sword towards me. I stooped and felt how the sword nearly missed the points of my ears.

‘Landolf, run!’ I bellowed as I lost my balance, toppling over. I rolled towards the right and felt how the sword crashed against the sturdy ground on my left. 

‘Merde!’ the Chevalier shrieked as Landolf jumped at him, disarming the giant. The Chevalier rolled onto his back, pulling Landolf underneath him, making sure the arrow in his back engraved itself deeper in his body. I crawled back up, screaming as I charged back at the soldier, crawling on top of him. But the Chevalier was too strong and pushed me off him just as easily. 

I hit the ground hard, the air knocked from my lungs. Pain flared through my ribs, and I gasped for breath, struggling to push myself up. But as I did, a shadow loomed over me, and I barely had time to register before his sword came down. I twisted, trying to avoid the blow, but the blade caught my neck, snapping it with a sickening crack. The world tilted, pain exploding through me. I collapsed onto the ground, the cold earth pressing against my cheek. 

Landolf took the opportunity of the Chevalier’s attention to me and charged at him again. He readily pulled another dagger from out of his hood, slicing the Chevalier’s throat with one swift movement. 

‘Sybil!’ He cried, starting with a proud tone, but ending in a sombre one as he looked at me with tears in his eyes.

I wanted to smile at him, congratulate him, and then tell him to run. I tried to move, tried to fight, but my body wouldn’t respond. I only felt how a silencing cold crept over my legs, clawing its way to the top. 

What is happening? 

The cold feeling slowly covered my face. The world went dark. Silent. 

I whimpered, my voice coming out one last time, disappearing like a soft whisper into the wind. A soft voice answered, calling me home. 

‘Mamae?’ 

Notes:

A short Sybil POV <3

Next up: another big (!) time jump! But we're going to get some answers too!

If you liked this chapter, you can always leave me a comment or a kudo!

Chapter 11: Freed

Every day, you wake up knowing another adventure is waiting for you. You know you can get up and go on, grow, feel, let go. And even if your heart gets broken, when you lose everyone, you get up, knowing that there will come an end to it one day. And you can fear it, resist it, or even want it, but you can’t ignore it. It’s there. It’s what keeps you going. 

But I couldn’t see the end coming, I couldn’t see what lay before me. The nightmare that I was living, seemed never-ending. And because I couldn’t see the future that lay before me, because I couldn’t grow, I couldn’t let go—forget.

I’ve thought about ending it myself, but how could I? I was afraid, afraid of that cold, dark place. So I lived—if you can call it living. I wasn’t a flower that grew and withered, I was stone. I stood still. Unchangeable. Was this it? My eternal hell? Living, loving, losing, and staying alone? Forever? Over and over again? My mother, my father, my brother, I lost them all. I lost Daniel. I lost Elgadira. I lost Nenhara. I lost Sybil. I will lose everyone I will ever meet. Everyone is allowed to rest, but not me. I will be staying. Forever.

***

8:96 Blessed

They danced, their twirling skirts crossing each other mid-flight. Hands touched, drawing each other nearer. Smiling lips enhanced the flickering lights. Laughter echoed through the bar. A song filled the room with a tingling sound, the fiddle bursting with every note. 

Smile. Sing. Nod. Bow. Play. Again. 

Sybil had smiled too once and had danced to this very song. Her hazel eyes had twinkled with delight. She had looked over her small shoulder, glancing at the tall dark spymaster. She turned around and looked at me, her lips slowly whispering my name. 

Forget. Smile. 

How her hands had felt so cold, her body so weak and numb, her eyes glazed.

Bow. Play. Sing. Again. 

Forgot to smile. 

Smile. Nod. Again. 

Forty-two years. Forty-two years, and it felt like nothing at all. Time had become meaningless to me, each day blending into the next, like the endless notes of a song that never reached its end. I had played in countless taverns, in countless towns—so many that I didn’t even bother to remember where I was anymore. Orlais, Ferelden, the Free Marches. It didn’t matter. 

The patrons in this particular tavern were rowdy, their drunken laughter ringing in my ears as I played the same old tune on my fiddle. The wood of the fiddle was worn and cracked, just like me. My fingers moved over the strings out of habit, not passion. I barely felt the music anymore. Dressed in rags, my cloak tattered and threadbare, I had become nothing more than a wandering shadow. 

‘Have you heard?’ whispers from behind the bar, closing nearer so nobody would hear, but everybody could. Some patrons threw copper pieces at my feet, others laughed and made lewd jokes. I didn’t care.

Bow. Smile. Another tune. 

‘Betrayed?’ a hard voice cried, someone shushed him. 

Nod. Forget. Sing. 

‘Killed! Her son has fled!’ murmurs crept over the wooden dance floor. ‘Is there still hope? The boy, Maric, where is he?’ 

‘Quiet! I don’t know.’ 

Again. Smile. Brighter. Don’t listen. 

‘Bann Ceorlic,' someone whispered, ‘The Rebel Queen has joined the Maker now.’ 

Stop.

The bow slipped from my fingers, and the strings of the fiddle hummed a broken, discordant note. The words echoed in my mind, cutting through the fog that had settled over me for so long. Slowly, my hands let go of the old fiddle. The delicate wood splintered as it hit the ground, the sound sharp and final, like a death knell. The patrons stared at me, a confused frown on their faces. I looked at my now empty hands, at my broken fiddle that lay on the wooden tavern floor. 

Wet. Someone threw his cup at me, hitting me on the head. The cold spiced wine splashed on my sunken face, making my expression even more horrid. The alcohol dripped down from my wild, uncombed white hair, my ears twitching from the cold. 

‘Stupid knife-ear! Who told ‘ya to stop!’ the bartender yelled with a thick accent. 

Where was I?

The dancing girls giggled, looking me up and down, at my raggedy clothes, ripped and dirty, at my clamped-up fingers, at my eye, bound away with a dirty cloth. 

‘Get out!’ someone yelled, throwing another full cup towards me. 

I could’ve dodged it, but my legs wouldn’t move, my hands trembling. Someone grabbed my arm, dragging me across the dance floor. The people laughed as I was kicked outside, into the dark. The cold wind whipped around my frame, the fluttering crystals of snow mixing with the tears that were now streaming down my cheeks.

After Sybil had died, I had fallen into a black hole. I was there, but I wasn’t. My mind had wandered somewhere else. Maybe it had gone together with Sybil that day. I could still see her face, the way her neck had bent, the life drained from her eyes. The pain of that moment never left me. It stayed with me, a constant reminder of my failure.

I buried my Sybil in a small grave, together with the rest of the resistance’s soldiers that had died with her, for her. And then, just like that, I had turned around, slowly walking forward. I had buried the rest of myself together with Sybil in that shallow grave in Ferelden that day. 

‘Saeris, please, I’m so sorry,' Moira had tried, her hand extended towards my back. 

I had shaken her off me. ‘No,' a tear had dropped from my now bare green eye. 

‘She wouldn’t have wanted this,' Erik had said, his numb face staring down at Sybil’s grave.

How dare he? He never loved her. He used her to forget! He had no right to even mourn her. He let her go. He let her die. Just like Moira did. 

‘You promised me to not let her go,' my voice had stumbled, cracking, ‘you broke your promise. Now, my Sybil is gone.’ 

‘But I never thought…’ Moira had begun. 

‘You don’t think.’ I swore at her as I bound my eyepatch over my face again. ‘Your cause is nothing to me now, not without my Sybil.’ Erik had shaken his head as I turned around, glancing one more time at the silent little grave. Then I strutted out of the courtyard with only my dagger on my belt, a cloak on my shoulders and my fiddle strapped to my back. 

After that, I merely wondered. I was blind, my eyes seeing where my feet went, but not what happened around me. The Anderfels, Nevarra, Antiva, the Free Marches, Rivain—I had seen it all, travelled them all. I had been in the Anderfels in 8:75, during the coldest winter in centuries. I hadn’t felt a thing. I had been in Nevarra in 8:77, during the Hundred Days Cough epidemic. I had healed so many people, but so many had died. But I never cried for them.
But now, while I was standing here in the snow, in a small village in Maker-knows-where, I felt something for the first time again. I felt cold. 

For a moment, I wondered if I should just lie down and let the snow bury me. Maybe that would be easier. Maybe I could finally find peace.

But even as the thought crossed my mind, I knew I couldn’t do it. I had lived too long, carried too much. Something kept me going—something small, fragile, but still there. Maybe it was guilt, maybe it was the memory of Sybil’s smile, or maybe it was just the stubbornness that had kept me alive this long.

The snow prickled my feet and seeped through the soles of my worn-down boots. 

Why did I wake up? Why now? Because Moira had been killed? I had lost so many, why did this bother me so much? Why did something click in my chest just now? Why is my left eye coiling, whispering to me? 

I am awake.  

‘Well, well.’ Someone confirmed, slowly walking from behind the tavern door. ‘What have we here?’

I looked up, my voice not coming out. 

‘Fate walks a peculiar path.’ An old woman was approaching me, moving slowly but with a presence that cut through the cold. She was draped in dark robes that seemed to blend into the night, her hair white and wild, framing a face etched with deep lines and a knowing smile. But it wasn’t her appearance that sent a shiver down my spine—it was the way she looked at me, as though she knew everything. As though she had been waiting for me. ‘The wheels are finally starting to turn once more.’ Her voice sounded like warm honey.

It felt like I had turned into stone, and small cracks were suddenly forming like something wanted to break free again.

Free like Sybil had once been. 

The old woman tutted. ‘You are awake.’ 

I looked up at her, my uncovered eye searching her face. The woman took a step closer, her eyes pushing the darkness away. They were golden, bright yellow, glowing eyes.

‘Who are you?’ My voice felt so strange, like it wasn’t really mine.

‘You know who I am.’ The woman smiled, her thin lips curling, her deep eyes narrowing. 

‘Asha’bellanar,' I whispered, feeling it deep inside my gut that I was right. How did my mouth remember those sounds, sounds I haven’t heard in over forty years, from a voice long gone. 

The old woman smirked as she came closer again.

‘You… helped me. The poison,' I mumbled. 

The woman smiled, ‘I nudge history when it's required. Other times, a shove is needed. You needed a shove.’

I looked up, my left eye twisting under the eyepatch. ‘Your name,' my voice started to sound strong again, this question had been on my lips for too long, ‘what does it mean?’

The woman now fully laughed, it sounded loud, filling the void of the night. 

‘Woman of many years. That is what they call me.’ Her eyes went big, ‘But you, my dear, can call me Flemeth.’ 

‘Flemeth…’ I breathed, the name slipping from my lips like a forgotten curse. ‘Why are you here?’

Her smile widened, her yellow eyes glinting with something sharp. ‘I could ask the same of you, child. You’ve been wandering this world, lost, burdened by grief and guilt, but still, you endure. That’s not a sign of someone who should give up. You may have lost much, but this world is not done with you yet.’

My heart pounded in my throat as Flemeth lowered her hand. I took it, and with a hard pull, I was on my feet again. She hadn’t even flinched.

‘Come.’ She said.

I scurried behind her to the shadows from where she came. Why am I following her? What is happening? Should I trust her? 

‘It is no coincidence that we meet here and now, Saeris,' Flemeth eyed me, her bright eyes looking straight into my soul. 

I swallowed. 

‘You have been wandering for too long. A new path will open now.’ 

‘A new path?’ Was there a path before then? 

‘Indeed. This world yet has plans for you.’ 

I looked up to her. ‘The Rebellion. Maric?’ I guessed. Was this why I woke up? Again seeing light shining in the dark hole where I slept? 

‘No. You do not play a part in that story.’ 

‘Then, what do I do?’

‘You need to see first. Grow. Your time has yet to come.’ Her eyes glowed—sparked. ‘Go to Antiva. To Seleny. You will find your answers there.’ The wind howled louder, whipping the snow around us, but Flemeth stood as if she were immune to the elements.

‘Wait, who will I find there? Can’t you give me any answers? What’ll happen to Maric Theirin, Moira’s son?’ The words flew out of my mouth. It felt so long since I had spoken. 

‘Still now. Time is sparse, for all of us.’ Flemeth nodded, shutting me up. 

‘But… Will I see you again?’ I was desperate. Don’t leave me alone! Say something! Anything! 

‘You will.’ She smiled coyly, her thin lips twisting into a smirk. 

‘Wait!’ I reached out to her. ‘I—’

Before I could respond, before I could even ask what she meant, Flemeth began to step back into the shadows. Her form seemed to blur, to dissolve into the night like mist, her voice lingering on the wind. ‘Remember Saeris, when you learn, that truth is not the end, but a beginning.’ 

And with that, Flemeth disappeared into the surrounding shadows, as she had never been here to begin with. 

***

The voyage to Antiva had taken such a long time, months, or a year at least. But now I was here. Antiva was a very warm, damp country. Tropical forests spread across the land, moistened by the constant rain, which made the beautiful flowers grow. The people were hard here, and mostly drunk all the time. Antiva had always felt like a place where secrets thrived, and after so many years wandering Thedas, it was strange to be back.

I had spent a brief time in Antiva City during my aimless wanderings, but I had never stayed long enough to let the place settle into me. It was a city of masks and games, where even the poorest had a touch of elegance, and the wealthiest spoke in riddles. But now I wasn’t in the capital. Seleny was different—quieter, yet no less dangerous. It was nestled against the glittering sea. The air was warm, heavy with the scent of salt and citrus from the nearby orchards. The port town, which was built near the head of Antiva’s major river, was encircled by the Tellari Swamps. It had curling bridges and grand sculptures built all around it. 

As I wandered the cobbled streets, exploring the town, my thoughts kept circling back to Flemeth’s words. She had told me to come to Seleny, and I could only think of one person here that could help me—someone I remember Nenhara had once spoken about in hushed tones. The Witch of the Wilds, the Beast of the Tellari Swamps.

I didn’t know why I was following this thread, but it was the only thread I had.

I moved through the busy port, my ragged cloak trailing behind me, catching a few wary glances from passersby. The town was bustling with activity—merchants shouting prices, fishermen hauling in their catch, sailors preparing to set sail. But amid the chaos, my path felt clear: I knew I needed a guide, someone who could point me in the right direction. Finding a witch hidden in a swamp wouldn’t be easy, and I didn’t have time for dead ends.

Near the edge of the docks, I spotted a group of women standing outside a house draped in brightly coloured silks and lanterns that swayed in the breeze. A brothel. That was Antiva for you. There were more brothels than there were humans. 

‘Hey pretty conejita , so alone! Want some company?’ A young, round-busted woman smirked at me as I passed. 

‘No, gracias,' I smiled politely as I passed her. No wait. I stopped and turned back around towards her. ‘Perdón,’ I began awkwardly, clearing my throat. ‘Estoy buscando a alguien. Una bruja. Tal vez... la Bestia de los Pantanos?’

The woman raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a wry smile as she looked me over. ‘The Beast of the Tellari Swamps, hmm?’ she repeated in a smooth mix of Antivan and Common, her voice lilting, amused. ‘You’re not the first fool to come searching for her. But you look like you might be the most desperate.’ The woman looked around suspiciously, her dark hair wiggling around her made-up face, ‘I can give you a way better time than la Bestia!’

‘I believe that,' I grinned, ‘But do you know where I can find her?’

The woman shook her head, ‘You don’t find the Beast. She finds you.’ 

I stared at her. This really doesn’t help me. ‘And… can she find me in a certain area?’ I prodded. 

The whore sighed. ‘Maybe. For some coin, conejita , I will tell you everything you want to hear.’ 

With a sigh, I rummaged through my nearly empty satchel. ‘This is everything I have.’ I mumbled and tucked the few gold coins into her hand. If she lies to me, or rips me off, I will have nothing left. 

The woman stared at the coins in her hand, counting the loot. ‘No guide in their right mind will take you there,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘The swamps are dangerous. Most people who enter never return. But if you’re as stubborn as you look, I suppose nothing will stop you from going anyway.’

I nodded, the faint hope that had been building in me flickering into something more solid. ‘Where is she?’

‘At the end of the river,’ the woman said, gesturing toward the edge of town where the Tellari Swamps began. ‘Follow the river until you reach the swamp. She’s said to live deep within, where even the birds don’t dare go. And if you find her…’ She shrugged. ‘Bien, rezaré por ti.’

I smiled grimly. ‘Thanks…’ I said and left the port behind, making my way toward the river that cut through the dense jungle surrounding Seleny. As I walked, the noise of the town faded into the distance, replaced by the rustling of leaves and the distant croaking of unseen creatures. The air grew heavier, the path narrowing as the river wound deeper into the swamps.

The Tellari Swamps had always been spoken of in whispers—an untamed, dangerous place that most Antivans avoided at all costs. Stories of beasts, strange magic, and old secrets swirled around the swamp like mist. It wasn’t the kind of place you went willingly, and yet here I was, drawn by the thin hope that somewhere deep within, I might find answers to the questions that had haunted me for decades.

The path quickly became treacherous, the ground turning to mud as I ventured further into the swamp. The canopy overhead thickened, blocking out most of the light, casting everything in a gloomy green shadow. The river, once clear, became murky and slow, its dark surface reflecting the twisted trees that lined its banks. 

I moved carefully, keeping my hand on the hilt of my dagger as I picked my way through the muck. The stories about the swamp weren’t exaggerations—there was a kind of malevolent energy here, something old and wild. Every now and then, I thought I saw movement out of the corner of my eye, but when I turned to look, there was nothing there. Just the endless stretch of trees and the oppressive silence. I reached up and tugged at the strap of my eyepatch, pulling it away from my face. The cold air touched my exposed green eye, and the world around me shifted slightly as both eyes adjusted to the dim, eerie light of the swamp. The flicker of shadows became sharper, more distinct, and the magic in the air was more tangible. I could see it, feel it, flowing like a current through the trees, wrapping itself around everything in the swamp like invisible tendrils.

‘Just follow the river,' I mumbled as I stepped over a tree root sticking unnaturally out of the muddy ground. 

Just follow the river. Just follow the river. It’s just a forest.

 Something shrieked far away, its voice crying. 

No, just a bird. Just a forest. Just follow the river. I swear that tree is moving, it’s following me. No, just a tree. 

Something purred, slowly, coming closer and closer. 

Please, let it be a cat. 

I turned around slowly, my eyes frantically searching my dense surroundings. I can’t see anything through these leaves and branches and… there it was. Two bright eyes stared at me, no four eyes, no… more. Its legs must’ve been as long as a full-grown Qunari, and there were eight of them, all covered in spiky dark green fur. From its mouth, or whatever it was, two giant fangs protruded, covered with thick greasy slime. And blood, fresh blood. Its long legs crawled, coming closer as it clicked its fangs together, making a purring sound. It was hungry. A giant, monstrous, poisonous hungry spider. 

Fenedhis. 

I took a step back, but my foot got stuck in the breathing mud. What doesn’t want to eat me? The spider lifted its leg, taking a step towards me. The ground shuddered under its weight. 

Oh shit, run, run, run! 

I turned around, clawing at the suffocating branches that were grabbing my throat. I could hear it creeping behind, slithering. The spider shrieked, purring as it smelled my panic. 

RUN!

I sprinted, my feet screaming each time I pulled them out of the mud like I had been pulling them out of concrete. But while I struggled with moving for even an inch, the spider was crawling over the terrain swiftly. 

My hand reached the ground. The ground beneath the spider’s legs suddenly froze, slick with ice. The creature’s front legs slipped, and it hissed, its massive body skidding sideways as it struggled to regain its balance. But the ice wouldn’t hold it for long. It was too strong, too fast. The spider righted itself quickly, its body moving with unnatural speed and grace despite its size. The purring grew louder as it advanced again, its mandibles clicking together, dripping venom.

Panic surged through me. I couldn’t let it get closer. I reached down again, thrusting my hands into the earth, and focused on summoning the strength to grow vines, thick and strong, from the ground beneath the spider’s legs. The vines shot upward, wrapping around its body, curling tight around its legs and abdomen, trying to stop it from moving forward.

For a moment, it worked. The spider’s movements slowed as the vines tightened their grip. But the creature let out a low, guttural hiss, and with a violent jerk, it tore through the vines as if they were nothing more than fragile twigs.

I stumbled back, my heart racing. My magic wasn’t enough. Not against this.

The spider’s eyes gleamed with malice as it reared up, its massive fangs dripping with venom, and then it spewed a thick web toward me. I tried to dodge, but it was too fast. The sticky webbing wrapped around me, trapping my arms, pinning me in place as I struggled to free myself.

The more I fought, the tighter the webbing became, like iron chains locking me in place. My breath came in short, panicked gasps as the spider crawled closer, its purring now a deafening, monstrous growl. I could feel the heat of its breath as it loomed over me, its mandibles opening wide, ready to strike.

I was trapped, helpless, my magic spent. I had nothing left.

The spider grabbed my leg, trying to stick me with its sting. I kicked it and one of its eyes spat open like a pimple, blood now dripping down its slimy head. 

And then, suddenly, the air around me shifted. A powerful gust of wind swept through the clearing. I heard a sharp, commanding voice cut through the noise, echoing with authority.

‘Begone, creature.’

I opened my eyes just in time to see the massive spider jerk backward, as if struck by an invisible force. It let out a high-pitched screech, its body thrashing wildly as it skittered away, disappearing into the shadows of the swamp.

I blinked, gasping for breath, my body still trapped in the sticky webbing. And then I saw her.

Standing in the centre of the clearing was a woman, a wooden staff in her left hand with an embellished ram skull attached to its top. She was wearing a revealing red and grey outfit, accentuating her voluminous body, and animal bones hung around her neck as a necklace. She had long raven hair that waved on her back. On the top of her head, she wore a strange diadem made of a huge skull with ivory and black horns. The jawline of the skull aligned with her own, framing her beautiful face. Why did they call her a beast? She was beautiful. 

Her presence filled the space, commanding and dangerous, but her face was calm, almost serene. 

The Witch of the Wilds.

‘You have been looking for me, I heard?’ she grinned, her full lips curling. Then I saw her eyes. Bright, golden, yellow eyes. Just like Asha’bellanar, like Flemeth. 

My mouth hung open, gaping at the witch standing in front of me.
‘And you found me,' I mumbled. 

‘I always do,' the witch grinned, looking me up and down. ‘Follow me.’ She demanded, and with a flick of her wrist, the webs that hung around me disappeared. 

***

The deeper we walked into the forest, the thicker the air became. The witch moved with purpose, her steps sure and silent as she led me through the twisted trees, past overgrown paths and murky pools of swamp water that reflected the moonlight like mirrors. 

I followed in silence, my heart still racing from the encounter with the spider. My mind was swirling with questions, but I knew better than to speak just yet. The forest began to thin, the trees giving way to a clearing, and I caught my first glimpse of what lay beyond. My breath caught in my throat.

It was an ancient fortress, its white stones gleaming in the moonlight, though many were crumbled and covered in creeping vines. Massive pillars rose high into the air, their bases cracked with age, but still standing tall and imposing. It was beautiful, but also unsettling—like something that didn’t belong in this world.

The witch stopped at the entrance, turning to face me, her glowing eyes catching the faint light. ‘My mother had told me you would come.’ She finally said. 

‘Your mother?’

‘Flemeth. The old hag?’ She smiled coyly. 

Well, that explains the eyes. ‘Thank you, for saving me. I am Saeris.’ 

‘I know. My name is Yavana. At your service.’ She smirked. 

‘What is this place?’ 

‘The Silent Grove.’ Yavana inclined, her eyes sparkling with ancient knowledge. 

‘What’s it for?’ I took a step closer to her. 

‘It is a sanctuary.’ She stared at me, ‘For those long forgotten.’

I cocked my head. 

She smiled. ‘Dragons, my dear.’ 

For a moment, I thought I had misheard her. ‘There are dragons?’ I repeated, my voice barely a whisper.

‘Once,' her voice sounded sad, tragic, ‘There was a time when dragons ruled the skies, a time before the Veil—before the mysteries were forgotten. But mankind destroys what it does not understand. They destroy themselves. The blood of dragons is the blood of the world.’ 

I swallowed. ‘Are they still alive?’

She looked at me, her eyes squinting with thought. ‘They are sleeping, waiting.’

‘For what?’

‘Time will tell, Saeris. First, other things will need to be done.’ Yavana sighed. 

Yavana’s eyes moved over me with a strange intensity, and she stepped closer, her gaze lingering on my covered left eye—the emerald, swirling green eye that had always marked me as different. Without warning, she reached up and gently placed her hand on the side of my face, lifting up the eyepatch and tilting my head to get a better look.

I tensed but didn’t pull away.

‘This eye of yours,’ Yavana murmured, her voice filled with intrigue. ‘There is magic in it. Old magic. It’s not like anything I’ve seen before.’

Her words sent a shiver down my spine. I had always known there was something unnatural about my eye, but I had never fully understood what it was. Even after decades of living with it.

Yavana’s fingers brushed lightly over my skin. ‘Flemeth told me you were special,’ she said, her eyes narrowing slightly. ‘But this... this is something else.’

‘What do you mean?’ I asked, my voice shaking slightly.

Yavana didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she lowered her hand and began walking again, motioning for me to follow. ‘Come. There is more you need to see.’

I hesitated for a moment, but my curiosity got the better of me, and I followed her deeper into the fortress. The air grew cooler as we entered the main chamber, the large pillars casting long shadows across the stone floor. The silence here was absolute, the kind that made every step feel like an intrusion.

As we walked, we passed a deep, dark pit in the centre of the chamber. I paused, staring down into it, but I couldn’t see the bottom. The darkness seemed to stretch on forever, and there was a strange, ominous feeling that emanated from it, as though something ancient and dangerous slumbered within.

Yavana noticed my hesitation and stopped beside me, her expression unreadable. ‘That pit,’ she said softly, ‘is where I keep them.’

I frowned, confused. ‘Keep what?’

‘The ones I preserve,’ she replied, her voice taking on a darker tone. ‘Those who sleep beneath the surface, waiting. Waiting for the day when they can be free again.’

I stared at her, my stomach twisting with unease. The way she spoke, the way she looked at that pit—it was as if she was keeping something not just forgotten, but chained . Something that had the power to break free if given the chance.

‘Those below are not just beasts,’ Yavana continued, her voice soft but filled with purpose. ‘They are more than that. They are power incarnate. ‘

I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the pit, my mind racing. If what Yavana said was true, then beneath my feet, somewhere in the depths of this fortress, lay creatures of unimaginable strength—creatures that could reshape Thedas if unleashed.

But Yavana’s presence, her calm, controlled demeanour, told me that whatever was down there, it wasn’t meant to wake. Not yet.

‘Why are you showing me this?’ I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Yavana’s gaze flicked back to me, her eyes narrowing slightly. ‘Because, Saeris, you are not so different from them.’

I stared at her, my breath catching in my throat. ‘What are you talking about?’

Yavana stepped closer, her expression serious, her voice low. ‘You hold a power inside you—one that has not yet been realised. Flemeth saw it. I see it. And if you wish to unlock that potential, you must understand what it means to carry that kind of power.’

I shook my head, my mind racing. ‘I’m not... I’m not like them. I’m not a dragon.’

‘No,’ Yavana agreed, her voice soft. ‘But you carry something ancient inside you. And if you’re not careful, it will consume you.’

I swallowed hard. I had spent so many years wandering, searching for answers, and now, standing here in this ancient fortress, I was beginning to understand the gravity of the path I had stepped onto.

Yavana’s gaze softened slightly, though her eyes still held that strange, knowing intensity. ‘You came here seeking answers. And I will help you find them. But you must be prepared for the cost.’

I glanced down at the pit again, the darkness yawning beneath me like a void.

‘Are you ready to see what lies within you?’ Yavana asked, her voice a whisper in the stillness.

I met her gaze, my heart pounding in my chest. ‘Yes.’

Whatever lay ahead, whatever power I had yet to unlock, I would face it.

Because, like the dragons, it was time to wake.

***

We moved through the fortress, the air growing heavier with each step. The pillars loomed high above us, and the corridors were wide and dark, lit only by the faint glow of magical sigils etched into the stone. The walls were covered in thick vines, their roots twisting through the cracks in the stone like veins. Every inch of this place felt alive, as though the magic of the Grove itself was watching us, waiting for something to happen.

Yavana led me down a long hallway, the sound of our footsteps muffled by the thick air. The corridor opened into a large chamber, and as we stepped inside, my breath caught in my throat.

The room was vast, its stone walls curving upward into a high, vaulted ceiling. The floor was covered in soft moss, glowing faintly in the dim light, and in the centre of the room was a large bed—an enormous structure made from intricately carved wood, the frame draped in dark, silken sheets. The room was both beautiful and unsettling, a sanctuary and a tomb all at once.

‘You have been searching for meaning,’ Yavana began, her voice low and resonant. ‘For answers to why you remain untouched by time, why the world moves on around you while you are left behind. It is not by accident. Your power is tied to something ancient—something older than you know.’

‘My magic? But I can’t even cast proper spells.’ I frowned and stared around the room, as if it should give me answers in its silence.

‘You have been seeing magic as something you learn. And it is for others, but not for you. Magic is not a gift, it is your nature. You have to let it flow. You still think of yourself as human, mortal, but that only creates limits. Stop limiting yourself by urging those mortal restrictions onto your magic. You are not a human anymore. You are more—immortal. You have to let your past go, in order to move on. In order to hear them. In order to grow.’

‘You know I was once … human?’ 

Yavana smiled softly. ‘Tell me, where do you go when you enter the Fade?’ She slowly walked around me, assessing.

‘My home, my room, where my family is?’

‘That is not your home anymore, Saeris. Your home is here now. You have to let go of it. Of them.’ She stopped again right in front of me.

‘But I don’t want to… I don’t want to forget.’ Not who I was, what I had… what I could have been.

‘You don’t need to, Saeris. Your home, and your family, will always be a part of you. But you have to let them go.’ 

‘How do I let them go then?’

‘You go further.’ Yavana said as her hand pointed to the bed. ‘You walk towards what is beyond.’

I took a step towards the bed. 

‘The truth is never out of reach, Saeris. You just have to keep looking for it.’

***

The pink walls of my room greeted me, the white curtains near my windows softly swaying by the autumn breeze. Pickles purred, sitting in the exact same spot she always sat. Her face looked up to me contentedly, meowing happily. My mother was again baking her delicious recipe of banana bread. I sniffed, smelling it one last time. Then I walked towards my window and looked outside. My father was mowing the grass, as usual. The forget-me-nots were still in bloom, even though it wasn’t their season. My brother was happily laughing, his voice trickling down my walls, filling my entire room. What was he laughing at? Was the game he was playing so much fun? I hoped so. 

Would they notice? If I leave? 

I turned around towards the mirror in the back of my room, next to the dresser. I looked into it. And there I was. Tall, muscled and athletic. I was wearing my distressed jeans and my favourite university sweater. My long blond hair curled around my face, my perfect imperfect face. I noticed how my freckles were disappearing into the tan skin I had gotten last summer. I touched my ears, and they were round, normal, not pointy at all. I smiled, my lips cracking from the cold breeze. 

Yet, my smile faltered. This is not who I am. Not anymore. 

My vision appeared blurry like someone had suddenly thrown water on the mirror. When it sharpened again, another me was standing there. Still tall, but the muscles were gone, I looked lithe again, elven. My skin was again a milky white instead of tan. I wasn’t wearing my jeans, but my leather armour and my old cloak hung around my shoulders. Still the same face, but now even, no freckles, and framed by white, silvery hair. My right eye stayed the same bright blue. My left eye was green once more. 

My ears are pointy like they are meant to be. 

Something creaked. I turned around and saw that my door was open. But I was still alone.
I walked towards it. 

Once, I had been scared of that door. Of the presence that had been waiting behind it, but even more of the eternal hallway calling out to me. Now, though, I felt strong. I wasn’t afraid anymore. I was free. 

I opened the door, looking towards that white hallway, leading to a place beyond. 

‘It is time to go now,' I sighed as I looked at Pickles. She cocked her head, almost nodding—as if she understood. And that was it then. Time to let them all go, my past, my family, my humanity. But I would not forget them. Never. 

I took a step forward and closed the door behind me. I would never go back again. 

Only forward.

Notes:

Some dialogue has been directly taken from the comic Dragon age: The Silent Grove.

If you liked it, you can always leave me a comment or a kudo :)

Chapter 12: Awakened

“If I had a world of my own, everything would be nonsense. Nothing would be what it is, because everything would be what it isn't. And contrary wise, what is, it wouldn't be. And what it wouldn't be, it would. You see?” 

― Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland & Through the Looking-Glass 

 

***

My feet kept dragging over the cold stone floor. One before the other. For how long had I been running? I looked over my shoulder, not stopping my sprint. The door to my room had been lost behind the past horizon. No point in going back now. Better keep running. 

The hallway was cold, white, almost like a hospital. I remember how the hospital had smelled when I had died, like soap, fresh, sterile. This place smelled the same. It looked the same too, white, bright lights lighting every corner of the corridor. The floor was made out of stone as you would place in a garden. Small cold cobblestones. How out of place? 

I had to keep running, but how long could I keep this up? 

I stopped, out of breath. I had never run this long before. Suddenly, I heard something creak. To my right, a door appeared. It had white frills on it, like the horns of a halla, and a golden door knob. It looked like a fancy door, leading to a luxurious place. My hand flew towards the door, wanting to open it. But then, another door appeared on the left side of the corridor. As I turned around, the fancy door creaked behind me. Like it was sad I hadn’t opened it, that I had looked upon another door. The door to my left was made out of dark wood, almost black. A thick purple smoke trickled from underneath it, calling to me. 

It felt wrong. That colour…

I took a step back and looked forward again. But now, the corridor wasn’t empty anymore. Hundreds of doors appeared on either side of the hallway. All of them had a different design—a different character. I slowly took a step forward, silently walking past each door. One door was made out of stone, a light coming from between the cracks. Another door was bright pink, green, blue, and just about every other colour. 

And so each door held another story, another path. Do I have to go through one of them? Scrapping each possibility as I go through? But no door seemed to go where I wanted to go.

Some whispered promises, ‘Come, Saeris, open me, look inside, you will find what you seek. I will give you rest. I can provide you peace.’

Others cried, ‘Please! Don’t go there! Quick! Before it is too late! Open me!’ 

Too many voices, too many choices. I can’t do this. This is too much. Which one do I choose?
I kept running, faster, harder, my feet screaming. How can I feel this pain when I’m dreaming? 

‘Open me!’

‘My flower!’

‘Sister, please!’

‘Saeris, darling?’

No. Stop. Stop. STOP! 

I sunk onto the floor, my knees scraping over the cobblestones. My hands flew to my ears, covering them to dim out the whispers. 

Be quiet! Please! Stop this! I don’t want to go through either of them! 

What do I choose?

Left or right?

Why not up?

I looked up to the ceiling, my hands dangling at my sides as I slowly raised myself up. There, between the blinding lights, was a hatch. A very small one, you would barely notice it was there. It didn’t have anything special about it. No colours, no whispers, nothing but a soft green light seeping from between the latches. 

I reached toward it, and the ceiling was suddenly closer than before. I just had to stand on the tips of my toes. But I could reach it. 

‘The truth is never out of reach.’ I whispered to myself as I opened the latch. 

The doors screamed as I tilted myself from the corridor—up—towards the sky. 

And what a beautiful sky it was. Bright blue, soft clouds waved, almost sweepingly, through it. I felt warmth, a glowing welcome. It must be the sun. Yet, there was no sun. Then how could there be light? Warmth? 

I wiggled my toes and felt how soft grass tickled my feet, how the cooling dew touched my ankles. There was no eternal corridor here. No eternal screaming of doors. But a quietness you wouldn’t find outside your dreams.

I looked down, and the hatch was gone. No way back. I took a step forward again, looking around. This place was so much like… the fields around Daniel’s cottage, the clan’s camp, the forest I had lived in for the first years of my new life. Those ruins, but they weren’t ruins now. The crumbled walls and broken pillars were whole, gleaming with an ethereal light that cast strange shadows over the ground. The air was warm and soft, humming with life, as if the very stones of this place were alive. 

A halla stood before me, carved from smooth marble, its head high, its antlers branching like trees. Beside it, a hunter with a bow drawn, the tension of the string captured perfectly in the stone. The hunter’s gaze was fierce, determined. These were no ordinary statues. These were the Evanuris—the gods of the ancient elves. I had heard their stories whispered among the Dalish, told in tales of lost power and betrayal.

I walked further, my footsteps soft against the polished stone. The statues lined the path, each one representing a figure of elven legend. There was one of Mythal, draped in flowing robes, her hands raised. And then, there it was—at the end of the path.

A wolf.

The Dread Wolf.

I hesitated, my breath catching in my throat. The wolf was calm, its eyes half-closed, as if in contemplation. It didn’t snarl or bare its teeth. Instead, it looked almost serene—protective, even. The stone seemed to glow faintly in the light, the wolf’s fur intricately detailed, as though it had been carved by hands that knew it intimately.

I stared at it, feeling a strange connection to this creature, though I didn’t understand why. Something about its presence was… comforting. But before I could linger on it for too long, I heard it.

Voices.

A whisper at first, like wind rustling through the trees. But then it grew louder, a collection of voices, not one but many, blending together in a soft, harmonious hum. They were calling my name.

‘Saeris.’

I spun around, searching the empty ruins for the source, but there was no one there. Only the statues, standing silently, watching.

‘Saeris,’ the voices called again, gentle, coaxing. They weren’t harsh or demanding. They sounded… familiar, as if they had been waiting for me for a very long time. ‘Saeris, suras. Melenir.’

‘Who’s there?’ I asked, my voice barely a whisper in the still air.

‘Vhallir, Saeris, andaran atish’an. We welcome you at last.’ The voices—a choir of whispers—replied.

‘Who are you?’ I called again, looking around. 

‘We have been waiting for you, just for you, to tell you what was told to us. You, the one who carries the power of the People. The one who made the vow. To set you on your path. Many have heard our calling, some answered in your place, but none could truly hear what we said. The wolf listens, he is close. He heard our call, now he is searching for the same answers you seek.’

I frowned, confusion tugging at the edges of my thoughts. ‘What vow? What are you talking about? What wolf?’

‘You made a promise,’ the voices said, their chorus growing softer, like a breeze through the leaves. ‘An unbreakable vow. The People’s salvation rests in you.’

‘I don’t understand,’ I whispered, shaking my head. ‘What promise? I’ve made no vow.’

‘Not the current you, yet the other you in the past. The you who came before.’ The voices insisted. ‘When your eye appears in the heavens, go to where the heroes are, and protect the one who holds your eye in their hand. They will lead you toward the vow you promised not to break.’

The words sent a chill down my spine. My eye in the heavens? My hand instinctively went to my left eye, the one that had always marked me as different. What did they mean? Who would hold my eye in their hand?

‘Please, I don’t understand!’ I yelled, unsure of what else to ask. 

‘You carry the power of the People’s salvation, but also the power of their destruction. Break the emerald window and the worlds will combine, exploding into one. The old and the new, the past and the future. The destruction creates salvation, yet to heal is to burn itself too.’

‘What? Who are the people you’re talking about? And what window? Do you mean my eye?’

‘Those who were long forgotten, once destroyed by He who freed them.’ The whispers thrummed in and out, my heart beating to it. ‘The promise, the unbreakable, that is the emerald window. It is the key to the Beyond itself, you see its flaws, and it cannot hide anything from you. It is the key to unlock the power to bend the worlds to your will, and enter them freely. It is what has kept us waiting for you for so long. It is what lurks behind your every step. It is what will give you peace. All of us.’

‘I… I don’t understand?’

‘When in doubt,’ the voices continued, ‘search for your memories. They will hold the outcomes. Your dreams will tell you the answers of your past and of your future.’

I felt a shudder run through me as the voices echoed through the air, their meaning slipping just out of reach. ‘What memories?’ I asked, my voice trembling. ‘And… what will happen when I fulfil this promise another me made?’ 

‘You will receive that which you longed for. Death. Eternal rest with those lost to you.’

‘And what if I refuse?’

‘You will eternally wander these plains alone.’ 

‘So I will never return back to earth?’

‘Souls are not part of worlds, they can travel from realm to realm. The destination for your next journey is not fixed.’ 

‘Great… So, when will my eye appear in the sky?’

‘In an Age where the mighty forgotten will dance once more in the sky, when heroes will conquer the vile and fight for the freedom of all, that is when the promise will be fulfilled.’

‘Okay, and…’

‘He found us.’

‘Wait—’

‘Our time has come to an end.’

‘But—’

‘Silas, Saeris, banal nadas.’

‘Wh…’

‘Dareth shiral.’

The voices faded, leaving only the soft hum of the magic around me. The ruins seemed to dim, the light flickering as if the world itself was shifting again.

I stood there, staring at the statues, at the wolf that watched me with those calm, protective eyes. Something in its gaze felt like a promise, as though it knew more about me than I did. As though it was waiting for me to remember.

***

I woke with a start, my body jerking forward violently. My throat burned, and before I could stop it, I was vomiting over the edge of the bed, my body convulsing as I expelled whatever had been inside me. The air was thick with the sour stench, and I gasped for breath, clutching the sheets as my head swam.

The bed was cold, the room silent except for the ragged sound of my breathing. I pressed a trembling hand to my chest, trying to steady myself, but the sensation that gripped me was unlike anything I had ever felt before. It was as though my body was no longer mine—like something had shifted, deep inside me.

I wiped my mouth, forcing myself to sit upright. My vision blurred for a moment, but as I blinked, everything around me came into focus with a clarity that was almost unnatural. The dim light of the room, the texture of the moss beneath my feet,... And the power… It surged through me like a river, steady and relentless. I could feel it in my veins, pulsing in rhythm with my heartbeat, filling every part of me. This wasn’t the weak, fragmented magic I had carried before. No—this was something else entirely.

I wasn’t just awake. I was alive .

A deep, unfamiliar energy hummed beneath my skin, and I clenched my hands, feeling the raw power there, ready to be unleashed at my command. I stood slowly, my legs steady, but every movement felt charged, as if the world itself was moving with me. There was no denying it: I was different now. Something had awoken within me during my sleep.

But how long had I slept?

I took a shaky breath and glanced around the room. It was just as it had been before I had drifted into that endless slumber—soft moss underfoot, the bed draped in silken sheets—but something had changed in the air. It was heavier, more potent, like the magic of the Grove had deepened.

‘Yavana,’ I whispered hoarsely, my voice still raw from the retching.

As if summoned by the sound of her name, I heard her voice echo from the hall beyond. ‘Saeris,’ she called, her tone calm, but laced with something that made my skin prickle. ‘Come. It is time.’

I forced myself to move, my steps surprisingly light, and I left the room behind. As I passed through the silent halls of the fortress, I felt a strange pull toward the dark pit at the heart of the Grove. I hesitated as I reached the edge, my gaze drawn down into the abyss where before something had slumbered.

But the pit… it was empty.

The oppressive weight that had once emanated from it was gone. Whatever ancient presence had rested there was no more. A chill ran down my spine as I stared into the darkness, knowing instinctively that something monumental had shifted while I slept. 

Yavana was standing ahead, her figure outlined by the faint light of dawn filtering in from a balcony that overlooked the Tellari Swamps. She stood with her back to me, her hands resting lightly on the stone railing, her dark cloak billowing gently in the breeze. The swamp stretched out before her, endless and serene, its waters shimmering under the morning sky.

I approached, my breath catching in my throat as I joined her at the balcony’s edge. For a long moment, neither of us spoke. The world felt charged, as though the very air hummed with anticipation.

‘You’ve been sleeping,’ Yavana said softly, her eyes still fixed on the horizon.

I swallowed, my voice still weak. ‘How long?’

She turned her head slightly, her eyes sharp, unreadable. ‘Long enough.’

I opened my mouth to press her for more, but before I could speak, a deafening roar split the air. The sound was like nothing I had ever heard—a thunderous, primal bellow that seemed to shake the very stones beneath us. My heart jumped into my throat, and I spun toward the sky, searching for the source of the sound.

And then I saw it.

A massive shadow streaked across the sky, its wings outstretched, blotting out the sun. A dragon—soaring through the clouds, its scales shimmering in the dawn light, its massive form cutting through the air with terrifying grace.

I stared, my mouth hanging open in disbelief. ‘A dragon…’

Yavana’s lips curled into a knowing smile. ‘You are not the only one who has awakened, Saeris.’

I turned to her, my heart racing. ‘What does this mean?’

Yavana’s gaze was fixed on the horizon where the dragon had vanished. ‘The world is shifting, and those who slumber in the dark places are stirring once more. You are bound to this, just as they are.’

I stared at the dragon as it turned its gaze towards us, eyeing me, seeing every part of my soul. And I stared back into its bright yellow eyes. 

‘Where is it going?’

‘Towards the world, Saeris.’

‘Towards the world? To do what?’

‘To start a new era,' she mused. 

Yavana peered towards the horizon, the dragon disappearing towards the south. Her high voice coiled, cheeringly. 

‘The Dragon Age has begun.’

And there was no turning back.

Notes:

FINALLY !!!!

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Chapter 13: Learned

They say that Moira Theirin, the Rebel Queen of Ferelden and the mother of the resistance against Orlais, had been a magnificent woman and leader. Her power and grace caught every noble’s attention, captured every man’s heart and deepened every monster’s fear. No Fereldan man fought as bravely against the bastard king Meghren than she had. She brought back hope in the people’s hearts, destroyed the horrendous poison that the Orlesians had made, freed prisoners from their camps, and helped the little people take back their rights. Nobles from all across the land fought under her banner. But not all. Bann Ceorlic became jealous of her power, a thing he could never achieve. Meghren saw his weakness and used it. Ceorlic betrayed Moira, luring her with a promise of assistance. As the traitors slaughtered the Queen, who had died fighting for what she stood for, her young son fled deep into the Korcari Wilds. At the tender age of 16, Maric Theirin had to assume command of a shattered rebellion, but he did not do it alone. 

As Maric got captured by the Dalish, he thought he would soon meet his mother again by the Maker’s side. But fate had other plans—or at least, she who controls fate—for the Dalish did not kill the lone prince, but brought Maric to someone who had been anxiously waiting for him. Asha’bellanar, also known as Flemeth, welcomed the young man, saving him from Orlesian imprisonment. But everything comes with a price. To ensure his safety and victory, Maric made a promise to Flemeth. A promise he would never fulfil.
Together with Rowan, who was planned to become his wife, and a sly rogue named Loghain Mac Tir, Maric regrouped the resistance, making it bigger than ever before.

In 8:98 Blessed, the Fereldan rebels led by the band of misfits, took the isolated port town of Gwaren. No one had ever imagined it would’ve been possible, but they did it. The first victory in years. But certainly not the last. 

Yet, in 8:99 Blessed, they experienced a devastating loss at the Battle of West Hill. The confident Prince Maric led his forces to the small town, convinced by his elven lover it would become an easy battle. But the lover had lied and betrayed the prince as she was only truly loyal to Meghren. The rebellion was almost wiped out by the royalist forces—their blood is covering West Hill until even this day. Orlais had seemingly won, the Rebel Prince buried with his foolish men. But nothing of this had been true. Deep underneath the ground, where no one roamed but spiders and darkspawn, Maric still lived, fighting bravely. The Deep Roads almost truly tied the noose around young Maric’s throat, had he not been saved by a peculiar group of dwarves, called the Legion of the Dead. Together with this new army, Maric Theirin resurfaced back in Gwaren, miraculously defeating the Orlesian troops and rekindling the Fereldan rebellion.

The Battle of River Dane was a battle to be remembered, to be sung about, to be written about. Loghain led the rebels to their last victory, defeating the last Chevalier forces sent by the Emperor. And Maric got his revenge on Bann Ceorlic and his fellow traitors, killing them in the name of his mother.
But while they fought, swords bloodied by the death of their enemies, a loud roar could be heard from the heavens as a huge dragon screeched the skies close by the Frostback Mountains. The roar demanded a new era. An era of blood and violence. 

The Dragon Age.

The last thing I heard about Maric Theirin was in 9:2—two years after I had reawakened. It is said that he had challenged Meghren for a duel and killed him in single combat. The new King beheaded the bastard traitor, and they say he did it with one clear swing. 

But they never told any stories about the General and the Spymaster, who had helped the Rebel Queen build her resistance. They never talked about the brave Captain Sybil, and how she had fought for her men. They never spoke of me, I who had made the antidote for the poison that would’ve wiped them all out. No songs were sung about us. No tales or books could be found. We were forgotten. But I would never forget the rebellion, the war we had fought, and the pain we had felt. I had tried to forget after Sybil had died, but now I refused to let it all go into oblivion. I would not forget my Sybil. Even if it hurts. 

This was a new era, not just for Thedas, but for me as well. After being asleep for more than two years, I was reborn again, and now I knew what to fight for. Ferelden thinks it is at peace now. Yet, I know that peace never lasts. Chaos is a means to the world. And the Dragon Age would proclaim just that. 

It didn’t take long to pack. I had little with me—my worn cloak, my dagger, and now, the power that surged through my veins. I stood before a small mirror, my fingers brushing against the fabric of my eyepatch, the one I’d worn for so many years to hide my green eye. I stared at it for a long moment, feeling the weight of everything it represented—the hiding, the fear, the isolation.

But I wasn’t hiding anymore.

With a deep breath, I slipped the eyepatch off and set it aside. My green eye gleamed in the dim light, the magic behind it now more vivid than ever. I caught my reflection—my tall, lithe figure, my white hair flowing over my shoulders, my mismatched eyes—and for the first time, I didn’t feel like a stranger in my own skin.

I was ready.

As I made my way through the halls of the Silent Grove, I thought about what I have to do now, feeling like I’m finally moving forward. Yavana was waiting for me on the balcony, the same place where we had watched the dragon soar into the skies. She turned as I approached, her expression calm, knowing.

‘You’re leaving,’ she said, though it wasn’t a question.

I nodded. ‘I have to. The voices in my dream… They said my memories hold the answers. I need to retrace my steps. I need to understand why this power is tied to me.’

Yavana’s gaze was sharp, as though she saw deeper into me than I even understood. ‘Your path is your own to walk, Saeris. But be careful—what you seek may not be what you expect.’

I met her eyes. ‘I know.’

She stepped closer, her dark cloak trailing behind her, and placed a hand on my arm. ‘When you find the answers you seek, remember this: power is a tool. It is neither good nor evil. But it will change you, one way or another.’

I swallowed hard, nodding again. ‘I’ll remember. Thank you again, Yavana, for helping me, and for looking after me while I slept.’

‘It was my pleasure. You have taught me things as well, as my mother predicted you would.’

‘Is that why you took me in?’

‘Partly, yes,' Yavana grinned, ‘but perhaps I had also been somewhat curious.’

I smiled at that. ‘What will you do, when I’m gone?’

‘Something else was promised to me, so I must wait.’ Her eyes glazed for a second, thinking about something. 

‘What promise?’ I hated promises since I apparently made one in my previous life that caused all of this mess. 

‘That, my friend, is my secret to keep,' she winked. 

‘Alright, no point in arguing that,' I smiled, flashing my teeth. ‘Then, I’ll be on my way.’

Yavana gave me one last look, her expression unreadable. ‘Farewell, Saeris, and may we meet again someday.' 

‘We will.’

***

Rivain is a peninsula, surrounded by the Venefication Sea and the Amaranthine Ocean, and can only be accessed by travelling a bridge of land that is connected to Antiva. Rivain was as vibrant and chaotic as I remembered, its bustling port cities and colourful markets teeming with life. The air was thick with the scent of spices, sea salt, and the distant sound of waves crashing against the shore. 

I knew Rivain, I had been there before, but not for long, and not very deep into the country. I lived in Ayesleigh for some time, which is near the border of Antiva and on the bridge of land to the peninsula. I sang in a tavern there and lived in the room above it as compensation. But I didn’t stay for many years, since the people were very… eccentric.  Back then, I wanted quietness. Now, I was kind of curious about the Rivaini. They had a society unlike any other in Thedas. Rivain was a matriarchy. The people here believed that women were best suited for ruling. And that’s where the Seers came in. There was a Circle in their capital Dairsmuid, but that one was just for show. They trained women to become Seers and when they were finished, they were sent to villages to oversee them, to become an elder. And there, they trained their own apprentices. 

Rivaini Seers were said to commune with ancient spirits, to see beyond the veil of reality. If anyone could help me understand the power within me, it was them. But when I arrived in Afsaana, one of the largest cities on the western coast by Rialto Bay, I found no Seer waiting for me. The locals shook their heads, dismissing my inquiries with vague answers or telling me to try elsewhere. Rivaini people were of a special kind. They had olive and ebony skin adorned with golden jewellery from head to toe. And they had tattoos and piercings covering their whole body. The Rivaini considered that the more someone was “decorated”, the more status this person had. So in short, everybody wanted to outdo the other. 

‘Olá coelhinha ,' a man grinned at me. He had short black hair and beautiful olive skin, black tattoos adorning his face and shoulders, golden jewellery around his neck, and piercings all over his ears. 

I stopped, looking back at the man. ‘Boa tarde, ser, do you know where I might find a Seer?’ 

The man looked up from my sudden question, probably because he didn’t expect a foreigner to just bluntly ask. ‘Desculpe, Senhora,’ the man spoke with a thick accent, ‘but the Seer has gone to Dairsmuid. I don’t think she’ll be back soon.’

‘Obrigada,' I nodded at him and the man smiled. 

‘Why is an estrangeira searching for a Rivaini Seer?’ The man cocked his head. 

I smiled, ‘To ask some questions.’

‘An estrangeira, coming to our leaders to ask questions? Muito interessante.’ He slithered. ‘Maybe I can tell you what you need, over some… bebidas ? Não?’ 

I smiled. Maybe in another life. ‘Não, mas obrigada. I must be on my way.’

The man nodded somewhat disappointed, stepping aside so I could resume my journey. If I had not been immortal, if I could just be normal, I could meet new people, and love, without a care in the world. When I fulfil my promise…

I left Afsaana and travelled further north, to the smaller, more remote villages that dotted the coast of the peninsula. The towns here were very small, but very densely inhabited. In every town or village, I asked the same question: Where is the Seer? Each time, the answer was the same—no Seer could be found here.

I was beginning to wonder if I was chasing a ghost.

The road grew quieter as I ventured deeper into the countryside. The tall, swaying grasses of the Rivaini plains stretched out before me, the sky above a bright, endless expanse. I was alone, my footsteps the only sound breaking the stillness. But something about the quiet felt off.

I heard it then—a shuffle behind me, faint but unmistakable. My hand instinctively went to the hilt of my dagger as I turned, my green eye catching a flicker of movement in the tall grass.

Two men emerged from the shadows of the trees, their faces hard and their eyes hungry. 

‘Travelling alone, eh?’ one of them sneered, his voice dripping with malice. ‘Not wise, coelhinha bonita .’

My eye coiled and twisted as I scanned the rogues. I smelled their sweat and heard every movement they made. One of them shifted as I took a step back.

‘Agora, pretty one, come here,' the man on the left smirked. 

I didn’t answer, my body tensing as they drew closer. I could feel the power inside me stirring. The other man grinned, pulling out a rusted blade. ‘Hand over your valuables. And maybe we’ll let you live.’

They weren’t giving me a choice.

Without hesitation, I drew my dagger, the magic inside me flaring to life. The bandits lunged, their blades flashing in the sunlight, but I was faster. I lashed out with a flick of my wrist, summoning vines from the earth that coiled around one of the men’s legs, yanking him off balance. The power felt effortless, natural, as if it was simply an extension of my will.

The other man charged me, his blade raised, but before he could strike, I reached out with my magic, summoning a gust of wind that sent him sprawling. 

The man cursed at me, jumped back up and charged. I could hear his companion scream. ‘PARE! Ricardo pare! STOP!’

I moved without thinking, without hesitation. My dagger flashed, slicing through the air, and before I even realised what had happened, the man crumpled to the ground, blood pouring from his throat.

He was dead. I had killed him.

‘No! Ricardo!’ The second bandit struggled against the vines, fear and anger—hatred—etched into his face.

I stared down at the body of the first man—Ricorda, must’ve been his name—my hand trembling. The power I had used—it had been so easy. Too easy. I had killed him without hesitation, without even thinking about it. My vines that had captured the other man wilted, freeing him, but I barely noticed it—I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the body at my feet.

Easy magic is always dangerous.

The reality of what I had done sank in, and a cold chill ran through me. I had never truly killed another person before and never with such cold precision. Never in the way that felt so effortless, so detached.

This wasn’t me.

I stepped back, my heart racing, my breath coming in shallow gasps. The power inside me—it was intoxicating, overwhelming, and terrifying. I had control, but it was a fragile thing. 

I looked down at my hands, still shaking from the adrenaline. The bandit’s blood stained the grass, the wind carrying the metallic scent toward me.

I am a killer. 

Petrified, my body felt as if it was made of stone, unable to move. I killed someone. Murdered a being. Killed every potential he had. Did he have a family? Children? Friends? Who would mourn him?  My hands started shaking, trembling with my own deadly power. 

Who am I? 

The world around me spun. My hands were trembling, the hot wind blazing at my skin as I stared down at the body of the man I had killed. His lifeless eyes gazed up at the sky, as though he were still searching for something in the heavens. The blood pooled at my feet, soaking into the earth. I stumbled back, my chest tightening with panic, my breath coming in ragged gasps. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the blood. It was so much blood.

I didn’t even realise how the leftover bandit ran towards me, his daggers drawn. The man leapt, his knives like fangs in the air, ready to carve out my own heart. 

Let him do it. I deserve it. A life for a life. 

I was prepared to feel his dagger digging into my chest, to feel the air gliding through. But then, the man grunted mid-air. I looked up and saw how he slumped to the ground, not far from his friend, with two arrows pierced through his head. Dead. 

‘De nada,' a human woman said as she appeared from behind the trees, a bow in her hands. She had ebony skin that gleamed in the soft Rivaini sun, and black tattoos that curled over her face and body. She had some golden jewellery, but not much. Her hair was pulled in a tight braid, the tight curls on top of her head crowned like a glistening, dark bouquet.
I stared at her, my mouth open, still shaking. 

‘Are you alright?’ the woman mumbled as she took a step towards me. ‘It’s ok now, está segura agora, you are safe now.’ 

***

I sat in a rough-hewn wooden stool, my hands woven on top of my lap. I gazed uncomfortably at my feet.

The door of the old cabin opened, and the young woman from before entered. ‘Foi este que disseste para procurar.’ She said in Rivaini, and nodded her chin at me, her eyes wary as she looked me over. ‘Ela foi... atacada, ao que parece. Ela matou um, eu matei o outro. Acho que ela está em choque.’ 

An older woman entered behind her. I looked up at her as she stepped toward me, her movements slow and deliberate, yet her eyes were kind and… pitiful. She had dark olive skin and strange white tattoos that partly disappeared into her deep wrinkles. Her pale grey hair was put up in small braids twisting over her scalp. Tiny golden rings were pierced in her earlobes, and blue beads hung from the centre of each ring. Dozens of necklaces hung around the woman’s neck and shoulders, all made of white and ivory beads and pearls. And her eyes… She had white eyes, clear ones. Was she blind? 

The woman smiled gently, ‘It is good that I saw you coming. Had I not sent the huntress, you would have been dead.' the woman stated, ‘And you wouldn’t have been able to find me, would you, Saeris?' She stopped in front of me and reached out. I winced back, but then relented as her soft fingers caressed my left brow motherly.  

I blinked, the words barely registering at first. Slowly, I lifted my head, my vision blurry with unshed tears, ‘You are a Seer.’ My voice was raw and weak.

‘I am,' the Seer nodded. ‘My name is Tsura. I welcome you to my village.’ She cocked her head as I stared up at her. ‘Ines told me you were attacked. She told me you have killed one of them. Was it your first, minha querida ?’ Tsura leaned closer to my face. 

I shook my head, the panic rising in my throat again. ‘I… I didn’t mean to… I just—he was going to kill me. I… I didn’t—’

‘It’s alright,’ Tsura said softly and took out a chair to sit in front of me. 

I stared again at my hands in my lap. ‘I didn’t mean to kill him,’ I whispered, my voice breaking again. ‘I didn’t want to… it just happened.’

Tsura leaned forward, her expression soft but steady. ‘You only did what was necessary to protect yourself. It is cruel, but it is the way of life.’

I shook my head. ‘But it felt so easy. It shouldn’t have felt that easy.’

‘You are not at fault, Saeris.’ Tsura said, her voice firm but kind, ‘Death is part of us all. Sometimes, to protect one, we must kill another. The blame lies in the cruel world, the world which leads us to do cruel things. That is the natural order.’ I looked up into her pale eyes as she continued, ‘Tell me, when we kill a fish to gut and eat, don’t we do it easily? When we pick a flower to give to our loved ones, don’t we pluck it without thought? When we cut a tree to warm our houses, don’t we burn it readily? When a bear tries to eat you, don’t you defend yourself? Is there a difference? Can you blame a mother for killing someone who is attacking her child? Everything in this world has a place, a potential. But we all kill. That is how it is, it always has been. You are not a killer for being what the universe has made you to be.’

‘But this is not what I am! I made things—I created life, not destroyed it…’  

‘Creation and destruction go hand in hand, my dear, like day and night. You destroyed a man but created another opportunity for you to live. You created a new you and destroyed the other. Yet, the destruction of the other means the creation of your true self.’

I shook my head. Sybil had killed. She had said that it was for duty, for her country, and for herself. She had said that it was kill or be killed. I knew that I had just defended myself, but I couldn’t unsee the blood on my hands.

‘You need to accept. The universe gave you power, but you have to control it. Death will always be a part of your life, of your magic. Do not feel ashamed or guilty because of it. But accept it, and learn from it.’ 

I stared into the Seer’s vacant eyes, and they reflected me. I saw my own eyes, red from crying, my wet and distraught face and my trembling lips. How could I be so powerful, and yet so weak? I will learn. My magic is my nature. But I wield it. 

I took a deep breath, letting the woman’s words calm the storm inside me.

‘You came looking for me. Or so I heard.’ Tsura smiled at me encouragingly after a moment of silence. 

I cocked my head, ‘That is true. How do you know?’

Tsura grinned, flashing her yellowish teeth. ‘I am a Seer. Knowing is my profession.’

I stared at her. 

‘There is a spirit of Learning in me. She’s very rare, yet she chose to live through me, and I through her. Such is the custom. She told me you would be coming, Saeris. To learn. But the spirit of Learning cannot help you.’

‘What? Why?’ Even a spirit of Learning cannot help me to learn?

Tsura sighed and then dropped her head. When she looked back up again, the atmosphere in the room suddenly changed. Her eyes, her empty eyes, were now filled with a brilliant blue light. Someone else was speaking now. 

‘Saeris,' Tsura’s voice sounded more like two voices combined, like those voices had sounded in the ruins in the Fade. ‘You have come to learn, such is my purpose. Yet, I cannot fulfil that purpose with you, I am not the one you should learn from.’

The rumours had been true. Seers let themselves become possessed. Why wasn’t I afraid? This spirit did not feel vile, violating, or malevolent. The Dalish had taught me that all spirits were dangerous. But I did not feel like I was in any danger. 

‘Like the whispers of old told you. The true answers can only be found in yourself.’

‘But,' I started.

‘Nothing can tell you more, other than yourself. I cannot give you answers, for I am not a spirit of Wisdom. I learn and let others learn in return. But you cannot learn anything from me.’

‘And can’t you “learn” anything from what the Fade is telling you?’

‘The Beyond is silent,' the spirit whispered glumly.

Tsura coughed as the blue lights in her eyes dimmed until there was nothing there anymore. ‘Sinto muito,' she said, ‘I listened, and I apologise for not being of any more help.’

I nodded sadly.

‘The spirit is not able to give you what you want, and I don’t think any will.’ Tsura mumbled.

‘They all say that I will find answers in myself. But I don’t know where to look.’

Tsura shook her head. ‘Maybe, before finding answers in yourself, you first have to find yourself . You need to live, discover who you are, and then you can discover where you are going.’

‘And how do I do that?’

‘You fight, you fail and so you will learn.’ Tsura’s eyes gleamed, and I could feel her spirit watching, waiting.

***

9:29 Dragon

The years passed in a blur, as if time itself had bent to the slow, steady rhythm of my search. Under Tsura's guidance, and that of the spirit of Learning, I venture further into Rivain, seeking out others like her—Seers who communed with spirits of Curiosity, Duty, Faith, and Command. Each Seer I met had their own unique connection to the Fade, to the beings that existed beyond the Veil, but none were able to give me the answers I needed. They could sense the power within me, but none could tell me why it was there or how I was meant to use it.

At night, my dreams took on a different shape. No longer was I at the mercy of the Fade, unable to leave my childhood bedroom. With each passing night, I learned to control my journeys. I could think of a place—imagine it clearly—and find myself there, surrounded by the peace I sought.

I created a sanctuary in my dreams, a meadow bathed in soft, golden light with a large, ancient tree standing at its centre. The leaves rustled gently in a breeze that didn’t exist, and the grass swayed underfoot as if welcoming me home. In that meadow, I felt at peace, as though the worries and questions of the waking world could not reach me. It was my own bubble in the Fade, a place where I could sit and breathe.

Sometimes, I would sleep for years at a time, as I had done at the Silent Grove, as if my body needed some sort of hibernation. A minute in the Fade meant months in the Waking World. The Seers in the villages guided over me as I slept, and I became a ghost story the Rivaini whispered about. However, after yet another decade of sleep, it was time to move on.

I returned to Antiva, searching through its glittering cities and hidden corners, hoping to find someone or something that could shed light on my power, on the voices that had spoken to me all those years ago. But Antiva, like Rivain, offered me nothing but more questions.

Eventually, I made my way to Nevarra, the land of the dead. I wandered through the crypts and mausoleums, the grand tombs where Nevarrans kept their beloved ancestors. I had heard rumours of the Mortalitasi, the death mages who controlled the magic of life and death, and I thought perhaps they, too, could help me. But even in Nevarra City, where the Mortalitasi held sway, I found no one who could give me the clarity I craved.

I was beginning to wonder if there were any answers at all. If perhaps, I was chasing shadows that did not exist.

One night, I found myself staying in a cheap, worn-down inn on the outskirts of Nevarra City. The room was cramped, the bed hard, but I was used to such things by now. It was late, and the night outside was thick with the heat of the Nevarran summer. I had barely drifted into sleep when I felt it—a presence in the Fade, familiar and urgent.

***

I was in the meadow again, my sanctuary. The air was calm, the leaves of the great tree swaying gently in an unexisting wind. I had come up with this place as an alternative to my old bedroom. It wasn’t the same; nothing would ever be, but it was comfortable. When I had first made it, I had thought of my father’s garden, Daniel’s farm and Nenhara’s forest. I had thought of a place where Sybil would play and train—doing what she loved most. And so, this meadow came to be. A small bubble in the Fade, protected from its scary vastness. 

But today, something was wrong. The peace I had cultivated in this place was disrupted, and a sense of unease crept into my chest. Prodding, urgently, just outside the border of my well-protected dream. I recognised the presence right away.

Tsura’s spirit. Learning. 

With only a thought, I allowed her entrance.

Her body seemed to be woven from pale light, the edges of her figure blurring as though she were made of mist or stardust. She moved gracefully, each step barely disturbing the air around her, as if she were a breeze passing through an open window.

Her eyes, however, were the most striking feature—deep pools of shimmering blue, vast and endless, like the sky just before dawn. She had no distinct features—no sharp lines to her face, no clear details—but the faint outline of what could have been long, flowing robes clung to her form. These robes shifted and fluttered as though caught in a gentle, unseen breeze, even though the air in the Fade was still. Her hands were delicate, translucent, and long-fingered, always moving with a kind of purposeful grace, as though she was used to handling things with care—like scrolls, ancient texts, or fragile secrets. When she gestured, it was as if she was drawing something unseen from the air, shaping thoughts with her hands.

Usually, her presence was calming, like the quiet of a vast, peaceful library where time seemed to slow down. Tonight, however, she seemed different… tense.

‘Saeris, eolas'esayelan,’ the spirit said, her voice low and resonant, echoing in the air around us. ‘Ar garas to ma i eolas. I come to you with knowledge.’

A chill ran down my spine. ‘What? Did you hear something?’ 

The spirit’s glowing eyes met mine, and I could feel the weight of her concern. ‘Daras anor Saeris. You must return home. To Ferelden.’

I frowned, the words catching me off guard. ‘Ferelden? Why? What’s there?’

‘There is danger stirring,’ the spirit said, her voice like the rustling of ancient pages. ‘The threads of fate are shifting. You have been searching for answers in the wrong places, but now, events are unfolding that will affect not only Ferelden but all of Thedas. You must return, Saeris. The time has come for you to face what you left behind.’

I stepped closer, my heart pounding in my chest. ‘What are you talking about? What kind of danger?’ 

But Learning’s form flickered, and before she could speak another word, the spirit faded away.

Left alone in my meadow again, I let the idea of a breeze sweep over me. 

I must return home.

Notes:

Okay, so in my head, Antiva is Spanish and Rivain is Portuguese. I know Rivain was actually more based on Italy, but oh well.
Now, this chapter was kind of a filler, but it was important for Saeris to learn where her power lies. We're very close to the Inquisition now, 2 chapters to go... and I can't wait !!

If you liked the chapter, you can always leave me a comment or a kudo!

Here's a sneak peek for the next chapter: Harrowed

Chapter 14: Harrowed

A little bird hopped closer and closer over the damp grass. I grinned as I threw some breadcrumbs. The bird chirped contentedly as it scarfed the snacks down. 

‘You want some more?’ I cooed at it as I thought of more crumbs, and they appeared in the palm of my hand. ‘Here birdy,' and I giggled as the little brown sparrow shyly took the bread out of the palm of my hand and flew away. 

I looked around the meadow, staring at the ocean of grass and blue flowers. Sometimes, I could hear somebody knocking on the bubble of my dream. And I could see them standing near the treeline. Yet, they couldn’t see me. Demons and spirits alike just stared into the meadow, a paradise they would never enter. No, this was my place, and mine alone. 

I don’t want to wake up, there is so much uncertainty out there, so much doubt. Here, in my dreams, everything could be clear, because I made it clear. If I wanted to read a book, I’d just think of one and it plopped down from the sky and into my hands. If I wanted to listen to music, I just thought of my favourite song and it played through invisible speakers that hung from the clouds. Every dream could be a long one—one I would have for years—if I wanted it to be. 

I stretched my legs and looked at my bare toes as I wiggled them, the grass tickling me.

I could stay here forever. But sometimes, forever feels like just one second.

***

The dark night sky greeted me as I opened my eyes. Thousands upon thousands of stars winked back at me. I looked to where my campfire had once been and saw how it was still somewhat crackling in its own heat, the wood underneath burned up into black glowing coals. I had fallen asleep outside, instead of in my tent. The wind chilled the spring’s soft air, and I shivered as it seeped through my clothes. I pulled my cloak closer around my body, and my hood over my head. 

The woods were silent. And for a minute, I felt safe as the ward around my camp buzzed to let me know it was still there. The moon lit up the soft sparkling grass as I stood up from behind the fire and brushed myself off. 

I had left for Ferelden as soon as Learning had told me to go home. I didn’t know why, and sure, it was quite random. But I knew that when a spirit tells you to go home, you go home. Though, I’m not quite sure where home is. I’ve had so many homes. Kirkwall had been my home, Antiva had been my home, and even Rivain had been my home. But those were homes away from home. There was only one place I had truly felt where I belonged, a place I had loved, a place I had defended. Ferelden. 

And I was going back. How long had it been? Seventy years? More? At least no one would recognize me. Everyone I had met back then was dead. Would Daniel’s grave still be there? Or had nature already reclaimed it? And Sybil’s… 

I sighed and turned around, opening the flap of my tent and falling face-first into my bedroll. With my knees tucked to my chest, I closed my eyes again, my ears twitching as they focused on nature’s sounds. I was in the Free Marches now, close to Wildervale, and it wouldn’t take long for me to travel to Esserbay, where I could take the ferry to Porthsmouth. 

I smiled as I felt sleep coming closer again, and my heart thumped with excitement. I wanted to go back to my dreams, back to my own bubble. But then, just before I could drift off, my ward suddenly went deadly silent. Somebody was close. Too close.
I sat up. Someone was running through the woods. I could hear their armour rustling, their breath rasping in their throat. Their footsteps, tumbling, panicking. I balled my hands into fists, my eyes focussing on the treeline as I swiped the flap of my tent open. And yes, there. A man was racing towards my camp. But not just a man. 

A Templar. 

Shit. 

The man ran, his helmet shaking on his head. His armour gleamed dully in the moonlight, but he was clearly injured. His right arm hung limp at his side. He held his sword dangling in his other hand. Where had his shield gone? I could smell his sweat, his blood, his fear. I stood straight, bracing myself for the impending attack. I froze, my instincts screaming at me to stay hidden. I should have let him pass. I should have stayed silent, stayed safe within my ward. 

But then I saw what was chasing him.

A giant bear, its dark fur rippling in the night, was crashing through the trees behind him. The creature was massive, its eyes gleaming with a wild fury. It let out a guttural roar that shook the ground, its massive claws tearing into the earth as it charged.

The Templar’s eyes met mine for a brief second, wide with fear.

Without thinking, I stepped outside the ward, the magic dissolving around me as I let it fall. My instincts, the ones I had spent so many years sharpening, told me to stay hidden, to let the Templar meet whatever fate awaited him. But something deeper within me—the part that had learned to value life, to protect it—overrode my caution.

I raised my hands, lightning glittering along my fingers.

‘Please!’ the Templar cried as my hands raised higher. 

Small purple fiery sparks burst from my fingers. The Templar sank to his knees, both of his arms raised defensively before his face. Yet, my lightning didn’t hurt him, but crawled over him, racing towards the bear that leapt out of the bushes. The giant beast growled loudly as its body smacked onto the ground. It moved its legs one last time, grunting, as the lights in its eyes died together with my sparks. The Templar loosened his hands and looked towards me, surprised. He then stared behind him, at the dead bear lying just near his feet. 

The silence that followed was deafening, and I stood there, panting, the adrenaline still surging through me. The Templar, still catching his breath, stared at me with wide eyes, his sword raised weakly in his good hand. He hadn’t moved since I intervened, his body tense, as if he couldn’t decide whether I was his saviour or his next threat.

He knew what I was—an apostate. A mage outside the Circle’s control. And I knew the danger that posed.

I lowered my hands slowly, taking a step back. ‘You’re hurt,’ I said, trying to keep my voice steady, trying to make him see I wasn’t a threat. ‘Let me help you.’

The Templar’s eyes flickered with suspicion, but he made no move to attack. His arm was badly wounded, blood dripping from the gash along his armour. I could see the pain in his eyes, the tension in his body.

‘I’m not going to hurt you,’ I added, taking a cautious step closer. ‘But if I don’t heal that wound, you might not survive.’

He hesitated for a long moment, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he looked from me to the bear and back again. Finally, with a wary nod, he lowered his sword slightly. 

I stepped closer, careful not to make any sudden movements. My hands glowed faintly as I summoned my magic, pressing them gently against his wounded arm. The magic flowed from me into him, knitting the torn flesh together, soothing the pain.

He let out a sigh of relief, the tension in his body easing as the wound closed.

‘Thank you,’ he muttered, his voice hoarse. The Templar glanced at me, his gaze lingering on my face, and then on my green eye.

I nodded, stepping back and letting the magic fade. 

‘And I am sorry.’ Just for one tiny second, I saw a glimmer in his eyes. A dark one.

I wanted to jump up, pull away, but the Templar suddenly grabbed my arm as his eyes gleamed a bright blue. And then I felt it. Thousands of needles crashed into my skin. I screamed, hard, like I never had before. The needles stung in every pore of my body, ripping everything away. My magic, I felt it coil inside of me, burning, evaporating almost. My eyes trembled as I felt the needles pricking me in my head, my mouth, stinging me everywhere, letting my magic seep out. 

The world went silent as I fell to the ground. I stared up towards the thousands of shimmering stars. And then, the universe swallowed me whole. 

***

‘This one’s … special.’

‘An apostate is an apostate. We should kill her, Maker’s sake.’

‘I’d rather you not … C’mon, when do we ever get a … fine specimen like her?’

‘Fine. We bring her to the Circle. Let them do what they see fit.’

‘Where to?’

‘Kirkwall?’

‘No… Why would they have all the fun? I caught her.’

‘Alright, alright. Where are you stationed again, Simon?’

‘Ostwick.’

***

The chains rattled as I moved my arms. My head throbbed, and my magic—my power—felt muted, as if something had wrapped around it and squeezed it into silence. I blinked, trying to clear the fog from my mind, but it took me a moment to realise where I was.

A cell. The walls were bare stone, cold and damp, and a single barred window allowed a faint trickle of moonlight to spill into the room.

‘Calm there. Apostate.’ Someone said and took a step forward. 

Shakenly, I looked up and stared into the hard eyes of a Templar. 

‘Don’t you move,' he ordered and unsheathed his sword, resting its tip on my throat. 

‘Calm down, Tibald.’ A woman’s voice hushed. A female mage stepped into the light of the torch that hung beside me. She wore long robes with rune-ish patterns on it and a staff attached to her back with straps. She stared into my eyes reassuringly. ‘She’s still young.’

‘Watch it. She may not be an abomination, but she can still be a blood mage.’ Tibald cursed and almost spat at my face. 

‘She is too old. Probably too far gone. We cannot let her study among the other apprentices.’ A man said as he walked towards the woman. He too was wearing long robes, but his face was sterner than the woman beside him. 

‘Give her a chance. Let her do the Harrowing right now. Then we’ll immediately know if she’s too far gone or not.’ The woman’s eyes locked with mine. 

‘But she has had no training. Can she not be an apprentice first?’ It was the Templar who I had rescued. He stepped before me, pushing away Tibald’s sword. 

‘She must. It’s her only chance. Harrowing and stay. Or become Tranquil. Those are the rules.’ The female mage didn’t break contact. 

Tranquil. 

I started to tremble uncontrollably, I couldn’t help it. I thought back on what Daniel once said, about his mother. 

It’s to strip away their emotions, their connection to the Fade. They make them calm, detached… empty.

‘Senior Enchanter…’ the male mage muttered as another man stepped forward. He was older than the rest, his robes more luxurious. He looked down at me, his eyes almost scolding. But then, he sighed. 

‘First Enchanter Delbert,' the female mage began, her eyes pleading. 

He looked towards her and nodded. ‘Let her choose,' he finally said.

They all focused back on me now. I swallowed. ‘What is this Harrowing?’ I lifted my chin, my eyes gleaming in the dark. 

The First Enchanter grimaced. ‘You will soon find out.’ The man then turned around, disappearing through the door of my cell.

The Templar called Tibald grunted as he unlocked my chains. I fell to the ground, no more strength left in my body. The stone floor almost greeted me, had the other Templar not caught me in time. I looked up to him. 

Why? I had saved him. Why had he done this to me? 

The man’s face was full of pity. Apologetic, almost. But there was something else, something hidden. Was it… satisfaction? If I had the strength to bite or scratch or even spit, I would have. But I was too weak. 

‘I am sorry,' he mumbled again as he helped me back on my feet. 

He’s lying . 

‘Simon, come. Take her to the Great Hall. We will prepare the ritual,' the female mage, the Senior Enchanter, said as she stared at us. Her eyes seemed… kind. ‘What is your name, dear?’

‘Saeris,' I huffed. 

I still feel so weak. How can I do this test when I can’t even stand?

‘I am Senior Enchanter Lydia,' the woman smiled encouragingly. She then nodded towards Simon, who was still holding me straight. ‘Let us go.’

Simon carefully pushed me forward as I tried putting one foot in front of the other. 

When I have all of my powers back, I will make them regret this. 

We walked out of the cell I had woken up in. I looked around and immediately noticed the round walls, a maze of rooms. This was a Circle of Magi. 

Fuck. 

We entered a big room, the Great Hall I presume. It had large, stained glass windows. It almost looked like a place of worship. Almost.

As we entered, a group of six Templars greeted us, all eyeing me suspiciously. They were in full armour, except for their helmets, so they could all properly see me. In the middle of the ring of Templars, the First Enchanter stood. He eyed me almost with concern. In the centre of the room, there stood a large bowl filled with a glowing essence. Lydia walked in front of me towards the Templars and took her place next to the First Enchanter.

‘Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him. Thus spoke the prophet Andraste as she cast down the Tevinter Imperium, ruled by mages who had brought the world to the edge of ruin.’ One of the Templars who stood in the circle said. It was Tibald, his eyes murderous. His voice twisted in a repetitive tune. This was probably a speech for every mage to hear before they underwent this… sentence . He gestured to the circle of runes on the floor. ‘Your magic is a gift, but it is also a curse, for demons of the Fade are drawn to you, and seek to use you as a gateway into this world.’ 

I stood frozen, my heart hammering in my chest as I stared at the circle of runes.

‘This is why the Harrowing exists. The ritual sends you to the Fade, and there you will face a demon, armed with only your will.’ Lydia took a step forward, her voice calming.  

I swallowed hard. ‘What happens if I can’t defeat this demon?’ I met demons before, but never as weak as I am now. 

‘It will turn you into an abomination and we will be forced to slay you. Or, it shall kill you. And you will wake as Tranquil.’ Tibald grunted again, his lips curling into a smirk. That bastard wanted me to fail. I heard the other Templars twist on their feet as I glared at him. ‘This is Lyrium, the very essence of magic and your gateway into the Fade.’ He mumbled and pointed to the bowl with the strange blue liquid. 

Lyrium? I never had to use that before. I didn’t want to touch it. 

‘The Harrowing is a secret out of necessity. Every mage must go through this trial by fire.’ Lydia interrupted again as she put her hand on my shoulder. ‘As we succeeded, so shall you. Keep your wits about you and remember the Fade is a realm of dreams. The spirits may rule it, but your will is real.’

I am more than a hundred years old. I’ve been in the Fade more than any of these humans will ever be. Yet, why do I feel so nervous now?

‘She must go through this test alone, Senior Enchanter.’ The First Enchanter stated, his voice sounded pitiful. Tibald grimaced as he pushed Lydia’s hand off my shoulder. And I heard the First Enchanter grunt at that. But the old man didn’t move, just stared at me. 

I straightened my shoulders as I heard Simon step back from behind me. I almost stumbled as I walked towards the bowl in the centre of the circle of runes and Templars. All of them were looking at me now, waiting to turn on me as soon as I had failed. 

The Lyrium coiled as I looked into the bowl. I don’t need Lyrium to enter the Fade. 

‘Saeris,' Lydia whispered, edging me forward, her eyes filled with pity. 

I swallowed. Let’s do this. I’ve had worse, no? Let’s play this little game of theirs.
My hands dipped into the curling pool of magic. I lowered my lips to my fingers, and drank. 

*** 

I woke up in a strange forest. Why is it always a forest? However, the trees, all of them, were dead, sucked dry, emptied of life. The sky was filled with red strokes, like blood twisting around the clouds. And the ground beneath my feet felt wrong—both solid and fluid at the same time, like walking on the surface of a cloud. The landscape seemed alive, shifting and changing as though it was aware of me, bending itself into a nightmare that would consume me if I let it.

This was not my meadow, my bubble. Here, I felt naked. There was no ward protecting me, no sun warming my arms. I closed my eyes. 

Think of the soft sun, Saeris, of damp green grass. 

I opened my eyes again, but nothing had changed. My left eye coiled, flickering with the Lyrium’s power. It felt borrowed, limited. 

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to concentrate. I had to remember what this was—a test. The Harrowing. They had sent me here to face a demon, to prove that I could resist its lure, its promises. If I could defeat the demon, I would survive. If I faltered... if I let it in... I would lose myself. My mind would belong to the Fade, and my body would be left for the Templars to deal with.

Death or Tranquillity. Those were the alternatives. And I didn’t know which one was worse.

I slumped forwards, following a rough path. Suddenly, a wisp appeared next to me, a small orb of greenish light. I smiled at it as it twirled around me, almost warming my cold arms.

‘Hey,' I grinned at it, ‘thanks.’

The wisp chittered, and then moved forward again, away from the path. Should I follow it? Or should I follow the path? 

‘Wait!’ I yelled, and the wisp stopped moving. I closed my right eye, only looking through my left one. I sighed disappointedly as the pure wisp shattered, a wraith taking its place. It wanted to deceive me, to lead me astray. 

‘Fenedhis,' I cursed at it. 

The wraith screeched angrily. Its plan had failed. 

I raised my hand as it leapt towards me, its magic curling angrily around its formless body. 

‘Disappear,’ I ordered. The wraith screeched again, its body evaporating into mist.

I continued on the path, which led deeper and deeper into the strange woods. This path probably leads to the owner of this place, which I presume was a demon. 

What kind of demon would it be? Would it be like the smoking presence, with red violating eyes? Would it take the form of my parents again? Of my brother? Of Daniel? Or Sybil? Would it tap into my desires? Would it search for my pride? For my fears? 

The path led towards a small open space and continued further behind it. The small open space was littered with rocks and dirt. 

There stood three mirrors in the centre, all facing each other. I crept closer. What would I see? The mirror to my left was the first one to catch my eye. Who was that? 

Oh. That was me from long, long ago. 

The girl in the mirror smiled back at me, her blonde hair waving around her tanned face, the freckles on her nose moving as she wiggled it. The little human girl looked up to me, her short, chubby hands reaching upward as if saying she wanted me to pick her up. Her round blue eyes sparkled with glee.

But I took a step back. ‘I’m sorry,' I whispered, ‘but you don’t exist anymore.’
The little girl looked down, fat tears dripping from her sad eyes. Then, she disappeared into thin air, the mirror now only showing an empty reflection. 

I looked at the mirror on my right now and staggered back. An old, elven woman knowingly nodded at me. She had long white hair and wrinkles waving over her ancient face. She was somewhat shorter than me, her back a little bit arched. But her eyes. My mouth fell open. I stared into my own eyes. One coral blue, the other emerald green. This was me, a me that could’ve been. Old, happy, ageing. The me that I yearned for. Mortal. The woman held out her hand as an open invitation, urging me to come to her world. 

I smiled sadly towards the woman. The child had existed once. Had lived. But this was nothing but fake. A path I would never walk on. I am not her. She’s but a dream.
The older me grinned and shook her head, almost proud. And then, she stepped away from the mirror’s frame. Into nothingness. A possibility never granted. And so, another mirror with an empty reflection. 

I sighed, bracing myself for the mirror in front of me.

But then I looked up and stared into nothing. There was no reflection. It almost seemed like I wasn’t there to begin with. Only the dry forest was reflected behind me. I was invisible. I snorted. I was invisible, lost in oblivion. Eternally there, but not at all. Maybe, the demon of this place had thought that this mirror would be the hardest one of all. And it would’ve been if I had looked into it before my reawakening. But now, this was just a stupid joke. I knew I had an impact on this world. I knew because I had loved, and others had loved me. And some may have forgotten me, and I wasn’t eternalised in history books, but I would never forget. And as long as I would not forget, I wouldn’t fall into oblivion. As long as I loved, I wouldn’t disappear into nothing. 

I am here. 

The mirror shattered then, shards splintering across the open space. I picked one up from the ground. And there I was, in the shards. Not whole, but I was there. Little pieces of me everywhere. Shattered, but real. And maybe that’s how history will remember me. Little pieces of me here and there, like a puzzle.

I smiled at the three mirrors. 

Nice try. 

I then turned on my heels to follow back the track towards whatever was at the end of it. I strolled through the dried-up forest again, hearing the silent buzzing of the wraiths circling me like predators. Sometimes, one dared to hover closer, miming voices from long ago, taunting me. 

‘Sister! Hey! Hey! Come on!’ Sybil’s voice laughed with glee, the wraith glowing and screeching as I let it dissolve with a flick of my hand. 

‘Dear, that’s not very nice,' mum’s voice scowled at me like she used to do. The wraith yelped as I spat at it, hiding back in the forest. 

The voices kept on coming for the remainder of the path. Just until it ended. Then, all of the wraiths silently cursed and disappeared into the treeline, their lights dousing within seconds, off to torment others. The path led onto a big open field, its grass burned down to charred stumps. It was a vast ocean of burned grass and flowers, an ocean of black. Do I know this place? I walked further into it and felt a strange sun almost burning my skin, the clouds a hovering warning above my head. It only occurred to me where I was, when I stepped onto something crunchy. I leapt as I saw what lay underneath my boots. 

‘No,' I softly whispered as I looked at the dead sparrow near my feet. Its wings were spread as if it wanted to fly away, but its body was scalded with cuts and burns. The eyes of the bird, its once lively beady eyes, were still open, staring at the sky above. Towards its home. I started shaking. I knew the birds weren’t real, they were a part of my imagination, but they were my birds, my dreams. I looked towards the rest of the burned meadow and saw how hundreds of birds lay on the ground. 

This was my meadow. My bubble. Destroyed. 

‘Saeris,’ A coarse voice lisped. 

In the centre of the meadow, a creature stood. It slithered toward me, its body a mass of writhing, pulsating shadows, shifting constantly as though it couldn’t settle on a single form. Its eyes—if they could even be called eyes—glowed a fiery orange, filled with a hunger that made my skin crawl. It was large, towering over me, its long limbs and tendrils twitching with a grotesque, predatory grace.

‘So fragile... so lost…’ the demon hissed, its voice curling through the air like poisoned honey. 

I stepped back, my heart hammering in my chest as I tried to summon my magic. But something was wrong. The power that usually flowed so easily through me felt sluggish here, stifled. The demon sensed my hesitation and took another step closer, its twisted mouth curling into a grotesque smile.

‘You seek power, don't you? Answers to the questions that plague you... I can help you, Saeris.’

I clenched my fists, forcing myself to stand my ground. ‘I don’t need your help,’ I spat, my voice shaking. ‘You’re a demon. I know what you are.’

The demon laughed, a low, rumbling sound that seemed to shake the very ground beneath me. ‘Do you? Do you truly know what I am? Or are you simply afraid? Afraid of the power that you hold within yourself... the power that you do not understand.’

Its words clawed at the edges of my mind, planting seeds of doubt. I forced myself to push them away. This was what demons did. They exploited your fears, twisted your desires, until you were nothing more than a puppet on their strings.

‘You’ve wandered for so long,’ the demon continued, its voice softening, almost coaxing. ‘Searching for answers, for purpose. But what have you found, Saeris? Nothing. You are alone, cast adrift in a world that doesn’t understand you. I can change that.’

My heart pounded in my chest, my breath coming in shallow gasps as I struggled to maintain control. The demon was getting closer, its tendrils reaching out toward me, and I could feel its presence pressing against my mind, probing, searching for weakness.

‘Join with me, and I will give you everything you desire,’ it whispered, its voice wrapping around me like a blanket. ‘You will no longer be a lost soul wandering the world. You will have power—true power. The kind that can reshape Thedas. The kind that can bring back those you have lost.’

The words hit me like a physical blow.

Bring back those you have lost.

Sybil. Daniel. The faces of the people I had loved and lost flashed before my eyes, the grief and pain I had buried for so long rising up like a wave, threatening to consume me. If I accepted the demon’s offer, I could undo it all. I could bring them back. I wouldn’t have to be alone anymore.

My hand trembled, the temptation almost unbearable.

But then I saw the truth in the demon’s eyes—the hunger, the emptiness behind the promises. It didn’t want to help me. It wanted to consume me. To devour everything that I was, until nothing remained but a shell filled with its darkness.

I gritted my teeth, forcing the memories of Sybil and Daniel out of my mind. They were gone. I couldn’t bring them back. No matter how much I wanted to.

‘I won’t,’ I whispered, my voice low but firm. ‘I won’t fall for your lies.’

The demon’s smile twisted into a snarl, its patience wearing thin. ‘You are a fool, Saeris. You do not understand the power you possess. But you will... you will.’

With a roar, the demon lunged at me, its shadowy tendrils lashing out like whips. I raised my hands, summoning what little magic I could, and a burst of flame erupted from my fingertips, slamming into the demon’s body.

It screamed, a high-pitched wail of pain, but it wasn’t enough. The demon’s form shifted again, its body expanding and contracting as it reformed itself, its tendrils wrapping around my legs, pulling me down.

I struggled, panic surging through me as I tried to break free. The demon’s power was overwhelming, smothering, crushing me. Its eyes glowed brighter, and I could feel it pressing against my mind again, trying to break through.

‘Submit,’ it hissed, its voice like nails scraping against my skull. ‘You cannot resist me.’

For a moment, I faltered. The pain, the exhaustion—it was too much. The demon’s voice was so loud, its power so strong. Maybe I couldn’t resist. Maybe I should just give in, let it take me. Maybe it would be easier.

But then, through the haze of pain and fear, I remembered the meadow. My sanctuary. The place I had created in the Fade, where I was in control. Where I was strong. This meadow was an abomination, an illusion. The birds, the charred grass, the dead tree. It’s fake.

I closed my eyes, focusing on my own space in the Fade. The flowers. The tree. The peace.

The demon’s voice grew distant, its grip on my mind loosening as I concentrated. Slowly, the power inside me began to stir again. I opened my eyes, and the demon’s face twisted in confusion as it felt the shift in the air. With a roar of defiance, I summoned everything I had left, and a torrent of ice shot from my hands, encasing the demon in a prison of frost. The creature howled, thrashing wildly as the ice tightened around it, freezing it in place.

The air around me crackled with power as I took a step forward, my hands glowing. The demon’s eyes widened in fear as it realised what was happening.

‘No,’ it snarled, its voice trembling with rage. ‘You cannot do this. You are mine!’

I raised my hand, summoning one final blast of magic, and with a surge of energy, I unleashed it upon the demon.

The ice shattered, and the demon’s form disintegrated into nothingness, its wail of fury and pain fading into the void.

The silence that followed was deafening.

***

‘She’s awake!' Simon yelled as I opened my eyes. 

I stared at the high ceiling of the Great Hall of the Circle. The cold stone walls greeted me, and the flickering light of the brazier cast long shadows on the floor. It took me a second to realise I was still alive. I was perfectly fine. I rattled a shaky breath as I sat up, the chamber turning upside down together with my stomach. The Templars all still encircled me, staring with their swords drawn. But Lydia pushed them aside as she squatted next to me and smiled. 

‘Congratulations,' the First Enchanter took a step forward, his face a stern mask. But I swear I could see some pride slip from underneath. ‘You are now a Circle Mage.’

Notes:

Some dialogue was taken from Dragon Age: Origins.

If you liked it, you can always leave me a comment or a kudo!

Chapter 15: Encircled

Enchanters,
The time has come to be alive
In the Circle of Magi, where we will thrive,
With our brothers.

Enchanters remind
That time will not unwind.
The dragon’s crooked spine,
Will never straighten into line.

What we plea will be
A faithful end decree,
Where a man will not retreat
From the defeat of his fathers.

Enchanters,
A time has come for battle lines.
We will cut these knotted ties,
And some may live and some may die.

Enchanter, come to me
Enchanter, come to me
Enchanter, come to see
Can you, can’t you come to see,
As you once were blind
In the light now you can sing?
In our strength we can rely,
And history will not repeat.

Enchanter, come to me
Enchanter, come to me
Enchanter, come to see
Can you, can’t you come to see,
As you once were blind
In the light now you can sing?
In our strength we can rely,

And history will not repeat.

***

‘No!’ I screamed as Tibald grabbed my biceps harder, holding me in place. I cried while I wriggled against his cold armour. 

‘Stay still now, Saeris, it will be over soon,' First Enchanter Delbert said as he held a strange knife against the palm of my hand that Tibald was holding in place. 

‘Don’t—!’ I yelped as I felt the cold knife sliding against my flesh, cutting it open. A strange magic seeped into it, claiming it. I wanted to get it out of me. I felt sparks dancing over my fingertips—a warning.

‘You cannot refuse this,’ Delbert hissed, coming closer to my face as he held the knife strongly against my throbbing cut, and whispered sternly, ‘If you resist, we will have no choice but to make you Tranquil. Now stop fidgeting or he’ll smite you again.’

I swallowed hard and stared into the Enchanter’s eyes, feeling the raw fury and helplessness bubbling inside me, but I forced myself to remain still. If I fought them now, there would be no coming back. I couldn’t afford to lose everything. Not yet. 

I let the sparks fly, feeling Tibald relax behind me. I could almost hear him smirk. 

‘Please, I don’t want this,' I begged, feeling how my voice got more desperate by the minute. 

Delbert shook his head and lifted my hand downwards. That was when I felt how the strange magic was curling itself around my blood, pushing it outwards. I felt it taking something extra out of me, like a real part of me, not just my blood.  A part of me was lost forever to the strange vial Delbert was holding underneath my cut. The glass vial had golden swirls on it and strangely glowed when my blood seeped into it. No, wait, it wasn’t the vial that was glowing. It was my own blood. What kind of magic was this? 

‘This is a phylactery,' Delbert started as if he saw the questions troubling my eyes, ‘which contains an essence of your magic.’

I swallowed while looking at my glowing blood. 

‘With this handy little thing, I will be able to hunt your pretty face down if you would ever escape.’ Tibald leaned closer, and I felt his breath tickling the hairs of my neck. ‘There’s no place in Thedas for you to hide,' he smirked and took the phylactery from Delbert’s hands. 

‘Where are you taking it!' I grunted as Tibald threw me into another Templar’s hands, who grabbed me even harder than Tibald had. 

‘Far away,' he smirked. 

Shit! No! I need to destroy it! I need to get out of here! I need to get home!

I wriggled again, feeling how my power slowly returned to my body. I will burn this place down before they can take that thing away. I knew I could. Just one flick of my hand and all of these people would be dead. 

Delbert took a step closer, and I saw something in his eyes that mimicked something apologetic.

‘Fen'Harel ma halam,' I swore at him as he tried getting closer. 

Tibald’s laugh roared through the room, almost shaking the walls. ‘Throwing curses no one understands won’t get you far.’ He smirked at me.

I glared at him, biting back the retort on my lips. 

‘Now, your belongings,’ Tibald said, gesturing toward the cloak and dagger I had carried with me for so many years. 

Delbert’s gaze lingered on the dagger as he picked it up. His brow furrowed slightly, and for a moment, I thought he would keep it, examine it, but then his expression hardened. ‘It will be stored with the rest of your belongings. These items are no longer yours.’ He locked them away in a small chest, sealing it with an arcane ward.

I clenched my jaw, feeling the loss deeply. They were stripping me of everything. My identity. My independence. My power.

In exchange, Tibald held out a small, cold ring—its silver surface gleaming faintly in the dim light. The ring had blue strands curling all over the metallic band. The blue was glowing. ‘This ring is infused with Lyrium,’ he explained, his tone bored and matter-of-fact. ‘It marks you as one of the Circle’s mages. A symbol of you and of you belonging to this respected institution.’ 

Delbert held his head up high as he took the ring from Tibald and slid it on my ring finger. I wanted to throw it out. It felt wrong. Like so many things in this place. 

‘As Knight-Commander of the Circle of Ostwick,' Tibald took a step forward, his brows furrowed, ‘I welcome you,' he glared at me again, ‘mage.’ 

I stared at the ring for a moment. The moment it had been slid onto my finger, I felt the faint thrum of Lyrium pulsing through it, pricking familiarly.

‘You will be taken to the living quarters now,’ Delbert said, his voice softer than Tibald’s but no less authoritative. ‘You’ll join the others who have passed the Harrowing.’

They led me through the tower, past more heavy stone doors and down narrow corridors. We passed a large room—the apprentices’ quarters. My heart sank as I looked inside. There were children there—young boys and girls, no older than ten. Some were reading, others practising minor spells, their faces bright with hope or nervous determination.

Children. They were keeping children in this prison.

Any thought of blowing up my way through the tower—of somehow escaping with a show of power—was crushed in that moment. How could I endanger them? These innocent lives, who had no choice but to follow the path laid before them by the Circle?

I clenched my fists, swallowing the rising tide of frustration and anger. Escape wasn’t an option. Not now. Not like this.

We moved higher up to the tower, passing through another set of heavy, iron-locked doors. The living quarters inside were dimly lit, filled with the quiet murmur of voices and the occasional sound of magic being practised in secret corners. These were the mages who had survived the Harrowing, like me. Some looked wary, others resigned. A few turned to glance at me as I passed, their expressions hollow.

‘This will is where you will sleep,’ Delbert said, stopping before a small, plain room with a narrow bed and a desk. ‘You will have time to settle in. You’ll be introduced to the others in the Mage’s Quarters in due time.’ Delbert gave me one last look before turning to leave. ‘Don’t test your boundaries, Saeris. The Templars are always watching.’

Tibald stared at me with open hostility. I knew he’d turn me Tranquil without a second thought. With a nod, he ordered the Templar holding me to let go. With one hard shove, I was led into the room. The door closed with a heavy thud, and the silence that followed felt deafening.

I sat on the edge of the narrow bed, staring at the cold stone wall, tracing my finger around the silver band of the Lyrium-infused ring, the faint glow of it mocking me. I had come so far, survived so much, and now I was here—trapped, like so many others before me. My thoughts spiralled—anger, fear, confusion. All I could think about was how I had saved a life and ended up a prisoner for it. My dagger, my cloak, everything that had made me feel like me was gone. And worse, there was no way out of this place without endangering innocent lives.

Then, a knock. Soft at first, but it made me flinch.

For a moment, I thought about ignoring it, curling deeper into myself, but the knock came again. More insistent.

‘Saeris? May I come in?’ A woman's voice, gentle but steady.

I stood up reluctantly, and crossed the small room and pulled open the door. Standing there was a woman dressed in the familiar robes of an enchanter—deep blue with silver accents. She had kind eyes, and her long brown hair was neatly braided over her shoulder. She was smiling, in a way that felt genuine, but I was too suspicious to fully accept it.

‘I'm Senior Enchanter Lydia,’ she said, inclining her head slightly. ‘I was at your Harrowing.’ She stood there patiently, waiting for a response I wasn’t sure I had the energy to give. ‘May I come in?’ she asked again, her tone soft, but still, there was no pressure in it. Just an offer.

I hesitated, then nodded. I stepped back to let her in. She walked in calmly, her hands folded neatly in front of her as she took in the small, bare room.

‘Thank you,’ she said as she stepped inside. ‘I know it’s... difficult. Adjusting to life in the Circle can be overwhelming for anyone, especially for someone who’s spent so long outside of it.’

I crossed my arms, leaning back against the wall. ‘I didn’t exactly ask to be here,’ I muttered, my voice harsher than I intended. 

Lydia turned to face me, her eyes softening with understanding. ‘Most are not here by choice, that is true. But perhaps you should consider yourself lucky, you were spared the Gallows in Kirkwall, Saeris. Apostates like yourself—ones who have evaded the Circle so long—usually don't receive such… mercy. The Templar who brought you in, the one you saved, has asked the Chantry this favour—for a chance here at Ostwick.’

‘Lucky?’ I scoffed, looking away.

‘I know it feels… as a punishment, being here,’ she said gently. ‘But this is not the end. You survived your Harrowing, which many don’t. And the Circle, as difficult as it may seem now, is not a prison. It can be a place of learning, a place to find purpose. You were brought in later than most, but that doesn’t mean you can’t still make something of your time here.’

I felt a flicker of resentment, but decided to stay silent. No good would come of me cursing the first person who was trying to be kind to me… I had to focus on surviving… on escaping. 

Lydia studied me quietly for a moment before speaking again. ‘Most mages who are brought to the Circle come as children. They study for years, as apprentices, before ever facing the Harrowing. You’ve skipped all of that—because of your circumstances—but that also means you’ve missed the opportunity to adjust gradually. The others—’ She hesitated, as if searching for the right words. ‘They’re curious about you. It is not common for them to meet new people their age, especially someone so different—.’ 

‘Different?’ I repeated, bitterness creeping into my voice. They have no idea. If not for my apparent age, the eye would mark me as strange in any circumstance. Earlier, Delbert had asked about my glowing eye before cutting my damn hand open. ‘Just a birthmark,' I had lied. And he had just gazed at me, seeing how my eye curled and twisted. The smithing, the Lyrium concoction, and now the Lyrium ring had diffused whatever magic was stuck inside my green eye, so they seemed content to let it be for now.

Lydia smiled gently. ‘Some might be wary, yes. You do have a... unique appearance. But they’re young, and in time, they’ll come to see who you really are.’

I stared at the ground. This was not going according to my plan. Years of wandering, and I finally had a thread to follow…

‘Come with me,’ Lydia said, stepping toward the door. ‘Let me introduce you to the others. You’ve passed the Harrowing, so you belong here, with the mages. They’ve heard about you, and while their imaginations may have run wild, meeting them will help them see you as one of them. And you might find it helps you too.’

I hesitated. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to meet anyone else. I didn’t want to be paraded around like some spectacle— Look at the apostate who survived. But Lydia was patient, her eyes soft and kind.

‘Just a quick introduction,’ she added. ‘Then you can come back here if you need to. I know how overwhelming it can be. Especially at first.’

I sighed and nodded. What choice did I really have? I couldn’t hide away in this room forever. 

Lydia’s smile widened, and she gestured for me to follow her. I stepped out into the corridor, walking alongside her as we made our way deeper into the Mages’ Quarters. The walls were lined with portraits of past First Enchanters and Senior Enchanters, their eyes watching us silently as we passed. The faint hum of magic filled the air, a constant reminder of where we were.

As we approached the common room, I could hear the low murmur of voices. Young mages—most of them in their early twenties, though they looked barely older than teenagers—were gathered there, talking, practising spells, or reading from books piled high on the tables. Some were human, others elven, but they all seemed to pause when I entered the room.

Their eyes flickered toward me, some curious, some cautious. I could feel their stares lingering on my face—on my mismatched eyes, on the way I stood slightly apart from Lydia, tense and guarded. I could almost hear their thoughts: Is she a blood mage? Is she dangerous?

Lydia placed a gentle hand on my arm. ‘Everyone, this is Saeris,’ she said warmly, her voice cutting through the silence. ‘She passed her Harrowing and will be joining us in the quarters.’

The tension in the room lifted slightly as a few of the mages exchanged glances, their curiosity outweighing their fear. One of the younger human mages, a boy barely in his twenties, leaned toward his friend and whispered, loud enough for me to hear, ‘Do you think she’s a blood mage? Look at her eyes…’

Another mage, an elven girl with bright amber hair, frowned. ‘Apostates are always dangerous,’ she said under her breath.

I clenched my fists, feeling the heat rise in my chest, but Lydia squeezed my arm gently, reminding me to breathe. ‘In time,’ she had said. 

***

As soon as Lydia left me in the common room, the mages around me had quieted their murmurs and whispers, their curiosity turning into something more direct. I wasn’t sure if it was because I had passed my Harrowing without being trained in their ways, or because of my strange appearance—my mismatched eyes, or the way I carried myself with the stiffness of someone who didn’t belong. But soon enough, a few of them worked up the courage to approach me. Two mages—young, barely past their teenage years, like most of them—came over, their expressions a mix of curiosity and caution.

‘You’re Saeris, right?’ the human boy asked. He had a mop of dark hair and an eager look in his eyes. ‘We’ve heard about you. One of the Templars said you were an apostate.’

I forced myself to relax, hiding the tension behind a practised calm. ‘I was,’ I said carefully, knowing I had to tread lightly. ‘But I’m here now.’

The other mage, an elven girl with freckles and bright green eyes, tilted her head. ‘How did you survive for so long without training? The Templars say it’s dangerous to live without the Circle’s protection. How did you manage?’

Their eyes were wide with curiosity, eager for answers—answers I couldn’t give them. I couldn’t tell them the truth. That I had been on the run for far longer than they could comprehend, that I had learned magic not in a tower, but through experience, trial and error, and the guidance of Keepers, Witches and Seers.

I had to lie.

‘I kept my head down,’ I said, offering them a small, tight smile. ‘Learned what I could when I had the chance. I avoided the Templars as best I could. It wasn’t easy.’

‘How did you evade them for so long?’ the boy pressed, clearly fascinated. ‘They always seem to find apostates eventually.’

‘I moved constantly,’ I replied, keeping my voice steady. ‘Never stayed in one place for too long. Thedas is a big place. And there are plenty of places where even Templars don’t want to go.’

The girl nodded, though her expression was sceptical. ‘And you just survived... without a Circle? Without tutors?’

I shrugged, keeping my tone light. ‘I had help along the way. People who taught me what they could. I managed.’

It was enough for now. They didn’t need to know who my “tutors” had been, that I had spent decades longer than any of them mastering my magic through sheer willpower and experience. They couldn’t know that I was older than I appeared, that the years of wandering had worn me down in ways they couldn’t imagine.

The boy seemed impressed, but his expression darkened a little as he leaned closer, lowering his voice. ‘But... if it was so easy to avoid them, why didn’t you just... stay free? Why come here?’

I raised an eyebrow. ‘Come? I didn’t come here, not freely. And besides, why don’t you leave? You are mages, you could escape if you could, no?’

The boy paled at my suggestion, his eyes flickering nervously toward the door, as if he feared someone might overhear us. ‘The Circle... keeps us safe. Most of us... we don’t want to escape.’

The girl glanced around, making sure no one else was too close, and whispered, ‘They don’t always tell us everything about what happens outside. We hear stories, but... we’re protected here. Escaping... it’s not that simple.’

I frowned, leaning in slightly. ‘Protected? You’re trapped here. How is that protection?’

The boy’s voice dropped even lower, barely more than a whisper. ‘Six years ago, an Enchanter escaped. No one knew where he went, and they couldn’t track him down. They couldn’t find his phylactery. So, do you know what the Templars did?’

I shook my head, my pulse quickening. His eyes darted nervously around the room before continuing, ‘They couldn’t punish him, so they found another mage—one who had passed the Harrowing, just like you—and they turned him Tranquil instead.’

A cold dread settled in my stomach as his words sank in.

‘They made him Tranquil,’ the boy repeated, his voice trembling. ‘Not because he had done anything wrong, but as a message. To us. To everyone. If you escape... you have to live with the knowledge that they’ll punish someone else in your place. Someone who had nothing to do with it.’

I felt a wave of nausea roll through me. Tranquility. That horrifying fate—the stripping away of all emotions, of one’s connection to the Fade. To be turned into an empty shell, obedient and emotionless, was the worst punishment a mage could suffer. And they had done it to someone innocent.

‘They’ll do it again if they have to,’ the girl added, her voice barely audible. ‘They always remind us... if one of us runs, someone else will pay the price.’

I stared at the two young mages. I had lived my life in defiance of the Circle, evading the Templars, refusing to be caged. But here, these mages—these children, really—had been raised in fear. Fear of their power, fear of the Templars, and fear of what would happen if they dared to think of freedom.

‘So you stay,’ I said softly, more to myself than to them. ‘Because if you run…’

The boy nodded, his eyes wide with a grim understanding. ‘You doom someone else.’

I felt a cold shiver run down my spine. I had thought escape was an option, that I could find a way out. But now, I understood the depths of the Circle’s cruelty. They didn’t just trap you with walls and guards. They trapped you with guilt, with the threat of someone else’s suffering.

A heavy silence fell between us, and I could see the fear in their eyes, the hopelessness. The weight of their lives under the thumb of the Templars, with no true path to freedom. They had accepted it. They had accepted that their lives would be spent within these stone walls.

But I couldn’t. Not yet.

I straightened, forcing a small smile. ‘Thanks for telling me,’ I said quietly, though their words lingered. ‘I’ll... keep that in mind.’

The boy gave a weak nod, and the two of them drifted back into the room, their curiosity satisfied, though the air between us still felt heavy.

I stood there for a moment, staring at the spot where they had been, the cold reality of the Circle settling over me like a shroud.

This was more than a prison.

It was a place that twisted the minds of the people trapped inside. Not just with chains, but with fear.

And it was a fear I wasn’t sure I could escape.

***

Deciding I wasn’t feeling chatty, I retraced my steps back to my room. The Circle was dark, there were no windows here, no natural light. Just the heavy darkness that clung to everything. It felt like a tomb—sealing us away from the rest of the world.

The winding corridors that turned around the common room were lit by long braziers every few steps. Between each of the braziers was a door that I guessed led to the other mage’s rooms. So many doors… so many prisoners. 

My thoughts lingered on the conversation I’d had with the young mages. The whispered warnings about Tranquility, about what happened to those who ran. The fear in their eyes had been so palpable, and I couldn’t shake the cold dread that had settled in my chest.

Was there truly no way out? Could I live like this—trapped, always watched, bound to the Circle by more than just its walls?

I was so lost in thought that I didn’t hear the footsteps behind me until it was too late.

‘Saeris,’ a voice called, smooth and low.

I froze, my body tensing instinctively. I turned slowly, and there he was— Simon . The Templar I had saved as well as the one who had taken me here to this prison. He stood a few feet away, his armour gleaming faintly in the dim light of the braziers, his helmet tucked under his arm. He was young, maybe in his twenties, and handsome in a way that was meant to disarm. His brown hair was tousled slightly, his features sharp and clean. But his eyes… his eyes held an ugly gleam, something dark and predatory lurking beneath the surface.

He smiled, a small, practised thing that didn’t reach those eyes.

‘I was hoping to catch you,’ he said, taking a few steps closer. ‘I wanted to thank you. Again. For saving my life back there. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be standing here right now.’

I didn’t move, my pulse quickening. Anger flared in my chest, hot and sharp. He had dragged me here. After I saved him, he had turned me over to the Circle like I was some dangerous animal. And now he wanted to pretend he was grateful?

‘You have a strange way of showing gratitude,’ I said coldly, crossing my arms over my chest. ‘Or was dragging me to the Circle supposed to be a reward?’

His smile didn’t falter, but I could see something flash in his eyes—something darker. He took another step closer, and I resisted the urge to step back.

‘I’m sorry about that,’ Simon said, his tone softening, as if he was trying to soothe me. ‘I didn’t have a choice. It’s... my duty, you understand. But I didn’t want you to be taken to the Gallows. I spoke up for you. That’s why you’re here in Ostwick, not Kirkwall.’

I narrowed my eyes at him, not buying his act for a second. ‘And I’m supposed to thank you for that? For locking me up here instead?’

His smile widened, and he shrugged, his eyes trailing over me in a way that made my skin crawl. ‘I think you’ll find that Ostwick isn’t so bad. I’ll make sure of it.’

I stiffened, every instinct screaming at me to get away from him. There was something wrong with the way he was looking at me, something unsettling in the way his eyes lingered just a little too long. He was attractive, sure, in that charming, dangerous way some men were. But that gleam in his eyes—it wasn’t just interest. It was something more possessive, something hungry.

He took another step, and I could smell the faint scent of steel and sweat coming off him. ‘I’ll look out for you,’ he said, his voice dropping just enough to make his intent clear. ‘You don’t have to worry about a thing while I’m around.’

My mind flashed back, unbidden, to what Daniel had once told me about his mother—the Tranquil mage who had left the Circle. She had been abused there, by Templars who were supposed to be protecting her. That same ugly feeling crept up my spine now, as I stood there, staring at Simon.

He wasn’t hiding his attraction to me. He wasn’t even trying to.

I could feel the heat of anger rising in me, my fists clenching at my sides. I wanted to lash out, to tell him to leave me alone, but I knew I had to be careful. The Templars controlled everything here. One wrong move, one outburst, and they’d have reason to punish me. To make me Tranquil.

Simon noticed my discomfort, his eyes narrowing just slightly, but he didn’t press further. He let out a soft laugh, his smile turning lazy, as though he enjoyed seeing me squirm. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said lightly. ‘I won’t push. You’re new here. You’ll come around.’

My jaw clenched, the words sticking in my throat. He was toying with me, playing this game, knowing full well I had no power here. And he enjoyed it.

He stepped back, finally giving me space, though his eyes lingered on me for a moment too long. ‘I’ll be seeing you around, Saeris,’ he said, his voice dripping with insinuation.

Then, with a casual wave, he turned and walked away, his armour clinking softly in the stillness of the corridor.

I stood there for a moment, the cold air pressing in around me, my heart still racing. 

Shaking off the sick feeling in my gut, I turned back toward my room. The door clicked softly behind me as I shut it, and I exhaled, trying to calm the storm inside me. I leaned against the wall, the cold stone grounding me, but my thoughts were spinning.

I couldn’t let this happen. I couldn’t let him get under my skin. But the warning was clear: I wasn’t safe. Not even here.

***

‘Saeris.’

I opened my eyes and the blue sky greeted me. I sighed. This is right. The grass tickled my cheeks as I stretched my limbs. Instead of cold stone walls, a field was encircling me now. The sun was again a warming presence. This was my meadow, my home, my bubble. No demon could ever burn it, no Templar could ever take it away. This was mine. 

A little sparrow chirped as it twirled through the air and landed on my knee.

‘Hey, da’len, want some snacks, yes?’ I giggled at it. 

But the little brown bird cocked its head and spread its wings wide. How curious. Normally it just wanted some breadcrumbs. Yet, now the bird just took off again into the air. It hovered for a while, almost urging me to stand up. And I obliged. I huffed as I rolled over from the grass and jumped up. The sparrow chirped contentedly as it cocked its little head again. 

‘Do you want me to follow?’ I grinned as the sparrow playfully leapt through the air. 

I’ll take that as a yes. 

The sparrow then hovered further and further away, each time waiting for me to follow. And I did, taking one step in front of the other until I was at the border of my bubble, near the tree line. As usual, multiple presences lurked behind the trees, trying to catch a glimpse of my paradise. But then I saw something familiar. It didn’t hide behind a tree, or lurk in the dark, it just walked slowly from underneath the shadows. 

‘Andaran atish’an, Saeris,' the spirit of Learning said as it hovered closer to the border of my bubble. 

I took a step back and covered my right eye with my hand. Yet, Learning’s appearance didn’t change or transform. This was no disguise. This was the spirit itself. 

‘Aneth ara,' I mumbled as I took a step closer again. 

‘Elan gara? May I enter?’ Learning spoke, her voice an echoing whisper. 

‘Vin,' I said as I put my hand on my invisible ward. A small doorway appeared, only seen by me and those I permitted to enter. Learning’s body buzzed as she hovered through the portal. 

‘I come to give you guidance, lasa ghilan,' Learning spoke as she walked towards the centre of the meadow. 

I followed and stood behind her as I sighed, ‘Yes, I need your help. I need to learn how to get out of here. Mana. Ma halani.’

‘I know,' Learning hummed somewhat sadly, ‘yet, my guidance will not get you out of where you are now. Not without death and guilt.’

‘Isn’t there a way?’

‘Din, no, Saeris,' Learning came closer to where I stood, her presence glowing a compassionate warmth onto my skin, ‘I can only tell you to wait, iselena, for there will come a time when you will flee your prison without heaving guilt on your shoulders.’

‘But… I don’t want to wait. I want to go home.’

‘Yet, you must.’

‘For how long?’

‘I do not know,' Learning whispered, ‘but there will come a time to rebel, harilla, once more.’

‘But when!’ I cried desperately. For how long must I stay in this damned prison?

‘I cannot tell, Saeris,' Learning cocked her head, ‘yet, blood will be spilt.’

‘WAIT!’ I yelled as I felt a familiar tingling feeling. 

I was waking up. 

***

I jolted awake at the sound of my door being flung open, the loud bang rattling the silence of my room. My heart raced as I sat up, blinking in confusion as a figure stormed into the room with the kind of energy I hadn’t expected this early in the morning—at least I think it was morning.

A human girl stood at the foot of my bed, her arms crossed over her chest. She was pretty, in a sharp, impatient sort of way—her blonde hair pulled back into a loose bun, her eyes gleaming with annoyance. Without a word, she kicked at the woodwork of my bed frame, a loud thud echoing in the small room.

‘Get up,’ she ordered, her voice carrying a harsh edge.

Before I could even gather my thoughts or protest, she tossed a bundle of dark robes onto the bed, the fabric landing in a heap beside me. ‘These are yours now,’ she said, her tone making it clear this wasn’t a friendly gesture. ‘Put them on and get to class. You’re supposed to be at the library on the fifth floor. It’s not that hard to find.’

I stared at her, blinking the sleep out of my eyes. My patience was hanging by a thread. ‘And you are?’

‘Ruth,’ she replied curtly. ‘Head of the Mages Quarter. Now get up, apostate. ’

I narrowed my eyes, tempted to snap something back, but before I could get a word in, Ruth turned on her heel and left, her steps echoing down the hall. She hadn’t even bothered to wait for a response, and something about her attitude grated on me. I swung my legs out of bed and grabbed the robes, my mind still a blur of irritation.

The robes felt stiff and unfamiliar as I pulled them on, the fabric heavier than what I was used to. Another reminder of the cage I now found myself in. And now, it seemed, I had classes to attend—whether I wanted to or not.

Great.

Navigating the tower was another thing entirely. The corridors twisted and turned in ways that made no sense, the lack of windows or clear landmarks disorienting me. There were no maps on the walls, no signs to tell me which floor I was on. It felt like a maze, and I was starting to wonder if getting lost was just another part of the Circle’s way of keeping everyone in line.

I found myself walking through an unfamiliar hall, the sound of my own footsteps echoing in the stillness. As I passed by one of the doors, something caught my eye—a classroom, or what had once been one. Inside, the walls were decorated with children's paintings—bright, colourful splashes of innocence against the cold stone. 

But that wasn’t what made me pause.

Inside the room, I spotted Lydia. She was standing close to Tibald, his back turned to me as they whispered to each other. Lydia leaned into him, her hand resting on his arm. He grunted deeply as Lydia’s other hand trailed to his crotch, moving hard over the fabric between the slits of the armour there. Tibald moved even closer to her, then kissed her hard on her mouth, sucking her swollen lips. Lydia moaned softly. 

I froze, tiptoeing past the door, not wanting to disturb them. But before I could make it past, Lydia opened her eyes and saw me over Tibald’s shoulder.

Her eyes widened, and for a moment, her posture stiffened as she pulled away from Tibald. She quickly recomposed herself, smoothing down her robes as if nothing had happened. Tibald remained unfazed, his gaze sliding over me with that same cold indifference I had come to expect from him.

‘Saeris,’ Lydia said, her voice steady but slightly strained, ‘what are you doing here?’

I opened my mouth to respond, unsure of what to say, but Lydia didn’t wait for an answer. She stepped forward, her expression softening slightly. ‘You look lost. Where are you supposed to be?’

‘The library,’ I muttered, trying to hide the embarrassment creeping into my voice. ‘I... got turned around.’

Lydia offered me a small, understanding smile. ‘It’s easy to get lost in the tower. I can help you find your way.’

I hesitated for a moment, glancing at Tibald, who remained standing near the back of the room, watching us with that same impassive stare. He didn’t seem the least bit awkward about what I’d just walked in on. If anything, he seemed bored by my presence, as if my stumbling across their private moment meant nothing to him.

He gave Lydia a brief nod before turning and leaving the room without another word. The clanking of his armour echoed down the hall as he disappeared, leaving me alone with Lydia.

She stepped closer, her kind eyes meeting mine. ‘Don’t mind him,’ she said softly. ‘He’s... like that with everyone.’

I nodded, unsure of what else to say. She gestured for me to follow her, and I fell into step beside her as she led me down the corridor and up a winding staircase, the stone steps worn smooth by centuries of footsteps. The further we went, the quieter the tower became, the soft murmurs of the mages below fading into the distance. At the top of the stairs, she opened a heavy wooden door, and I was greeted by the sight of the library.

The rotunda was vast, far larger than I had expected, with towering shelves that stretched up toward the ceiling, each packed with books, scrolls, and tomes. The air was thick with the scent of parchment. Lanterns flickered softly on the tables in the corner, where a few mages sat, their heads bowed as they pored over texts. 

Lydia gestured to a figure standing in front of the desks—an elderly man, his expression utterly blank. He moved with slow, deliberate motions and spoke so monotone that some of the mages in front of him swayed with sleep. 

‘This is Master Pietrich,’ Lydia said softly and guided me to him. ‘He’s one of the Tranquil who teaches here. The Tranquil and the Formari handle many of the lessons, though Senior Enchanters like myself teach as well.’ She gave me a gentle smile, as though trying to soften the strangeness of it all. ‘They are very efficient and knowledgeable. Don’t be alarmed by the way they speak.’

I’d heard about the Tranquil before, but seeing one up close was unsettling in a way I hadn’t been prepared for. His face was devoid of any emotion—no anger, no happiness, no sadness. Just a blank, serene mask. His eyes, once perhaps full of life, now reflected nothing but cold neutrality. There was no light in them, no spark of what made him... human.

Master Pietrich turned to me, his gaze settling on my face without a flicker of judgement or curiosity. ‘You are late,’ he said in a flat, even tone. ‘According to your timetable, you are expected here promptly at the beginning of the lesson.’

I blinked, caught off guard. ‘Timetable?’

Master Pietrich nodded, though the gesture was devoid of warmth. ‘Your schedule can be found in the common room. All mages are expected to be aware of their timetable and follow it precisely. Such matters are considered basic knowledge within the Circle.’

I frowned, my annoyance rising. No one had told me anything about a timetable. Lydia had been kind enough to show me around, but Ruth... I turned my head just in time to see Ruth, who was sitting behind one of the desks, with a smug grin on her face. She snickered, clearly pleased with herself.

She didn’t tell me on purpose.

I forced myself to nod at the Tranquil teacher. ‘I’ll... make sure I check it.’

Master Pietrich simply turned back to his books, already forgetting I existed. ‘See that you do.’

Lydia gave me an apologetic smile before walking back the way we had come. I found a seat at one of the tables, trying to ignore the feeling of being back in school, a teenager again, fumbling my way through this new, rigid system.

I had expected to learn more about magic, to start developing some new skills or refine what I already knew. But as the lesson continued, I quickly realised this was something else entirely. The Tranquil’s emotionless voice droned on about the Canticle of Apotheosis , one of the many chapters from the Chant of Light —the Chantry’s sacred text. His lecture was thorough, if dull, detailing the history of the Maker’s return and the founding of the Chantry.

It was a lesson in theology, not magic. I sat there, half-listening, my mind drifting. The day dragged on, and all we learned about were the verses of the Chant of Light , the importance of faith, and the dangers of demons. By the time the class ended, I felt like I had learned nothing of use. 

The coming days were no different. I attended more classes, each one more mundane than the last. The focus wasn’t on teaching magic, at least not in the way I had expected. What little magic we did learn was basic—protective spells, wards, and enchantments. There was nothing beyond the surface, nothing that allowed us to truly explore the depths of magic. And I quickly learned why. The Circle didn’t trust us. They taught us only what was necessary, enough to keep us useful and manageable. The more powerful mages, those who excelled, were often sent outside the tower to serve in noble houses or to perform tasks for the Chantry.

‘I knew a young mage a few years back,’ Ruth boasted one afternoon, her voice carrying through the room as she leaned against one of the tables, her smug grin ever-present. ‘Vivienne was her name. She was transferred to Montsimmard, the Grand Circle in Orlais. Quite the talent, that one.’

I raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Montsimmard, in Orlais. The heart of the Chantry’s power. Ruth spoke about it as though it were a dream come true, but the thought of being sent there, to the heart of the Orlesian Chantry, sent a cold shiver down my spine. I had no intention of ending up in Orlais.

Still, I stayed quiet, playing along, blending in. I needed time to figure out what to do, and as much as I hated it, this was the safest place for now. Ostwick wasn’t far from Ferelden, and I could at least take some small comfort in that. It wasn’t Orlais.

But one thing was certain: I wouldn’t be showing the full extent of my powers here. Not yet.

I could feel the eyes of the Templars on me whenever I walked through the halls. I could feel Simon’s lingering presence, his promises hanging like a noose around my neck. And Ruth, always watching, waiting for me to slip up so she could sneer. The Circle wasn’t just a prison—it was a test, every day, to see who could survive, who could comply.

For now, I would play their game. I would learn what I needed to, pretend to fit in. Overall, the mages here all thought I was just a terrible mage. But in the end, maybe that was for the best. 

And so I waited. Time felt different here: without being able to see what was going on outside, everything became a blur quite quickly. Had it been months? Years? Or just mere seconds? But the waiting, the unknowing, it was like torture, especially when I heard whispers of Blights, Archdemons flying about and a Qunari invasion in Kirkwall.

But I would get out of here. My home was waiting for me, and I would go there. Time would not hold me, it never did. And while heroes raged over Thedas and legends were made, I sat in the cold tower and waited for my time.

And my time would come very soon. 

Notes:

I was writing this chapter, and it turned out way too long, so I'm splitting it into two. This is so the introduction of the Circle to Saeris, and her first days as a circle mage/apprentice. I know not a lot happens in this chapter, but next chapter some more action will ensue...

Chapter 16: Liberated

9:40 Dragon

Somewhere deep into the cracks of the earth, a monster awakened. A tainted creature opened its eyes to wreak havoc across Thedas. It was an Old God, its name a thundering nightmare. 

Beauty. Death. Urthemiel.

The worms in the ground trembled by its roar. And its call was heard. Botched and rotten half-men raised from their underground shelters, gathering under Urthemiel’s appealing banner. The waking world had not seen their doom coming as an army of Darkspawn marched to the above. 

Grey Wardens heard their grumble, their screams for light and blood, and called for a war, for defiance. Yet, no human lord or noble would hear their pleas. An Archdemon so big and vile would certainly be seen or heard. Why support a war against an invisible creature? Only the Fereldan King, prideful and young, engaged to fight the horde. The fortress of Ostagar stood strong, undefeated for many ages. King Cailan Theirin, son of Maric Theirin, grandson of the Rebel Queen herself, assembled his men to fight for their land, their world. 

Alas, not everyone believed in Cailan and the Grey Wardens’ abilities. And so, when the Battle of Ostagar raged, Teryn Loghain Mac Tir refused to further the assault, abandoning the King and the Grey Wardens on the battlefield. The darkspawn roared as they overran the once-proud fortress, and took everyone to their deaths. Yet, some survived. 

A young Fereldan noble named Aedan Cousland had just lost everything due to a bloodied betrayal, leaving his family murdered. Recruited by the Grey Wardens, Aedan left for Ostagar, never forgetting his family he would one day avenge. As the battle developed for the worse, Aedan and another Grey Warden named Alistair were rescued by a strange figure. An old woman who called herself Flemeth saved the Warden, setting in motion her own plans for fate. 

Together with a group of companions, Aedan Cousland travelled Ferelden in search of assembling coalitions with humans, dwarves and elves alike. And all followed his call, even the mages bowed for their saviour. And so, Aedan removed Loghain, who had usurped the throne and had sparked the Fereldan Civil War, from power and beat Urthemiel at his own game with an alliance never seen before at the Battle of Denerim. 

Aedan’s friend and companion Alistair assumed the throne, reclaiming his birthright, for he was Maric Theirin’s bastard son and so the last of the Theirin bloodline. Aedan Cousland eventually avenged his family’s death, and strangely survived the battle against the Archdemon. As of now, no one knows where the Hero of Ferelden remains, for his existence is clouded with mystery and suspicion. 

For me, the year of the Fifth Blight was the longest one yet in the Circle. I spent much of it in the shadows, hiding not just from the watchful eyes of Templars but from something I couldn’t name. The library’s forgotten alcoves, beneath stairwells where dust grew thick, the storerooms where only rats dared venture. I thought if I buried myself deep enough, if I curled myself into the shadows, whatever it was might forget me. But it didn’t, and I felt it deep within me, something rooted in the marrow of my bones, humming in the blood beneath my skin. An ache that pulsed with every beat of my heart, as if some distant force reached across the Veil and touched me. And even in the Fade, I couldn’t escape it. Dreams, once my sanctuary, became suffocating. I felt it there—a presence, vast and unrelenting. It didn’t speak, didn’t call out, but it watched. It searched. 

But perhaps, overall, I was lucky. I was safe. Many didn’t have that luxury.

A young warrior tried protecting his family when the small village of Lothering was overrun by the loose darkspawn horde. He fought bravely against the heaving monsters to get his family and other survivors away from the unsalvageable battlefield. But he nor his remaining sibling could hold off the preying darkspawn. Yet, when their end was near, a high dragon appeared in the stormy skies. The dragon annihilated the darkspawn that had encircled the warrior and his party and saved them. And as the dragon transformed its figure, an elderly woman remained. And so, Flemeth had yet again twisted fate to her own hand. 

The warrior’s name was Garrett Hawke, or just Hawke if you were his friend. And he was a ruthless but righteous man—and quite funny, or so I’ve heard. He successfully fled the Blight with his mother, sister and friend Aveline, and started anew in Kirkwall. The city had not been welcome to him, and he worked off debts as a refugee for years. But all got repaid with friendship and love. And eventually, honour. When a group of Qunari soldiers refused to leave the city for a missing relic, ancient tensions started escalating once more into a bloody battle. But Hawke stood up for the city he had come to love, and having had both ties with the Circle and with the Templars, Hawke assembled them all into an alliance, stood up against the Qunari and bravely fought back. 

After killing the Qunari leader, called the Arishok, Hawke fell into grace with his new home. And soon, he would be called the Champion of Kirkwall. The city fell into a peaceful era, and Hawke lived well with his friends and family. But, like in so many worlds, peace never lasts. 

The Circle of Kirkwall was a cruel place and often mages could be seen jumping off to their deaths, rather than staying within. Knight-Commander Meredith used dreadful tactics to hold the mages down, using the Rite of Tranquillity on all who defied the Chantry. Grand Enchanter Orsino was disgusted by the Templars’ misuse of power, and accused Meredith of tyranny, calling for the citizens of Kirkwall to revolt. The people turned once more towards their Champion and urged him to put an end to the Circle-Templar ongoing fight. And soon, Hawke became embedded in another battle. 

However, all escalated when Anders—Hawke’s companion and lover, and an apostate mage—blew up the Chantry of Kirkwall, killing thousands of innocents and covering the once peaceful city with death again. No diplomatic compromise could now be made between the heated sides of the battle. Blood had to be spilt. 

Meredith, enraged by the loss of her holy Chantry, immediately invoked the Rite of Annulment, ordering the death of all mages residing in the city and its Circle. Garrett Hawke stood at a crossroads, but then did something no one had done in a very long time. He stood up for the mages, repressed and desperate, and promised to protect them all.But, in war, there are no winners. 

Meredith had gone mad and paranoid, and Orsino, who feared Hawke’s help wouldn’t have been enough, had turned to blood magic, turning himself into a monstrous Harvester, a golem made of corpses, as a last attempt to protect his fellow mages. Both leaders died at the Champion’s hands. 

In the end, Garrett Hawke escaped Kirkwall during the night and has not been seen again. Or so the rumours go. A book has been written about this by one of his companions. But I haven’t read it. My Circle did not allow books that didn’t concern the teachings of the Chant of Light. 

While Kirkwall was at peace again, Thedas was not, and would not be for a very long time.
News of the Kirkwall Rebellion had spread through all Circles across Thedas. They heard of the Templar Order’s monstrosities, and so some started revolting against their own oppressors. And despite the Templars trying to quell the mages’ new thirst for freedom, the discussion of secession from the Chantry continued and finally came to a head when the White Spire Circle in Val Royeaux rebelled.

Many mages and enchanters died during the revolt, and all retreated to Andoral’s Reach, a fortress situated in northwest Orlais. There, the surviving First Enchanters proposed a vote for independence—the Revolutionists winning only by a slim margin against the Loyalists.

The Chantry lost their power over not only the Circle of Magi but also over the Templar Order and the Seekers of Truth. Word of this spread fast, and more and more Circles started to revolt, refusing the Templars’ power. And the Templars in return refused to stay at their positions to keep the mages in their towers and wished to join their brethren in the fight against apostates. As all parties broke free of all authority and regulations, they prepared for a full-out war against one another. 

The people of Thedas looked once more towards their acclaimed heroes of the past years and called for somebody to stand up and defend the innocent again in a war that did not just affect one country, but all of the waking world. 

The unrest had reached even Ostwick, which had remained mostly untouched for so long. But now, the cracks were beginning to show. The Templars were growing more paranoid, their patrols tighter, their eyes more watchful. The mages, once complacent, were now divided. Some wanted to stay, to keep their heads down and hope the storm would pass. Others saw this as their chance—an opportunity for freedom, to break away from the Circle once and for all.

‘We must stay calm,’ Lydia urged against the assembled mages in the common room, her voice firm but gentle. ‘The situation is delicate, yes, but if we remain here in Ostwick, we can weather this storm. We are not at war. This Circle is a sanctuary, a place of safety.’

‘Indeed! It is of the utmost importance that we hold our position. Let the rebels wage their war. And let them die when they lose it,’ First Enchanter Delbert said as he raised his head up high, staring every mage in the room in the face. Delbert was a Loyalist and had voted against secession. He looked around nervously as the mages in the room started arguing with one another. 

‘This is our chance for freedom! I want to see the sun again!’

‘We got a roof over our heads, warm beds, and food, let us stay!’

‘The rebels will kill us! And so will the Templars!’

‘We should take our chances! I want to join my brothers and sisters to fight!’

I stayed out of it, leaning against one of the stone pillars at the edge of the hall, watching the scene unfold. This conflict—this debate about whether to stay or flee—it wasn’t mine. Not anymore. The mages here were fighting over scraps, arguing about whether to cling to the safety of the tower or chase some half-formed notion of freedom. They didn’t understand that the decision would soon be made for them.

Freedom was coming, whether they wanted it or not. I had known about it since the destruction of Kirkwall’s Chantry. I had felt it. The first sign of long-awaited cracks after ten years, which had passed agonisingly slow. Luckily, in the Circle, where each day mirrored the last, it was easy to slip into the quiet rhythm of solitude. I kept to myself, burying my nose in books, exploring whatever scraps of knowledge piqued my interest. The other mages whispered about me, of course— the once-defiant apostate with unnerving eyes . They saw me as weak, unintelligent, a relic from the outside world that didn’t belong here—even after my promotion to Enchanter last year.

But that was fine by me. The quieter I kept, the more they left me alone.

In ten years, I had learned to disappear into the cracks of this place. The Templars, always watching, saw no threat in me. The other mages, wrapped in their studies and petty dramas, assumed I was either too dull or too timid to matter. My reputation—or lack thereof—allowed me to move through the Circle unnoticed. I preferred it that way. If I was quiet enough, I knew I could wait for the right moment to leave this place. I had always felt that it would come sooner or later. Now, that moment was creeping closer.

‘Templar-Fucker!’ Someone in the room yelled at Lydia, whose face was struck with disgust. 

Everybody knew she and Tibald had been canoodling for years. Somewhere, this wasn’t unusual. Many mages and Templars got together, and Templars with Templars, and mages with mages. But a Senior Enchanter with the Knight-Commander of the tower? That was unheard of. Lydia was one of the few that I kind of liked here. She had been the only mage who didn’t just ignore me, and she even stood up for me when needed. 

‘Enough! This bickering will get us nowhere. We must stay united. If we start turning on each other, the Templars will have all the reason they need to tighten their control.’ Delbert raised his hands carefully.

Yet, I still heard someone sneer in the crowd. This would end badly. I imagined the Templars having the same problems right now, gathering in their barracks, debating whether to stay or to go. 

The mages started to disperse again, and I stretched my back as I walked away from the pillar I was leaning against. I heard some whisper as I crossed the common room.

‘Hey, you, don’t you have anything to say about this?’ one of the mages glared at me. I turned around, and I immediately recognized her. Ruth. She was of noble blood and acted like it. I immediately recognized her voice as the person who had yelled Templar-fucker towards Lydia. Didn’t surprise me it had been her. Ruth had always been hostile towards Lydia, mostly because of her good relationship with everyone, including the Templars. Jealousy is a nasty tendency. 

‘Oh. You want to hear my opinion?’ I looked at her deadpan.

I could hear the wheels turning in her head as she thought of a snappy response. But I got there first. 

‘I think that instead of yelling at each other like little children, you guys should just do something about it.’ I flipped my long braid over my shoulder and turned on my heels, casually walking out of the room. 

I strolled through the empty corridor towards the library, one of the few places in the Circle where I could find some peace, a sanctuary away from the constant tension, the arguments, and the stifling control of the Templars. It had become a habit over the years—whenever the pressure became too much, I would slip away to my little hiding place among the shelves. It wasn’t much, just a small gap between two towering bookcases, where an old bookstand had probably once been. Most people didn’t even notice it, and that made it perfect.

As I entered the library, I moved quietly, weaving through the rows of bookshelves until I reached my spot. The familiar silence of the library settled over me like a comforting blanket, the soft rustle of pages turning in the distance the only sound. I slipped into the narrow space between the shelves, sinking down against the cool stone wall. Here, I could breathe.

But as soon as I settled in, I heard voices. Faint at first, but growing louder.

My heart quickened as I realised who it was. Lydia and Tibald. Their voices were coming from just below me, echoing softly through the shelves. I held my breath, instinctively staying quiet, not wanting to be noticed.

Their conversation was low, heated. Lydia’s voice carried a sharp edge to it, strained and pleading. I furrowed my brows as I secretly looked down the staircase. Lydia pulled her cowl down and stared into the eyes of the Knight-Commander. Tibald stood in full armour, his now slightly wrinkled face gleaming in the dim-lit corner, a reflection of the flame of a nearby candle flickering on his chest plate. 

‘Tibald, please, you have to do something.’ I could hear the desperation in her voice, something I had never heard from her before. ‘The mages are panicking, and it’s only getting worse. We need you to help calm them down. To reassure them.’

There was a pause, and then Tibald’s voice came, cold and indifferent. ‘They’re mages, Lydia. They should be used to following orders. If they can’t handle it, that’s not my problem.’

I frowned, leaning closer to the edge of the shelf, trying to hear more clearly. Lydia’s voice trembled slightly, though she was trying to hold it together. ‘It is your problem, Tibald. You’re the Knight-Commander. You’re supposed to protect them, to keep the peace. If the tension here continues to rise, there’s going to be a disaster.’

Tibald’s laugh was a harsh, humourless sound. ‘There’s already a disaster, Lydia. It's out there. Mages and Templars are tearing each other apart across Thedas, and the war’s coming here, whether you like it or not.’

I heard Lydia’s footsteps, pacing back and forth, her frustration palpable. ‘Maker, Tibald! We can’t just let our home go to ruin!’

‘We can. The Chantry is not controlling us any longer, and now, the Templars’ duty lies elsewhere.’

Lydia shook her head in disbelief, ‘Can you hear yourself? Do you know what you are saying?’

‘I do. It is time for the Templars to join the fight against the other rebel mages. We will be retreating to Therinfal Redoubt in Ferelden soon. I am not staying in this dank place for a moment longer, while my friends and brothers die in vain.’

‘Then what about us? If you leave, then most of our mages will join the rebels up in Redcliffe! How can you just let them leave?’

‘The mages up in here are weak, Lydia. We have not trained them to fight! They will die before they reach the village, and if they miraculously still get there, they will be slain with ease.’

‘Tibald!' Lydia yelped, but composed herself and nervously looked around, ‘What about us? Don’t you care what’ll happen to me?’

Tibald took a step closer, pushing Lydia against the wall, and took her chin in his hand, lifting it upwards. He then stroked her lips with his, slowly grunting as she replied. As Tibald let go of their kiss, he moved his lips towards her ears, and I heard Lydia sigh and then choke in disgust. 

‘I don’t.’ Tibald grimaced and dropped her chin as he stepped away. 

Lydia swallowed hard as she tried not to cry, her face struck with grief and sadness. ‘But, I thought…’

‘You’re a stupid mage, Lydia, you don’t think. You are just here to serve. And you did plenty,' Tibald left with a malevolent smirk on his face and left the room. I never wanted to kill a human more than him. Or at least right now.

Footsteps. Heavy, measured. I pressed myself back into my hiding spot, holding my breath as Tibald walked away. 

I heard Lydia’s soft, shuddering breath as she stood there, alone. 

***

That night, I had a nightmare. With so many mages around, demons crowded our wards. Maybe it had been because of the excitement of the possibility that I could be freed soon. Or maybe an apprentice hadn’t set their ward correctly—which happened more than you’d think.

The nightmare itself had been more subtle, a pure memory that revolted me to my core—one that haunted me day and night. Or should I say, someone… 

It had been two weeks since I had arrived at the circle, was put through the Harrowing and became a Circle Mage. Life here was hard to adjust to—I was used to the freedom of Rivain and Nevarra. I wished I could go back, or just skip a couple of decades entirely. But I couldn’t just go and sleep for a year. They would kill me. Though, sometimes, I wondered if that would be so bad. Perhaps better than staying here. 

I was standing just outside one of the corridors, hidden behind the corner, my heart racing as I overheard his conversation with another Templar. I had been trying to avoid him, trying to find a moment’s peace, but instead, I had stumbled onto the truth.

‘She will… comply… soon.’ Simon’s voice was casual, smug, as if he were discussing the weather.

I pushed myself against the wall, my ears twitching to hear the conversation happening in the corridor further down, in a dark corner of the hallway.

‘You still haven’t gotten her to crack?’ the other Templar asked, his tone amused.

Simon laughed, a low, ugly sound. ‘Not yet. But she will. She’s been resisting, but I see the way she looks at me—she’s scared. It’s only a matter of time. Once she breaks, she’ll be begging for it.’

‘Pfbt. Doesn’t seem like it.’ Another Templar answered. ‘You should’ve chosen an easier one… Maybe one of the younger apprentices?’ 

Simon grunted slightly, though it was with humour. ‘But have you seen her? Have you seen a rabbit that… She will bend over soon enough.’

Yuck, my skin crawled.

‘Do I hear a bet?’ The Templar smirked. 

‘Alright—if she opens her legs to me, I win.’ Simon laughed. 

‘And if she doesn’t …’ the other Templar crooned. ‘I’ll get to have a turn.’

A deep and cold shiver crept up my spine. 

‘Alright, be prepared to be disappointed.’ Simon grinned. ‘If I win—and I will—you’ll give me your off-shifts for a year. So my Saeris and I have enough time to make this damned tower shake.’ 

They both laughed. 

‘Deal!’ The Templar smacked Simon’s shoulder. ‘But tell me, why are you so sure of yourself? She doesn’t seem quite as smitten with you.’

‘Ah, but she will. You see, I am the broken Templar, the Templar burdened to catch her.’ His voice sounded whiny—as if it were all a play for him. ‘She will see though, that it is I who saved her. And when she asks me how she could ever thank me. Well…’

‘Ha! Good luck with that. Weren’t you the one who brought her in?’

‘I did, yes.’ Simon hummed, his back leaning against the wall. ‘When I saw her that night, camping in the moonlight, all alone. And... Maker, she looked perfect. Like a creature of the Fade itself. I wanted her the moment I saw her.’ Simon leaned forward then, whispering to the other Templar. ‘I know, it’s genius… she opened up her ward for me when she saw that bear “attacking” me. A heart as beautiful as her body.’ 

Up until then, I was frozen completely. But now, a raging fire crept up, from my stomach to my throat. I clenched my fists, the memory burning into me. He had planned it all. The bear, the injury, everything. He’d manipulated me, used my sense of duty to help others to disarm me. I had thought I was saving him, but he had been watching me, stalking me.

‘Why don’t you just take her?’ the other Templar asked, his tone indifferent, as if they were discussing some trivial matter.

Simon’s voice lowered, dripping with cruel satisfaction. ‘Because I want her to break. I want to watch her unravel. It’s more satisfying that way. It always is. Tibald has Lydia wrapped around his finger, but Saeris... she’s a challenge. And I enjoy challenges.’

The words twisted in my mind, curling around me like chains. I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. My body was frozen with terror as his laughter echoed in the dark. He was talking about me like I was nothing, like I was some plaything for him to bend and mould to his will.

And I knew, deep down, that he wouldn’t stop. He never would. 

I woke with a start, gasping for air, my heart hammering in my chest. The room was dark, the shadows deep and suffocating, but the nightmare lingered, clinging to the edges of my mind. My skin was cold with sweat, and I could still hear Simon’s voice echoing in my head, that cruel, possessive tone like a brand against my thoughts.

I sat up in bed, trying to calm my racing heart, but then I heard it—the sound that made my blood run cold.

Footsteps. Slow, deliberate. Just outside my door.

Simon.

He always did this. Every night, he walked by my room, his presence lingering just outside, as if waiting for me to break. I hadn’t yet, and that only seemed to make him more determined. He never let me rest.

Sometimes, the footsteps would stop, and I would hear the door creak open. He would come inside, standing by my bed in the dark, watching me. I would lie there, perfectly still, pretending to sleep, my breath shallow, praying he wouldn’t touch me.

He never did. Not yet.

But his presence was enough. Enough to keep me on edge, enough to make the nights stretch out endlessly, filled with fear. I hardly slept. The years in the Circle passed slowly, every moment weighed down by exhaustion, by the constant vigilance of waiting for the inevitable. And Simon knew it. He was wearing me down, piece by piece, night after night.

The footsteps paused just outside my door, and I held my breath, my heart pounding in my ears. I could feel him there, just on the other side, waiting. Waiting for me to break.

I stared at the door, willing it not to open. Every night was a battle between my mind and my fear. I could feel his power, his control, slowly creeping into every corner of my life, even when he wasn’t there. And he enjoyed it—enjoyed watching me squirm, watching me suffer in silence.

The footsteps finally moved away, fading into the distance. I exhaled shakily, my body trembling with the release of tension, but the relief was fleeting. I knew he would come again. Tomorrow night. And the night after that.

I sank back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. The mages were debating about freedom, about rebellion, but for me, freedom wasn’t just about breaking out of the Circle. It was about breaking free from him —from Simon’s shadow that loomed over me, night after night, threatening to consume me whole.

But I wouldn’t break. Not for him. Not for anyone.

I just had to survive.

Just a little while longer.

***

I woke later than usual, my body heavy with exhaustion. The nightmare, the footsteps in the night—it all weighed on me like a stone pressing against my chest. My sleep had been shallow, restless, but there was something different in the air this morning. A quiet tension, a feeling deep in my bones, told me that today might be my last day in this cursed tower.

I dressed quickly, pulling on my robes with a strange sense of finality, like I was preparing for something far more dangerous than the usual monotony. I stepped out of my room, ready to check the timetable in the common room, but the corridors were eerily silent. Too quiet. Usually, there was the sound of mages milling about, Templars patrolling, the distant din of voices. But today, nothing.

I hadn’t taken more than a few steps when I heard a voice behind me.

‘Late start today, Saeris?’

I froze. That voice—smooth, too casual, like it held no threat at all. But I knew better. My heart lurched in my chest as I turned slowly to face Simon.

He was leaning casually against the wall beside my door, as if he had been waiting for me all morning. Or longer. His Templar armour gleamed faintly in the dim light, his posture relaxed, but his eyes... his eyes told another story. They were filled with that same dark hunger, the one I had seen too many times over the years.

‘Everyone’s gathering in the Great Hall,’ he said, his lips curling into a lazy smile. ‘Guess they’re finally disbanding the Circle.’

I said nothing, my pulse quickening as I scanned the corridor, hoping for a distraction, an escape. But it was just him and me. Alone.

Simon pushed off the wall, his steps slow and deliberate as he closed the distance between us. ‘Ten years, Saeris,’ he said softly, his voice thick with something vile. ‘I’ve waited ten long years for you. Thought maybe I could be patient, let you come around. But now... there’s no time left.’ He smelled horribly, like spiced wine, horse and Lyrium—something all Templars reeked of. 

I stepped back, my back hitting the cold stone wall as he loomed closer. His smile widened, dark and predatory. ‘You should be grateful, you know,’ he continued, his voice filled with twisted satisfaction. ‘I’ve protected you. Kept the others away. You have no idea how many of the Templars wanted a piece of you, Saeris. But I made sure you were left alone. I kept them off you. Don’t you think you owe me something for that?’

The bile rose in my throat, but I couldn’t speak. His words twisted around me, the truth of his manipulation sinking deeper with every step he took. All these years, I thought I had avoided the worst of the Templars’ cruelty by luck, by keeping my head down. But it had been him. Simon, controlling everything, holding me just out of reach, waiting for his moment.

And now he thought that moment had come.

‘You’re going to thank me,’ he said, his voice darkening. ‘You’re going to show me how much you appreciate what I’ve done for you.’

Before I could react, his hand shot out, gripping my wrist tightly. I tried to pull away, but his grip was too strong. His other hand came up to my face, cupping my chin roughly, forcing me to look at him.

‘Look at you,’ he breathed, his eyes roaming over me with sickening desire. ‘I’ve been patient, Saeris. I’ve been so patient. But there’s no time left now. You’ve made me wait long enough.’

And then, without warning, he kissed me. His lips crushed against mine, violent and forceful, his hands holding me in place as I struggled to break free. My mind went blank, panic flooding my senses. He tasted of steel and control, his breath hot against my skin. I pushed against him, but it was like pushing against a wall of iron.

I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. My body was frozen, the years of fear, of watching and waiting, boiling over into a paralysis that left me powerless. He pressed against me, his hands roaming lower, rough and possessive, as if he had every right to take whatever he wanted.

And then, through the haze of terror, I felt him start to drag me backward, toward my room. His grip tightened, his movements growing more urgent, more desperate.

‘No more waiting,’ he growled against my ear. ‘I’ll take what’s mine.’

The words shattered something inside me.

The fear that had kept me frozen for so long turned to rage, a burning fury that erupted from the core of my being. I wasn’t his. I would never be his.

With a burst of raw, untapped power, I yanked my arm free and thrust my hand toward him. The magic that had lain dormant for so long exploded from my palm in a wave of force. Simon’s eyes widened in shock as the energy hit him, sending him flying backward down the corridor. He crashed into the stone wall with a sickening thud, his body crumpling to the ground in a heap.

The silence that followed was deafening.

I stood there, gasping for breath, my hand still outstretched, the magic crackling like lightning in the air around me. My heart pounded in my chest, the adrenaline coursing through me like fire. 

Simon lay motionless at the end of the corridor, his body twisted awkwardly, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. He was unconscious, maybe worse. The force of the spell had been stronger than I’d intended. 

I took a step forward, my mind racing. I could finish it. End him right here, right now. He had terrorised me for years, taken away my peace, my sleep, my sense of safety. No one would miss him. No one would stop me.

The thought lingered, heavy and tempting. All it would take was a single spell. One more burst of magic, a misplaced shard of ice, and Simon would never be a threat to me again.

I clenched my fists, the magic thrumming at my fingertips, ready to be unleashed. But something held me back. Killing an unconscious, unarmed man... that wasn’t who I was. I wouldn’t let him turn me into a murderer. No.

I forced the magic to dissipate, my breath coming in ragged gasps as I stepped away from his body. I wasn’t going to kill him. But I wasn’t staying here either.

This was the end. The Circle could fall, or it could stand. It didn’t matter to me anymore. I was leaving.

Without another glance at Simon, I turned and walked down the corridor, my steps steady, my heart still racing. The Great Hall was ahead, the gathering mages and Templars preparing for what came next.

As I neared the hall, the noise hit me like a wall—screaming, shouting, panic. The sound of chaos echoed through the tower, sharp and relentless, unlike anything I had heard before. Something terrible had happened.

I stepped into the hall, my breath catching in my throat at the sight before me. Mages and Templars alike were gathered in a circle, yelling, crying, some of them pointing fingers at one another, while others stood frozen in shock. There was a current of fear and anger running through the room, thick enough to choke on.

And then I saw it.

Lydia.

She was lying in the centre of the room, her body still and broken, her robes stained with blood. She had been murdered, and the scene around her was nothing short of madness.

I edged closer, my stomach twisting. Lydia didn’t deserve this. She had been kind, patient—caught between trying to protect the mages and her misguided loyalty to the Templars. My mind flashed back to the argument I had overheard in the library, her desperate pleas to Tibald to do something to ease the tension in the tower. She had tried to help, and now she was dead.

I clenched my fists, biting back the rising tide of grief and anger. Lydia hadn’t deserved to die like this, alone and surrounded by chaos.

The mages were in disarray, pointing fingers and hurling accusations. Some were crying, while others were screaming at each other, desperate to make sense of what had happened.

‘It was Ruth!’ someone shouted, their voice trembling with fear and anger. ‘She hated Lydia! Everyone knew that!’

‘No, it was you!’

‘You despised her!’

‘You did too!’ 

‘STOP,' Tibald roared as he broke up the circle, his face impassive, cold. There was no flicker of emotion in his eyes, no sadness, no guilt. Just that same detached indifference. He stared at her body for a moment before he spoke, his voice sharp and commanding. ‘Take it away,’ he ordered, his tone devoid of any humanity.

It. As if Lydia hadn’t even been a person to him. Just a tool. Just a corpse now.

Two of his Templars moved forward to carry her body away. I glanced at Delbert, standing off to the side. His face was pale, his eyes full of sadness as he watched them take Lydia away. He had been loyal, too, but not in the same cold, calculating way as Tibald. There was real grief there, but it didn’t change anything. Lydia was dead, and Delbert, like the rest of us, was powerless to stop it. 

Then Tibald stepped forward, his voice ringing out over the chaos. ‘Templars! We will help our brothers and sisters in the war against this filth! Magic is a corrupting influence in the world. Those who do not follow the way of the Chantry, the way of the Light, must be annihilated! We march, now!’

For a brief, sickening moment, the Great Hall went still. And then the Templars—those that had long grown tired of their post, of the constant vigilance over the mages—began to cheer. Many mages answered with a similar cry of jubilance, ‘Freedom!’ They screamed. Yet, some did not share their enthusiasm. Some mages and Templars alike cried for one another, for they had been friends, even lovers, and would now be separated for life, doomed to become eternal enemies. Some Templars shook their heads, but still followed their fellow Templars who raged to the outside world, to Therinfal Redoubt. Some mages cried for the loss of their home, the roof over their heads, and no place to go but the city of the rebel mages, Redcliffe. 

In the chaos of leaving Templars and upset mages, I saw him.

Simon.

He entered the room, his face bruised, blood trickling from a cut on his lip. He was hurt, but standing, his eyes dark with fury. He looked straight at me, the hatred in his gaze burning like a fire. But he said nothing. Instead, he disappeared into the mass of Templars, his face twisted with rage, but not broken. Not yet.

My heart raced as the Templars began to move, marching out of the hall, locking the doors behind them as they left us to our fate. Panic spread like wildfire through the room. The mages realised they were trapped, locked inside the tower with no way out. The Circle had been disbanded, and now, we were alone. 

Cries of fear echoed through the hall, and the press of bodies around me became suffocating. Mages were yelling, some trying to push their way to the doors, others collapsing in tears. The air was thick with terror, and I knew we had to act fast.

I turned and ran. Down the winding corridors, through the darkened hallways. I wasn’t the only one. A small group of mages followed, desperate for any chance of escape. We made our way to the basement, our feet pounding against the stone floors, desperately looking for the phylacteries. I found mine in a dark corner, at the back of the collection, but I recognized it immediately.  My blood whispered to me, beckoned to set me free. I grabbed the cold vial, and with a small sigh, I dropped it onto the floor and heard it crack and splash. I looked down at it, my blood glowing one last time as it seeped into the cold stone floors. 

The sound of breaking glass echoed through the room, and I felt something inside me snap free. The chains that had bound me, that had kept me tethered to the Circle, were gone.

I found my cloak and dagger where they had been locked away for all these years, hidden with the other confiscated belongings. The familiar weight of the dagger in my hand brought a rush of clarity, of purpose. I was leaving this place, and I was never coming back.

With the cloak wrapped around me, I hurried back upstairs. The hall was still in chaos, mages shouting and crying, but I didn’t stop. My heart pounded in my chest as I moved, my steps quick and sure.

The Templars might have locked us in, but they wouldn’t be able to keep me here for long.

When all of the Templars had left, the remaining mages assembled in front of the grand entrance of the Circle, on the ground floor. Nobody had seen it since they had entered the Circle, because nobody ever left. 

Except for now. 

‘Everybody calm down!’ First Enchanter Delbert said as he tried shushing the crowd. ‘Let us do this in a civilised manner.’

The mages murmured as they eyed the gate to freedom. 

‘Those who wish to join the rebels, join up with me!' Ruth yelled over Delbert’s voice as she stepped out of the crowd, ‘To Redcliffe in the Hinterlands.’ Most of the mages assembled behind her, and I saw Ruth’s eyes gleaming with pride. 

Delbert sighed as he stared at me, his eyes pleading. But I didn’t want to have anything to do with the Circle for a second longer. I waited for so long to just get out of here, to feel the sun on my skin. And I will wait no more. I am done. 

I am going home. To Daniel, to Sybil, to Nenhara. They have been waiting for me as much as I have for them. 

And I still have a promise to fulfil. 

I turned around and passed the group of newly rebel mages. Ruth shared a look with me. I knew this wasn’t the last I’d hear from her. The mages stared at my back as I walked towards the giant stone door, my magic curled around my fingers. I ignored the nearly-empty rack of communal staffs. Why use something so rigid to control your magic? This was the way of the Circle. Not mine. No, my magic flowed freely. And I was finally able to give a demonstration.

‘Is she stupid?’ Ruth mumbled. ‘Hello! It’s locked.’

I grinned wildly. Time to let these children see what I can do—who I really am.
I lifted my hands upwards, my palms turned towards the door. And then, I willed it, the stones bursting and screeching as my magic pushed, released. Finally, after all those years. 

I am liberated. 

The door exploded, the stones flying everywhere, taking even parts of the wall with it. My magic thundered through the halls, making the entire tower shake on its foundation. And I willed more. My magic had been locked up like me, screaming to get out. And here it was. A light burst out of my palms, making way for the sun to finally greet my face. 

The sky was so bright and blue. I had almost forgotten what it had looked like. And oh, the sun, the marvellous sphere of warmth, of life. I smiled as a tear escaped my eye.

I stepped forward into the light.

My eyes fixed on the welcoming horizon, the City of Ostwick behind me, and Ferelden out front, its arms opening wide to greet me once more. 

I pulled my hood over my gleaming face.

A new destination was waiting for me. A place that was calling my name. There had been whispers of a Conclave, in the Temple of Sacred Ashes. A peaceful gathering to resolve the war. But this war was not my problem. I had other interests. Rumours claimed that the Hero of Ferelden as well as the Champion of Kirkwall would be there. 

The heroes were gathering.

I smiled as I took a step forward, and didn’t look back at the crumbling tower filled with confused mages. I was going where the sun was leading me, to where my promise would be fulfilled. I looked up at the heavens and smiled.

“Go to where the heroes are, in an Age where the mighty forgotten will dance once more in the sky. When heroes will conquer the vile and fight for the freedom of all, that is when the promise will be fulfilled”

Towards Haven it is. 

Notes:

FINALLYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY
I AM SO F* EXCITED AHHH

Chapter 17: Breached

"World fell away then, misty in mem'ry,
'Cross Veil and into the valley of dreams
A vision of all worlds, waking and slumb'ring,
Spirit and mortal to me appeared.
"Look to My work," said the Voice of Creation.
"See what My children in arrogance wrought."

— Chant of Light, Canticle of Andraste

 

***

‘How much for those pants and coat?’ I said to the merchant and pointed towards the light armour hanging behind the counter. 

The merchant furrowed his brows, cocking his head as he tried peering under the cape that I had pulled over my face. ‘No mage business here,' he grumbled. 

‘I will give you my Enchanter robes,' I said and pulled my hem up, showing the blue robe, ‘This is worth some coin.’

‘I said no mage business! Out!’ the merchant grunted, annoyed. 

I sighed and grabbed the insides of my pockets. ‘And what do you think of this?’ 

The merchant’s eyes went slightly bigger. Dwarves really have a weakness for everything shiny. The man hummed slightly as he took the silver Lyrium-infused ring and studied it, holding it close to his eye, smelling the thick Lyrium band. 

I lifted my chin as he nodded at me. ‘The ring and the mage armour,' he said deadpan. 

‘It’s a deal,' I grinned and threw him the ring from underneath my cape.   

The man didn’t look at me as he threw the sturdy lambswool pants and leather armourcoat on the counter. The pants were fairly simple, and the coat had a built-in belt, lots of pockets and simple buttons. I nodded contentedly as I lifted them in front of me. This was made for a human, so it would definitely fit my length. I changed in the back of the shop—glad I still had my cotton undershirt on—and left my old robes with the merchant. I had kept my own boots, which hugged my legs tightly against the cold. It was practical, perfect for travelling the rough terrain ahead. 

As I stepped outside from the merchant’s shop, the cold wind greeted me, blowing my hood off and tangling my hair in its grasp. Quickly, I grabbed my hood and hid my face again. When I took off the ring—the one I had just sold—after I broke out of Ostwick, my green eye was glowing as it never had before. It was as if it rebelled against the years of repression under the Lyrium-infused jewellery of the Circle. 

I looked around cautiously, but the stiff-upper-lipped people of Highever ignored me. Highever had always been a rich and proud city, its people walking with their noses held just a little higher than the rest. It wasn’t hard to see why—the Hero of Ferelden hailed from this very place, and that name carried power even now, years after the Blight. 

As I made my way through the marketplace, my ears perked up at a snippet of conversation between two finely dressed nobles.

‘Did you hear about the Conclave?’ one of them whispered, her voice a mixture of excitement and scandal. ‘Divine Justinia herself has summoned it to settle this war. They’ve even hired Qunari wildlings to guard the temple.’

‘Qunari?’ the other noble scoffed. ‘How desperate the Chantry must be. I wonder how long they’ll last in that freezing temple.’

I closed my eyes and focused, my ears twitching as they picked up their conversation. 

‘Will you be going?’

‘Of course! I have an invitation and a reputation to uphold!’

‘Bollocks! You have no invitation!’

‘Yes, I do!’

‘Truly? Can you get one for me?’

‘My arse, no! I already had to pull massive strings to get one for myself.’

They continued on, gossiping as if the very fate of Thedas was some idle matter to be discussed over tea. The Conclave at the Temple of Sacred Ashes… it had been all anyone could talk about. Mages and Templars, tearing each other apart across the land, and now the Divine hoped to bring peace. It seemed impossible, but a whisper of hope clung to the idea, even in a place like this.

I knew where I needed to go.

I left Highever that day, my hood pulled over my head and the map of Ferelden in my hands. That was all I needed. Taking a horse was too expensive, and stealing one was too much of a hazard. I had just escaped a prison, I wasn’t planning on getting into another one. At least a map you could fit into your pocket. Still, the journey toward the Frostback Mountains was as harsh as I had expected. The terrain was unforgiving, the cold biting deep. But I was used to travelling light, used to fending for myself. The trees offered some protection from the worst of the wind, and when the hunger gnawed at my stomach, I scavenged what I could from the forest. Whenever food was really scarce, I used my magic sparingly, growing small patches of roots and herbs, enough to keep me going.

The Templars were out there, somewhere, and I knew they would be hunting mages like me. The war had ravaged Ferelden, and while I kept my head down, I couldn’t help but feel they were watching me. I took the smallest routes I could find, cutting through forests, skirting far from the main roads, and avoiding any travellers I crossed paths with.

Days passed in cold silence until I came across a small tavern nestled at the edge of the forest. It was a day’s travel from Haven, and the pilgrims passing through seemed to fill the place with a kind of warmth that almost made me forget the war raging beyond the mountains. I had nothing left to trade, but I wasn’t about to spend another night out in the cold if I didn’t have to.

I approached the bartender, a stout man with a thick beard and tired eyes, and negotiated the only way I knew how. ‘I can play,’ I told him, nodding toward the lute leaning against the wall behind him. ‘Give me a meal and a cot for the night, and I’ll sing for your customers.’

He studied me for a long moment, sizing me up. The tavern was crowded with travellers, most of them pilgrims heading toward Haven. ‘You’re lucky, we’re fully booked and these grim folks could use some entertainment. Tell you what, I’ll give you a bowl of soup and a room for the night—the cot in the attic,’ he said finally, his tone gruff but fair. ‘Take it or leave it.’

I pursed my lips. ‘Alright, that’s a deal.’

‘Perfect. Gimme just a minute.’ The man nodded contently, leaned back and whisked the small, old lute from behind him and gave it to me.

I took the small stage near the hearth. I settled down on the stool there, and dropped my hood. Luckily, the crowd didn’t look up or gasp at my appearance—they were either too worried and tired, or too much anticipating the Conclave to notice. I began to play an old song I had heard in Kirkwall decades ago, strumming the lute gently at first, letting my voice rise with the melody.

I feel sun
Through the ashes in the sky.
Where's the one
Who'll guide us into the night?

What's begun
Is the war that will
Force this divide.
What's to come
Is fire and the end of time.

The warmth of the fire and the soft hum of the music wrapped around me, and for the first time in a long while, I felt almost at peace. The pilgrims seemed lost in their own thoughts, their own journeys toward some hope, some salvation. But there was one figure, sitting alone in the corner, who… felt… different.

I am the one
Who can recount
What we've lost.

I am the one
Who will live on.

I could feel his eyes on me from the moment I started. He was hooded, his face mostly obscured by shadows, but I could tell he was Elven. The hood had slits for his ears, and the way he sat, so still and composed…

I have run
Through the fields
Of pain and sighs.

I have fought
To see the other side.

He watched me closely, his gaze unwavering, as if he could see through the music, through the people in the room… straight through me. It unnerved me, though I did my best to ignore it. Whoever he was, it wasn’t my business. I was just here to sing for my supper.

Still, I couldn’t shake the unease that something about him felt... off. I felt it deep within my stomach, and I was glad I hadn’t eaten anything yet.

I am the one
Who can recount
What we've lost.

There was something unsettling about the way he watched—calm, silent, as if he were waiting for something. His hood obscured most of his face, but when our eyes met, I caught a glimpse of them. Stern blue, sharp and piercing. For a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of deep indigo in his gaze, something strange, something otherworldly. It sent a shiver down my spine, but I forced myself to concentrate on the song, letting the music drown out the unsettling feeling creeping into my chest.

I am the one
Who will live on.

When I looked up again, the hooded figure was gone. The empty corner where he had sat was now just a shadowy space, forgotten by the rest of the crowd. I scanned the room, but there was no sign of him. One minute he was there, and the next, he vanished.

I finished my set, collected the meagre offerings of soup and a small room for the night, and tried to shake the unease that clung to me like a second skin.

The next morning, I set off for Haven just before sunrise. The path wound up toward the Frostback Mountains, the air growing colder as I climbed higher. And early in the afternoon, Haven appeared on the horizon, covered in a fortress of icy mountains, and crowded with all kinds of people from all over Thedas. Human priestesses and priests, nobles, warriors, acolytes, mages and Templars alike all huffed as they walked up the high path towards their Temple of Sacred Ashes. Dwarves were standing near the sides of the roads, offering their wares to the stern pilgrims, and Elves were running around too, none Dalish, all servants and some mages. I covered my head further and further with my hood, and wished I could disappear into the sea of mortals. 

The path was steep, full of whispers about the Divine, about peace, about what this moment might mean for the future of Thedas. It was as if the entire world held its breath, waiting for the Conclave to decide whether there would be peace or more bloodshed.

As I followed the crowd, trying to blend in, a massive figure stepped in front of me, blocking my path.

A Qunari mercenary.

His size alone made me pause, but it was the cold steel in his eyes that told me he wasn’t here for idle conversation. His voice was deep and gruff, commanding attention as he looked down at me.

‘No one is allowed beyond this point without an invitation,’ he said, his words final. ‘Pilgrims may pray outside the temple or stay in Haven. But that’s as far as you go.’

I held his gaze, biting back the urge to argue. There was no sense in pushing my luck here, not with the Qunari. So I nodded, giving a polite thanks, and turned back down the path.

Maybe I’ll just wait for a day or two in Haven until the negotiations have started and people are more at ease. At least I was close to where “the heroes would gather.” They would come, right? Maybe I’d made a mistake, gotten the wrong signals. Maybe nothing would happen here at all, and that weird promise I’d supposedly made, would not be fulfilled for decades to come. But something urged me to go closer, to stay. Like the ancient whispers had called to me, so did this Conclave. Alas, only those who were invited could go on, and I was no spy, so sneaking wasn’t an option. If it wasn’t my eye or my white hair, my stature would take up too much attention. And so I turned towards the village, entering through its open gates. 

Haven was bustling with pilgrims and villagers alike. The village was small, but with so many people arriving to pray and witness the Conclave, it felt crowded, almost suffocating. I wandered through the winding streets, taking in the sight of simple stone houses, the chatter of people, and the air thick with anticipation. The tension was palpable.

I decided to head to the tavern. It was as good a place as any to find out what was happening, to listen for rumours, and to wait out the chaos. I approached the door, intending to speak with the bartender and negotiate for supper as I had the night before.

But before I could take another step, a sharp, searing pain exploded behind my left eye.

I screamed, clutching my head as the pain overwhelmed me. It felt like something was tearing through my skull, ripping at my very essence. My vision blurred, my knees buckling as I tried to make sense of what was happening.

The pain was unbearable, a pressure building behind my eye, behind my mind, as if something was pushing against the very fabric of my being.

CRACK!

And then the sky exploded.

The air cracked and split open, and I stumbled backward, eyes wide as the Veil itself tore apart. A brilliant, blinding light erupted from the sky, sending shockwaves through the air. I could hear people screaming, feel the ground trembling beneath my feet as chaos erupted all around me. People looked up, but in a mere second, all were blasted away through the streets, the houses creaked and crumbled, wood scattering through the air. Humans and elves were thrown about, crying and holding on to what they could.

I fell to the ground, clutching my head as the pain behind my eye intensified. The sky above was a churning mass of green light and energy, tearing through the fabric of reality itself. I could feel the magic pulsing in the air, wild and uncontrollable.

This was more than an explosion. This was something deeper, something far more terrifying. Around me, people were panicking, shouting, running. But all I could focus on was the pain, the pressure building behind my left eye, as if it were somehow connected to the tear in the sky. I could feel it... pulling at me, calling to me, like a voice whispering from the other side of the Veil.

When the pain slowly ebbed away, I raised myself up on my elbows, sweat slicking on my skin as chaos reigned around me. I looked up to the heavens and saw a green scar screeching through them. I saw it all, all of the Fade. I saw my meadow, the dreams of others, the Black City hovering above. I could even hear it, calling my name like it knew me. Spirits peered down to the waking world, their bodies burning like the mortals below, and I saw how black smoking creatures poured out of the scar.

I focused on the hole in the sky, and the sky stared back at me. 

An emerald window to the Beyond. A reflection of my own left eye, breaching the world.

The tavern door got blasted away, and a strange yet good-looking Dwarf stepped outside, a crossbow in his hands. The Dwarf looked up to the sky, his face a mixture of terror and annoyance. 

‘Ugh, not again,' he sighed and reloaded his crossbow as all chaos ensued. 

***

The magic curled, searching, knitting, severing, stitching, taking, giving… 

He was too far gone. The man underneath my hands grunted and roared, his body twisting, and then, all of his being slumped. Dead. The woman next to him cried out, her voice filling the Healer’s tent. She whimpered, grabbing the man’s hem as she tried shaking his body to wake him up. But he did not respond. She screamed then, her tears wetting her husband’s cold cheeks. 

‘I’m sorry,' I sighed, my hands sticky with fresh blood, my hood still covering my face. 

The woman ignored me as she cradled her love on the little made-up bed. Another one had passed, like so many. He hadn’t even been close to the temple. Everyone in its parameters had died, and even in Haven, many had lost their lives. Some had been crushed underneath houses and stones, others impaled on their chimneys. Up in the Conclave, none could be found alive, how much they searched, everyone was burned, leaving empty skeletons of screams and terror. Only one. Someone was found alive three days ago. They say he stumbled out of a rift, a woman standing behind him. No one knew who she was. The scar in the sky, they called it the Breach. A massive rift into the world of demons and spirits that grew larger with each passing hour. And it wasn’t the only rift, just the largest. Soldiers came and went up the hill to battle the small rifts that were spewing out demons, holding them back before they came down to the village. The Breach was growing, swallowing the world, their world, my world.

The man they had found didn’t even have a scratch. He just stumbled there, like nothing had happened, and then fell unconscious. He was in the dungeons now, many believing all of this was his fault. How could someone survive such a blast? Did he truly create it? 

I stepped outside of the tent and dipped my hands in the cold snow. I started washing off the warm blood, scraping under my nails. I couldn’t resist and looked up to the sky.

I had been right. My eye has appeared in the heavens. Everything is happening right here and now. The time has come. 

I dangled my still reddish hands at my sides. The emerald window into the Beyond. While everyone looked at the ground, afraid of the tear, I looked up. It felt familiar, calling out to me. The Beyond was right there, I could reach it. My left eye coiled, twisted and burned, seeing everything beyond the scar, seeing every spirit flee its call, and every demon following it. I felt power. 

The hood of my cloak was pulled low, casting my face in shadow, concealing the faint glow that had started to pulse from my left eye—the same strange, green glow as the breach. I didn’t need anyone connecting me to the breach. Not when the villagers were already panicking, fearful and angry. What would they do if they saw me? I wished I still had my eyepatch here. Luckily, no one really paid any attention to my presence. After the explosion I had helped people, healed them, setting up the Healer tent with other non-mage healers. They had been taken aback when I showed them I was a mage but neglected it since I was so good at healing. There was just one other mage-healer in town, well, he was actually more of an alchemist, stocking the soldiers with potions and elixirs. But he was pretty good at healing. What was his name again?

I had healed many battle wounds in my days as the resistance’s healer. But never had I healed so many. They kept on coming. I only slept a few hours during the night on the ground of the tent. I couldn’t save them all, but every life I could save was worth my own health. I hadn’t seen anything of Haven since the explosion, just the inside of the tent. Now, I was standing outside again, feeling a cold breeze caressing my face. I grabbed my hood nervously. 

Don’t let it fall down, Saeris. Don’t want to end up in the dungeon next to the other guy. 

The townspeople were rebuilding their village, running around and working all day round. Most provisions were given to the soldiers who were camped outside. There weren’t many left, so lots of townspeople volunteered to enter the fight against the demons. Most of them died there. I could fight too, but they needed me here. Conditions were harsh, hygiene was nowhere to be found, and it smelled awful in the streets. This village was not made to withstand a disaster like this.

Suddenly, the humans and elves around me quieted, stepping aside and whispering harshly. 

‘There he comes, seems like he woke up.’

‘… the bastard, I’ll kill him.’

‘Murderer!’

A man was pushed forward down from the Chantry, which was at the back of the village. He bowed his head in shame, staring at the ground as he walked through the crowd of people. A tall woman, clad in armour bearing the unmistakable sigil of the Seekers of Truth, was sternly guiding him down the path to the gates. She had short brown hair, modelled into a pixie cut with a small braid on the top like a crown. A deep scar ran down her left cheek. Her face was stern but beautiful and reminded me of Moira Theirin. Her steps were determined, her expression hard as steel. The people stepped back, their faces twisted in suspicion and anger, their voices low and angry as the two passed by. 

The man, the prisoner, stumbled forward, his hands bound with a rope. He tripped slightly under the Seeker’s firm grip, his expression a mix of confusion and exhaustion. His skin was tanned, his chestnut brown hair tousled, and his hazel eyes—so much like Sybil’s it made my chest tighten—darted nervously over the crowd. He looked like any normal human. His gaze shifted up then, his eyes following the huge scar in the sky. He looked so sad, his stare faltering. This man hadn’t created the Breach. He couldn’t have. When they almost passed me, the young man suddenly let out a guttural scream, falling to the ground, his body convulsing as his hand erupted in emerald sparks. The crowd recoiled, gasping in horror, but I felt something else entirely. His hand. His left hand. It erupted in green emerald sparks. He roared as he held it up, his face twisted in pain. In the palm of his hand, a strange scar had formed, a bright emerald light seeping out of it. 

Like my left eye… He held my eye in his hand. I felt how my breath got stuck in my throat.

The man roared with pain, his body shivering. I stared at him, my eye coiling while it burned in my head, focusing on his palm like it was the only thing existing in this world. He felt a harsh pain crackling through his very bones, but I felt power, a power I only had felt in the Fade, in my bubble. It was here now, in this man’s hand, and right up there in the sky.
Without thinking, I pushed through the crowd, drawn to the energy swirling around him. Kneeling at his side, I reached out, my fingers hovering just above the pulsing mark. The power radiating from it was wild, uncontained, like a storm barely held in check. I wanted to touch it, his palm, his scar, my eye.  

I pulled the hood off of my head without realising it—my eye twisting as it met its brethren. The sparks in his hand subsided, his eyes big as he stared at me. I put my hand in his palm, closing my eyes, feeling, searching, finding. He did not create this Breach. This power was not his, it was something… ancient. 

‘Stand down!’ The Seeker’s voice was as sharp as the sword she pressed to my throat. I broke contact with the man’s palm and looked up to the Seeker, who cursed as she saw my coiling eye, spitting the same light as the man’s scar and the Breach. ‘Who are you!’ She roared. Her sword trembled slightly, but she held it steady at my throat, the edge biting against my skin.

‘I—’ I began, but her blade pressed closer, cutting me off.

‘What are you doing here? And that eye—’

‘She’s one of the healers!’ A voice rang out from the crowd.

A figure emerged—a fellow healer I had been working alongside for days. His face was pale from exhaustion, but his words were steady. ‘She’s been helping us since the explosion. She’s… she means no harm.’

The Seeker’s eyes narrowed, her suspicion clearly not entirely eased, but she lowered her sword slightly. Her grip still tight, her gaze fixed on me.

‘What’s wrong with your eye?’ she asked, voice cold and hard. 

I could feel the tension still crackling in the air, the weight of every stare focused on me. 

‘I don’t know,' I mumbled as I looked down at the prisoner again, who stared at me with an open mouth. ‘I’ve always had it.’

If they were going to the hole in the sky, then I needed to go with them, I needed to find out what that scar in Veil was. 

I need to know!

‘Let me help,' I said then and saw the eyes of the Seeker darken with questions. ‘I’ve helped all of these days, healing as many as I could. My eye… I don’t know what it is. I was born with it. Now, I must find out what it means. Maybe I can help.’

The Seeker’s grip on her sword tightened again, her eyes flicking between me and the young man writhing on the ground. For a long moment, I thought she might strike me down, but then her expression hardened into something more calculated. She sheathed her sword slowly, though the suspicion never left her eyes.

‘Fine,' she grimaced then, and sheathed her sword again. ‘You will come with us.’ She said, her voice was clipped, commanding, as if daring me to question her authority. Together, we made our way through the crowd, the young man stumbling beside the Seeker. People whispered angrily as we passed, their fear palpable. I kept my head low, hiding the strange pull of my magic and focusing on the task ahead. Still, some people furrowed their eyebrows as they saw me pass. I had healed most of their friends, relatives, and themselves. I was no monster, but I was walking with one. And then my eye. They were considering my own guilt now as well.

What had caused this rift, really? What had such power? The man beside me didn’t, I could feel it. He wasn’t even a mage, I think. Why was he here? Was he like me, searching for something? Or had he been in the wrong place at the wrong time? And what did the scar on his palm mean? Was it connected to the scar in the sky? And so to me as well? And why was I connected to it? What in Mythal’s name had I promised! 

‘The people of Haven mourn our Most Holy, Divine Justinia, head of the Chantry. The Conclave was hers.’ The Seeker’s voice broke in the last sentence as we walked out of the town, outside of its gates. Hundreds of tents were scattered everywhere, a large frozen lake overlooking the mountains. ‘It was a chance for peace between mages and Templars. She brought their leaders together. Now, they are dead.’

We walked up on a path towards a bridge where more heavily armed guards awaited us. They nodded respectfully at the Seeker as she passed, ignoring us completely. The bridge was littered with supplies and weapons. They were at war, a war against the demons that were pouring out of the Breach. I knew how many lives had been claimed, I had tried saving them. Would they forget now because of the colour of my eye? 

‘We lash out, like the sky. But we must think beyond ourselves. As she did.’ The woman stopped as we stood near the centre of the bridge. ‘Until the Breach is sealed.’ She then took out a small dagger, turned around and stared at the prisoner. ‘There will be a trial,' she nodded at him and then towards me, ‘I can promise no more.’ And then she cut off the ropes she had bound his hands with. ‘Come. It is not far.’ 

‘Where are you taking us?’ the man said again, standing somewhat defensively before me. He stared over his shoulder at me, gazing into my eyes. He felt a connection too. 

‘Your mark must be tested on something smaller than the Breach,' the Seeker answered and then looked at me, ‘we must first understand what it is that connects you to it. Your hand… and your eye.’

I nodded and took the prisoner’s hand in mine, squishing it to say it was alright. His eyes resembled my Sybil’s so much. The kindness behind them, but also the defiance. He nodded and smiled and we took a step forward, following the Seeker to the other side. Groups of soldiers were standing about, praying one last time before they went out on the battlefield, to an enemy unbeknownst to them, the enemy they had nightmares about, demons. All real in their waking world. 

Oh Creator, see me kneel,
For I walk only where You would bid me
Stand only in places You have blessed
Sing only the words You place in my throat.

‘Open the gate! We are entering into the valley!’ the Seeker ordered and guards opened the gates towards another path.

We walked up towards the mountains, towards where the sky had been broken. Soldiers were hiding behind trenches, their swords in their hands, their faces confident. Green debris from the Breach was falling through the skies, raging onto the ground and exploding with emerald sparks, leaving traces of black ichor on the once serene white cobblestones. The Seeker walked out front, the prisoner behind her, and me at the back. 

Suddenly, the Breach cracked again, and I saw the man topple over, grunting as his hand erupted. He grabbed his own wrist, as if his hand was going to fall off anytime. I huffed as I reached for my eye, coiling as it looked at the glowing scar. 

Touch it, feel it.

The woman helped the man back to his feet, her eyes hiding a pitiful look. ‘The pulses are coming stronger now, we must hurry.’

What just happened? 

I remained silent as the Seeker and the man started talking, putting one foot before the other. What was the meaning of all this? 

‘…the larger the Breach grows, the more Rifts appear, the more demons we face.’

‘How did I survive the blast?’

‘They said you… stepped out of a Rift, then fell unconscious. They say a woman was in the Rift behind you. No one knows who she was.’ 

Did he go into the Fade physically?

‘Everything farther in the valley was laid to waste,' the Seeker continued, ‘including the Temple of Sacred Ashes.’

All of those people walking up the hill. Dead. Hundreds of them, gone in a mere second. Don’t cry, Saeris. You’ve seen death. They are at rest now. And soon, you’ll be too. My promise must come to light soon. It has to. And then, I can rest with them. 

We ran onto another bridge. Suddenly, the Breach spat a green rock down towards us, and it crushed right in front of the prisoner’s feet. 

CRASH! 

The bridge cracked immediately, the stones grinding on top of each other, and we fell onto the frozen lake beneath it. 

I stared, my hand and knees shaved onto the ice, and looked up into two familiar red eyes.

It hadn’t been a rock that had flown out of the Breach. It was a demon. But real this time, not in my room, not outside of my bubble, but right here, in front of us. Its contours were sharper now, its rotten and twisted body vaster, its claws sharper, its eyes bloodier.

‘Stay behind me!’ the Seeker screamed as she unsheathed her sword and ran towards the damning creature. 

The prisoner put his hands in front of me, urging me to stand back as he stared at the demon the woman was battling. 

‘Shit!’ he mumbled as the ice before us coloured an emerald green, black ichor bubbling and boiling. A demon ripped open the ice, scratching towards the surface as its body came to be. The man looked next to him, to where a rack of arms stood, filled with a bow, and two small rusty daggers. He reached for the daggers, pushing me back hard, making me trip over and fall onto the ground. 

The demon screeched, its high voice hurting my ears, as it threw itself onto the man. 

‘Shit' the man grunted as the demon tried scratching him, and he rolled onto his back, his daggers in the air. He reached for the creature, and it coiled as a dagger cut its stomach. It then opened its claws, grabbing the prisoner by his arm. He screamed as his palm sparked again an emerald light. 

My eye! It hurts!

My body lunged forward before my mind had willed it to. My hands raised up, a powerful fire blast bombarding the demon away from the man. It screeched high, but I didn’t stop and ran towards it. My hands turned to icy, pointy shards like swords and claws into my skin. The demon tried getting upright, but I pierced my ice arms into its body, pulling out and feeling the wet ichor prick my skin. The man then jumped from behind me, rolling over the dying demon, cutting off its twisting head with a clean swoop. He then looked up at me, his eyes big, but then he nodded thankfully. 

‘Drop your weapons! Lower your hands! Now .’ The Seeker ran to us, her sword raised towards our heads. The prisoner took a step forward, his back covering my front. 

‘A demon attacked me! What was I supposed to do!’ he said nervously, and I nodded silently. 

‘You don’t need to fight!’

‘This will happen again!’ I intervened, stepping from behind the man’s back, my hands lowered and my stance peaceful and calm. ‘We need to be able to protect ourselves.’

The Seeker sighed, ‘You are right, I cannot protect you, and I cannot expect you to be defenceless.’ She said towards the man. ‘But I will keep an eye on you, apostate,' she grunted. Great. I had been helping Haven for days now, healing without end, not sleeping and not eating. And I was greeted as an apostate. ‘Yet, I should remember you agreed to come willingly.’ At least one of us had. 

She grabbed something from under her coat. ‘Here, take a potion,' she said towards the man again, eyeing the scratch on his arm. 

‘Keep it,' I said, stepping forward. Did she forget I was a healer? I raised my hands, putting them on the man’s arm. My warm magic reacted immediately, knitting his flesh back together. He shivered as the wound disappeared, leaving no scar or sign of it. The Seeker looked towards me again, and I saw a softness in her eyes—which was gone just as quickly as it appeared. 

We started moving up the mountain again. 

I didn’t know how many demons we killed, but it was a damn lot. It must’ve taken us hours to get where we were going. And I heard the man’s breath heave harder and harder.
I grabbed his arm after another battle against three demons. 

‘You need healing?’ I coughed. 

‘Thank you, but I’m fine, I think,' he smiled and then cocked his head. ‘We… I—What’s your name?’ 

I looked towards where the Seeker was standing. She stood somewhat further away from us, but I saw her head rise in interest. 

‘Saeris,' I smiled. 

‘I’m Maxwell,' he squinted his eyes as he heaved some more. 

The Seeker took a step forward, her eyes still weary, but kind in some stern kind of way. ‘If we survive this, we will have time for introductions. But now, we need to move,' she turned her back again and signalled us to follow. 

We trudged further up the mountain, the cold biting at my skin through the thick fabric of my cloak. The Seeker’s armour gleaming despite the muck and blood of battle, moved ahead with determination, while Maxwell stumbled along beside me, clutching his glowing hand. His face was pale, but he kept pace.

After a while, we came across ruins. This must’ve been the outer parts of the temple, I guessed. The wind howled through the narrow path, carrying the faint echo of voices—shouts, the clang of metal, the unmistakable sounds of battle.

‘QUICK!’ The Seeker screamed as she heard it too. She ran upwards on a hill, Maxwell and I following suit. Where a room used to be, now just laid mere stones. Soldiers were standing around a strange green cut in the air, hovering as it spit demons, their forms twisted and grotesque, their very presence a violation of the world around them. This must be a Rift. The air around it swirled with an eerie, green glow. Maxwell and The Seeker charged towards the demons, the other soldiers screaming victoriously as support finally arrived. But I stood still above the staircase, or what was left of it, that led down the battlefield. My eyes were locked on the Rift, drawn to it like a moth to a flame. The power radiating from it was overwhelming, pulsating in time with the faint glow behind my own left eye. It was like the Rift was calling to me, pulling at something deep inside me. The world around me seemed to fade, the sounds of battle growing distant. For a brief, terrifying moment, nothing existed but that tear in the Veil.

Come, come and see, we are waiting. Quick now!

I saw what was behind it, my paradise, just waiting for me. My eye coiled, seeing the wonders in the Beyond. Can I… enter that place?

‘Saeris! Watch out!’ Maxwell screamed and broke my trance. Right in front of me, a demon had appeared, its claws trying to rip my throat out. 

I snapped back to reality just in time, my instincts kicking in and I lifted my hands, willing the veins underneath the ground. A thick thorny root sprouted from beneath, cracking the stones, impaling the creature in one quick swoop. I saw the demon’s red eyes pop out of its sockets. I grinned and balled my fist, making the thorns extend throughout its body. Now, it’s just a bouquet. 

I felt eyes burning towards me. 

There, in the centre of the ruin, stood the Dwarf I had seen just right after the explosion, the crossbow sturdy in his hands. He looked up at me as he shot an arrow through another demon’s gut, and smiled. He had muted, reddish-brown hair put up into a tiny ponytail at the back of his head. The small cut on his nose wrinkled up as he grinned. He had golden rings pierced in his ears and was wearing an open shirt, showing his mighty chest hair.

‘Quickly! Before more come through!’ someone else said. 

No! I looked up to the Rift, it was twisting, growling, out of its source. Maxwell stood in front of it, the Seeker on his right, and another man on his left, an Elf. 

The Elf grabbed Maxwell’s wrist, heaving his left, scarred hand up towards the Rift. A pulse of green light shot from Maxwell’s hand, connecting to the Rift. The chaotic energy from the tear began to swirl faster, drawn toward the mark like water swirling down a drain. I could feel the magic shifting, the Rift screaming. Was I the only one who could hear it scream? And then, with a sharp crack, the tear sealed shut, and the air fell still.

The people around us exhaled in collective relief. 

Maxwell writhed his arm loose from the Elf’s grasp, staring at it intensely. ‘What did you do?’

‘ I did nothing. The credit is yours,’ the Elf said.

‘You mean this?’ Maxwell shook his head while he stared at his palm. 

I remained where I was, staring at the place where the Rift had once been, but now, there was nothing. No urge of power left. I felt… blinded.

‘Whatever magic opened the Breach in the sky also placed that mark upon your hand,' the Elf continued, ‘I theorised the mark might be able to close the Rifts that have opened in the Breach’s wake. And it seems I was correct.’

The Seeker took a step forward, ‘Meaning it could also close the Breach itself’

‘Possibly,' said the Elf, who was really tall for his nature. Like me. ‘It seems you hold the key to our salvation.’

Maybe that was my promise? Help this man close the Breach? Help him close the emerald window, my eye in the heavens? The whispers had spoken of salvation. To break the emerald window? Did they mean “to close”?

“Protect the one who holds your eye in their hand, for they will lead you towards the vow you promised not to break”

It all made sense now! Right? I protect him, he closes the emerald window, all is saved, and…

‘Good to know!’ the strangely attractive Dwarf said as he stepped up, cuffing up his sleeves. ‘Here I thought we’d be ass-deep in demons forever.’ The Dwarf looked up at me and chuckled, then walked closer to where Maxwell, the Elf and the Seeker were standing. ‘Varric Tethras: Rogue, storyteller, and occasionally unwelcome tagalong.’ He grinned as he winked at the Seeker, who stepped back while making a disgusted noise. 

‘That’s… a nice crossbow you have there,’ Maxwell said. I heard his voice sounding more relaxed. He found an answer to something. And so did I.

Varric grinned deeply while shifting on his feet, ‘Ah, isn’t she? Bianca and I have been through a lot together.’

‘You named your crossbow Bianca?’ Maxwell said with a smirk.

‘Of course!' Varric nodded, ‘And she’ll be great company in the valley.’

‘Absolutely not!' the Seeker intervened, her face stormy, ‘Your help is appreciated, Varric, but…’

‘Have you been to the valley lately, Seeker? Your soldiers aren’t in control anymore. You need me.’ Varric smiled, looking over his shoulder to where I was standing and back. 

The Seeker again made a disgusted noise at that. Maybe that was her thing, rolling her eyes and making disgusted noises. 

‘Well, it’s good to meet you, Varric,' Maxwell smiled.

The Elf now took a step forward to Maxwell. ‘You may consider that stance, in time,' he nodded. 

‘Aww, I’m sure we’ll become great friends in the valley, Chuckles.’ Varric laughed. Was the Elf’s name Chuckles? What a weird name.

I stared at him. He was tall, even taller than me. I had never met an elf taller than me before. He was wearing simple cotton clothes, a thick fur vest, and long leather breeches with built-in foot wraps. I smiled at that, I had worn those too once. Around his neck, the jaw of an animal hung on a rope. From what animal had that once been? A staff hung on the man’s back, a simple one, made with thick branches and steel. He seemed muscular underneath his shabby clothes, but it was well concealed. Like he was hiding it. ‘My name is Solas,' he stated, ‘if there are to be introductions. I am pleased to see you still live.’

Wait. A. Minute. 

I have heard that name before… where…

‘He means, “I kept that mark from killing you while you slept”,' Varric interrupted, his face full of amusement. I figured they had been fighting for hours on end, maybe for days. How could he still casually laugh at that? Must have balls of steel. 

I felt the Elf, Solas, throwing a quick glance my way before he looked back to Maxwell, who respectfully nodded, ‘You seem to know a great deal about the mark?’

‘Solas is an apostate, well-versed in such matters,' The Seeker huffed. Ah, an apostate. Like me.

Solas shook his head, ‘My travels have allowed me to learn much of the Fade, far beyond the experience of any Circle mage.’

I suppressed a laugh. Knowing things better than a Circle mage wasn’t that hard.

‘I came to offer whatever help I can give with the Breach. If it is not closed, all of us are doomed, regardless of origin.’ Solas glanced towards me again, and I felt a strange sense of familiarity, though I couldn’t place why.

‘Then I owe you my thanks.’ Maxwell finally smiled again.

‘Thank me if we manage to close the Breach without killing you in the process.’ Solas’ gaze turned back to Maxwell as he answered with a chuckle. 

‘Cassandra,' Solas said, turning towards the Seeker. ‘You should know: the magic involved here is unlike any I have seen. Your prisoner is no mage. Indeed, I find it difficult to imagine any mage having such power.’ He looked at me in the end, his cold, blue eyes curiously scanning my being. I could fully see his face now. His features were sharp, but not unkind. He had fair skin, littered with freckles, a cleft chin, and a tiny scar between his furrowed brows. He was beautiful, with a strong jawline and full lips. If only he had hair, the picture would’ve been perfect. But he was bald, the only hint of his hair colour in his auburn eyebrows. 

‘Understood’ Cassandra answered pragmatically.

‘Saeris,' Maxwell said, taking a step towards where I stood somewhat further away. 

I nodded as I came closer, feeling Solas’ eyes burning on my body. 

Varric patted my back. ‘Hey, I’ve seen you before!’

‘At the tavern, during the explosion,' I nodded, saying the first thing in what felt like hours. My voice was soft, almost afraid of getting Solas’ attention. Why do I feel so nervous now? There was something unsettling about him, as if he saw more than what was in front of him—more than anyone should.

‘Ahh yes! Where have you been?’ Varric grinned. 

‘The Healer’s tent,' Maxwell said, ‘she… volunteered to come.’

‘Your eye,' Solas finally spoke, his face emotionless but I saw a glimpse of curiosity behind his pale eyes, ‘how did it get like that?’

‘I was born with it. I don’t know what it means. There must be a connection… between us,' I said towards Maxwell, who smiled gently.

‘You must let me study it,' Solas said, his eyes not leaving my face. Now, I felt utterly naked, ‘After we close the Breach of course.’

Varric laughed, his voice rumbling, ‘Yeah if we close the damn thing,' and smacked Maxwell on the back. 

‘We must get to the forward camp quickly,' Cassandra stood between us, eyeing everyone, and walked towards the end of the ruin. 

‘Well, Bianca’s excited!’ Varric grinned. 

Maxwell sighed and then locked eyes with me. I nodded at him. 

Don’t worry, I’ve got your back. 

Notes:

And so it begins... Okay, this chapter and the next one and probably the one after that, are quite game-dialogue heavy, so sorry for that, but I just really like that part of the game and find it essential.

Hope you liked it! *flies away*

Chapter 18: Windowed

Notes:

I was too excited so here's another chapter.
Again, this one is somewhat game-dialogue heavy,... But I still hope you will enjoy it as much as I do!

“One dictum I had learned on the battlefields of France in a far distant war: You cannot save the world, but you might save the man in front of you, if you work fast enough.”

— Diana Gabaldon, Dragonfly in Amber

 

***

‘So… are you innocent?’ Varric said. 

We had been walking for a while, fighting demons that crossed our paths. And there were a lot of them. I couldn’t believe this path was once used for pilgrimages. Everything was blasted away into rubble, burned down into ashes, ruins still smouldering after days.

‘I don’t remember what happened,' Maxwell said while he climbed the stairs leading to the forward camp. I stalked near him silently, not uttering a word since we had left the ruins. I needed to stay close to Maxwell. I needed to protect him, which wasn’t so difficult. Maxwell was really good with swords and protected himself easily. But still…

‘That’ll get you every time. Should have spun a story.’ Varric grinned.

‘That’s what you would have done.’ Cassandra said accusingly, making another disgusted noise.

‘It’s more believable and less prone to result in premature execution.’

We ran up the path, more demons ahead, but all killed easily. I loved how I could use my magic again, even if it was in battle. Ice, fire, sparks, nature, everything was in sync, I just had to lift my hands. But my eye kept coiling, burning, especially if I was too far away from Maxwell. Was it telling me to stay close as well?

‘You are not Dalish, are you?’ Solas said as he suddenly appeared next to me. I jumped up. How was he so quiet?

‘No, I’m not,' I nodded, my eyes forward, not looking at him.

‘Are you from a city?’

‘Not originally, no,’ I said again. What was this, an interrogation? 

‘You are a mage, a good one at that. Were you trained in a Circle?’

I sighed. ‘I was in one for a while. But I’ve been an apostate all of my life.’ 

‘Well, technically we are all apostates now,' he chuckled. I walked more quickly, almost sprinting towards Maxwell. I didn’t like Solas to be near me. Something felt… wrong. Solas furrowed his brows as I left. 

We walked through the rubble and burning corpses. Those must’ve been… soldiers… once. 

‘I hope Leliana made it through all this.’ Cassandra broke the silence. 

‘She’s resourceful, Seeker.’ Varric answered. 

As we ran up another hill, my stomach turned again, my eye twisting. 

A Rift, I could feel it. Can they feel it too?

‘Another Rift!’ Cassandra screamed as we reached the top of the hill, unsheathing her sword. 

‘We must seal it! Quickly!’ Solas yelled, his tone urgent.

There it was, almost glorious, with strange emerald minerals sticking out of its core. A Rift. It called to me again, and I could see into it, where it led. So close…

‘They keep coming! Help us!’ Soldiers were standing behind the hovering green scar, their faces pale and desperate. Maxwell nodded immediately, pulling the swords from his sides. Varric untucked his crossbow, and Solas swiftly reached for the staff on his back. 

I raised my hands, cold icy shards spitting from them, and hit each demon in the head. They crashed down before Cassandra could split them into two. She turned around and stared at me with an open mouth. 

Maxwell lifted his hand towards the Rift, his mark spewing again a crackling emerald light. I saw how his face contorted in a painful grimace, his body slumping as the Rift closed with a scream. It hurt, almost like it was blinding me. 

‘The Rift is gone! Open the gate.’ Cassandra ordered as she stepped over the bubbling ichor that had once been a Rift. The soldiers were cowering near an almost broken-down wooden gate. The camp must be behind it.

‘Right away, Lady Cassandra!’ one of the least-wounded soldiers said and pushed open the doors.

‘We’re clear for the moment,' Solas heaved, ‘well done.’ 

Maxwell smiled and slightly raised his back.

‘Whatever that thing on your hand is, Maxwell, it’s useful,' Varric grinned as he looked up to the gate. Behind it, soldiers were getting prepared, refilling their provisions, and binding their wounds. They looked up with tired eyes as we approached, their faces weary from the endless battle against the demons spilling from the Breach.

‘Ah, here they come,' an older Chantry priest said, his face pulled into an angry snare.

How I despise the Chantry.

Behind him, a woman stood. She was wearing chainmail, a subtle and light armour, and a samite hood covering her angelic face. A short strand of red hair dangled in front of her cold, murderous eyes. Never had I met a woman who had radiated such a deadly vibe. 

‘You made it,' she said, her voice having a melodic tune. But that accent… is that Orlesian? ‘Chancellor Roderick, this is…’

‘I know who he is,' the Chancellor spat. ‘As Grand Chancellor of the Chantry, I hereby order you to take this criminal to Val Royeaux to face execution!’ the old man rumbled and pointed to Maxwell. I stepped forward, my hands balled into fists. 

‘”Order me”?’ Cassandra huffed, walking forward before I could do anything. ‘You are a glorified clerk! A bureaucrat!’

‘And you are a thug, but a thug who supposedly serves the Chantry!’ the Chancellor yelled again.

‘We serve the Most Holy, Chancellor, as you well know.’ The cloaked woman took a step forward, her voice feminine but deadly. 

‘Justinia is dead! We must elect a replacement, and obey her orders on the matter!’ 

‘Don’t talk about me like I’m not here!’ Maxwell interrupted furiously. 

‘You shouldn’t even be here!’ the Chantry guy spat again. ‘Call a retreat, Seeker. Our position here is hopeless.’

‘We can stop this before it’s too late,' Cassandra said, placing her hands on the table the Chancellor was standing behind, her eyes determined. 

‘How? You won’t survive long enough to reach the temple, even with all your soldiers.’

‘We must get to the temple, it’s the quickest route!’ Cassandra shook her head.

‘But not the safest. Our forces can charge as a distraction while we go through the mountains.’ The cloaked Orlesian woman nodded. I really hated her accent. 

‘We lost contact with an entire squad on that path. It is too risky.’ The Seeker sighed. 

‘Listen to me,' the Chancellor tried again cowardly, ‘abandon this now before more lives are lost!’

The argument reached a fever pitch when suddenly, the sky above us cracked, a violent shudder rippling through the air. The Breach above the temple flickered, its sickly green light growing brighter, angrier, as if the sky itself was breaking apart.

Maxwell’s mark flared, glowing brightly, and he cried out, clutching his hand. The energy from the mark radiated outward, its intensity drawing my gaze like a moth to a flame.

I felt it again—the pull.

Look into me, Saeris. See. 

The green light of the mark seemed to beckon to me, and before I could stop myself, I was staring into it, drawn into its swirling energy. The world around me began to blur, fading into the background as the mark’s power consumed my vision. The others’ voices became distant, muffled, as if I were underwater.

And then... I wasn’t in the camp anymore.

I was somewhere else—somewhere high up on the mountain. The world around me was tinted green, like looking through a broken mirror. In this vision, I saw soldiers—our soldiers—locked in battle. They were fighting desperately against a swarm of demons, their blades flashing in the dim, ethereal light of the Rift. But they were losing. I could feel their terror, feel their despair as they fought for their lives. They were trapped on the mountain path, surrounded on all sides, and they needed help. Now. 

The soldiers roared as their boots crunched into the snow, and I felt something vile creeping behind the window, almost next to me. And it jumped. 

I cried as I fell to the ground. Two hands caught me in time, holding my body as I screamed, my eye splitting. Then the vision faded, and I was yanked back to the present, gasping for breath. My heart pounded in my chest, my skin tingling with the residual energy of the mark. The world snapped back into focus

‘Saeris?’ It was Solas, his soft voice entering my ears as he held me. 

‘They are alive,' I coughed up some bile, my head bursting, my heart thumping in my throat. ‘The squad, they live, a Rift, I saw them through… Maxwell… your hand… a window.’ I cried, tears streaming down my cheeks. 

Had I just seen through his mark? 

Cassandra furrowed her brows. ‘How?’ 

‘No time! A Rift… they need our help.’ I huffed again, and Solas helped me up, his gaze clouded with questions. I stared into his eyes. ‘We need to help them.’

‘We will use the mountain pass then,' Maxwell said as he took me from Solas’ hands, wiping away the tears from my cheeks. ‘Work together, we all know what’s at stake.’

***

The world around me still felt hazy after what had happened at the camp. Whatever I had seen through the mark, whatever that green-tinted vision had been, it had left me drained. My magic, which had always been there—ready, steady—felt distant now, like a well I couldn’t quite reach. It was unsettling. My breathing was shallow, my limbs heavy, and though I tried to shake it off, the weariness clung to me.

We pressed on, the mountain pass looming ahead of us like a jagged scar cutting through the landscape. The cold wind bit at my face, and I pulled my cloak tighter around me, feeling the icy air gnawing at my skin. The path was narrow and treacherous, the ground slippery with frost and loose stones. Every step felt like it could send us plummeting over the edge.

Maxwell walked ahead, his hand glowing faintly under his breathless determination. 

 Cassandra followed closely behind him, her eyes constantly scanning the horizon for threats. ‘You truly saw them?’ She said as she walked next to me, her breath like clouds in the air. 

‘I did—like I was looking through a window, through the Rift,' I heaved. 

‘Have you experienced this before?’ she said, her face stern.

‘No,' I huffed, ‘I just… stared into Maxwell’s mark.’

‘It is incomprehensible,' Solas said as he walked behind us, using his staff as a walking stick. ‘Yet, so is the mark and the Breach.’ He walked up next to Cassandra, his icy blue eyes glancing my way. His face was a mask of correctness, like a scholar studying his work. It made me very uncomfortable. 

We came across another ruin. It used to be some kind of tower, it seemed. Ladders were set next to it. We climbed upwards, Maxwell first, then Cassandra, Varric, me and Solas. 

My arms protested as I pulled myself up. How much power had I used to look through the mark? 

‘Are you alright, Saeris?’ Maxwell yelled downwards, his face worried. 

I heaved out of breath, ‘I am fine! Please continue!’ I yelled back. 

‘The tunnel should be just ahead. The path to the temple lies just beyond it!’ Cassandra said as we neared the top of the tower.

‘What manner of tunnel is this? A mine?’ Solas yelled from beneath me. 

‘Part of an old mining complex. These mountains are full of such paths,' Cassandra answered.

‘And your missing soldiers are in there somewhere?’ Varric said—he was out of breath too. 

‘They were somewhere outside!’ I said as I recalled my vision. 

‘Along with whatever has detained them.’ Solas again as he looked at me.

‘I saw demons there, be prepared!’ I answered his look. 

We entered the tunnel, which was actually like a hall and quite well-preserved. The stone walls were wet, and it smelled musky. I flickered my hand, a small flame resting above my palm. The flame cast shadows on the walls, and I saw tiny insects scattering about. The tunnel engraved itself deep into the mountain, all the way through. Some minor demons dwelled within, none we couldn’t handle. 

As we stepped outside of the tunnel, on the other side of the mountain, the cold, scorching white wind greeted our faces. More like a slap in the face. 

On the stone floor near the entrance of the tunnel, we came across three bodies on the path, their forms twisted and broken from the demons that had torn through them. I knelt briefly beside one, my hands shaking. They were cold, lifeless—but I had seen them alive. The vision through Maxwell’s mark had been clear—these soldiers had been fighting for their lives. But here, they were already gone.

Had I been wrong? Had we been too late?

Varric sighed and dropped his crossbow a little. ‘Guess we found the soldiers.’

‘That cannot be all of them,' Cassandra said, nodding at me as she saw my face.

‘They must be held up further away! I saw them, they need us!’ I yelled. My feet started moving then, one before the other, faster and faster. I leapt and jumped down the slippery stairs, my body lunging around corners. 

‘Saeris, stop!’ I heard Maxwell behind me, the others too. They couldn’t keep up.

‘Damn, that kid is fast.’ Varric huffed as his short legs stumbled on the snowy path. 

Up ahead, just beyond the narrowing path, a Rift tore through the sky. Its green light pulsed violently, casting an eerie glow over the rocks. And there, still alive, were the soldiers. They fought desperately, their movements sluggish with exhaustion, but they were there.

Without thinking, I ran forward, my feet slipping slightly on the icy ground as I raced toward them. The others called out, but I didn’t stop. The soldiers were fighting for their lives, and I couldn’t let them fall like the ones we had passed.

I reached them just as a demon lunged toward one of the soldiers, its claws raised to strike. I blasted it back with a burst of ice, my confidence soaring despite the exhaustion weighing me down. But before I could react, another demon—a larger one, twisted and grotesque—lashed out, its claws catching me across the back. Pain seared through me, sharp and hot as fire, and I stumbled, my body jerking forward. I cried out, the force of the blow sending me to my knees. The world tilted, my vision blurring for a moment, but I gritted my teeth, forcing myself to stay upright. The pain was overwhelming, but I couldn’t stop now. I heard the clash of weapons behind me—the others had caught up, joining the fight. Cassandra’s sword flashed as she struck down a demon, while Varric’s crossbow sent bolts flying into the fray. Solas stood back, his hands raised as he summoned wards to protect the wounded soldiers. 

Maxwell, his hand still flaring with green light, moved toward the Rift. I watched as he reached out, his mark connecting with the tear in the Veil. The same pulse of energy that had sealed the previous Rifts surged through him, and I could feel it—the same pull, the same connection. The Rift wavered, its light flickering, and with a final burst of power, it closed.

I felt it again, the loss of power in the air, the feeling I was blinded, losing more and more of a sight I couldn’t even see. 

The soldiers slumped in relief, their weapons lowered, their faces pale with exhaustion and fear. We had saved them.

But as I stood, the pain in my back flared again, sharp and unrelenting. My hand twitched toward the injury, but I quickly pulled it back, hiding the wound. I couldn’t afford to show weakness now, not when we were so close. I had to get to the Breach, to see if there was a connection between it and me, just as Maxwell seemed tied to it.

‘Sealed, as before. You are becoming quite proficient at this,' Solas said as he neared Maxwell, eyeing the black residue the Rift had left.

‘Let’s hope it works on the big one,' Varric shook his head as he stared at the black puddle too. 

‘Lady Cassandra!’ A soldier yelled surprised as she eyed the Seeker. 

‘Lieutenant! You’re alive!’ Cassandra said, a sigh of relief escaping her lips. 

‘Just barely.’ The Lieutenant huffed and arched her back. ‘Thank the Maker you finally arrived. I don’t think we could have held out much longer.’

‘Thank our prisoner and the healer, Lieutenant. They insisted we come this way.’

‘If it wasn’t for Saeris…’ Varric cocked his head, looking at me with squinted eyes. I shook my head, my hair waving over my face. 

Maxwell straightened his back, nodding silently at me as he said, ‘It was worth saving you if we could.’ 

‘Then you have my sincere gratitude,' the Lieutenant said and pounded her chest with her fist respectfully. I felt… proud. I didn’t need a thank you, I just needed Maxwell to be safe. But hearing others praise him, strangely felt like a compliment. Like, good for you Saeris, you kept the guy alive.

Cassandra smiled lightly and then turned to the group of soldiers. ‘The way into the valley behind us is clear for the moment. Go, while you still can.’

‘At once,' the Lieutenant nodded, urging her men forward, ‘Quickly, let’s move.’

‘Let’s hurry.’ Cassandra nodded at me as she passed. ‘We will talk about all of this back at Haven.’

Why did that sound like a threat? Hadn’t I just helped them save people? But to be fair, it was strange. 

Maxwell, Cassandra and Varric walked further down the path to the temple. I grunted as I touched the wound on my back. Each step sent a sharp jolt through my body, but I forced myself to ignore it. There was no time to stop, no time to heal. My magic felt thin, like a flickering candle, barely holding on. If I used it now to heal myself, I wasn’t sure I’d have enough left for whatever awaited us at the Temple.

I stood at the edge of the group, my hood low, trying to keep my movements measured and careful. But I could feel him watching me.

Solas.

His pale eyes observed me closely. It made my skin prickle. There was something about him that I couldn’t place—something that made me feel exposed, like I was a puzzle he was eager to solve. ‘Are you alright, Saeris?’ he said quietly, his voice gentle but with an undeniable note of curiosity, as if he were noting a detail in his mind. He spoke my name very slowly, the ‘r’ rolling from his tongue. The accent reminded me of Elven. 

‘I’m fine,’ I lied, trying to keep my tone steady. There was something about Solas that unsettled me more than anything else. His presence, his calm demeanour, the way he seemed to see straight through me—it all set me on edge. 

We continued to move as a group, the climb growing steeper, colder. My muscles ached, and the wound on my back throbbed with each step, but I pressed on. I couldn’t stop now, not when we were so close to the Temple. The Breach loomed over us, an ever-present reminder of the chaos that had torn our world apart. The green light pulsed faintly in the distance, drawing us forward.

‘So… holes in the Fade don’t just accidentally happen, right?’ Varric asked casually as we neared the temple. 

‘If enough magic is brought to bear, it is possible.’ Solas answered scholarly. How did this guy know so much? I’ve been in Thedas for amost a hundred and fifty years by now, how did he learn in his short lifespan if I hadn’t learned anything in mine? 

‘But there are easier ways to make things explode.’ Varric said knowingly.

‘That is true,' Solas answered.

‘We will consider how this happened once the immediate danger is past.’ Cassandra grunted at them, glaring at Maxwell as he stared forward. He was nervous too, the pulses in his hand coming stronger and faster. Poor guy. He had been so good and brave the whole time, he hadn’t deserved this, however he had gotten it in the first place. 

We entered a staircase leading to a giant black crater. My heart pounded in my throat as I saw emerald cracks surge through the smoking stones, ash raining down from the sky instead of snow. This must’ve been where the temple once stood. Nothing of it was left. Only ashes. The Temple of Sacred Ashes, how ironic. Here is where Maxwell walked out of the Fade, where the soldiers must’ve found him. 

Maxwell suddenly stopped in his tracks, staring at the sea of burning corpses. Men and women, charred into place, their carcasses still aflame. You could still see their faces, their arms covering their bodies—their last seconds eternalised. I had seen death, but not like this. The terror in the desolate, smoking faces of innocents. 

We walked under a broken stone archway, which gave me a glimpse of how glorious the architecture of this place must’ve been. Maxwell stood first, his chest heaving heavily up and down as he stared into the Breach’s glare. A deeper crater was spreading out in front of us, stones and broken ruins of a once great hall depicting how massive the explosion must’ve been. And in the centre of the room, hung a giant Rift. The Rift was connected to the giant scar, the Breach, in the sky by a huge beam of emerald light, hard rocks hovering in it mid-air. 

‘The Breach is a long way up,' Varric sighed as he stepped forward, hanging over the balcony we were standing on, which was overlooking the entire crater. 

‘You’re here!’ A soft voice said from behind us. It was the cloaked woman, Leliana, the Orlesian one. She ran towards us, archers following her step, eyeing the Rift nervously. ‘Thank the Maker.’

‘Leliana, have your men take up positions around the temple.’ Cassandra ordered as she met Leliana on her path. The woman nodded pertinently, turning back towards her archers. 

Maxwell shifted on his feet as he stared into the abyss. I took a step towards him, feeling how with every movement, the cut on my back ripped open more. My hand found his shoulder. He shied from my touch and then met my eyes. I gave him a slight smile, and he smiled faintly back.

‘This is your chance to end this. Are you ready?’ Cassandra said as she came in between us.

‘I’ll try,' Maxwell sighed, touching his shoulder slightly, missing the warmth of my hand that had laid on it, ‘but I don’t know if I can reach that, much less close it.’

‘No, this Rift was the first, and it is the key,' Solas nodded from behind Maxwell, staring at his shoulder too, and then back to the Rift. ‘Seal it, and perhaps we seal the Breach.’

‘Then let’s find a way down.’ Cassandra looked down to the cracked stone path towards the centre. ‘And be careful.’

Our party walked down, but as soon as we neared the Rift, a booming voice could be heard. It rattled my bones, stung my very ears. I was afraid of it. 

‘Now is the hour of our victory,' the heavy voice echoed through the crater, ‘Bring forth the sacrifice.’

‘What are we hearing?’ Cassandra shivered. The voice made her shed in terror too. 

‘At a guess, the person who created the Breach,' Solas answered, his voice cold and calculated. 

Harsh red stones were embedded into the smouldering ground, sticking out of it like crimson claws. A strange red glow evaporated from it, the air crushing in the sparks. I came somewhat closer, hearing soft voices singing my name. 

‘Stand back,' Varric said, suddenly serious, ‘You know this stuff is Red Lyrium, Seeker?’

I despised Lyrium, and I didn’t think this red stuff was a good equivalent of the blue. It smelled stranger too, like normal Lyrium, but not. 

‘I see it, Varric,' Cassandra huffed in annoyance. 

‘But what’s it doing here?’ Varric sounded worried, more worried than I had heard him before. What was this stuff if it scared him more than demons and Rifts?

‘Magic could have drawn on Lyrium beneath the temple, corrupted it…’ Solas cocked his head. I stepped back behind the rocks, closer to Maxwell. 

‘It’s evil. Whatever you do, don’t touch it.’ Varric looked to me as a warning, I nodded quickly. I had never seen this type of Lyrium before, nowhere in all of Thedas. How much had happened while I was stuck in that Circle tower?

‘Keep the sacrifice still,' the eerie voice doomed again. I shivered, the cut on my back thumping like my heart. 

We all shared a look and ran forward on the path. Whatever we were hearing, it wasn’t good. 

‘Someone! Help me!’ A woman’s voice echoed through the Rift. Who was she? And how did she get there?

‘That is Divine Justinia’s voice!’ Cassandra blinked her eyes in disbelief, her voice sounding hopeful. We started running faster, Maxwell out front. He jumped onto the ground floor of the crater. I followed suit immediately. 

Stay close to him! Protect him! 

Maxwell’s mark flared again as he neared the Rift, my eye responding as well, coiling in its socket. 

‘Someone! Help me!’ the voice of the Divine rang again. 

‘What’s going on here?’ That was… Maxwell’s voice? But he was right here? What are we hearing? Was this even real? I put my hand over my blue eye, my left eye scanning the field. Nothing changed, no disguises.

‘That was your voice,' Cassandra said, her voice a whisper almost, ‘Most Holy called out to you. But…’

The Rift crackled again. And then, we could all see it. A shadow lurked in its emerald light, its eyes glowing and looking down. My eye burned as it looked at me. This wasn’t real, I realised then. This was… a memory?

In front of the shadowy creature, a woman hung, her hands bound with unfamiliar magic, holding her tight. This woman was… Divine Justinia? She was very old, dressed in her religious robes, the high white and red headpiece on her head.

‘What’s going on here?’ That was Maxwell again! He was there! In the Rift! His vision looked confused. He wasn’t meant to have been there.

‘Run while you can!’ the Divine pleaded, ‘Warn them!’ 

‘We have an intruder,' the looming voice appeared again, its shadowy figure pointing towards Maxwell’s vision. ‘Kill him. Now.’

Maxwell’s vision heaved, his face filled with terror. The Rift spat a bright light, and then, was empty again, silent. Maxwell stared at it, his eyes unwavering. 

‘You were there! Who attacked? And the Divine, is she…? Was this vision true? What are we seeing?’ Cassandra’s voice raised, her eyes clouded and teary. 

‘I don’t remember!’ Maxwell cried out. He was losing his temper. And I understood him. I too was once clouded with doubts and questions. And when they were answered, I knew even less. 

‘These are… like memories,' I said, stepping forward next to Maxwell. 

Solas nodded. ‘Echoes of what happened here. The Fade bleeds into this place.’

That was an understatement. 

Cassandra paced towards where Solas stood, who stated; ‘This Rift is not sealed, but it is closed… albeit temporarily. I believe that with the mark, the Rift can be closed, and then sealed properly and safely. However, opening the Rift will likely attract attention from the other side.’

Oh shit. 

‘That means demons!’ Cassandra heaved. ‘Stand ready!’

Archers were stationed near the balconies and borders of the crater, and I heard how they pulled their strings, ready to shoot. The soldiers on the ground prayed slightly as they unsheathed their swords and daggers. I braced myself, my feet spread wide, my magic curling around my hands. The pain in my back soared, but I ignored it. Whatever was waiting for us, I was ready for it. I’ve always been ready for it. 

If I protect Maxwell and help him seal that Breach, maybe my promise will end?

Maxwell looked over his shoulder to Cassandra, who nodded, and then to me. I lifted my chin. Let them come. His hand raised to the Rift, another stream of crackling emerald sparks erupting from it, finding the Rift’s core fluently. The Rift answered, and then, I saw it, standing just behind the Rift’s vision. A monster, peering down at us like he would be through a window. An emerald window. 

‘That’s a Pride demon,' I whispered. 

Solas heard me and arched his back, his staff gripped tightly in his hands.

And then, the Rift exploded, like glass breaking—a window cracking—and the demon could step through.

I learned about Pride demons in the Circle and had seen a drawing of it in an old hidden book near the back of the library. And this beast was its spitting image. It was large, like a three-floor tower, and had purple and obsidian scales covering its body, like a crocodile, or even a dragon. Four long, black horns protruded from its malformed head, six eyes staring down at us. It stepped through the Rift with a terrifying grace, its glowing eyes burned with arrogance, as if it knew we were nothing compared to its power.

I froze for a moment, staring up at the demon’s massive form. The pain in my back flared, but I forced myself to focus. This was the battle I had saved my magic for.

‘Now!’ Screamed Cassandra, and she waved her sword in the air. The archers let go of their strings, a storm of arrows raining down on the demon. But the arrows just toppled over its scales like raindrops. The demon roared and lifted its claws as purple lightning erupted from its body. It opened its large mouth, and I saw maybe a hundred small but thick pointy teeth greeting our figures. 

Cassandra, Maxwell and the other foot soldiers immediately went for the beast’s feet and legs, while Varric, Solas and the archers aimed for its head and chest, keeping its attention away from his bottom half. I raised my hands like a conductor would in front of an orchestra, and the veins in the earth were my musicians. Roots cracked through the ashy surface of the crater, its thorns grasping the Pride demon’s wrists and claws, holding them tightly to its body while they tried to protrude his armour-like skin. I pushed my hands down, the thorns erupting in fire and flame, but the demon’s skin could not be breached.

I cried out as I pulled my arms down, my hands balled into fists to keep the roots tighter. The demon seemed to grin my way as it roared, a sudden strength surging through its body, and it lifted its arms upwards, the roots snapping with a loud twitch. I screamed as I felt the loss of power, arching my back and feeling the wound rip open, every piece of skin at a time. 

‘Focus on the Rift!’ Solas shouted at Maxwell, his voice cutting through the chaos. ‘The demon is drawing power from it!’

I turned my attention back to the Rift, its green light pulsing erratically, feeding the demon’s strength. Maxwell’s hand flared again, the mark glowing with the same intensity as the Rift. I watched him step forward, determination etched on his face.

But the demon wouldn’t let him get close. It swung its massive arm, knocking Maxwell back, and he crashed to the ground with a grunt of pain.

I gritted my teeth, summoning every bit of magic I had left. I couldn’t let this be the end. Not here, not now.  My vision blurred, the world spinning as the pain in my back surged again. But I pushed it down, focusing only on the Rift, on the power I could feel crackling in the air.

I lifted my hands again. If I couldn’t hurt it from the outside, I must do so from the inside. From my fingertips, hundreds of ethereal blue butterflies sprung, their bodies like essence, shining a bright blue light, their reflection a mirror through this world, almost see-through.  To anyone watching—Maxwell, Cassandra, even Varric—the flimsy creatures probably looked like a pitiful attempt to distract the towering beast. And perhaps, in that moment, they were unsure if I had lost my mind. But the demon was laughing. And that was all I needed.

‘What is that!’ Cassandra yelped as the tiny insects fluttered to where they stood.

The demon’s hulking form swung wildly, the lightning crackling at its fingertips as it tried to bat away the harmless-looking butterflies, their delicate wings fluttering too close to its face. It barely saw them as a threat. It focused on their appearance, not their potential. My heart pounded in my chest, the strain of maintaining the summoning pulling at my depleted magic reserves. The wound on my back burned hot, but I forced myself to push through, channelling what little energy I had left into this single, desperate gamble.

With a roar, the demon whipped its arm around, a bolt of lightning crackling from its fingertips. The strike was quick, brutal. I felt the sharp crack of energy hit my legs, and pain shot through me like fire. My legs gave out, and I crashed to the ground with a yelp, the taste of blood sharp in my mouth as I bit down on my lip to keep from screaming. 

The demon towered over the crater, its laughter dark and rumbling as I squirmed on the ground, clutching at my legs. I could feel its arrogance swelling, the victory it thought it had already won. But I had been waiting for this.

The demon’s mouth twisted into a smug grin, its guard lowered, its focus entirely on its own victory.

That’s when I struck.

With a flick of my wrist, I commanded the butterflies forward, watching as they swarmed toward the demon’s face. Their delicate forms slipped into its laughing mouth, unnoticed in the demon’s distraction.

The change was instant.

The demon's laughter cut off, its throat spasming as the butterflies ignited, burning from within. The demon staggered back, its clawed hands scratching frantically at its neck, trying to dislodge the searing pain inside. Its movements grew frantic, desperate, its once-impenetrable arrogance crumbling as it realised what was happening.

It thrashed, clawing at its own throat, scales peeling away under the violent scratching, revealing the raw, vulnerable flesh beneath.

‘Now!’ Cassandra’s voice cut through the chaos, her tone sharp and commanding. She didn’t hesitate, ordering her soldiers forward. ‘Bring it down!’

With renewed determination, the soldiers surged forward, surrounding the demon as it flailed, unable to focus on defending itself. Cassandra led the charge, her sword flashing as she hacked at the demon's now-exposed throat, her strikes swift and deadly. Varric aided from a ledge above, his bolts found their mark, each one striking true, weakening the demon further.

Solas flickered his staff, entrapping the demon’s feet and arms in a prison of solid ice. The demon fell to one knee, its strength draining as it fought against the pain writhing inside it. Its pride had been its downfall.

Maxwell, still clutching his glowing hand, moved in. His face was pale, his body clearly still reeling from the strain of closing Rift after Rift, but his resolve was firm. With a quick, fluid motion, he darted forward, slashing his daggers across the demon’s bare, exposed throat.

The demon let out a final, guttural roar before collapsing to the ground, its massive form crumpling into the dirt, dead.

Without missing a beat, Maxwell turned toward the Rift, his hand flaring with green light once more. He thrust his hand toward the tear in the Veil, his mark connecting to the Rift’s core, closing it and sealing its connection to the Breach above. The sky thundered in response. The explosion that followed was violent, the shockwave rippling through the air.

Maxwell was thrown back.

I didn’t think—I just moved.

Ignoring the pain in my legs, I threw myself forward, reaching for him. My hands grabbed onto Maxwell’s torso, a ward springing into place. But it was too weak, I was too weak.
My body slammed hard against the ground, right into the wound on my back. Pain exploded through me, white-hot and blinding, but I held on. 

I won’t let you go.

Maxwell groaned beside me, but alive. My vision swam, my breath ragged as I tried to force myself to stay conscious. The battle was over, the Rift sealed, but I could feel the strain pulling at me, my magic dangerously low, my body barely holding on. I looked down at Maxwell, his face pale but breathing, and for a brief moment, I allowed myself to feel the smallest flicker of relief.

Maxwell slumped in my arms, the mark finally taking its toll. 

But he was still alive. I felt his heart under my fingers. I let go, my arms dangling at my sides as I felt warm blood slipping down my back, dripping onto the stones. 

And like Maxwell, my body gave way, a soft numbness taking over the pain and a familiar darkness reigning over my coiling eyes. 

Did I do what I had to do? Was this it? 

Was my promise fulfilled now?

Notes:

If you liked it, you can always leave me a comment or a kudo.

Chapter 19: Interrogated

‘Hey, hey Saeris,' he yelled, ‘Will you look at that!’ 

My brother jumped up and down on his beanbag, his console in his hands while staring at the screen triumphantly. I sighed, my back on the thick duvet on his bed, my chest heaving up and down while I stared at the cracks in the ceiling. Outside it was raining, drops hitting the window like tiny bricks. The window rattled in response, displaying the sorry weather and stormy clouds hanging in front of the sun, that must’ve been shining somewhere on Earth. 

‘EYO! It downloaded!’ 

‘What… what downloaded?’ I said, rolling over onto my side. What could we do on a shitty day like this? Read a book? Who’d do that? 

‘Dragon Age 3!’ 

‘What?’

‘Inquisition!’

‘What do dragons have to do with the Spanish Inquisition?’ People these days do have a very… rich imagination. 

‘No! No, not the Spanish one!’ he said excitedly, his short curly blonde hair laid flat on his head. He should maybe take a shower… 

‘Seeeee! Isn’t it nice! Ahh the graphics.’ 

I looked at his TV screen. ‘Uhuh, really pretty. Say, can we play a board game?’

‘Shhh, it’s starting! OW!’ 

Something on the screen exploded, I sighed as I plopped back onto the duvet, counting every crack in the ceiling again. Last time there were six… seven… 

‘Human… ugh… I’ll just use the default guy… just some tweaks.’

Is that a crack or just a cobweb? Nah, I’ll count it in any way. Eight.

‘Wanna know the story, sissy?’ 

‘Sure,' I said again. There’s a spider in the corner of the ceiling. I hate spiders. 

‘There’s this guy, this one here,' he said all that without breaking contact with his screen, ‘and he has this thing in his hand and he has to save the world because the sky is coming down.’

‘Cool.’

‘Yeah, it says so on the cover.’ He tapped the plastic case that lay next to his beanbag. ‘Lead them or fall…’

‘Uhuh’

‘Recruit legendary warriors to fight by your side as you hunt down agents of chaos and lead the Inquisition,' breathe, ‘A blast rips a hole in the sky, unleashing an army of demons from the mysterious realm known as the Fade,' breathe again, his voice was getting higher and ecstatic, ‘As the blast’s sole survivor, only you and your team can bring the world back from the brink of destruction!’ 

I was impressed. How could he say all that in one go? 

‘Isn’t this awesome, Saeris? Saeris? YO, you listening?’

‘Yeah, sure, I’m still here,' what is mum going to make for dinner tonight? I hope it’s not broccoli, that’s just nasty. 

‘Catch,' he yelled as he threw the plastic cover onto the bed. I moved my head to the side, seeing the tiny characters on the green cover art. ‘I’m just so excited!’

‘I can see that.’ Like you were for Skyrim, The Last of Us, Mass Effect, those Batman games, Far Cry, and that remastered version of Jak and Daxter for the PlayStation 3. 

‘Oh… oh it’s starting!’

I looked up, craning my neck. ‘Yuck, it has spiders in it.’ I groaned and plopped back down. 

‘I know!’

The rain crashed harder into the window. Downstairs, I heard the front door opening with a flick of dangling keys. Ah, mum must be home. I’ll ask her about dinner. 

‘Saeris! This shit is going to be fun!’ 

***

I feel warmth. I see light. I am not alone. I am alive, not dead.

My promise wasn’t fulfilled yet. 

Shit. 

I turned on my side, the hard bed I was laying on creaking. My bones were sore, but that was it. I huffed deeply as I craned my neck, the sunlight shining through my lashes, blinding me. 

‘Call for Lady Cassandra. She has awakened,’ someone said—a voice I recognized. 

I opened my eyes fully and stared into the two kind eyes of the healer. I remembered him from the time after the explosion. The man nodded, he had big dark circles under his eyes, a shaved head and a long dark brown beard. What was his name again? I sat upright, noticing the cloth bound around my chest and back. It was clean. 

‘You were hurt quite badly,’ the healer said, ‘but healed fast. You got lucky, kid.’

I nodded at him with a faint smile. I wouldn’t call it luck. And you wouldn’t call me kid. 

‘You remember me? Name’s Adan.’ The man said. Ah, he was the alchemist. 

The flap of the Healer’s tent opened and Cassandra stuck her head in, her face concerned. The tent was full of soldiers, all severely wounded or recovering. I shouldn’t be here—I should make space for others who needed it. Cassandra walked in with a steady pace as I swooped my legs over the narrow bed. Solas appeared behind her, his hands on his back in a scholarly pose as he studied me. 

Cassandra threw her coat over my naked shoulders, I shivered gratefully. 

‘For how long was I out?’ I said, my voice dry. I needed some water. As if Solas had noticed too, he gave me a cup, which he filled with ice contracting from his hands. I took it, my magic on my fingertips, the ice melting immediately. I nodded thankfully. 

‘Two days,' Adan said, ‘I think you needed sleep more than healing.’ I smiled at that. Yeah, that was probably true. 

‘How are you feeling? Solas and Adan here helped heal you, but the wound on your back recovered quite fast.’ Cassandra cocked her head. Adan nodded at Cassandra, who nodded back, and then stepped outside—off to help other, more wounded, people.

I shivered again while I sipped from the cup of water. 

‘We must speak about what has occurred in the forward camp.' Solas took a step forward, his eyes scanning my face pertinently. 

‘I need you to come with me first, Saeris. There’s a lot to discuss before we may continue.’ Cassandra interrupted Solas, throwing him a glare.

‘Maxwell,' I looked up to them, ‘is he…’

‘He is still unconscious. Closing the Rift has taken a severe toll,' Solas squinted his eyes at that. Why?

‘The Breach, is it closed?’

‘It is stable, but still a threat. But let’s discuss this when the Herald awakens.’

‘The Herald?’

‘Maxwell’

‘Why do you call him Herald?’

‘He is the Herald of Andraste. The Maker sent him to us in our darkest hour,' Cassandra said sternly, her eyes deepening into a confident gaze. Solas shifted on his feet. 

‘You think the Maker sent him?’ I asked, my voice more sarcastic than I had planned. ‘I thought he was your prisoner, not saviour?’

Cassandra grunted. ‘I was wrong, perhaps, I still am. I will not, however, pretend he was not exactly what we needed when we needed it.’ 

Humans and their beliefs. Will it ever stop?

‘And we will not forget you were there too.’ 

I looked up. Were they going to call me a herald too now?

‘Come,' she said and stepped outside. I passed Solas, my shoulder almost brushing his. He was at least one head taller than me. Quite disturbing. Solas took a step back, his eyes not leaving my figure as I left the tent. 

People were gathered outside, staring up as I stepped out of the tent behind Cassandra. They muttered, their eyes filled with fear. These people… were they scared of me? I had helped them, healed them, why were they like this now? Was it because my eye had the same colour as their Breach? I stared at the ground, feeling hundreds of eyes on my shoulders, and I pulled Cassandra’s coat further over my body.

‘My cloak and dagger,' I started.

‘…are being kept safely. Your cloak needed some restorations as well.’ Cassandra said while looking behind her shoulder to where I stood. We walked through Haven, towards the back of the village where the Chantry stood. It wasn’t so big, just like a small church, but with a more simple architecture. The inside of the Chantry was warm. Candles gave the stone hall a comfortable and warm glow. Books were scattered about, and near the end of the Chantry, some bookcases stood. Most of the books I recognized. Statues of a praying woman stood on either side of the hall, her hands together and her head down, candles were placed near her knees. It was Andraste, I had seen statues like this before all over Thedas. At the back of the Chantry, there was a door. Cassandra opened it and revealed another, smaller room, with some bookcases and a big table in the middle. The room was dimly lit, a large map of Thedas spread across the table, with markers and notes scattered around.

‘You are up. Good.’ Leliana stood behind the table, her eyes watching my every move.

‘This is Sister Leliana,' Cassandra said as I entered the room, and closed the door behind me. ‘She is our Spymaster.’

‘Yes, tactfully put, Cassandra,' Leliana sighed. Ugh, the accent still bothered me. 

‘I am Saeris.’ 

‘I know,' Leliana grinned slightly, ‘I know you volunteered at the Healer’s tent after the blast, and that you are a mage. You helped many, I’ve heard.’

I nodded quietly. 

‘Where are you from, originally.’ Cassandra urged me to come closer, and I did. So that’s what this was, an interrogation. 

‘I am from Ferelden.’ I said. That’s not a full lie, just a small one, technically. 

‘We need more than that,' Leliana smirked. 

‘I am originally from… Gwaren. I lived on a farm,' I swallowed. ‘I also stayed with the Dalish clan nearby, but I left when…’ Daniel. 

‘When?’ Cassandra cocked an eyebrow. 

‘I had shown magical abilities. The Dalish had too many mages already, and my… I couldn’t stay on the farm,' I swallowed again and saw Leliana’s eyes squint at my last sentence. ‘and then I travelled.’

‘You travelled? Where to?’ Leliana cocked her head in interest. 

‘Everywhere. It’s not wise for an apostate to stay in one place for too long.’ Good one, Saeris. ‘I was “captured” by Templars some years ago… and stayed in the Circle of Ostwick until it disbanded.’

‘So, do you consider yourself a Circle mage?’ Cassandra looked at me with a slight glare. 

‘I do not. I never “agreed” with the Circle’s teachings. My magic had developed in a different way, and it was hard to just… conform.’ 

‘Your magic is indeed strange, where did you learn it?’ Leliana questioned again.

‘The Dalish taught me a lot, but I learned most of my magic by myself, by doing it.’ That wasn’t a lie either, right? How can I tell them that magic just came naturally to me? Like breathing.

‘Like Solas,' Leliana stated while glancing towards the Seeker. 

I lifted my shoulders. How should I know? 

‘Your eye… you said you were born with it.’ Cassandra narrowed her eyes. 

I winced, unsure how to explain. ‘Yes… it disturbed many people, so I was used to hiding it.’ 

‘Is that why you concealed yourself during your time in the Healer’s tent?’ Damn, this Leliana really did see everything. 

I nodded. ‘I was afraid it would… cause inconveniences again. I just wanted to help.’ Cassandra’s eyes faltered, an approving look behind them. 

‘Why were you here?’ Leliana kept asking straight to business. 

‘I… heard that the Hero of Ferelden and the Champion of Kirkwall would be coming… I wanted to see.’ Cassandra glared at the ground. They weren’t here, I’d noticed that. 

‘Unfortunately, they could not be found,' Cassandra huffed. 

‘You, a rebel mage, an apostate, with a magical green eye, came to the Conclave, filled with Templars, just to see them?’ Leliana put her hands on her sides. She saw straight through me. 

Okay, lie, but don’t lie. ‘I just… felt like I needed to come? Like it was… instinct.’

Leliana nodded contently—satisfied.

‘I… when the Breach appeared, I wanted to help, but it called to me… my eye was hurting and… I just wanted answers too.’

‘Maybe the Maker has sent you as well,' Cassandra said in awe, ‘He must have. Your eye is a sign of His fate.’ 

‘I’m not sent by anyone.' Cassandra looked somewhat disappointed at that. ‘Or not that I know of,' and then she looked up again.

‘What happened at the forward camp?’ Leliana cut to the case. 

‘It was… disturbing.’ I choked on my breath just by thinking of it. ‘I felt drawn to the mark when it flared. I guess… you spoke of the mountain pass and I thought of that and looked through the mark and… and I just seemed to look straight through the Rift.’ 

Cassandra took a step back, her hand rubbing her temples. ‘You mean… you can see where Rifts lead to? See through them, where they are and what is happening around it?’ 

‘I… think so? I haven’t really tested it yet. When it happened on the bridge it wasn’t… planned.’ I said, my eyes staring towards the map on the table. 

‘This might be useful,' Leliana put her palms flatly on Orlais’ map, her eyes twinkling in interest. 

‘Indeed. If you can truly see the Rifts, we can mark them on our maps, and secure the environment…’ Cassandra and Leliana shared a look. Was that… enthusiasm almost? ‘Saeris… Do I pronounce that correctly?’

‘Yes,’ I smiled faintly.

‘Good. Go to Solas, the… other apostate.’ Cassandra stated, ‘Tell him what you told us, about your abilities… He is our Fade expert. Let him study you, maybe we can learn more, put you to the test.’ Cassandra crossed her arms in front of her chest. ‘And… thank you… for helping us.’

I smiled at her sincerely and then turned on my heels towards the door. When I closed it behind me, I noticed Cassandra and Leliana sharing a long and silent look. Then, Leliana walked towards the end of the table, a thick book with an old leather and steel cover laying there. The book was huge, an imprint of an eye with flames on its front. Leliana caressed the symbol as the door shut in front of me. 

***

I was given my old woollen undershirt back when I left the Chantry. An elven servant brought it to me, she almost didn’t dare to look me in the eyes. I had pulled the shirt over my head behind a corner of a cabin, giving Cassandra’s coat back to the servant to return it in my stead. The servant had bowed deeply, which made me severely uncomfortable, and ran into the Chantry as fast as she could. I swore I could see her shake on her legs. 

Cassandra had told me to go to Solas, to tell him what I told her, to let him study me. But I wouldn’t be myself if I listened to her, besides, Solas made me more… anxious. The thought of being near him again made my skin crawl. There was something about him, something I couldn’t explain. His gaze lingered too long, his curiosity felt too probing. It wasn’t fear exactly—I wasn’t afraid of him, but the way he looked at me... it unsettled me, like he knew things about me that even I didn’t.

I wasn’t ready for that.

Instead, I wandered through Haven, the sharp chill of the mountain air biting at my exposed skin. I crossed my arms as the cold Frostback wind whispered through my woollen undershirt. I should go and get my cloak and dagger. The cloak was being repaired, but where? Wasn’t there a smith near the stables?

But first, I needed to go to someone. 

Maxwell.

The new Herald of Andraste. Sort of. 

Now, if I was an unconscious religious figure… where would I be? 

I walked down towards the front of the village, my eyes flickering over everything that moved. There were so many people in here, so many running around and rebuilding themselves after… 

A flock of humans and some elves had gathered near the gate of Haven. I followed their stare and noticed four soldiers standing in front of a somewhat larger cabin near the back of the village. I strolled towards them, noticing how the crowd parted as I walked between them. People whispered as I passed, some gasping, others murmuring in hushed tones. I knew what they were thinking—what they were wondering. Their eyes couldn’t leave my face, and they all stared at my eye. I’ve never had so many people openly staring at it...

‘There she is…’

‘Look at her! It was true…’

People muttered. I lowered my head, feeling self-conscious again by their attention. I liked the feeling of not having to disguise myself, covering up who I was… but this was a step too far. I neared the soldiers guarding the cabin and saw their eyes peering at me through their steel helmets. One of them moved when I tried to pass them, his stance protective, but not aggressive. 

‘The Herald is not to be disturbed,' the man mumbled, his eyes flickering to my eyes and then to the ground and back.

Suddenly, the door of the cabin opened. The people behind started chattering excitedly until they saw it wasn’t their Herald. Adan stuck his head out of the door opening, his face in an annoyed grimace.

‘Maker’s sake, let her in. You know who she is?’ He lifted his chin towards me. 

I smiled encouragingly at the protective soldier, who shied away as he stepped aside. I swear the skin beneath his helmet was getting as pale as a sheet as I passed him. Even the soldiers were afraid of me. I turned to Adan, who urged me to come in quickly. 

The alchemist shut the door behind him, sighing while I stooped forward. Inside, the cabin was dimly lit, the faint warmth of a fire crackling in the hearth doing little to chase away the lingering cold. Some paintings hung on the wooden walls, and there stood a thick wardrobe in the corner of the cabin. There was also a desk with some clutter on it and an oil lamp, and next to it, a bookcase. A carpet was put on the floor, made of a soft luxurious fabric. And at the back of the cabin, a somewhat larger bed stood. The bed had multiple pillows and was covered in thick blankets, all made of red and blue threaded fabric, a fluffy fur on top of them. And there, lying still on the bed, was Maxwell. His face was pale, his body unmoving, but his chest rose and fell with the steady rhythm of sleep.

‘Maxwell?’ I whispered as I came closer. He was alive, he was healing. He looked so fragile, almost breakable, lying there like that, and I couldn’t help but wonder if all of this—the Breach, the mark, the responsibility they had thrust upon him—was too much. It was too much for anyone.

‘I’d be surprised if he’d answer. He isn’t particularly coherent.’ Adan took a step closer as he took a small bottle off the nightstand. He opened the flask with a squeak and dropped some liquid in Maxwell’s opened mouth.

‘What is that?’

‘A mixture of elfroot to hasten his recovery,' Adan grunted while putting the bottle back on the table. ‘I gave him the same thing after he stumbled out of Maker-knows-where.’ He sighed as he saw the worry in my eyes. ‘Stop that worrying, the Herald’s just tired. Think he’ll wake up soon.’ Adan looked over to Maxwell, sighing again with a tired look on his face. ‘I’m not a healer. I’m an alchemist, not a mother hen…’ 

‘I’m back now. I’ll take over.’ I smiled at him and Adan answered with a small smile of his own—at least I think it was a smile.

‘Well, not much to be done now. Herald here just has to wake up from his nap.’ He said while staring at me. ‘Maybe it’s best you go looking for something warmer to wear. Don’t want you to be sick again too.’ 

‘I’ll do so,' I nodded at him, ‘thank you. I’ll first just… stay for a while.’ 

Adan sighed again as he left the cabin. I heard the people outside gasp, and then grunting when they realised it was the cranky alchemist again.

I stepped closer to Maxwell’s bed. His face was serene, calm. Maybe he needed sleeping more than healing too. His scarred hand lay on top of the covers. I crept closer, my face almost pressed to it, blinking my left eye near the mark. It must’ve looked stupid… and it was. I couldn’t see anything. Maybe it doesn’t work that way, maybe the mark had to be flaring… or the holder of it to be awake. I hoped he would awaken soon, though. I actually quite liked the guy, even if I only knew him for a day. He reminded me of Sybil, not only his eyes but his spirit as well. It was alive, fighting, defying. Just like she once had been. 

I stepped away from the bed, looking him over one more time. He was getting little brown stubbles on his chin. I wondered if he would grow a beard or not. 

‘Hold on there, big guy,' I smiled at him. Maybe he would hear me in his dreams. I hoped they were good ones. 

I walked back outside, thanking the soldiers with a kind nod. They kept staring past me, bowing their heads respectfully. Though I wondered if it was out of respect, or out of fear. I halted near the steps, looking up towards one of the soldiers. I didn’t know if it was the same one who had stopped me from going in, they all looked the same with their helmets on.

‘Is there a blacksmith near here?’ I asked politely.

‘Y-yes, my Lady, j-just outside of the gates to your r-right.’ He stuttered. Why so polite? Normally humans just called me rabbit or knife-ear or… “you there, elf.”

I nodded and stepped down, the people staring at me again, but this time, they were a little bit more subtle, speaking in whispers and putting their hands in front of their mouths. I tried ignoring them, lowering my head and wishing for my cloak so I could put my hood up and disappear in its shadows. Hopefully, the blacksmith had repaired it already. 

‘Hey! Twinkle!’

I turned around and saw Varric leaning against the ramparts of the village. He smiled nicely at me, his chest gleaming in the snow’s reflection. 

‘Varric!’ I smiled and walked his way. He grinned back up at me. ‘Did you just call me Twinkle?’

‘Yes, I did.’

‘Why?’

‘It’s your nickname. That’s my thing, you know.’ He hummed. 

‘Oh. Okay. You got one for yourself too?’

‘Nah, that would just be weird.’ The scar on his nose wrinkled while he laughed wholeheartedly. I noticed he was wearing a golden necklace short around his throat, a larger golden band at its centre. ‘You holding up alright?’

‘Me? Oh, fine. Except for the hole in the sky, you know.’ I smiled down at him. 

‘True. You might consider running at the first opportunity. I’ve written enough tragedies to know where this is going.’

‘You are a writer, then?’

‘Ow. Twinkle. You are hurting my feelings here.’ He rumbled. ‘Not a fan then, I take it.’

‘Oh, no, it’s just that I’ve been locked up for a while, so… kind of out of it all.’

‘Not to brag, but yes, I am a writer. Best-selling book is called “Hard in Hightown”. Got a copy of it if you’re interested.’ He winked at me.

‘Sure! I’d love to read your work.’ I nodded. ‘Hightown, you say. Is it about Kirkwall?’ 

‘Yes! How’d you know? Ever visited the place? It’s a great town to get shit-faced.’ He asked, his face full of unsavoury curiosity. 

‘Oh. No…  just heard of it.’ I lied—there would be too many questions otherwise. 

‘Say, Varric,' I changed the topic quickly, and he noticed but went with it, ‘You up for dinner in the tavern tonight? Bet you have a lot of nice stories to tell and since our Herald isn’t waking up…’ I could use a distraction.

‘Ha! Sure, Twinkle! But, if you want to hear my stories, you’re going to need to tell me some as well.’ Typical. 

‘You’re going to need a lot of mead to keep up.’ I winked at him. 

‘Even better.’ He bared his teeth. ‘Oh, and before I forget. Chuckles was looking for you.’ 

‘Shit,' I swore, ‘Don’t tell him you’ve seen me, will you?’

Varric shook his head, a wide grin on his face. ‘Elves… That’ll cost you an extra round.’

‘Gladly!’ I smirked and waved at him as I turned on my heels. At least Solas hadn’t found me yet.

I ran down towards Haven’s gates. They were open, and I noticed people coming and going. Some were merchants, their wares on their backs. But most were soldiers, and I even noticed some pilgrims. Probably here because they heard of their “Herald of Andraste”.
Outside of Haven, a military camp was based. Soldiers ran up and down, recruits bashing each other with wooden swords and slashing hay dummies while sweating in the cold winter sun. I stared at them, reeling in the feeling of not being gaped at for once, they were too busy. 

‘Master Tethras, have you seen Saeris, by any chance?’ 

Fenedhis. That was Solas’ voice. It was soft, coming from where Varric stood. My heart pounded in my chest, and I instinctively ducked behind the large wooden gates, pressing myself against the wooden walls. 

‘Hi, Solas,’ Varric called with a casual, though extra loud voice. ‘Sorry, I haven’t seen her.’

Solas’ voice, calm but relentless, drifted through the cold air. ‘If you see her, would you let me know,’ Solas said, his voice carrying a note of quiet exasperation.

‘Sure thing, Chuckles,’ Varric replied, clearly amused by Solas' irritation.

I heard light footsteps coming my. Shit, shit , Solas was standing near the wooden gate of the village, his eyes scanning the grounds. He folded his hands behind his back, straightening into a cold stance as he turned on his heels again. I swear I saw a hint of annoyance in his pace. 

I exhaled slowly, my breath visible in the cold air. 

‘What are you doing?’ Someone tapped on my shoulder. 

I flinched and twisted around.

Daniel? 

For a minute, I stared at the man in front of me. His voice sounded just like Daniel… but it wasn’t him. Naturally. Daniel had been dead for more than a century now. The man in front of me was tall, taller than Solas and Cassandra and Maxwell, the latter just some inches smaller, I guessed. Around his shoulders hung a large brown fur pelt, which looked like a lion’s mane. Under the pelt, he was wearing steel armour, red fabric crossing his middle and draping down at the back. There was a ruggedness to him, softened by a warmth in his expression that almost made his golden brown eyes shimmer. His blonde hair was tousled, and his strong jawline made him undeniably handsome, but it was something else that tugged at my senses—a faint smell. 

And then it hit me.

It was faint, but unmistakable—the smell of Lyrium. The scent clung to him, barely noticeable at first, but now that I was standing closer, I could sense it. My muscles tensed instinctively. 

He looked at me suspiciously, his golden eyebrows raised. I took a small step back and glanced toward the village, where Solas had disappeared, before turning back to the man in front of me.  ‘I’m… sorry, I was avoiding someone,' I said honestly. The man before me put his hands on his sides, his face twisting, like he was deep in thought. 

‘You must be Saeris,' he finally said, staring into my eye like the rest of the world, ‘Good to finally be meeting you.’

‘And… you are?’ 

‘Cullen Rutherford,' he introduced himself with a nod, his expression unchanging as he studied me, ‘Commander of the Inquisition’s Forces, well, as they are.’ He stared up at the training soldiers in the camp.

‘Wait. Inquisition?’ Inquisition’s are never good. 

‘Indeed, but at a guess, after the Herald is informed, plans will be made more concretely. Now, it’s merely in its reconstruction.’ The Commander signed me to follow him deeper into the military camp and I did so. ‘It is requested by Divine Justinia’s writ to restore peace between mages and Templars. Her Hands must be on it as we speak.’ 

‘Her Hands?’

‘The Seeker and the Nightingale.’ Oh. Cassandra and Leliana. ‘They have not yet told you of this?’

‘They have not, no.’

‘Well, they might soon, since it is not official yet .’

‘Yet?’

‘More will be discussed when the Herald awakens.’ He looked down at me, and I couldn’t help blushing. For Mythal’s sake, Saeris—was I a teenager? An almost two-hundred-year-old teenager. ‘I was recruited to the Inquisition in Kirkwall, myself. I was there during the mage uprising. I saw first-hand the devastation it caused. Cassandra sought a solution. When she offered me a position, I left the Templars to join her cause.’ He stared at a scrap of paper a scout just passed him, his face concentrated.

I took a step back, my eyes filled with caution. That’s why I smelled Lyrium. Maybe it was not the best idea to stay close to this… Commander. 

‘Now it seems we face something far worse. Something you can help us with, or so I was informed.’ He looked back at me… and his concentration turned into a slight frustration. ‘I left the Templar Order, there is no reason to be afraid.’

I nodded at him, but couldn’t resist holding my protective stance. Even if he wasn’t a Templar anymore, he had been one once. The last Templar I was “kind” to locked me up in a Circle and forced himself on me. I searched his face, trying to find any trace of deception, but his expression remained sincere, his eyes steady. He had no reason to lie to me—at least, not yet. ‘My apologies. Life as an apostate has made me… wary.’

Cullen nodded and changed the subject wisely, ‘Your eye has a connection to the Breach, its power is yet to be concluded. Have you been to Solas, he…’

‘No, not yet.’ I interrupted with a loud sigh. 

‘Forgive me, I doubt you came here for a lecture.’ He sighed, and I noticed the dark circles under his eyes, a tired undertone in his voice. This man was void of energy, how was he still standing?

‘Another time, perhaps.’ I looked up at him again, his kind eyes reflecting on mine. I almost felt guilty for doubting his truthfulness. This man was not like the Templars in the Circle, he didn’t look at me like I was a monster. The caution was there, I bet you could never get it fully out, but there was a slight understanding too. I cocked my head to the side, a strand of hair waving in front of my eyes, I put it back behind my pointy ear as I smiled up at the Commander. It was a warm smile. I should be afraid of him, but I wasn’t. Maybe it was because of his voice sounding like Daniel’s, or his own kind and loyal eyes. 

‘I, ah…,’ he cleared his throat, his eyes suddenly looking down at my feet while he shifted on his own. 

‘You must be busy,' I broke the awkward silence, ‘The blacksmith, is it that way?’ I found contact with his eyes again. The man straightened himself, nodding silently as I turned on my heels towards the stables. The Commander lingered for a while in the middle of the camp, his eyes on my back, and then, he too turned towards his own work.

The blacksmith’s was built alongside the stables and was incredibly busy. Multiple smithies were hovering above the fires and anchors. Soldiers stood about, waiting for their armour to be fitted, repaired or engraved. A tall man hovered above a sweating apprentice who was melting steel. He was wearing a cotton shirt that had gone dirty with sweat and ash. Drops of condensation dripped down his balding head, prickling into his thick ginger moustache. That man must be the master blacksmith. 

The man knew, of course, exactly who I was. It was like the whole village of Haven was told to look out for the tall elf with one green eye. Nevertheless, the blacksmith, whose name was Harritt, had already repaired my favourite cloak and had added a fur hem on the brim of the hood. He had offered me a new one, but I refused. The man also gave me an extra set of pants, undershirts and armour coats. But when he offered me a new pair of boots, I refused, asking instead for leather foot wraps. I had seen Solas wearing them and I remembered how I loved feeling the ground underneath my feet, how it had helped with my balance and connection to the earth. And if you put the correct wards on them, they didn’t get dirty so fast and would keep you warm as well. The blacksmith had looked me up and down, shaking his head while he gave me the leather wraps. When I brought up payment, he simply said it had already been taken care of. 

‘Ah, ‘fore I forget,’ Harrit said, bending low—and grunting as he did so—to a small chest behind him. He took out my old dagger. Its blade had been carefully polished, making the sharp crystal-like metal glimmer. ‘I cleaned it up for ya.’

‘Thank you.’ I bit my lips and took the dagger from Harrit’s outreached hands. The blade buzzed gently on my skin, the familiar weight comforting. I sheathed it on my belt, and felt a little bit safer then, a little bit more myself.

‘That’s an old thing you got there, but it was beautifully crafted. True craftsmanship.’ Harrit mumbled, his eyes gleaming. ‘If you ever think ‘bout sellin’ it, I’d be interested.’

I pulled my mouth into a thin smile. ‘Thanks, again, but… it’s a family heirloom.’

‘Ah, I understand. Not to worry.’ The blacksmith heaved up his shoulders a little disappointedly.  

***

With my new supply of clothes under my arm, I walked towards the tavern, which was called the Singing Maiden, looking around each corner to check if a certain apostate elf wasn’t lurking behind it. I figured that maybe the tavern had a spare room for me to sleep upstairs, and I would pay for it in instalments since I wasn’t leaving this place anytime soon. I opened the tavern door—that got fixed after the blast—and a warm whelm of smells knocked into my face. The scent of sweat, meat, broth and bread, mead and ale and spiced wine called me in. This place smelled almost the exact same way as the Hanged Man had in Kirkwall. How could I forget that place? It had stayed with me throughout the years. The time that I had spent there singing with Sybil… 

I pulled my hood down and felt how the room got a little quieter with it. I tried to ignore the stares as I stalked towards the bar. Behind it, stood a young woman. She looked at me, and I could hear her swallow hard as I approached. 

‘Excuse me, do you have a spare room for tonight? Or for multiple nights?’ I asked. 

The young girl blinked her eyes. ‘Y-yes I do, my Lady.’ 

I smiled kindly towards her, hoping she would relax a little. ‘You can put it on the name of Saeris. Can I pay for it in instalments?’

‘Oh, my, no… you don’t need to pay for it, my Lady.’ She peeked at my eye and then looked down again. 

‘Please, I insist, I…’

‘No, no, it’s quite alright.’ The girl nodded, somewhat shaken, ‘I’ll prepare the room right away.’ 

‘Oh, please take your time.’ I smiled at her. 

She stretched out her arms and I gave her the clothes I was holding. ‘I’ll bring ‘em to the room already, my Lady.’ 

‘Hey, Flissa, get me another round, while you’re at it.’ Varric came to the counter, standing behind me while winking; ‘Mine emptied itself mysteriously.’

The barmaid, Flissa, nodded at him with a faint smile. 

‘So, Twinkle, you’re ready for that round you promised me?’ Varric poked me with his elbow. 

‘I forgot that I kind of don’t have any coin…’ I stared at the ground, how embarrassing. 

‘Well, that complicates the matter,' Varric scratched his back. ‘I have a proposal.  We play Wicked Grace, you win, and I pay for the drinks, I win, and you tell me a secret.’ 

I hummed at that. Having played the game of Wicked Grace countless times during my stay in Kirkwall, I had actually gotten quite good at it. 

I looked down at Varric and lifted my chin, ‘Oh, you’re on.’ 

Notes:

So, whaddaya think?

 

If you liked it, you can always leave me a comment or a kudo.

Chapter 20: Heralded

“There is no such thing as an omen. Destiny does not send us heralds.
She is too wise or too cruel for that.” 

— Oscar Wilde 

 

***

‘How are you so good at this?’ Varric sighed deeply as he put his hand in the air again, signalling Flissa for another round of drinks.

The tavern was warm, the kind of warmth that settled in your bones and made you forget, for a moment, about the cold world outside. The laughter and shouts of drunken soldiers echoed through the room, and the smell of spiced ale mixed with the sharp scent of firewood burning in the hearth. It was the kind of atmosphere that made it easy to lose track of time, and I had—several drinks ago. 

‘Raw talent, Varric,' I leaned back in my chair, feeling the warmth of the alcohol coursing through my veins as I glanced down at my hand of cards. Wicked Grace—a game I hadn’t played in decades, but one I knew all too well. Varric sat across from me, his expression somewhere between amused and exasperated as he tried to calculate his next move. The tavern's familiar clamour surrounded us, but I barely noticed it. I was winning—by a lot. 

I played my final card with a flourish, laying it down on the table as Varric groaned dramatically. ‘And there’s the game,’ I said with a satisfied grin. The pile of coins in front of me had grown steadily throughout the night, and now it seemed I’d cleaned Varric out.

He leaned back, laughing. 'Well, that’s it. I’m broke.’

‘Now you have to tell me a secret. Again. ' I lisped as I saw him take another tankard full of mead, ‘Why did you name your crossbow Bianca?’

‘Mirabelle was taken,' Varric crooked an eyebrow.

‘Real funny, Dwarf.’ I giggled.

‘Speaking of funny, have I told you about the time Hawke and I broke into Chateau Haine.’ Varric took a sip from his cup and winked at me.

‘Yes! But you can tell me again!’ I grinned. 

‘Great! It started, as most capers do, with a trap…’ Varric told his story again, his eyes turning in nostalgia every time he mentioned his best friend. My heart bled for him, you could see he missed the guy. ‘And then Hawke looks up and says, “looks like the duke… has fallen from grace.”’ I laughed loudly at his story. I could hear him tell it all night long. It took my mind away from everything. It was a respite from all of the worries dangling in my head. Maxwell, the Breach, my eye, the promise… 

‘Now, it’s your turn to tell me something, Twinkle,' Varric leaned over the wooden table, ‘You told me after our sixth game of Wicked Grace, that you travelled. Honestly, a pretty elf like you, travelling alone…’

‘Aw, you think I’m pretty,' I giggled loudly.

‘Don’t go changing the subject again,' Varric winked at me, ‘But, what did you do during all of that time?’ Varric’s eyes lifted up towards something behind me, and then back down to me again. I ignored that. 

‘I sang!’ I lisped with glee, ‘Saeris the minstrel, at your service.’ I gulped from my tankard. 

‘I would not have taken you for an artist,' Solas said from behind me, strolling to the table. I choked in my ale and feared the alcohol would be spouting out of my nose if I moved. 

‘Fenedhis lasa!’ I cursed loudly and turned my head, staring into Solas’ slightly amused face. 

‘Chuckles! Care to join us?’ Varric winked at me and winced when I kicked his shin under the table.

Solas stared at the cards on the table. ‘I’m afraid that I’m not much of a gambler anymore.’

‘You don’t have to play for real coin, that’s just for keeping score.’ 

‘Oh really, Varric? Backing down with the money? Afraid you’ll lose it again?’ I grinned at the Dwarf. 

‘I play for conversation, Twinkle. That way I win no matter how the cards fall,' Varric smiled back. 

‘Tell that to your purse,' I giggled while sipping from my ale again. 

To my surprise, Solas sat down across from me, his eyes never leaving mine. ‘One game,’ he said. ‘But don’t expect to win.’

Varric smirked, too drunk and too confident. ‘We’ll see.’

Solas glared down at me while I sank deeper into my seat, ‘It was regrettable that we could not discuss the matter of the vehemence of your eye today. I truly hope we can get to it tomorrow.’ 

‘Ah, yes, my eye. I… err… forgot.’ Varric smirked at me. I was a very bad liar. Especially when drunk.

‘Can I deal you in, Chuckles?' Varric was kind enough to change the topic. Solas nodded slowly, his chin inclining near the deck. 

I will beat this elf…

I didn’t beat him. Varric gaped at us as Solas curled an eyebrow, laying down his own deck of cards to display. I stared at his hands. Four of the same suit cards. The man had beaten me. 

‘Well, I’ll be damned.' Varric grinned, ‘Saeris the Unbeatable just became Saeris the Beaten.’

‘Oh, shut it,' I cursed and Varric rumbled some more. 

‘It is a cunning game. You must watch your opponent's moves as carefully as your own,' Solas looked at me, his face a cold mask of neutrality. The smug bastard. I lifted the full tankard of ale to my lips, gulping it down in one go. I shouldn’t have done that. 

‘I call for revenge,' Varric grinned as he assembled the cards again. 

‘Do I not get a conversation, now I have won?’ Solas looked up at me again. 

I saw the whole room turning upside down, pink elephants floating in the brown tavern air. I closed my eyes and focussed, but felt the room turn like a spinning wheel. And I was its needle. 

‘You alright there, Twinkle?’ Varric suddenly stood up. 

‘Maybe not… I should just… go to bed,' I lisped, my hands grabbing the table so I wouldn’t fall off. I flung my legs over the stool, wobbling as I tried standing on them. The room bared down on me, and my legs gave way. Solas was up as soon as I saw the floor near my face, and grabbed my arms, lifting me back up to my feet. 

‘I will get you to your room,' Solas said politely.

‘I can go myself,' I mumbled and shied from his touch, ‘I am perfectly fine.’ And then I fell again. Solas grabbed my upper arms, dragging me back on my feet. 

‘Sure Twinkle,' Varric winked at Solas, ‘Let Chuckles here help you, just for safety precautions.’ 

I grumbled as Solas slowly helped me cross the almost empty tavern. Flissa nodded politely at him as she gave him the keys to my room. His hands were warm, and I felt them burn into my skin. The tavern blurred behind me as we climbed the narrow staircase. Solas didn’t speak as he led me to my room, and I didn’t bother breaking the silence. My mind was foggy, and all I wanted was to collapse into bed. 

Solas helped me to my door, opened it for me, and watched me waddle to my bed, staying in the door opening. I groaned as I felt the soft furs caressing my cheeks. 

I will never drink again. 

‘Ma serannas,' I mumbled, almost drifting off. ‘Say, Solas, you are a Fade expert, right?’ 

‘That is correct,' he was already closing the door, but stopped at my voice. 

‘Can you see it too? In the sky? Do you hear it?’ I really didn’t know what I was saying. My eyelids pushed onto my skin below, darkness ebbing in my consciousness, taking me further and further away. 

‘It screams.’ I sighed.

Solas stilled, his face filled with silent questions.

I left them unanswered as a dreamless sleep took control of me. 

***

The next morning, I woke up to the pounding in my skull, a dull, throbbing reminder of last night's mistakes. The world around me was fuzzy, and my mouth felt like it had been stuffed with cotton. I groaned, rolling over in the small bed of my rented room, struggling to piece together the events of the previous night. There had been ale, Wicked Grace, Varric's laughter, and... Solas? I winced as fragmented memories swirled in my mind, Solas’ intense gaze, and something about the Breach. But it was all muddled, like a bad dream.

I pushed myself upright, blinking against the sharp light that streamed through the window. There wasn’t much furniture in the room, just the bed, a dresser and a small end table with a roily mirror hanging above it on the wall. On the little table, my clothes lay neatly folded into a pile. My cloak lay draped over the nearby chair, my dagger still in its sheath beside it. With a sigh, I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and stood, forcing my body into motion despite the way my head pounded.

I dressed slowly, beginning with my cotton undershirt, the fabric rough against my skin as I pulled it over my head. After that, I slipped on my leather armour coat, buckling the straps tightly around my waist. My fingers brushed against the soft leather of my elven footwraps, and I slipped them on, securing the ties before reaching for my dagger. The weight of it felt right in my hand as I slid it into its sheath at my side. Lastly, I reached for my cloak. Dark and simple. As I fastened the clasp around my neck, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My hair, normally loose and flowing, was a wild mess. I took a few moments to gather it up into a rough updo, twisting and pinning it in place. My white strands caught the morning light, but I ignored the flash of my reflection, too tired to care about appearances.

I was just about to grab my satchel when the noise outside caught my attention—a commotion, loud voices, and the unmistakable sound of hurried footsteps. Something was happening. A sudden surge of energy coursed through me, despite my hangover. I hurried to the window, peeking out through the small gap in the shutters. Below, a crowd had gathered near the Chantry, and amidst the sea of faces, I caught a glimpse of someone being ushered through the door.

He was awake.

Without another thought, I grabbed my cloak and sprinted out of the room, nearly tripping on the stairs in my rush. My feet thudded against the wooden steps as I descended, my head still pounding with every movement, but I pushed through the haze. The noise grew louder as I reached the bottom floor, the tavern’s occupants murmuring about the Herald—the man with the mark—finally waking up.

I pushed my way through the tavern doors and into the crisp morning air, my breath visible in the chill as I hurried across the village. People were already gathered outside, craning their necks to get a glimpse of Maxwell.

A strange sense of protectiveness filled me as I moved closer. Maxwell reminded me of Sybil—young, determined, thrown into something far beyond his control. I had failed Sybil, but I wouldn’t fail Maxwell. Not if I could help it.

As I reached the edge of the crowd, I caught a glimpse of him again, standing in the doorway, still pale and disoriented, but alive. Relief flooded through me.

‘Maxwell!’ I called out and saw his head rise in interest. He looked up at me with his hazel eyes, squinting them as he smiled broadly. 

‘Saeris!’ he answered. 

I pushed through the crowd some more until I was in front of him, my eyes inspecting every inch of his body for irregularities. There were none, he was fine. ‘I’m so happy you’re alright.’ I sighed. 

‘I am, thanks to you,' he nodded. ‘I heard you’ve been injured too. How’s your back?’

‘Fully healed,' I smiled at him. ‘I woke up yesterday.’

‘And had a rough night,' Leliana intervened as she strolled out of the Chantry’s doors, Cassandra following behind her. Figured this one had spies watching my every move. I lifted my shoulders and gave the Spymaster an innocent smirk. Nothing could be done about it right now. 

‘Just had a bit of fun,' I said nonchalantly and saw Cassandra shaking her head slightly. ‘So, what happens now?’ I asked her. Cassandra, Leliana and Maxwell all looked at each other and then back to me. 

Maxwell straightened his back proudly. ‘Since I can say it officially now; as of this moment, the Inquisition has been reborn.’

***

Maxwell had been busy since he’d woken. He had barely stopped moving, and now, with the mantle of Herald of Andraste thrust upon him, there was no time for him to rest. The whole Inquisition seemed to be revolving around him, and every step he took had a new person begging for his attention. It made me think of Sybil—how she’d always taken on more than she should have, how she’d felt responsible for everyone around her. That same sense of duty burned in Maxwell’s eyes. 

I lingered outside the healer’s tent longer than I should have, my hands still smelling of the herbs I’d been helping Adan crush for the restoration brews. The cold air nipped at my skin, but the real chill came from knowing what I had to do next: I knew I couldn’t delay my “meeting” with Solas any longer. Cassandra had already given me a scolding with just her eyes, and Solas would now know exactly where I would hide, and to be honest, the village of Haven was so small that new hiding places were incredibly difficult to spot. 

Solas could be found near Adan’s apothecary, just left of the Chantry, down a slope. Some other cabins were situated in this part of the village, and Solas stood in front of one of them, his arms crossed over his grey woollen tunic. His jawbone necklace dangled around his neck. He stared up at the Breach, still thundering in the heavens, but not spitting and spewing like before. Next to Solas, Maxwell was standing, both of them in deep conversation. I neared silently, my ears picking up their voices with ease. 

‘I’ve journeyed deep into the Fade in ancient ruins and battlefields to see the dreams of lost civilizations. I’ve watched as hosts of spirits clash to re-enact the bloody past in ancient wars both famous and unforgotten.’ Solas smiled a little as he was lost in memories, but the smile disappeared in a second. ‘Every war has its heroes, I’m just curious what kind you’ll be.’

‘You go to ruins and battlefields?’ Maxwell gasped, yet Solas shook his head. 

‘Any building strong enough to withstand the rigours of time has a history. Every battlefield is steeped in death. Both attract spirits. They press against the Veil, weakening the barrier between our worlds. When I dream of such places, I go deep into the Fade. I can find memories no other living being has ever seen.’ 

He would be surprised…

‘Wait. Do you fall asleep in the middle of ancient ruins? Isn’t that dangerous?’

‘I do set wards. And if you leave food for the giant spiders, they are usually content to live and let live.’

‘That sounds incredible,' Maxwell muttered, his eyes full of curiosity.

‘I will stay then, at least until the Breach is sealed,' he nodded while stepping forward, his hands again crossed on his back. 

‘Was that in doubt?’ Maxwell asked, his back leaning against the corner of Solas’ cabin. Please be in doubt.

‘I am an apostate mage surrounded by Chantry forces, and unlike you, I do not have a divine mark protecting me. Cassandra has been accommodating, but you understand my caution.’

‘Cassandra is here to protect you, she will not forget you came here to help—as Saeris did.’

‘That is true,' Solas inclined his head.

I coughed then, staring at the ground. Solas and Maxwell turned around. Solas’ cold eyes stared down at my cloaked figure. I pulled my fur hood closer over my head as the scorching wind tried to chill my bones. 

Solas put his hands behind his back, his expression calm and expecting. ‘Good. You have come,' he said, his voice soft in the lingering wind. I held in a deep sigh as I looked up at him. 

‘Ah, Saeris, how has your day been?’ Maxwell said, a grin spreading across his face. I bowed my head respectfully under my hood and patted his arm with a friendly trot. 

‘Calm,' I smiled faintly as I inspected Maxwell again. He stood strong, a warm coat pulled over his broad shoulders, his chestnut brown hair curling around his soft face, his hazel eyes boring into mine. He had shaved off his stubble, leaving his chin bare and his face younger.

Maxwell’s lips curled into a smile, ‘Good. Well, I’ll let you two at it, got a meeting with the Commander coming up. See you tonight at the tavern, Saeris? Varric is teaching me how to play Wicked Grace.’

‘Oh, no, not tonight, thank you! But I’ll see you around,' I nodded, my hands waving up and down nervously. Did I hear Solas chuckle? Or did I imagine it? 

Maxwell dipped his head towards me and Solas before turning around and trotting towards the military camp outside the village’s walls. 

‘If you will,' Solas said, his voice calm but firm, opening the door to his cabin and signalling me to enter. There was no amusement in his eyes now, only a sharp, focused intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. I swallowed hard as I walked past him through his door. His cabin was small, a table stood in a corner, some papers and books laying on top of it. There was a small dresser and a bed in the back, neatly covered with fur. Candles were placed upon his bureau, flickering shadows onto the wooden walls. I fondled my hands as I stood in the centre of the room, my breath nervously in my throat. 

‘Please,' Solas cocked his head and pointed towards the stool that stood near his fireplace. I crossed the space and walked over to it, feeling Solas’ eyes burning into my skin. I spied him over my shoulder and saw his face folded in his normal, cold look. But there was something more behind those stern blue eyes as they looked me up and down. His face didn’t betray a single emotion, but his eyes told me of his intrigue.

As I finally sat down on the stool, I sighed, ‘I will tell you what I told Cassandra.’ 

Solas leaned against the wall opposite to where I sat. He cocked his head in curiosity, ‘I have already been given the report.’ 

‘Alright.’ I pursed my lips. ‘Then what else do you need to know?’

‘If I may, I would like to test some spells on your eye, wards, as I did with Maxwell’s hand when we first discovered the mark. I need to see its reaction.’ He mused. 

My pulse quickened at his words. Study my eye? I hadn’t expected that. I hesitated, but when I met his gaze, I saw no malice there—only curiosity. Reluctantly, I nodded, though my body remained tense. 

Solas stepped closer, and I felt his presence like a tangible thing. He raised his hand, his fingers hovering near my face as if asking permission. I gave a small nod, and he gently cupped my chin with one hand, holding my face steady as he inspected my left eye.

‘This might sting a little,’ he warned.

I swallowed hard, bracing myself. Solas’ other hand began to glow faintly with soft, shimmering energy.  As the spell coalesced, he placed it onto my eye.

The second his magic touched me, pain shot through my skull like a lightning bolt. A searing, burning sensation erupted behind my left eye, spreading through my head with an intensity that made me gasp. My eye coiled, burning in its orbit. My instincts kicked in, and I jerked away, pulling myself from Solas' grasp.

‘Enough!’ I hissed, clutching my face, my body trembling from the shock. I almost fell off the stool. The pain lingered for a moment, a dull ache in the aftermath of the spell.

Solas stepped back, startled. His brow furrowed, and for the first time, I saw a flicker of confusion cross his usually composed features. ‘That... shouldn’t have happened,’ he said, his voice low. ‘I’ve never encountered this kind of reaction before.’

‘What do you mean?’ I blinked rapidly as I covered my eye with my hands, my body shivering in response. Is he calling me weird? It would be an understatement.

His expression softened slightly, but the curiosity in his eyes remained. ‘I didn’t mean to imply anything,’ he said carefully. ‘It’s just... unusual. Your eye—it’s unlike anything I’ve come across before.’

Solas stood in silence for a moment, clearly deep in thought. His gaze flickered to my left eye again, studying it, but this time there was a shift in his approach—a quiet musing instead of his usual analytical tone. ‘The Breach, the mark, what do you feel when you become aware of them?’

‘I feel pain and… a power lingering behind it, almost familiar, like I know it, but don’t,' I mumbled honestly. 

‘What you said last night,’ he began, his voice softer now, ‘about hearing the Breach.’

‘I said what?’ I did not remember that. 

Solas continued musing, ignoring my question. ‘If you can hear it, and if you can connect through Maxwell’s mark... then your eye might be connected to the Fade itself, in a way I’ve never seen before.’

I stayed silent, unsure of how to respond.

Solas stepped closer again, his expression thoughtful but now tempered with a sense of... caution. ‘There’s another way we might understand this better,’ he said. ‘If your eye is truly connected to the Fade, perhaps I could visit you there—to see if the connection is stronger when we’re inside.’

‘I don’t know…’ I began, my voice trailing off. The thought of someone wandering through my dreams, especially someone as observant and… odd as Solas, made my stomach churn. I never allowed anyone in my dreams, in my bubble. It was mine, and mine only.

Solas, however, looked calm, almost patient. ‘I understand your hesitation,’ he said. ‘But the Fade could reveal more than we can uncover here. It may hold the answers you’re looking for.’

I swallowed hard, my throat dry. Could it? Was there truly more to be discovered there, or was I just opening myself up to more confusion? More danger? I didn’t want to trust him, not fully, but the truth was, I didn’t have many other options.

Reluctantly, I nodded. ‘Alright,’ I said, staring back into Solas’ cold eyes, ‘whatever you think is necessary.’ 

***

I put my feet flatly onto the damp grass of the meadow and smiled, feeling the soft sun tingling on my shoulders. A bird whistled wishfully through the soft blue sky as I stood up to brush off my long, pale blue dress. 

A quiet prodding was shuddering through the field and I felt it deep into my bones. I stared up towards the treeline that stretched outwards into an endless deep forest throughout the Fade. As always, spirits and demons alike stared into my meadow from behind the bushes. Their gazes followed my vibrant flowers, my soft grass, and my lively sparrows dancing through the skies. They were like shadows, watching, waiting, but never intruding.

Out of the shadows, Solas emerged, his form solid and distinct, far more real than the spirits and demons that floated aimlessly at the perimeter. He stopped just at the border of my meadow, his expression calm, contemplative, his hands clasped behind his back as usual. He stared into my meadow, his eyes searching for me. He couldn’t see me yet—not through the wards I had placed around this sanctuary. I walked towards the treeline and stopped right before him, but his eyes were still wandering the ground, not seeing that whatever he was looking for was standing right in front of him. 

I kept staring at his being, his posture, his distant attitude. I saw his chest slowly go up and down as his necklace lay flatly on his shirt, the jawbone moving in sync with his calculated breath. His face was nestled in a scholarly gaze, his auburn eyebrows furrowed. I noted the dimple in his chin, and how it curled naturally, like an extension from his strong jawline. There was something about Solas in the Fade that was different from the waking world. He seemed more... serene. His presence here was less invasive, less calculating. It felt comforting, even though I couldn’t explain why.

Maybe he liked this place just like I liked it, a blissful escape from the darkening reality.

I could stand there forever, counting the faint freckles that darted over his cheeks and nose. When I was awake, I could see them, but ever so slightly. But now, as I stood closer and wasn’t as anxious as I had been in his cabin, I could truly see the patterns on his full cheekbones. Then, I remembered why I was there. I had promised him he could see me in the Fade and I should get to it. 

I placed my hand on the invisible ward that covered my meadow and felt a small portal appear beside it. Solas noticed it too, as he looked next to him and a faint smile appeared on his lips. He walked through the invisible door and stared up at the blue sky, the serene fields beyond, and then to me. 

‘You have created something beautiful here, Saeris,’ he said, his voice a gentle murmur in the dreamscape. There was no edge to it, no probing curiosity like before—just quiet admiration. ‘A sanctuary, hidden away from the rest of the Fade.’

I felt my defences lower slightly at his words, though I still kept my guard up. ‘It’s the only place I feel safe in the Fade,’ I admitted. ‘The spirits and demons... they can’t see me here.’

Solas nodded, stepping closer, though still just at the edge of the meadow. ‘It’s impressive. Did you create this yourself, consciously?’ 

‘Of course,' I nodded. Wasn’t this normal? Wasn’t it like this for everyone? 

‘Then, you are a Dreamer, much like myself,' he stared at me, his eyes squinting suspiciously, ‘You did not know?’

‘A Dreamer?’ What’s that now? ‘No, I thought it was like this for everyone.’

‘Indeed, everyone dreams, but Dreamers, more commonly known as Somniari, shape the Fade to their will, enter it in full conscience. It is a very dangerous practice, one the Chantry likes to prohibit.’ Solas strolled through my meadow, his bare feet carefully avoiding the flowers. ‘I’ve yet had to meet one this age,' he continued, ‘for we are extremely rare, forasmuch demons are attracted to our presence. It calls to them.’ 

I blinked, taken aback by his revelation. A Dreamer? Like him? I had known that I could control my dreams, but I had never considered it to be anything more than that—a way to keep myself safe while I slept.

Solas lifted his arm towards the lurking red eyes hidden in the treeline outside of my bubble. ‘You can hear them, can you not?’

I nodded slowly. The shadowy presence has always made me extremely uncomfortable, a tingling pain in my eye as they stared at me. ‘I can hear them, yes. They try to hide, but I can see them too,' I mumbled while staring into the many red eyes. 

‘See them?’ He repeated, his face still cold. 

‘My eye… it discovers what they are, sees their disguises…’ 

Solas took a step closer to me. I could smell him now. Hints of elfroot and forest dangling in the soft breeze. ‘That must be it then. Your eye truly has a deeper connection to the Fade—you can quite literally see through its many layers, its fabric.’ He stared at me openly. 

‘So… what does that all mean?’

‘It means that you can help the Inquisition a great deal by discovering the Rifts’ whereabouts, like an all-seeing eye into enemy lines.’ Solas stared at me intensely and I felt like there was more to it than he just had said.

‘But how can I access this power? I couldn’t control it last time.’

Solas scratched his chin with one hand, while the other remained on his back. ‘Dreamers have an unmatched skill in shaping the Fade, seeing for what it truly is and bending it to one’s will. Yet, those untrained never reach their full potential. Perchance, if trained correctly in mastering this sight, you may also master the technique of seeing in the waking world, such as through the Herald’s mark, or even on your own.’  

This actually sounded quite logical and I was surprised I understood Solas so clearly. He truly was different here. ‘And who can train me?’

‘If you let me, I can take up the task. As I do not know any other who could.’ Solas gave me a small smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes, for they remained cold and calculated. Almost like a wolf preying on his meal. And if it hadn’t made me uncomfortable yet, it has now. But could I truly decline his offer? If I could truly help Maxwell with this, I would, even if it meant that I would be spending my dreams with this scary elf. 

I pondered as I strolled through my meadow and stopped near the centre of it. A small pastel blue flower sprouted near my left big toe. I grinned as I picked it from the ground and twisted it lightly between my fingers. I craned my neck towards Solas again, who was patiently awaiting my answer with his hands again bound to his back and his face in a scholarly stare. Something was extremely off, my eye twisting every time the man spoke, but I couldn’t pin it down. He was intriguing in a way nobody I’ve ever met has been before. And I couldn’t say if it was positive or negative. 

‘You may train me, Solas. For Maxwell’s sake.’ I said as he looked at me with an approving look. 

For his sake and mine. 

Notes:

Drunk Saeris is the best Saeris.

If you liked this chapter, you can always leave me a comment or a kudo.

Chapter 21: Helped

I swallowed hard as I stared over the wooden desk filled with books and scrolls and letters. My hands were folded neatly on my lap, but I couldn’t ignore the sweat appearing on my palms. In front of me, the Ambassador of the Inquisition sat. She was Antivan, that you could see immediately. She had beautiful olive skin, high cheekbones and dark brown hair that was put up in a sophisticated hairdo. The woman looked up at me while scribbling something with a long feather onto a scroll. Then, she stood up, the scroll still in her gentle hands, and walked with a steady pace to the scout standing in the doorway. They nodded at each other silently. The scout then left, closing the door behind him, and the Ambassador walked back to her seat behind the desk. She looked back to me then, a kind smile curling on her full lips, her posture straight but inviting. 

‘Andaran atish’an,' she smiled at me, her voice like honey with a thick Antivan accent smeared on top of it. She was wearing luxurious formal attire with lots of ruffles and golden poofy sleeves. 

I smiled politely back at her. ‘You speak Elven?’ I remarked. 

‘You just heard the entirety of it, I’m afraid,' she smiled back at me while putting away a loose strand of raven hair behind her ear. ‘So, Saeris, right?’

‘Right.’

‘My name is Josephine Montilyet, you might’ve already heard of me?’ She inclined her head. 

‘Y-yes I have. I am pleased to meet you.’ 

‘Likewise,' she smiled again, ‘I have here your wage, since you’re helping the Inquisition, we are inclined to compensate you for it.’ She handed me another scroll and I saw my name with small numbers underneath it. They were giving me more coin than I used to make in a year. 

‘Please, I volunteered, this is too much,' I said as I looked back up to her. 

Josephine shook her head, ‘You may repay us by helping.’ 

I shut my mouth, not knowing how to truly answer. I was grateful, but I felt guilty for receiving money without having done anything yet. 

‘In the reports I was given, it is mentioned you have rented a room above the Singing Maiden?’ 

I nodded. 

‘Well, we will arrange a more… appropriate accommodation for you.’

I nodded again. I liked my room above the tavern, but I understood that I couldn’t stay there forever. Flissa had rented it for me for free, and I bet she was losing profit. Maybe I should indeed make space for pilgrims who actually paid for their stay.

Josephine scribbled something on a piece of paper and looked back up at me. ‘You are now an official member of the Inquisition, and, to be more precise, a member of the Herald’s own inner circle.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘It means you will be joining him on his travels to other cities and noble houses and help him when necessary. You will be representing the Inquisition on the front line, and as the Herald, eyes will be on you, not that they haven’t been already.’ Josephine looked at me under her thick eyelashes. 

‘Is that a good idea? I’m not precisely a representative Fereldan and Orlesian nobility are used to, let alone respect.’ I crossed my arms over my chest. I was better off behind the scenes, besides, why would they want an elf representing their “sacred” mission?

‘On the contrary, tales of the Herald’s saviour are already spreading through noble circles. Rumours like these travel fast, and if influenced correctly, they can be used for our cause.’ Josephine smiled innocently again. But I realised she wasn’t one to be messed with. 

‘You know a great deal about dealing with nobility, Lady Montilyet,' I asked politely. 

‘For some years, I was the royally appointed Court Ambassador from Antiva to Orlais. The nobility of Thedas is a rather singular sphere. Those I’m not acquainted with, I know through reputation.’

‘Then, the Inquisition is really lucky they have you as their advocate.’ Dealing with nobility is one thing, but dealing with Orlesians in times of war? That’s talent.

‘Thank you,' she smiled, ‘Let us hope so. Thedas’ politics have become… agitated as of late. I hope to guide us down to smoother paths. Our situation is in dire need of resurrection.’

‘Why? Is our situation so bad? I thought this Inquisition was justified by the late Divine Justinia’s writ.’ 

‘We are a symbol of everything that’s gone wrong. We’re heretics for harbouring a self-proclaimed Herald of Andraste and the Chantry is frightened. The remaining clerics have already declared it blasphemy. They can bury us simply with their words.’ Josephine bent over the desk, locking eyes with me. There were very few people who had dared to do that.  ‘Yet, the Herald can help by speaking to the Chantry cleric who goes by the name of Mother Giselle. She has asked to speak with him, and the Herald has already accepted. You will travel with him, and other Inquisition members, to the Hinterlands, near Redcliffe. Her assistance is invaluable. You must help the Herald find agents to expand our reach beyond this valley. And who’s better suited than the Herald and his saviour to recruit them?’

I nodded dutifully. As long as I was close to Maxwell, I didn’t care where they would send me to. I only needed to be able to protect him—to see this whole ordeal through.

Josephine took another paper that lay on her desk and handed it over to me. ‘In this report, you can read everything about the Hinterlands’ situation. It is in your best interest if you read through it carefully since you’ll be leaving in three days’ time.’

‘I will be prepared,' I answered instantly. 

Josephine gave me a faint smile again and then dropped a bag of coins on the table. My wage. I took it silently and bound the pouch on my belt. 

No gambling with this money. 

‘But please excuse me,' Josephine took another scroll from her desk and dipped her feather in black ink, ‘I’ve much work to do before the day is done.’ Every noble house, every throne, was eyeing this newfound organisation. Ambassador Josephine had a tough job, one I was happy not to have been troubled with. 

I smiled at Josephine and bid my farewell. After I left the room and entered the big Chantry hall, my shoulders slumped a little. Josephine was a good woman, but under that mask of politeness, I saw a viper who knew her way around everything. And sometimes, words are the most powerful weapons. 

Going to the Hinterlands, on the other hand, made me even more nervous. Not that I didn’t like the area, it had luscious green forests and beautiful, picturesque meadows and valleys, but it was the mage-Templar war that had me shivering to my bones. I wanted to forget the ten years I had thrown away being in that Circle. I could’ve helped refugees in Kirkwall or helped battle darkspawn in Lothering, but no, I was curled up somewhere, learning nothing at all but how great Andraste must’ve been. I didn’t want to see those Circle mages and be reminded of that tower... I didn’t want to be around Templars, the few that had joined the Inquisition already gave me the creeps and they weren’t even hostile towards me. 

I imagined Tibald crossing me on the bloody meadows of the Hinterlands or Simon dragging me back to the tower. I imagined killing them all and loving it—and I wasn’t as ashamed of that as I should’ve been.

I walked outside, a fast pace stuck on my heels. I needed to be alone for a moment. Haven had become so busy the last couple of days, there wasn’t even enough room for all the pilgrims. Haven had become a town instead of a village but hadn’t grown in space, just in people. You could see everyone was becoming uncomfortable, and the streets were starting to smell like sweat and… well I guess you could imagine. I doubted that Josephine would even be able to find a new cabin for me. Maybe I had to share one. I could live with that, everyone but Solas though. In the Fade, he had almost given me a calming feeling, but when I woke up, my stomach turned again at the sight of him. I felt anxious if he was near as if my body was telling me I was in danger. Nobody seemed to share my feelings though, and I started wondering if it was all just in my head. 

I had promised Solas I would let him teach me shaping the Fade, but he hadn’t shown up yet. I was quite comforted by that actually. Every night as I wandered through my meadow, I dreaded his return as I stared at the treeline. 

I walked towards the military camp outside Haven. The Inquisition had only been up for a week at best, and already hundreds of able men and women had joined the cause. Recruits were training just outside the gates. You could hear the clashing of swords and the grunts of the soldiers even in the Chantry Hall. It thundered through the village, and only at night, peace returned to the sacred landscape. Hundreds of tents were scattered throughout the open space outside Haven’s walls, all the way down to the frozen lake below. 

I noticed Maxwell standing next to Commander Cullen, his back towards me. They seemed deep in conversation. Maxwell was a good fighter, and he loved to train with the recruits. The men looked up to him, not only as the herald of their holy prophet but also as a brother in arms.

Cullen pointed towards the valley and Maxwell nodded and put his hands on his sides. I neared them quietly but was discovered when the recruits that were training in front of Maxwell and Cullen, suddenly looked up to me and straightened their backs, their eyes shifting to me and back to the ground. Maxwell turned around as he followed their gaze and smiled broadly as he saw me nearing. Cullen stepped back and dipped his head in acknowledgement, a soft but polite smile on his lips. 

‘Saeris!’ Maxwell stomped towards me, his hazel eyes glistening in the sun. ‘Heard you and Josephine had a little rendezvous . Seems like you survived.’

‘The Ambassador was most delightful,' I smiled back, ‘and look! I got a wage.’ I pushed my cloak away and showed the little pouch that hung around my waist. Maxwell stared at it and nodded in excitement. Cullen threw a glance at my hips and then quickly looked away. I swear he was blushing. 

‘That means drinks tonight!’ Maxwell threw his hands up in the air.

‘Maybe not, I think I’ll save this for the Hinterlands.’ I grinned back at him. 

‘You’re going with us? Great!’ Maxwell put his right hand on my shoulder, giving me a small pinch, ‘You and Varric will be better company than grumpy Cassandra and Solas…’

‘Do mind your words, Herald, she might hear you.’ Cullen snickered, covering his chin in his fur cowl. 

‘Where are you going now? Shall I accompany you?’ Maxwell lifted one eyebrow as he put his arm up with swagger. 

‘I was planning to go for a walk,' I lifted my chin towards the open forest to our right that followed the path that led away from Haven, ‘but you seem busy, I don’t want to intrude.’ I looked at Cullen and cocked my head. 

‘The Herald and I were more or less done,' Cullen nodded back to me, his eyes squinting. How could a man look so tired? Was he even sleeping, like ever? 

Maxwell wiggled on his heels as he poked me with his elbow. I chuckled and folded my arm around his. Maxwell craned his neck towards Cullen as we strolled towards the path leading to the forest and said, ‘I’ll catch you later, Curly!’ 

‘Let me guess, you got that from Varric?’ I grinned. 

‘Who else?’ he lifted his shoulders up.

We hadn’t been walking for long when we encountered a small wooden cabin behind a big rock, almost buried between the trees. As we neared it, I immediately noticed that the cabin had been abandoned. The door was slightly crooked and the curtains behind the windows were swung open. I let go of Maxwell’s arm and walked towards the cabin door. It wasn’t locked. 

‘How spooky,' Maxwell giggled. 

But inside, papers were scattered on the ground. There was little to no furniture, just a table, a chamber pot and a rickety bed, all covered with a thick layer of grey dust. Yet, it had charm and instinctively reminded me of the apartment in Kirkwall I had shared with Sybil. 

‘It’s actually quite nice,' I remarked as I looked around. There was a fireplace, but it clearly wasn’t used in a long time. But I could make something of this. And then, an idea popped into my head. ‘Maybe, after some cleaning, I could stay here?’ I mumbled to myself. 

‘You mad? I’ll ask Josephine for a much… cleaner cabin if you want to,' Maxwell gawked at his finger as he swiped it across the dusty table. 

‘No, no I’ll clean it up, put some fresh flowers here and there… and maybe some candles…’ I muttered while I glanced at the fireplace and imagined the cosy room this hovel could become. It wasn’t far from Haven, and I wouldn’t be disturbing anyone. But most of all, it was almost quiet here. I relished in the soft sounds of the camp not far away, of the gentle whispers of the forest. I could hear the leaves rustle here, the gentle scratching of critters on the grassy grounds.

‘I’ll help you,' Maxwell sighed while crossing his arms over his chest. He resembled my Sybil so much… 

‘Thank you,' I said softly. 

We rolled up our sleeves and started right away. I found a broom standing in a corner of the room and tasked Maxwell with sweeping the floors, while I opened all the windows and let the gentle breeze enter the cabin. 

‘Am I doing this right? Or should I sweep it… like this?’ Maxwell said as he swished the broom through the room.

‘You never cleaned a room before?’ I cocked an eyebrow at him. 

‘Not really, no, I had servants for that.’ Ah yes, Maxwell was from a noble lineage, a Trevelyan. He had said so not too long ago, and I had read it in a report Leliana had given me. A noble from Ostwick, out of all places. We silently decided not to talk about his home. He was missing it, and I hated it with all of my being, so talking about it didn’t feel right. Or at least not with each other. I knew he could talk to Varric about that. 

‘Ah, I forgot, your majesty,' I bumped my fist against his chest and took the broom from his hands. ‘Let me do it, you’re just spraying dust everywhere.’ I winked at him and he scratched his back awkwardly. ‘Here, take this bucket and go fill it with ice, so I can mop the floor with it.’

‘Yes, Serah !’ Maxwell straightened his back humorously and marched outside. 

I think I could become friends with him. 

***

It took us about two hours to clean the room up a bit. Maxwell had run back to Haven and had brought some blankets and pillows with him. The cabin still required some repairing and cleaning to do, but I could make it work. After Maxwell and I were done, we strolled some more through the small forest. I think Maxwell also needed to be away from it all for a moment. I couldn’t imagine what he had been feeling up to now. He had been bombarded into the Fade, walked out of it with a painful glowing mark on his hand, thrown into prison, thrown out of prison to close the hole in the sky, and then turned into a Herald of Andraste, running a new organisation to stop a war and a world from being destroyed. And after all of that, the guy just picked up where he left off, lifted his chin up, smiled and started working. 

Sybil would have liked him very much.

After our stroll through the forest, the sky had begun darkening with night and stars. We walked back to the Singing Maiden, harassing Flissa for free drinks. The girl was still somewhat afraid, but I noticed she was warming up to me already. Most people still pissed themselves when I barely glanced at them, so I was winning ground. I didn’t drink that night, maybe one cup, but I had learned my lesson. Together with Maxwell and Varric, we played until the moon stood high in the starry sky.

‘Come on, Twinkle! One more game! Allow me some dignity,' Varric grinned, small hairs falling out of the bun at the back of his head. 

Maxwell stomped with his feet on the ground like a child, ‘Yes, Saeris c’mon!’ 

I stood up from behind the table. ‘Be happy Varric! One more game and you’re broke!’ I grinned as I assembled my profit and dropped it into my pouch. ‘I will return for the night.’
I looked over my shoulder to Flissa, who nodded. I had told her I was moving out. She had been relieved, and I wasn’t sure if it was because she was still nervous around me, or because she could rent it for payment again. My belongings and spare clothes were already brought to the cabin by Elven servants, who I had tipped generously. Elves already had a hard life, and here in Haven, it wasn’t much better. Leliana and Josephine were doing everything in their power to make sure the servants were treated with respect, and paid accordingly, like anyone else. But I knew how hard it was to live as a second-class citizen.

Tomorrow, I would send a letter to Josephine to tell her I had found new accommodation by myself and that I didn’t need help furnishing it. The woman was busy enough as she was, and so were the Elven servants.

 I walked through the dark streets of Haven towards the gate and the camp that laid behind it. It was so cold, I could count the clouds that drifted from my lips. As I passed through the village’s high wooden gates, I noticed the silent and deserted military camp outside. During the day you couldn’t hear your own thoughts through the loud noise of swords clashing and men grunting, but now, everything was silent. No clashing of swords, no screaming captains, no heaving breaths but my own. Everyone seemed fast asleep or up at the tavern drowning their worries. 

I silently waded my way through the thick snow towards the forest and my new cabin. And then suddenly, I heard someone scream loudly. The camp, though, remained quiet, nobody moving to check for danger. The scream rang through the camp again, and sounded almost frightful, like someone was being buried alive and begging for help. And I recognized the voice because it had echoed in old dreams of myself. It was Daniel’s voice, but not at all, for he was dead. Yet, this voice was real, the person in terror and maybe even in pain. I ran towards the tent the screams were coming from, which was bigger than the rest, and I heard heavy rustling inside. 

Inside, it was utterly dark, only the moon was casting grey shadows through the ivory fabric of the large tent. My eyes adjusted slowly and I saw the contours of a table in the centre of the space. Papers were spread across it, and I noticed a burned candle that had melted over the edges of the desk. And in the corner of the tent, at the far left, there stood a chair. Clothes were draped over it, something with fur and steel, if I guessed correctly. At the far right of the tent, a cot stood. Blankets were laying on the floor next to it and I could hear someone breathing heavily and quickly. Carefully, I took a step closer and saw the figure of a man curled up in the shaky bed, sweat gleaming in the moonlight. 

Suddenly, the man in the bed started roaring again, his hands grabbing the bed’s edges like he was about to be thrown out of it. His knuckles turned white as the bed creaked and he screamed again in agony. I leapt through the tent towards the tossing man. This person was not in any physical pain though, he was having a nightmare, a terrible one at a guess. His face was contorted into an angry and sad grimace as he kept screaming. My hands started glowing as I reached towards his head to calm his mind, when all of a sudden, the man’s eyes flew open. He cried out ferociously and grabbed my wrists, pulling me down onto the ground, his body toppling over the bed and crashing into mine, crushing the air out of my lungs. 

‘CULLEN!’ I yelled as I stared into his wild golden-brown eyes. 

It took the Commander a moment before he realised that he was awake and that his nightmare had ended. His anxious eyes softened, his strong chest moving slower against mine as his conscience returned to him. His hands on my wrists relaxed, but still held onto them as he stared into my eyes, blinking once, then twice. His face was right above mine, and I could feel his shivering breath on my cheeks. He smelled like elderflower and oakmoss. I held in my breath as I suddenly felt him shift.

‘Maker’s breath,' he whispered and let go of me, fumbling to get back on his feet.

I lay on the ground while letting what just happened to sink in. 

‘Lady Saeris? Are you alright?’ Cullen reached one hand towards me, ‘Maker, forgive me, I…’

‘It’s quite alright, Commander,' I interrupted and took his hand. Cullen lifted me back to my feet. I noticed he was wearing a long, damp nightshirt, but I didn’t dare look down. That would’ve been inappropriate, right? ‘It was my fault, I shouldn’t have come into your tent. I just heard you scream and it was… I just wanted to help.’ 

‘Thank you… I merely had a nightmare.’ Cullen scratched the back of his neck while I took a step back and looked away as I noticed his nightshirt lifting up with his arm. 

‘I’m sorry, but if I may… I can help you sleep?’ Maybe he had this nightmare every night? Who knew? And the recruits were already used to it? Perhaps, that’s why the man looked so dead tired. 

‘N… no, I will manage.’ Cullen looked as uncomfortable as I was. 

‘Please,' I said then. I wanted to help. This is what I do—did—I helped people, healed them, and made them whole. ‘Let me help you.’ 

Cullen slightly grunted awkwardly. ‘Andraste preserve me, if you insist,' Cullen dipped his head and I heard him shuffle back to his bed, pulling the blankets that lay on the ground over him. I slowly walked towards his bed, standing behind it.
The Commander flinched as my hands started glowing. Was he afraid of my magic? Well, he had been a Templar after all, I knew they didn’t like magic even if it was the healing kind. I remember how Simon… no stop thinking. 

‘It is alright, close your eyes.’ I whispered. Cullen breathed heavily as my long fingers hovered over his temples, and my magic curled over his forehead. ‘It’s okay,' I hushed again and felt Cullen relax, my magic buzzing softly in his head, rocking him to sleep, a ward protecting him from nightmares. I counted his breaths, how they went from heaving to humming and then slowly to the soft inhaling and exhaling as he entered the Fade, a good dream waiting for him. I carefully retracted my hands from his temples and stood up, closing my eyes for a second, recollecting myself before I walked out of Cullen’s tent. I was ashamed of myself. I shouldn’t have barged in there like that, making the man so uncomfortable. But what should I have done then? Let him scream? At least now, he could rest properly, at least for one night. 

I looked over my shoulder as I closed the flap of the tent, throwing one quick look at Cullen’s dark figure in the bed, and I saw the blankets slowly rising up and down. A soft smile appeared on my lips as I dropped the flap and continued my walk to my cabin.

***

The sun seeped through the cloudy sky, entering my room. I sighed. I had fallen asleep so quickly, dozing off between the soft warm blankets Maxwell had given me. I had slept so deeply, I didn’t even enter the Fade. A dreamless night. 

The old bed creaked under my weight as I pushed myself up, wiping the rheum out of the corners of my eyes. I wiggled my toes as I placed them on the cold, wooden floor. I should put a carpet in here somewhere, for warmth. I had slept in a long, woollen shirt, and walked out of the door with it, the wind hugging my bare legs. Then, I filled up a bucket with ice, put my hands in it and summoned fire, until the ice turned into steaming water. I washed my body quickly, using fresh herbs I bought from Adan, and wetted my hair. After that, I put on my regular clothes, my foot wraps and my cloak, leaving my long hair down to my back to airdry. 

On the table in my cabin lay some scraps of paper and some ink. I wrote a short letter to Josephine, stating I’d found new accommodation. I could give it to one of the scouts later to deliver to her. 

Tomorrow, we would be leaving for the Hinterlands, so I had to head towards Harritt and Adan for supplies. I needed some extra clothes and some herbs for the trip. There was also the question of what my mount would be. I knew the Inquisition was short on mounts, but I knew we would all require one if we were to travel fast. It was still quite early when I crossed through the military camp. Some soldiers were already up, running around doing their daily tasks. I eyed the camp, and the tents, but could not see Cullen anywhere. Was he still sleeping? I honestly hoped so. 

As I walked up the path towards Adan’s apothecary, I noticed the light behind Solas’ cabin window. Seemed like he too was up early. I lingered for a moment, my feet stopping in front of his door. What was he doing? Was he researching the Breach? There was a slight noise coming from inside, papers rustling, and feet walking from one corner of the room to another. I took a step forward, my feet crunching on the snow. The noise from inside stopped, and an uncomfortable feeling gnarled in my stomach again. I took a step back and continued towards Adan’s place, feeling how the tension in my body disappeared the further away I walked from Solas’ cabin. Adan was up too, rubbing his hands with a strong-smelling lotion while a small woman was talking to him. 

‘Flissa said to check with you to make sure these are safe to serve,' the woman said with a high voice, holding a little pouch in front of her filled with brown mushrooms.

‘They’re fine,' the moody alchemist snorted, ‘Nobody will take sick as long as she boils them right. Smart woman for asking, though.’ 

The woman nodded and closed her pouch. She turned on her heels but faltered as she noticed me standing there. She hurried past me through the door, mumbling a polite, but frightened greeting. 

‘I should keep you here, let you stand in the doorway. Nobody will dare to come in,' Adan snickered as he looked up at me. 

‘A scarecrow has always been the career I imagined I would be having.’ I dipped my head, smiling. 

Adan hummed with content and said, ‘Well, what can I do for ‘ya?’ 

‘I need some herbs for the trip to the Hinterlands. Two pouches of dried elfroot and half a pouch of spindleweed, if you have some of course.’ 

Adan nodded and turned around, looking into a big barrel at the back of the room.

‘Half a pouch of spindleweed I can do, but two pouches of elfroot… it’s going to be just one if you don’t mind. Short on supplies.’ He answered. 

‘That is alright, I’ll gather some during my trip if I require more.’ 

‘Is that all?’ Adan asked while scooping the herbs into tiny, leather pouches. 

‘Yes… no, wait. Is there a… potion or tonic for… a good night’s rest?’ I asked, suddenly thinking about the Commander again. 

‘Trouble sleeping?’ Adan commented as he gave the two pouches to me. 

‘It’s for… a friend. Could you help?’ I didn’t know if other people knew of Cullen’s nightmares, but maybe it was best if I kept quiet about it. It wasn’t my place to spread rumours. 

‘I can craft some.' Adan scratched his long beard and turned to his table. I stared at how swift his hands were at crunching and pouring and liquefying and boiling. His face was always in a cranky snare, but while crafting potions, I saw a light in his eyes. After a couple of minutes, he was done and held up a medium-sized bottle in front of him, containing a dark, muddy green liquid. ‘Here,' he said, ‘this will help. It deepens one’s sleep, making the chance of entering the Fade less likely. Though, it won’t help every night…’

‘Thank you!’ I smiled as I took the bottle and studied it.

‘Three drops before going to bed. No more than that.’ He hummed. 

I nodded and handed him the payment. Herbs were covered by the Inquisition, but potions I had to pay for, and they were quite expensive. But I paid it gladly, for I knew I could make someone happy with it. I left the apothecary and walked down towards the blacksmith with a confident trod. 

‘Greetings, Saeris.’ Solas stepped onto my path. I yelped and almost stumbled, but recollected myself just in time. That sneaky elf, why was he so damn quiet? 

‘Good morning,' I mumbled, looking up at him. There it was again, that anxious feeling. 

Solas peered down at me, his favourite cold and scholarly look behind his soft blue eyes. ‘It has come to my knowledge that you will be joining us in the Hinterlands.’ He said while clasping his hands behind his back. 

‘That is true,' I raised an eyebrow. What was he up to? 

‘I hope you have rested well, it will be a consuming journey.’ He glanced down at the pouches I was carrying, in particular at the bottle with the tonic. 

‘Just doing some last preparations,' I smiled politely. ‘If you’ll excuse me.’ 

Solas nodded and stepped aside, but I could feel his gaze pricking in my shoulder blades like a sharp needle. My heart thumped in my throat maybe a million times per second.
My pace quickened and my heart was nearly springing out of my chest when I turned around the corner, shadowed by Solas’ gaze. I placed my cold fingers on my chest, willing my lungs to calm down. What was wrong with me? Or in better words… What was wrong with Solas? 

I walked back down the path towards the gates of Haven, to the blacksmith outside. Most soldiers were up now, and the familiar clashing and grunting wallowed through the mountains. I glanced up at the tents and noticed the Commander standing in front of the training ground. He had his hands on his waist, his voice raised as he yelled at the sweating recruits. 

‘You there! There’s a shield in your hand. Block with it.’ He grunted. ‘If this man were your enemy, you would be dead!’ He then turned towards the soldier standing next to him. The man straightened his back, his look respectful. ‘Lieutenant, don’t hold back. The recruits must prepare for a real fight, not a practice one.’

‘Yes, Commander.’ The lieutenant said and pumped his chest with his fist. 

I walked towards them but faltered as I saw the symbol of the Templar Order on the lieutenant’s chest. I had seen him training recruits before and always felt his angry stare on my back. They were here to help… and yet… 

The man turned his head towards me a second before Cullen had—a disapproving look on his face. Cullen followed the lieutenant’s stare and gazed up towards where I stood. His confident eyes faltered a little. As the Commander walked towards me, the lieutenant looked away and took off towards his struggling recruits. 

I smiled softly as Cullen stopped before me, but noticed the people around us quieting and staring. ‘Good day, Commander.’ 

Cullen looked uncomfortable. ‘My Lady, I wanted to thank you… for…,' he exhaled deeply. 

‘It’s alright,' I said, noticing the dark circles under his eyes had lightened, his skin gleaming like it hadn’t before, ‘I hope it helped.’

Cullen dipped his head, like he wanted to say something, but didn’t know what. 

‘But I apologise for barging in there like that,' I shook my head. What does he think of me now? And why did I care? 

‘No, I understand why you did. And… I thank you for it.’ He gave me a small smile, but it didn’t go to his eyes.

‘Perhaps, I should leave you be, I think there are more urgent matters in need of your attention.’ I said politely, taking a step back to distance myself as I noticed the scouts impatiently waiting for the Commander near his tent, piles of reports in their hands. ‘But, to make things right, I asked Adan to make this… I didn’t tell him why or for who, just in case you… never mind.’ I took the potion from underneath my cape and presented it to him. ‘It’s… to help you sleep deeper, so you’re less likely to enter the Fade and… receive bad dreams.’

‘You should not have…’ Cullen’s eyes were big and full of questions, his eyebrows furrowed. But he took the bottle, staring into the muddy green liquid, almost suspiciously. 

‘It’s perfectly safe, just herbs and plants, no magic. Adan has written down the ingredients at the back, on the label, so you can check.’ I said to soothe his suspicion. ‘Three drops before you’re going to bed, nothing more. It might not work, but maybe it’s worth the try.’ 

Cullen hummed, a soft expression taking over the worried one. 

‘Just to make sure I don’t have to barge into your tent again,' I grinned. 

‘Truly, thank you, Lady Saeris.’ He smiled while dangling the bottle in his hands. 

‘I hope it helps.’ I said and then lifted my chin towards the scouts that were shifting on their feet as they stared at us. ‘I will leave you be now, Commander.’ 

‘I, ah, yes. Of course.’ He looked at the bottle in his hands and back to me. ‘Another time then, my Lady.’ 

I dipped my chin as Cullen turned towards his scouts, his back straight, his voice confident as he spoke to the men. My lips curled into a soft smile, knowing I had helped someone. Even if it was just a little. I was helping. 

Notes:

So, this was more of a filler chapter, but I wanted to put some more things into the story before going to the Hinterlands, otherwise I think it would just feel forced.
Next there will be some more action! Hope you liked it <3

Chapter 22: Starred

The horse whinnied and tapped its hooves impatiently on the ground. I hung my bags on the hooks of the saddle, making sure everything was there. My pouches of herbs, my extra clothes, water and food,… everything was on there. I double-checked the trusty old dagger strapped to my thigh, feeling a little less insecure. My foot wraps were tight as well, my hair up in a braided ponytail and my armour was clean, light and ready for any battle. 

‘Hush there,' I combed through the horse’s short dark manes with my long fingers, entangling them as the creature neighed with content. It was a large beast, a mount that was good for crossing through rocky paths and mountains, perfect for the trip to come. 

‘Hey, Twinkle!’ Varric walked towards me, holding the reins of his horse and nudging it with him. ‘You ready?’ 

‘Yup! Everything’s in order,' I smiled and patted the horse on its back.

‘Bianca can’t wait to get out of here. Out in the open again,' Varric huffed while looking at his crossbow strapped to his back, the polished metal gleaming in the morning sun.

‘She’s not the only one,' Maxwell laughed as he strutted towards us, his dark curly hair swaying in the soft wind. He was wearing Veridium and hardened ram leather armour, with lots of belts and some metal straps. A scarf made of lambswool laid around his sturdy shoulders. On his chest hung a steel and gold insignia with the symbol of the Inquisition engraved in it, the eye with the flaring flames glistening as he walked. He looked well, more ready than any of us. He smiled contentedly at me, squinting his kind hazel eyes. 

‘It appears all of us are present.’ Solas walked to where our little group stood, eyeing us all individually, me longer than the rest of them. He was wearing his green and grey woollen vest and tunic lined with fur, soft cotton pants and his foot wraps bound on top of them. His jawbone necklace hung proudly on his chest between the open buttons of his vest, bound with simple double cords. A long, simple staff was strapped to his straightened back. He dipped his head towards me as a polite greeting. I nodded back, quickly looking away.  

‘We’re missing our favourite jolly Seeker,' Varric said while looking around, breaking the awkward silence that had crept over the party. At that moment, Cassandra strutted towards us, Leliana, Josephine and Cullen at her back. Maxwell, who was standing next to me, straightened his back, lifting up his chin.

‘My scouts have already crossed the paths to The Crossroads. Mother Giselle has been tending to the wounded refugees there as apostates and Templars alike are wreaking amok.’ Leliana gave a small report paper to Maxwell, who quickly scanned it with his eyes and then nodded affirmatively. 

‘Some of our troops are already present at the fighting, but many are left wounded.’ Cullen said to Maxwell, his eyes deadly serious. ‘So be careful.’ He then threw a quick look my way, and I nodded slightly. 

‘Let us move then, we have a long journey ahead of us.’ Cassandra inclined her head, guiding her horse towards her and mounted it. Maxwell, Varric and Solas did the same. I stared up at the horse, calculating how much force I needed to use to get on top of it. I had ridden on an elk and a horse before, though this had been a very, very long time ago. 

‘Do you require assistance?’ Solas rode his horse towards where I stood, and I heard the Commander behind me take a step towards me. 

‘I think I’ll manage,' I smiled politely over my shoulder. Cullen nodded in response, taking a step back to the other advisors. I grabbed the hilt of the saddle and put one foot in one of the stirrups hanging from its sides, pushing my body up and onto the horse. The animal nickered nervously as I crawled on top of it like I was a mountain climber, but eventually, I settled and positioned my body correctly into the saddle. It wasn’t as comfortable as I thought it would be, but I could live with it. Solas stared at me, his brows slightly furrowed. 

‘You never rode on a horse before?’ Varric grinned at me. 

‘I have, but it has been a very long time since I did so,' I answered, holding the reins neatly in my gloved hands, ‘I preferred travelling by foot.’ And I lifted my shoulders. 

‘Don’t worry, Saeris, if you fall, I’ll catch you,' Maxwell winked at me. 

‘Come on,' Cassandra made a slight grunt as her horse tapped its hoof in an equally annoyed manner.

We guided our horses with a small trot towards the path that led downwards to the east. It would take us approximately a week to get to the Hinterlands, and with the ongoing war between rebel mages and Templars, the trip would not be a relaxing one. The party remained silent, everybody focussed on guiding their mounts carefully through the rocky paths that led away from the mountains, and into more forested terrains. The path quickly changed from snow and ice to mud and soft, damp leaves, the scorching wind now somewhat softer and warmer, the view lush and green instead of flat and frozen.
After a couple of hours of silent riding, the sun had risen high into the scarred sky, and Varric had guided his horse towards Maxwell. They started talking about his home, telling humorous stories about their childhood. I closed my eyes when they started talking about the city of Ostwick, and instead started focussing on the soft but familiar noises of the woods. They comforted me, the swaying of the horse guiding me into a trance-like state of tranquillity.  

‘You were from the Circle of Ostwick, were you not?’ Cassandra drove her horse next to mine, her voice neutral but her eyes curious. Maxwell craned his head towards me, his gaze apologising. 

I swallowed, ‘Yes, I… lived there for some time.’ My heart thumped in my throat as I thought about my time there, never seeing the sun, the skies,… the constant tiptoeing, the anxious feeling of being watched, always waiting… 

‘For how long did you reside there, if I may ask?’ It was Solas, his interest peaking. 

‘Too long,' I answered shortly. Solas dipped his head, the questions still clouding his eyes. 

‘Where were you before that?’ Maxwell smiled, changing the topic swiftly. I liked what he was doing, but answering questions about my past was never my favourite pastime. 

‘Nevarra,' I answered, ‘and before that, Antiva and Rivain.’

‘Ah, Antiva, I visited that place before! They have the best spiced wine,' Varric snickered while licking his lips in delight. He then drove the conversation into one of his drunken stories about how he and a Rivaini Raider called Isabella had been drinking all night and had ended up in jail, and someone had to bail them out. 

I focussed again on the breathing of my horse, its head slightly towing the reins I was holding. Varric was laughing with Maxwell as they started telling each other drunken stories, and every now and then, I could hear Cassandra making a grunt or a disgusted noise while shaking her head. I remained at the back of the party, my eyes never leaving Maxwell’s back while we followed the trail. Every rustle I had seen, every sound I had heard, nothing would escape me. Solas rode with me at the back of the pack, his eyes staring at the path before us. Sometimes though, I felt him glance my way, but I tried ignoring his curious stares as well as the anxious feeling in my stomach. Solas hadn’t done anything to make me doubt him, and everyone else truly welcomed his help and guidance. Why was I being so… distant? He had not deserved my coldness, but I couldn’t help it. Perhaps, I should let go of my reservations? Maybe he hadn’t started teaching me yet, because he could feel my anxiousness? Or maybe, he disliked my presence as much as I did his. 

The first day of our journey ended when the sun was nearing the horizon again, colouring the blue and green sky, a soft purple. 

‘We should set up camp here,' Cassandra said as she pointed towards an open space, covered between the thick forest. We all agreed and dismounted, binding our horses to the trunks of the trees. I could hear a stream running nearby, so I could take the exhausted animals there to drink later on. Now, I held my hands together and summoned ice that turned to water. My horse gladly nuzzled his snout in my cupped hands while gulping down the lukewarm water. 

Maxwell and Cassandra started setting up the tents. We had brought two, one slightly bigger than the other one. I would share the smallest tent with Cassandra, while Varric, Maxwell and Solas would claim the bigger one. Cassandra had made up hers in less than a minute, while Maxwell still fiddled with his. The Seeker sighed deeply and started helping the Herald, yelping as the saggy tent nearly collapsed on them because Maxwell had forgotten to tie the sides. Varric almost fell onto the ground while laughing his arse off. Cassandra grunted disgruntledly as she set up the tent again, respectfully—but definitely pissed—asking Maxwell to just start up the fire. 

The Herald slumped to the centre of the camp, where Varric sat proudly staring at the pile of dried branches he had already assembled and piled on top of each other. Maxwell squatted next to Varric, taking two hard stones and scratching them to one another. Varric tried hiding his bright smile behind his big hands as Maxwell cursed while the rocks sparked but left no fire. I dropped my hands from the horse’s mouth and smiled slightly at them. Solas was standing not so far behind me, his body leaning on his staff comfortably.

I caught Varric’s eye and winked at him playfully as I lifted my hand and secretly snapped my fingers the same moment Maxwell hit the two stones together once more. My magic invisibly spurt out of my thumb, right onto the dried branches. The stones made a sizzling sound. Maxwell jumped up, making a loud and gleeful sound as he threw the rocks into the air.

‘Hey, Cassandra! I did it! See?’ He cried out. Cassandra answered with a quick but slightly amused grunt.

Varric shook his head while he huffed lightly, throwing a responsive wink my way. ‘Good job kid,' he smiled at Maxwell.

‘Did you see, Saeris?’ Maxwell turned around to me and smiled brightly, flashing his teeth while he pointed at the crackling fire. 

‘Oh, yes, just like a professional.’ I laughed and clapped my hands. 

Solas chuckled behind me. It was a soft chuckle, not meant to be heard by anyone. I looked over my shoulder to him, ignoring the biting anxiety in my stomach, and gave him a small, but sincere smile. Solas straightened his back and cocked his head, returning with a very small upwards lift of his lips. 

The sky started darkening. I had led the horses towards the small stream not far from the camp to let them drink, and when I returned, the fire was crackling nicely while Varric roasted some of our rations on top of it. Cassandra was sitting on the opposite side of the campfire, cleaning her sword with a soft piece of cloth. Maxwell sat next to her, going down on a piece of bread he had brought with him from Haven. 

I bound the horses to the tree trunks again, and they gladly started chewing on the damp grass below their hooves. As I bound the reins of the last horse to the tree, Solas appeared next to me. His face was very much steeped in concentration as he swiftly motioned his hands up and down near the border of the camp, a protective ward appearing from his long fingers. He was meticulous, precise in his movements, and for a moment, I found myself watching him. I felt the ward springing into place, as it muffled the sounds of the forest a little. It must’ve been unnoticeable for the rest of the party, but I felt it clearly. And just like the ward I made, it buzzed softly as there were no threats near.

‘Wards are necessary,' I said softly to Solas, who almost shied at my voice, ‘too bad they muffle the sounds.’ 

Solas looked at me, his face neutral, but his eyes slightly squinted. ‘The sounds?’ he mused. 

‘Of the forest, the animals, everything.’ I lifted my shoulders and patted the horse on its back again, the beast shuddering with delight in response. I dipped my chin to Solas and walked towards the campfire. Solas lingered near the horses for a moment, staring at my back, his eyes stern, before he too walked towards the campfire and sat down next to Maxwell. 

‘Who wants the first shift?’ Varric clasped his hands and writhed them together in front of the fire. 

Maxwell repressed a yawn as he finished his loaf, ‘I can do it…’ 

‘No, you should rest, Maxwell,' I said as I sat down between Cassandra and Varric, ‘I can take the first one, you guys get some sleep.’ I smiled at Cassandra, who looked tired too, ‘I’m not sleepy anyway.’ 

The party nodded and one by one, they left for their tent, until only Solas and I remained. He stared into the fire while he held a soft piece of bread, fiddling with it rather than eating. 

‘You can go too, Solas,' I said, ‘I can handle myself for a couple of hours.’ 

‘If you don’t mind, I would like to sit here for a little while longer,' he smiled politely while ripping a very small piece of bread from the crust he was holding, nibbling on it ever so slightly. 

‘Alright then,' I sighed and lifted my arms up in the air, hearing some of my bones pop as I stretched my body. My hands reached towards my hair and I pulled the tie loose holding my ponytail up, and let my hair down to my back as I turned and plopped down, face towards the sky. I stared up at the bright, star-speckled heavens. The night was clear, the stars stretching across the sky like tiny, shimmering diamonds. The Breach lit up even the darkest nights, a soft green hue creeping through the moonlight. I stopped focusing on the screams of the spirits some time ago, letting it fade into the background. The sounds of the forest, even though muffled by the ward, waded through the air like a symphonic orchestra, and I rather focussed on them. The stream kibbling nearby, small animals creeping through the night’s shadows, the trees waving in the soft wind, my breath slowly following the hum of Solas’ ward, all the sounds that made me love this strange, wide world. 

The silence between us wasn’t uncomfortable, but it felt heavy, as if there were things we both wanted to say but neither of us knew where to begin. I glanced at Solas and then back up at the stars, glittering like shards of crystal scattered across the sky, and broke the quiet with a thought. ‘It’s a beautiful night,’ I murmured, more to myself than to Solas. 

Solas, who had been quietly observing the perimeter, turned his gaze upward as well. For a moment, he didn’t respond, his eyes tracing the constellations above us. ‘It is.’

I sat back up and turned my face from the sky and towards Solas. ‘You know,’ I began, keeping my voice low, ‘in every country in Thedas, and even in every region, the constellations have different meanings.’

Solas looked over at me, his expression softening with interest. I could see the curiosity in his eyes, always so hungry for knowledge. I gestured to the sky, pointing out one of the constellations that hung brightly above us.

‘That one,’ I said, tracing the shape of the wolf with my finger, ‘There, you see it? The pattern shows a figure of a wolf.’ I smiled softly in memory of a tale I had heard during my travels a long time ago. 

‘Ah, yes, the White Wolf. The Dalish’ tales tell it is their Trickster God, do they not?’ Solas said with almost an annoyed undertone.

‘They do, the Dalish call it Fen'Harel, the Dread Wolf. But in the Anderfels, they know it as Fenrir.’ I hummed. I had looked at the stars for a long time now, and just like me, they moved but never changed. There forever, forced to look as time goes by. 

Solas’ gaze followed mine to the constellation. ‘Fenrir?’ he asked, his tone careful, curious.

I nodded. ‘Yes. In their lore, Fenrir is a great wolf, one that was bound by the ancient forgotten gods because of a prophecy—one that foretold he would bring about the end of the world. He grew too strong, too dangerous, so the gods tricked him, binding him in chains that even he couldn’t break.’

Solas remained silent, his eyes still on the constellation, his expression thoughtful.

I continued. ‘The gods tied him with an enchanted chain: the breath of a fish, the beard of a woman, the spit of a bird, the roots of a mountain, the sound of a cat’s paws and the nerves of a bear, all forged into one thin, soft necklace. Fenrir, sensing the deception, demanded one of the gods put their hand in his mouth as a show of trust. The bravest of the gods stepped forward and placed his hand in Fenrir’s jaws. When Fenrir realised he couldn’t break free of the chain, he bit down and severed the god’s hand.’ I smiled slightly, thinking of how this tale had been told in so many variations. ‘The wolf stayed bound, but the prophecy remained. Fenrir is still destined to break free one day, to devour the world and bring about its end.’

Solas turned his head slightly, the firelight casting shadows on his face. ‘An intriguing story,’ he said quietly, his voice deep and reflective. 

I met his gaze for what felt like a long moment, then looked back up at the stars. ‘The Anderfels have so many stories like that,’ I said softly. ‘Tales of gods, monsters, and the thin line that separates them.’

‘If I may ask,' Solas stared at me, his eyes squinting, ‘Is that where you heard this tale? In the Anderfels?’

‘I don’t really remember,' a soft smile turned on my lips, ‘it’s been quite a while ago.’ My breath made soft white clouds into the dark air. 

Solas peered into the fire for a moment, his face cold and neutral like always. Sometimes I asked myself if it was all just a mask, just like the one I used to wear in the Circle. 

‘It’s getting late. You should really get some rest. You’re next for the shift, it’s better if you sleep first.’ I sounded like an old hag, but I truly meant it. We all had to be at our best when guarding the camp. For Maxwell’s sake. That and Solas still made my stomach turn, even though I tried ignoring it. 

‘I shall take my leave then,' Solas said, his tone shifting back to something more practical, though his eyes still lingered on the stars. ‘Thank you for the story, Saeris.’

I watched him leave, his figure disappearing into the darkness toward his tent, the embers of the fire flickering in the night. As the quiet of the forest settled around me, I found myself alone once more, the weight of the stars pressing down from above. I leaned back slightly, my gaze returning to the constellation of the wolf. The air was still, and for a moment, I could almost feel the presence of something ancient in the night, something watching, waiting.

And then, quietly, without thinking, I began to hum an old tune—an Anders poem about Fenrir, passed down through the ages. The melody was soft, almost mournful, as it left my lips, carried by the wind into the darkness.

Bound in chains, the wolf waits still,
Through ages long, his heart grows chill,
But in his time, the sky will rend,
And in his jaws, the world will end.

The song faded into the quiet night, leaving only the crackling of the fire and the distant sounds of the forest. And as I sat there, humming softly to myself, I couldn’t help but wonder.

What if the Breach means the Great Wolf is actually free? Ready to start devouring this world?

The night stretched on, peaceful but full of questions, with no answers in sight.

***

The morning dawned cool and clear, the warmth of the sun gradually chasing away the lingering chill of another dreamless, Fade-less night. I stirred in my tent, the faint sounds of the camp stirring to life around me. Cassandra was still sound asleep, her steady breathing a testament to her ability to sleep through anything. I envied that.

I dressed quietly, pulling on my armour coat and fastening my cloak before stepping outside. The others were already gathered around the fire, warming their hands and finishing the last of the morning rations. The smell of crisp bread and dried meat filled the air, and I joined them without a word, sitting beside Maxwell who was chewing thoughtfully.

'Ready for another day of adventure?' Varric quipped, tossing a pebble into the fire.

I smiled faintly, but didn’t respond. My thoughts were elsewhere, still tangled with the remnants of my watch from the night before, and the story I’d shared with Solas. I could feel his gaze flicker toward me occasionally, though he said nothing, lost in his own thoughts.

After breakfast, we packed up and resumed our journey. The landscape around us was a patchwork of rolling hills and dense forests, the colours of early autumn beginning to paint the trees in golden hues. After a couple of hours, the trail wound down into a small valley, where a creek gurgled softly beneath a canopy of oak and birch. It was the perfect spot to stop and let the horses drink, and the group agreed to take a short break.

I dismounted, stretching my legs and moving toward the water to splash my face, the coolness of the creek refreshing against my skin. The others spread out. Maxwell jumped towards the creak, took off his shoes and dipped his sweaty feet in the water. The horse next to him nickered annoyed at the sickening smell of his toes. Cassandra rolled her eyes and placed herself on a rock in the shadow alongside the creak, rolling back her shoulders. 

‘Do you want some?’ I said to her and dangled the pouch of elfroot in front of her. ‘It helps against sore muscles.’ Cassandra nodded, a faint smile quickly appearing on her lips as she chewed the herbs. Her tense shoulders relaxed a little.

Varric squatted next to the drinking horses and took some water in his big cupped hands, letting it fall down his face as he too drank from it. I stared at the party while sitting on the grass next to Cassandra’s rock, wiggling my feet in the dancing shadows cast by the trees. Just when I wanted to take my cape off, I noticed a strange feeling in my stomach, like I was being watched. I craned my neck towards where Solas stood, but it wasn’t him. It just occurred to me then that it was too silent. I knew this feeling, this silence. 

My eyes flew open and I turned to Cassandra, who looked at me the same moment I tried warning her. 

Several mages jumped out of the bushes. Varric cursed loudly as he snatched Bianca from his back, pushing the horses deeper into the shallow river. Maxwell leapt towards us, his daggers drawn. 

‘Stay back!’ one of them shouted in response, a young woman with dishevelled hair and wild eyes. Magic crackled at her fingertips, and the others behind her followed suit, their hands glowing with raw energy.

‘We don’t want trouble,’ Maxwell said, stepping forward with his hands raised, trying to calm them. ‘We’re not Templars.’

But the word ‘Templar’ sent a shiver through the group of apostates, and their magic flared brighter, more chaotic. They were too scared to listen, too panicked to think clearly.

‘We can help you,’ I tried, stepping closer. ‘You don’t have to fight.’

It was useless. They were too far gone, their fear overpowering any sense of reason. The mages grunted, their staffs creaking in their hands, their knuckles whitening. The robes they were wearing were Circle robes or had once been because they were ripped, dirty and tattered. Their eyes were bloodshot, their pupils wide with fear, their limbs trembling. I didn’t recognize any of them, and that somehow made me more restful, but it wouldn’t make what was to come any easier. One of the mages screamed, the staff in his hands buzzing as ice evaporated from it, flying straight towards Cassandra, who jumped away right on time. Solas swiftly turned his staff and bounced with it on the ground, a protective ward springing into place over the bodies of our party. 

The battle had begun. 

I raised my hands and started blocking all incoming attacks, making sure Cassandra’s and Maxwell’s path to the mages was clear as they ran to them, sword and daggers ready. Cassandra jumped first, her shield bashing into one of the mages’ faces, knocking the person out. She turned her sword and its point landed right in the knocked-out mage’s heart. I heard the mage huff a last breath as the sword went through flesh and bone. Maxwell’s daggers had found their own victim, the mage hadn’t even seen him coming. Maxwell pierced the mage’s open back. The mage screamed loudly and stumbled forward, almost dropping his staff. She cursed and pointed it towards Maxwell, but before her magic could even be called to her being, Varric had already shot two arrows through her face and throat. Another one dead. 

Solas was busy with another mage, who was definitely aiming right for him. The mage, who was a very tall man, pointed his staff towards Solas’ head, a fireball spitting out of its core. Solas turned easily on his feet, his back arched as a green light erupted from his own staff, hitting the mage’s body and sucking all of his energy out. The apostate fell on the ground and Maxwell leaped to him and cut the man’s throat. A quick and clean death. 

I swallowed as the last mage turned towards me, desperation in her bright green eyes. She couldn’t have been more than eighteen, her face pale and frightened beneath the power she wielded. She charged toward me, her staff alight with flame, but she wasn’t fast enough. My spell struck first. I pushed my hands outwards and a cold blast swept towards the crying mage, throwing the girl over the meadow and right onto a thick tree. I heard her bones snap as she crashed onto the ground, her bright eyes dimming, her expression filled with terror. Gone. Like I had thrown a twig. She had snapped so easily, died so easily, how young had she been? 

The rest of the party sighed as the battle was over. Solas shook his head as Cassandra assembled the corpses and lined them up on the ground.

‘Can’t we bury them?’ I asked while still looking at the lifeless figure of the girl. Like a ragdoll, that is how she looked now. Like Sybil. She had been someone’s daughter, maybe someone’s sister or friend. And I had taken it all away. This was how life was, you give and you take it. It was her or me, and death had taken her. I thought of Tsura’s words then. 

Death is part of all of us. Sometimes, to protect one, we must kill another. The blame lies in the cruel world, the world which leads us to do cruel things.

‘No time, I am sorry,' Cassandra looked sad as she stared at me, but mounted her horse professionally. She had seen death too, like a warrior should. But that didn’t make it easier either. 

We left the meadow and rode towards the path again, the party silent. If only I had listened better and paid more attention, we could’ve seen them coming, maybe convinced them… 

‘They had made their choice, Twinkle,' Varric guided his horse towards me, his hand patting my shoulder. ‘Was it the first time you… I remember the first time I took someone’s life. I wish I could say it gets easier, but it never does, kid.’ Varric looked at me with a serious face. 

‘No, it wasn’t my first,' I said then, Varric dipping his head in a silent, understanding response. 

The rest of the day, we all remained quiet, focussing on the path before us. And when the sky greeted the moon again, we set up another camp. This time, Solas and I put up the ward together, making sure it was stronger than ever before. We were entering enemy territory, and couldn’t take any chances. 

Afterwards, we sat around the fire for dinner, the mood quieter than it had been the night before. Varric, usually full of jokes and stories, was uncharacteristically silent, his eyes on the flames. I stared into the fire, absently stirring the stew in my bowl. My mind drifted back to the story I had told Solas about Fenrir, and how it felt now, so eerily close to my own life. A creature, bound by fear and prophecy, waiting for the day when it could break free. Except I wasn’t waiting. I couldn’t afford to. There were too many threats, too many things lurking in the shadows, ready to strike. If I wait, the world will devour itself.

No. I would fight. I wouldn’t let fear or prophecy hold me back. I would act, even if the cost was high. Even if life was lost on the way. Even if sacrifices had to be made.

I looked around the campfire, at the faces of those who had become my companions. Maxwell, with the weight of the world on his shoulders. Cassandra, steadfast and strong. Varric, whose heart was heavier than he let on. And Solas, ever the enigma, watching the world with eyes that seemed to see far more than he let on. 

We're all caught in something much larger than ourselves. And I wasn’t going to wait for it to devour us.

Notes:

Poem/song Howling Mountain - Kathy Mar (changed to fit the story)

Next up: some fade training - shit's getting professional ;-)

Chapter 23: Shaped

“I was shown vast oceans, containing not water, but memories, drawn from the minds of dreamers. I drifted through frozen moments, like paintings, perfect in each detail.”

― Magister Callistus

 

***

The meadow greeted me again in my dreams, as it always did—its soft grasses swaying in a breeze that only existed here. Everything was perfect as it was. The sky was a deep gold, the same endless warmth that had always comforted me, and the large oak tree in the centre of the meadow stood tall and ancient, its branches stretching wide like a protective canopy over the space I had claimed as my own.

I knew that it would never get so perfect again once I changed it. But I knew change was necessary, I had done it so many times. Yet, it still hurt. But this is inevitable. 

I smiled towards my paradise. 

I can create another. 

I will. 

I could feel the familiar hum of the spirits and demons lurking just beyond the border, their presence a faint reminder of the danger that always hovered at the edge of the Fade. The eyes of demons and spirits looked back at me, wanting, willing, but staying in place. I locked eyes with each one of them. And for once, I felt like they could see me, see everything. And now, I had nothing more to hide. I counted the eyes as I stared at them. All so unnaturally real. And when I had counted them all, a new pair appeared in their midst. But these weren’t crimson red or phantom white, they were a soft, greyish blue. Cold, neutral, but with a hint of curiosity. Excitement. Those eyes were the most beautiful eyes I had counted. They were the only ones that seemed like a dream. 

Solas’ figure appeared near the border of my bubble, his eyes scanning the meadow. And now, he could see me too. He wasn’t wearing his travel gear, yet a simple cotton tunic with his worn-out green pants and brown leather foot wraps. As he walked towards the entrance of my bubble, his jawbone necklace swayed from one side of his chest to the other. His face was cloaked in shadows.I walked to where he stood and laid my hand softly on the invisible ward. Solas looked beyond me, the anticipation twisting in his pupils. And for a moment, I lingered. If I let him in, then that was it. I would learn to shape the Fade, change my paradise, change everything. My dreams would never be the same. 

But I had waited long enough.

I willed a portal in my ward, and Solas took notice. He walked towards the door and found it open. My feet wandered back to the centre of the meadow, the young grass crunching underneath me. Solas’ eyes were burning into my back. I sighed deeply, expecting the uneasiness to gnarl in my stomach again. But like last time, Solas felt different now. He didn’t feel menacing, violating or intruding. He felt calm, relaxed, almost strangely familiar. I turned to him, his face now exposed in the welcoming sun. He gave me a polite nod and I stared at the freckles darting over his straight nose and high cheekbones, at his little scar above his eyebrow that broke the perfection in his skin, which was brightly fair in the bathing sunrays. 

‘It seems you have finally decided to take up my proposal for your training,' Solas dipped his head kindly. Yet, how did he come over as slightly annoyed? 

‘Your… I accepted that more than a week ago, but I haven’t seen you since?’ I said, almost apologising. Why was I apologising? He was the one who hadn’t shown up yet. 

Solas cocked his head, his stance staying in a scholarly pose as he clasped his hands behind his back while slowly walking to where I stood. ‘Your ward is strong. I cannot find you here unless you want me to. I have not been able to reach you until now.’

‘But…’

‘If it is by will or even by potion—unless you truly want to learn, I cannot hear your invitation.’ Solas said, his eyes still cold, almost like a glare. 

‘By potion…?’ I hadn’t taken any. What was he talking about? Why did he seem mad here, but in the real world he had seemed so unbothered. How thick was the mask he was wearing, and why was it shifting now, here, in the Fade? And why was he speaking of a potion? Did he mean a sleeping potion… oh, wait. ‘Oh, you mean Adan’s sleeping potion?’ 

Solas didn’t move, his eyes not stopping his cold glare. 

‘That… wasn’t for me. I would never willingly… I like the Fade, I don’t like sleeping over it. It happens sometimes when I’m too tired, but…’

That seemed to catch Solas off guard, his head now cocking in the other direction. ‘My apologies, then, I presumed…’ 

‘No, I would’ve thought the same thing.’ 

‘Then, what was stopping you from starting your training?’ He shifted on his feet, straightening his back to a more friendly posture. 

I held my breath, my eyes suddenly ashamed of his stare. ‘I hadn’t realised I had been… blocking it. Maybe…' I sighed again, my shoulders slumping. 

Solas remained quiet, his gaze not showing anything but encouragement to continue. 

‘Maybe, I was afraid. This place has become my home. I’ve had to leave so many homes already, I didn’t want to lose this one.’ My eyes flickered towards Solas and back to the ground. ‘Maybe, I didn’t want to change it. I want to learn, but… it still hurts to leave it all again.’

And then, Solas seemed to falter a little, like he understood. It was his understanding that made me shiver to my bones. No one had understood it before, the loss. But I could see the very same thing in his eyes. Like looking through a mirror. 

‘Nothing is ever lost in the Fade. It remembers, just like you do. What may change now, may come back later. Perhaps, nothing will ever be the same again, but only if you want it to. The Fade changes like we do, and reflects who we are at the moment, inside. But if you will your past memories onto it, it will obey.’ Solas’ voice was calm and echoed through the now-silent meadow.

I nodded silently. ‘Teach me.’ 

There was an approving smile curling on his stern lips, very softly, yet definite. He walked towards me and stood next to me, his body close but distant. I turned to him, lifting my head slightly to look at his own. 

‘Close your eyes,' he ordered calmly. 

I inclined my head and complied. One more time I stared at my meadow, and then I closed my eyes to greet the darkness. My heart stomped in my chest nervously. 

‘Remain calm. Focus on your breathing.’ 

I hummed and willed my heart. Breathe in. Thump. Breathe out. Thump. My ears picked up Solas’ calculated breaths, and I could hear the wind clashing to his figure like he was a rock. All would change, but not him. And for one reason, that was quite comforting. 

‘Good,' he said, his voice almost a whisper like he didn’t want to disturb me. I focussed on the cracks in the deep timbre of his words, my face as serene as my body now was. ‘Picture yourself where or what you want the Fade to shape itself in. Do not worry, we are safe.’ 

Haven. That was the first thing that came to my mind. I felt a shift. 

‘Envision all that this place enfolds, the smells, the sounds, even the tastes.’ Solas hushed. I felt his body behind me, close, protective. 

Haven. Haven. Haven. The mountains. The snow. All frozen. The cottages. The muddy path. The fire. The people. Their humming. Their whispers. The sweat. The clashing. The grunting. The horses. The herbs. Elderflower and elfroot. The chantry. The prayers. The hope. Sweet broth. Laughter. Ale. Maxwell. Haven. Haven. Haven. The Breach. The whispers. The scar. The hue. Emerald. The tears. Haven. 

The world seemed to change from underneath my feet, trembling as it shifted.

I knew where I was now, but didn’t dare open my eyes. 

‘Excellent,' Solas’ voice almost crashed into my ears, his tunes filled with marvel. 

My eyes willed themselves to open, to look at what I had created. And there it was. Haven. Like we never left. I stared up at the big wooden gate of the village, the military camp behind me. I could hear swords clashing, and people’s whispered voices, but no one was there. It was almost like there were only shadows of the villagers’ presence, but nothing more. But, the village itself was… almost real. 

Solas shifted behind me. I craned my neck and looked over my shoulder towards him. He nodded, his eyes soft and understanding, edging me forward. Go have a look. 

I pressed my hands against the gates and they opened, exposing the familiar square with the campfire Varric often warmed himself by, the path that led towards the chantry and split towards the tavern, the hardened road with Maxwell’s cabin at its end, Leliana’s tent, I could even hear her ravens. Everything was here. 

But my meadow was gone. 

‘I did not expect you to be so competent already.’ Solas chuckled, his eyes boring into mine, like he wanted to unravel me piece by piece. And when he did that in the waking world, he made me incredibly uncomfortable. But here, I almost wanted to let him do it. 

‘Me neither,' I mumbled while looking around me. I squatted and touched the snow underneath my feet. It felt cold, wet, real. ‘How strange, it does feel like it, but it isn’t real.’ My meadow had been simple, the grass soft, the flowers soft, the sun soft. But this coldness, this texture… 

‘That is a matter of debate.’ Solas nodded and I wondered what he meant by it. ‘Let us try again, focus on a place from your past, something that is not so vivid in your memory like Haven.’ 

I dipped my head, feeling the scorching wind blow my hair all over the place again. I wanted to go somewhere nicer now, warmer. 

Rivain. Tsura’s village. The forest. The danger. The wailing trees. The blazing sun. The cooling shadows. Dancing. Gold. Tattoos. Ebony. Magic. Spirits. Ancient paths. Knowledge. Warmth. Rivain. 

The wind stopped blazing around us, the ground slightly trembling again. I felt the sun pricking on my arms, caressing my face and reddening my cheeks. I opened my eyes again, and here we were, in the old, small village. The small huts and winding paths came into focus, the soft scent of herbs and cooking fires filling the air. I could hear the distant hum of the villagers… and I could feel the ancient spirits of the seers dwelling about, their essences dancing across the shadows cast by the trees.

‘Where are we?’ Solas said, his voice filled with interest. 

‘Rivain,' I whispered while looking around. This place was still, like me, in time.

This place was still fresh. I could go deeper.

Antiva. Seleny. The rivers. The bridges. Leather. Spiced wine. Everlasting summer. Palm trees. Brothels. Perfume. Sculptures.Waves crashing against the shores. Distant cries of seabirds. Crows. The dim lights in the twilight. Yavana. Dragons. Secrets. Antiva. 

 Solas behind me nodded his head. ‘Impressive. You are getting better.’ 

I stared at the small streets of the city of Seleny. We were standing on one of its bridges, or viaducts, it seemed. The salty river greeted us, its waves wailing high. It was night, the sky and the stars above us, the city filled with lights from the houses. Small and big boats were bobbing near the shore. 

‘Antiva,' I smiled while looking at Solas, who stared at the city lights in slight awe, ‘Seleny.’ 

‘You have travelled a lot.’ He murmured. 

‘Indeed.’ I smiled slightly. He had no idea. 

I was getting the hang of this. And how exciting! I could revisit all again, every city I’d seen, every street I’d walked. It was here to discover. I could go as far as my memory could take me. 

I closed my eyes again. Deeper. I can go deeper. 

Ferelden. Highever. Deep in the mountains of West Hill. Over the River Dane. Rebellion. The Resistance. The Fortress. Safe. Yet dangerous. The Queen. Her guards. The Spymaster. His dead lover. The sick. The wounded. Healing. Poison. Death. Cures. Fighting. War. Sybil. Courage. Bravery. The heroes. My Sybil. My sister. My Sybil. Sybil. Her grave. 

Here I was again. Another home lost. I stared up at the high stone tower. Proud in its cause, in the thought of victory. A victory they would not gain for many years to come. The courtyard was empty, the stables were abandoned, and the healer’s hut was void. But this was no ruin yet. It was just like I remembered it to be. How many years had I given this place in the hope of peace and justice? And was it ever given to me? 

I turned around, my eyes prickling with fresh tears. There. Through that gate, they had taken her body. Limp like a deer fresh from the hunt. The gate was closed now, the thick forest behind it silent. Her laughter had filled up this place, brightened it like it was heaven itself. And unlike the other places I had shaped the Fade into, this place just felt fake. Everything was missing. Her grave should be right there. Small. Unnoticeable. Forgotten. But I couldn’t imagine it here. I refused to. 

‘Interesting,' Solas walked around, turning towards the barracks and then to the stables. But I saw it in his slightly tensed shoulders. He could feel the dread here. The lingering sadness. The loss. ‘What was this? A town perhaps?’

‘Nothing. This place was nothing.’ I whispered. It hadn’t even been a home. Sybil had been my home, and they had taken her from me. 

I closed my eyes again. I needed to go somewhere else. But where? Kirkwall? No, I had said I hadn’t been there. The Anderfels then, but I couldn’t remember much of my time there. I couldn’t go to a place on Earth. Solas would freak out.

Home.

My first home. 

The forest. The Brecilian Forest. The Dalish. The camp. The tents. The crackling campfire. The laughter. The singing. Elven. Their tongue. Soft-spoken words. Mythical gods. The big wolf watching. Always watching. Marble. Green. Fertile grounds. A soft sky. A maze of a forest. Magic. Elgadira. Secrets. Nenhara. Forget-me-nots. Creation. Healing. All new. Blessed. Wonder. The path down the forest. A soft meadow. The whey. A farm. So small. So welcome. An old painting. A mirror with a stranger. Rough knuckles. Soft lips kissing my brow. Stale bread. A billowing cloak. Bright red hair. Crops grow happily between the flowers. Happy seasons. Serenity. Soft whispers of hope. His flower. Daniel. Home. 

I opened my eyes and smiled. We were in the camp, the Dalish camp. And although it was silent and abandoned, I felt them here. Like a family, they never really left.

‘I thought you were not Dalish?’ Solas said as he walked past me and into the camp. The grass was flat like a lot of people had walked on it. You could smell the woods and hear their sounds whisper into the tents of the camp. Solas looked around curiously, his eyes lingering on the wooden carvings of the Elven gods in the ancient trees. He walked towards them, his slender fingers caressing the rough patterns. 

‘I’m not,' I answered while I walked towards him, staring at his hand and how it trailed Mythal’s figure. ‘I visited them while I… was young. Their camp was close to the farm I lived at.’ I smiled with nostalgia. ‘They taught me so much.’

Solas’ face looked faintly annoyed by that. ‘They taught you about Elven culture, did they not?’

‘Some…’ I started. ‘Why?’ What was his problem? Why was he annoyed? Wasn’t he Elven as well? ‘You got a problem with the Dalish?’

‘They are children acting out stories misheard and repeated wrongly a thousand times.’ 

‘And you know the truth, then?’ I cocked my head curiously. How Elgadira would’ve liked to meet this guy. What a fight that would’ve been.

‘While they pass on stories, mangling details, I walk the Fade. I have seen things they have not.’

I smiled. Though I had lived for so long, I had never come across someone like Elgadira again. ‘The Dalish can be… alhasha… wild in their teachings.’ I grinned. ‘They told me so many stories, and that’s what they were. Stories. Or at least for me.’

Solas looked up into my eyes when I spoke Elven.

‘Maybe, you can tell me what you know, Solas.’ I smiled at him and Solas nodded back, a kindness in his eyes I hadn’t yet seen before. ‘I loved listening to their stories. The wonders of the ancients…’

Solas looked up towards the soft blue sky. ‘The Dalish strive to remember Halamshiral, but Halamshiral was merely a fumbling attempt to recreate a forgotten land.’

‘Arlathan,' I whispered. It was a word Elgadira whispered in her sleep. Her voice had been lost in hope. 

‘Elvhenan was the empire,' Solas looked straight at me as he spoke, his eyes looking for something in mine, ‘and Artlathan its greatest city. A place of magic and beauty. Lost to time.’

Lost like so many. ‘That place must’ve been… marvellous.’ I smiled and looked at Solas’ lingering fingers on the old tree.

‘We hear stories of the Ancient Elves living in trees and imagine wooden ramps or Dalish aravels. Imagine instead spires of crystal twining through the branches, palaces floating among the clouds. Imagine beings who loved forever, for whom magic was as natural as breathing. That is what was lost.’ Solas looked to his hand trailing the wooden carvings. He then let go of the tree trunk. 

The Elves had been immortal. Their magic like mine. Something twisted in my stomach. They were like me. But I wasn’t ancient. I was old. But ancient… 

‘The legend of Elven immortality… did they use magic to increase their lifespan?’ I stared up at Solas’ face. And it resembled mine when I looked at my memories. It was nostalgia. Strange. 

‘No. It was simply part of being Elven. The subtle beauty of their magic was the effect, not the cause, of their nature.’ Solas stared at my hands. ‘Some spells took years to cast. Echoes would linger for centuries, harmonising with new magic in an unending symphony. It must’ve been… beautiful.’ Solas smiled sadly when he stared at me, his eyes gazing into mine. A silence crept over us and I swallowed hard. 

‘I wish I could’ve seen it.’ I whispered, breaking the contact we had. If only those Elves still lived. I wouldn’t be so lonely, they could’ve shared that eternity with me. ‘Come,' I said, ‘I want to check on something.’ 

Solas nodded, his face back in his favourite neutral gaze. I tracked the hidden path through the woods, the trip shorter than I had imagined. And then, there it was. Just past the treeline. The cottage is still just like I remembered. I smiled brightly and ran towards the wooden cottage, the door was open. I pushed it, and somewhere deep within, I wondered if Daniel would be sitting there at the table. The vase would be in front of him, filled with fresh blue flowers. He would’ve taken off his worn-out boots. He would’ve smiled at my entrance. But the cottage was empty inside. The flowers in the vase had withered. I closed my eyes and felt my breath shaking in my throat. 

It’s alright, Saeris. Don’t cry. It’s okay. 

I turned back around and walked outside to the back of the cottage, to the fields. 

And there he was. 

I found him. 

Just like I left him.

I squatted in front of his nameless grave, the stone still polished and clean. The field was still covered in blue flowers, except for the one green flower that firmly sprouted on top of Daniel’s grave. The colour of his eyes. I wiped away a small tear that had formed in the corner of my eye. Solas stopped behind me and for the first time ever, I felt comforted by him. He put his hand on my shoulder very lightly, like he didn’t want to startle me. The man remained silent, letting me grieve over the nameless grave. 

‘This was my home,' I whispered.

‘What has happened here?’ He asked genuinely. 

I smiled and stood back up. Solas let go of my shoulder as he stared at me while I straightened myself. My body shuddered as a warm wind greeted our figures like Daniel was waving goodbye one last time. If he was a spirit, I hoped he could see that I never forgot him, and I never would. He had been my first home in this strange world, and he will always be. The sun lowered in the sky, and I felt my body slumping, the vision of the farm blurring slightly. ‘I’m stirring.’ 

‘I know.’ Solas whispered as he too shifted on his feet. The field and the flowers and the farm and the camp and the forest and the grave… all were falling away into the waking world. These memories belonged to the Fade now. And I let it claim them. ‘You have progressed a great deal. Perhaps, we should leave the rest for another time.’ 

I looked back up at Solas and smiled at him, the tears still in my eyes. Daniel’s grave buzzed as its contours appeared blurry. I would visit him again.

Solas dipped his chin, his eyes kind towards me. ‘But for now, you should wake up.’

***

And that was how it began. I rolled over in my bedroll, the morning sun seeping through the ivory fabric of the tent. Cassandra lay next to me, one leg over her bedroll, the other inside, her arms stretched above her head and her mouth half open. I swear she was drooling. I gave a small laugh as I stared at her. The fearsome warrior. The serious Seeker. The drooling sleeper. What a sight. 

I slowly raised the furs I was sleeping under and grabbed my clothes, pulling my armour over the woollen tunic I had slept in. I took my foot wraps and folded them under my armpit, walking outside barefoot. The soft, damp grass tickled the soles of my feet, the glowing sun greeting me for another day. 

Maxwell sat at the campfire, which he had put down just before I left my tent, but I could see the wood underneath still smouldering with soft fresh smoke. The Herald looked up at me as I walked to where he sat. He stretched his long arms above his head and I heard his bones pop. He’d taken the last shift, so he had been up for a while already.

‘Good morning, Saeris,' Maxwell gave me a sheepish smile, his familiar hazel eyes sparkling in the early light of the day. 

I smiled back at him, feeling how my green eye quieted with his presence. I sat next to him on the ground, and we silently enjoyed the waking sounds of the woods as I bound my foot wraps. Maxwell nibbled on a piece of bread, and I noticed the scar in his hand lightly buzzing. 

‘Does it hurt?’ 

‘Sometimes,' he smiled, ‘but it gets better when you’re around.’ Maxwell winked.

‘It’s the eye,' I grinned and lifted my shoulders.

Maxwell stared at me and smiled back. Sybil would’ve liked him. Daniel would’ve liked him. And I guess that if they were watching right now, they would’ve told me that I had done well to help him. I learned. I trained. And I got better. 

For once, I had grown. 

I had changed . 

And I would do so more in the days and weeks and months and probably years to come. I was even excited about it, and couldn’t wait. Now, time could go slowly, and I could enjoy the progress. 

Solas opened the flap of his tent. He looked at where we sat, and he smiled. It was barely noticeable, the mask still firmly placed on his face. Yet, this time, it seemed he had changed somehow too.

Slowly, the whole camp started to rise. Varric got up, and it looked like he had even combed his chest hair. Cassandra nodded at us as she opened the flap of her tent too, and I noticed how her hair stuck to the sides of her head in a dishevelled manner. I couldn’t resist laughing at her genuine bedhead. 

We all changed. Every day was different. And I felt alive because of it.

And now, the Hinterlands were closing by, the battle nearing us. But I was sure we were all ready to face what was to come. And if we weren’t, we would learn to.

Notes:

Shout-out to my beta, nerdsaretotallyawesome, who cried while reading the part about Daniel and Sybil <3 Don't worry gurl, I cried too.

The Hinterlands are close-by, y'all ready for it?

Chapter 24: Landed

The horn of the departing train echoed through the nearly empty train station. 

‘Please take care of your belongings,' a feminine voice loomed over the thundering rails, the old radio beeping as the robotic voice read her lines, ‘Mind the gap!’ 

I tapped my foot impatiently on the wet pavement of the platform. The grey weather had cast a depressing glow over the little brown pub at the end of the stone runway where sleep-drunk commuters sipped their morning drug, the faint smell of watery coffee filling the dreary air. I stared up at the message board. 

Two minutes. 

My fingers grabbed the sides of my beanie and I pulled it down further over my head as the wind whispered cold chills behind my ears. 

‘I think it’s late again,' my brother sighed, his hands rummaging in his deep pockets, the change ringing as he played with the loose threads of his beige winter coat. 

‘It’ll come,' I mumbled and stared at the message board again. Still two minutes. It had been two minutes for half an hour by now. Or so it felt like. 

‘It should be here already,' my brother kicked a lost stone and it clashed over the brim of the pavement towards the rails. My eyes followed the little thing down. 

How strange. Why was it so brightly green? It was too vibrant between the grey mud and the steel bars. A splash of unearthly colour that seemed to light up every shadow cast by our hovering figures. 

I took a step closer, my body bending over the yellow safety lines. It was green. Too green. Maybe it wasn’t a stone but a piece of plastic? I stared at it closely, the weird thing enlightening the misty fog a lime-ish colour. And then, I noticed how it wasn’t formed like a stone either. Was it a glass marble maybe? Had a kid lost it on his way to school? I took another step closer, my eyes focused on the glowing orb. How was this thing buzzing, trembling in my ears? Was it radio-active?

Suddenly, the green orb turned on its own, like it had received thousands of little legs and it turned around just to stare at me. My breath got stuck in my already sore throat. It wasn’t a piece of stone or plastic. It wasn’t a marble. 

It was an eye. 

The dilated pupil of the emerald eyeball focused on my figure, and I saw my reflection in it, my face as pale as a ghost. Holy shit. 

I wanted to scream, and just then my brother yanked me back by the collar of my jacket. I yelped and I fell back on the ground as our soaring train rushed over the rails before us, coming to an abrupt halt. 

‘Are you crazy!’ My brother screamed, his eyes big and frightened. ‘If I hadn’t pulled you back you wouldn’t have a head!’ 

I breathed harshly and stared at the opening doors of the train. ‘There was an eye there! A human eye!’ I cried and crawled to the edge of the platform. 

My brother stepped forward and stared into the gutter. ‘There’s nothing there. Wake up goddammit!’ he grunted. 

I gawked at the rails below. There was nothing. No eye, no blood or anything that showed the eye had ever been there. Had I just dreamed it? I must have imagined it. I need to start drinking coffee. 

We entered the train after that, just in time before it departed again. But I swear, every time I closed my eyes that day, I could see the dark pupils staring back at me, its gaze terrified, like I was the abomination. 

***

‘The Herald of Andraste! I’ve heard the stories. Everyone has. We know what you did at the Breach.’ A young female Dwarf greeted our party as we entered the camp. Inquisition soldiers gaped at our group as Maxwell straightened his back and stared down at the freckled woman. 

‘It’s an honour to meet you, my Lord.’ She said, her braided red hair curling nicely on the top of her head, her armour gleaming, ‘Inquisition scout Harding, at your service. I, all of us here, we’ll do whatever we can to help.’

I heard Varric next to me chuckle before he said, ‘Harding, huh? Ever been to Kirkwall’s Hightown?’

‘I can’t say I have. Why?’

‘You’d be Harding in… oh, never mind.’ Varric hummed with his joke, and I poked him with my elbow while hiding my grin as Cassandra made a disgusted noise. 

‘It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.’ Maxwell said politely with a smile on his face. 

‘We should get to business. The situation’s… pretty dire.’ Harding nodded, ‘We came to secure horses from Redcliffe’s old horsemaster. I grew up here, and people always said that Dennet’s herds were the strongest and fastest this side of the Frostbacks. But with the mage-Templar fighting getting worse, we couldn’t get to Dennet. Maker only knows if he’s even still alive.’ The scout stared at the ground for a moment but then looked back up to the Herald. ‘Mother Giselle’s at the Crossroads helping refugees and the wounded. Our latest reports say that the war’s spread there, too. Corporal Vale and our men are doing what they can to help protect the people, but they won’t be able to hold out very long… So you best get going. No time to lose.’

The Hinterlands were one of the places Ferelden was most known for. It had those famous green fields and quiet farmlands filled with wild rams and picturesque cottages. Yet, what was left of it now but burned crops and charred corpses of nature’s proudest forests? As we travelled down from the main Inquisition encampment, we found out that the old Hinterlands were gone, and an empty no-man's-land remained, desolate of what had once made it beautiful. Life. 

And we helped cause it. I don’t remember how many rebel mages and Templars we killed. And every single time we pleaded with them to stop—that we were there to help. No one listened, and in the end, it was going to be them or us. And it was them. After most of the attackers were annihilated, the village called the Crossroads was safe again—or what was left of it at least. Broken houses stood half-burnt, crumbling under the damage, and the air smelled of smoke and fear. Wounded villagers lined the streets, their faces drawn and pale, some with bandaged limbs, others lying in makeshift cots with barely enough strength to breathe. We set up beds while surgeons and healer mages who had not turned rebels helped refugees and soldiers alike. The villagers were happy to see us coming. Maxwell shone like the prophet they took him for, and he acted like it. Righteous, justified, honourable,… 

Maxwell smiled proudly as we walked towards two Inquisition soldiers who ramped the Inquisition banner in the silent ground. The soldiers turned to us, their faces filled with hopeful looks, and they pumped their chests towards Maxwell, who returned the favour. The Inquisition flag waved calmly in the soft wind. At that moment, I couldn’t help but feel this spark of pride, and I noticed our whole party having the same expression. We helped this village, the Inquisition helped. 

‘Mother Giselle is with the wounded,' Cassandra said as the soldiers returned to their posts. 

‘I will go and speak with her. You guys rest, go have something to drink and eat, we’ll regroup in an hour or two.’ Maxwell ordered as a true leader would. He winked at me then, whispering under his breath, ‘But stay close,’ before he turned around and walked up the stairs towards the healer’s tent. 

I saw the Chantry Mother up on the hill tending to a wounded soldier. She was wearing the traditional red and white Chantry robes. I couldn’t see from where I stood, but it seemed like her eyes were kind.

‘Come on, Twinkle, let’s grab something to eat,' Varric slapped his broad hand on my lower back. 

‘I’m going to look around for a bit… You go first Varric, I’ll join later.’ I hummed and strode off deeper into the torn-up village while Varric and Cassandra turned to the tent where scouts were distributing small loaves of bread and bowls of steaming broth.
My eyes followed Maxwell as he and Mother Giselle walked further away from the tent, deep in conversation. I slowly trailed them along, my feet dragging over the cobblestones. I noticed how people were staring up as well, some silently praying. Their faith had been rewarded, and the person who’d given it to them was standing right there talking with a revered Mother of their holy Chantry. The picture was perfect. 

But Maxwell wasn’t a promise of faith for me. He was a promise of a future. And in my own way, he was a promise of hope as well. I was just like the villagers and the refugees, looking up to a saviour. Maxwell was carrying such a weight on his shoulders, I couldn’t imagine…

Suddenly, I found myself in another healer’s tent, spotting Maxwell still standing with Giselle from the corner of my eyes. A young man was moaning on a makeshift bed, holding his arm that was impaled by ice shards that didn’t seem to melt, the magic still curling heavily. I squatted next to his bed, my hands already hovering over his arm. 

‘Andraste?’ the man wailed. 

‘Let me help you, shhh,' I hushed while my magic slipped from my fingertips. 

‘NO! DON’T TOUCH ME!’ the man suddenly screamed, his body contorting, trying to get away. 

‘I’m just trying to help, I won’t hurt you.’ I tried to smile kindly, but the man kept screaming, not in agony, but in fear. ‘Please,' I tried. 

‘He won’t let you,' a human surgeon stopped next to me, ‘Magic is evil in his eyes, he won’t let you help him now.’ The surgeon crossed his bloodied arms in front of his chest. ‘Go, you can’t do any good here now, mage.’ 

‘But if you hold him I…’

‘No. We can take care of it, we don’t need your magic.’ 

I dangled my arms to my sides disappointedly. ‘I… am sorry.’ I turned and walked away, my hands trembling as I clenched them at my sides. As I left the tent, the healer picked up a scalpel to pull the shards out of the man’s arm manually. 

‘Do not take it to heart,' Solas bound his hands behind his back, eyeing me from the wall he was leaning against. 

‘I don’t get it. I just wanted to help—I can help! Why are they looking at me like I’m a monster? I’m so sick of being feared.’ I was angry, I am angry. I’m always helping, I’m always healing and considering and trying to be good and not to kill and not to hurt and to create and to make whole and… Even after a hundred years, why do people still fear me? 

It didn’t matter that I had spent my life helping others—healing, growing, saving. I would always be the thing they feared.

Solas pushed himself off the cabin, stepping closer. ‘Fear is a powerful thing,’ he said. ‘It blinds people to the truth, even when it’s right in front of them.’

I didn’t want to hear it. Not now. My anger burned low in my chest, not at Solas, but at the world. A century of trying, and what had it brought me? Still, I bit my tongue, not wanting to lash out at him.

Before I could respond, a sound broke through my thoughts—a small voice, calling out, thin and trembling.

‘Mamae?’

The word was soft, but it hit me like a blow to the heart. I turned sharply toward the sound, and there, huddled together on makeshift beds in an open cabin, were a group of children. Orphans. Their wide eyes were filled with fear and confusion, and one of them—just a little girl—had called for her mother. My breath caught in my throat, and for a moment, I was back in Kirkwall, hearing that same word from Sybil. Mamae . It echoed through my mind like a ghost, pulling at something deep within me.

A woman knelt beside the children, trying to calm them down, to get them to sleep off their wariness and fear, even if it was for a few hours. Her voice was soothing but strained. The children, though, were inconsolable, crying and worried and unsure.

Without thinking, I moved toward them, my anger ebbing away, replaced by something softer, something maternal. I stopped beside the woman, meeting the eyes of the children. ‘It’s alright,’ I said softly, my voice gentle. ‘You’re safe now.’

One of the boys, his face streaked with dirt, looked up at me, his lip trembling. ‘Are the monsters gone?’ he asked, his voice barely a whisper. He was clutching a worn stuffed animal—an old Mabari puppy, its fur threadbare from years of love and wear. He held it tightly to his chest, as if the small toy could ward off the horrors of the world.

I hesitated, glancing briefly at Solas, who had followed me but stayed respectfully back. Then I turned my attention back to the children. ‘Yes,’ I whispered, offering a reassuring smile. ‘The monsters are gone.’

I sat down next to him, my cloak pooling around me in the dirt. The other children looked at me expectantly, their fear slowly fading as curiosity began to take its place. I glanced at the boy holding the Mabari stuffed animal, an idea forming in my mind. ‘Do you know,’ I began softly, ‘that Andraste herself had a Mabari dog?’

The boy blinked, his eyes wide with surprise. ‘She did?’ he asked, his voice soft but filled with wonder.

I nodded, offering him a small smile. ‘Yes, she did. And her Mabari was very brave. They say that he followed her everywhere, never leaving her side, not even in battle.’

The children leaned in, their eyes fixed on me, captivated by the story.

‘This Mabari,’ I continued, ‘was more than just a companion to Andraste. He was her protector, her friend. They say that no matter how dangerous things became, no matter how many battles she fought, the Mabari was always there, standing guard, ready to fight for her.’

I saw the boy’s grip on his stuffed animal loosen a little, his fear melting away as he imagined Andraste’s faithful Mabari, always at her side.

‘And when Andraste went to war,’ I added, ‘The Mabari led her armies into battle, barking loud and proud, striking fear into the hearts of her enemies. But even when the fighting was done, he was still her friend, loyal and loving.’

The children’s eyes were wide, captivated by the tale. They huddled closer, their fear fading with each word.

I began to sing then, softly, the melody carrying on the breeze, light and gentle. It was a song I had heard many times in the taverns of Thedas during my travels. The kind of song that made people smile, that brought warmth to even the coldest nights.

You know Andraste's old Mabari.
He don't show up in the Chant.
And if you ask those holy sisters,
Well, they'll say Andraste can't
Have had some big old smelly wardog.
But all Ferelden knows it right:
Our sweet Lady needed someone
Who would warm her feet at night.

And there's Andraste's Mabari
By the Holy Prophet's side.
In the fight against Tevinter,
That dog would never hide.
They say the Maker sent him special,
Always loyal, without pride,
So he could be the sworn companion
Of the Maker's Holy Bride.

Oh, that dog, he guards Andraste
Without arrogance or fear,
Only asking of his mistress
Just a scratch behind the ears.
But then old Maf'rath gets to plotting,
Tries to lure that dog away.
But even as they trap the Prophet,
Her mabari never strays.

And there's Andraste's Mabari
By the Holy Prophet's side.
In the fight against Tevinter,
That dog would never hide.
They say the Maker sent him special,
Always loyal, without pride,
So he could be the sworn companion
Of the Maker's Holy Bride.

The children listened intently, their eyes growing soft and heavy as the song worked its magic. The little girl resting against me yawned, her small head nodding as sleep began to claim her. The boy with the Mabari stuffed animal hugged it tightly, a small smile on his face now.

When the song ended, there was a peaceful silence. The children, who had been so full of fear and uncertainty, were now calm, their eyes heavy with the pull of sleep that was finally able to overcome the thrilling fear.

‘Andraste’s Mabari never left her side,’ I whispered gently, tucking a loose strand of hair behind a little girl’s ear. ‘And I reckon he is watching over you all as well.’

The boy smiled up at me, his eyes closing as he cuddled the stuffed animal closer. The rest of the children began to drift off as well, their small bodies relaxing into the safety of the moment, their fear now a distant memory.

I sat there for a while, watching over them as they slept, my heart full but aching with a quiet sadness. They were so young, and yet, they had already seen so much of the world’s cruelty.

Solas stood nearby, watching me with that same quiet intensity. His expression was unreadable, but I could sense something in his gaze—perhaps admiration, or maybe even understanding. He said nothing, but his presence was strangely a comfort in itself, an acknowledgement of what had just transpired.

I looked down at the sleeping children, my voice soft as I whispered to them, ‘Sleep now. You’re safe.’

And for the first time in a long while, I believed those words.

***

We talked to Corporal Vale, to the hunter asking for food resources, to the scout asking for blankets, to a refugee pleading for a potion for his wife’s pneumonia, and so on. Maxwell noted it all down in a little leather journal he carried, promising he would try to help them, that he wouldn’t forget. We then headed westward, towards the famous horsemaster’s home. There was so much fighting, and we killed so many, but we kept on going. We were midway when the sun started setting and we had to make up camp. Everybody had to do a double shift, making sure there were always multiple people up in case we were attacked. Luckily, we weren’t. I had two shifts with Cassandra, and I didn’t mind it. The Seeker didn’t speak much, let alone about herself, but I was happy enough with the silence so I could hear the woods and the fields and the blowing wind. Sleep was a necessity now, and my body was screaming for it. I think that night, I wasn’t the only one skipping the Fade in order to sleep deeply. 

The next day we rose early, the sun had just risen out of its slumber when we packed our horses and rode towards the abandoned farmers’ settlement in the west. When we arrived, wolves were awaiting us, their eyes red and violating. The eyes of demons. It was a shame to kill such magnificent beasts.

‘No normal wolf would fight with such determination,' Cassandra huffed as she wiped the sweat off her forehead. I stared down at the dead animals, their black and grey fur sticky with fresh blood, their eyes dulled. 

Solas looked at the dead wolves too, his eyes stern, ‘The Breach may have driven them mad… or perhaps a demon took command of the pack.’ 

It had indeed been a demon, we killed the thing a day later. The wolves had howled mournfully when they had reawakened, staring at us, their eyes almost intelligent, as they slowly retreated into the mountain. 

We walked further to the farmers’ settlement, noticing most cabins were abandoned, probably due to the fighting and the wolves. The stone hedges were already decaying, looking like old rubbles of ruin. The fields had not been tended to for a long time, but I could still see some stubborn crops growing, druffalos grazing the sweet grass, and some horses trotting in the meadows.  Maxwell walked up front, his pace confident, towards the cabin up the hill.

‘This must be the horsemaster’s,' Solas nodded. 

Inside, the Master of Horses was waiting for us, his moody grimace lighting up just a little when we entered. The elderly man knew we were coming, of course. We asked him for his help, and he wanted to, but only after we promised to build watchtowers to safeguard the mounts against bandits and thieves. When we went back to our camp that day, Cassandra immediately sent a raven to Cullen.

The last days in the Hinterlands were spent by travelling across the land, helping people with menial tasks, but gaining so much more respect in return. We sent out scouts to hunt for rams, ordered soldiers to locate supply caches with blankets for the refugees, destroyed the main rebel mage camp and Templar outpost, and after a week, the area felt like a huge weight was lifted off its shoulders. There was so much more to be done, but so little time to do it. Maxwell seemed to have a hard time accepting he could not help everybody. And though people threw themselves in front of his feet, I could see by the expression on his face he felt guilty for not doing every single thing in his power to help. He was being too hard on himself. 

We tried to help the Herald however we could. We set up camps, secured the area, hunted for food, located directions on the map, and so on. We also came across some Rifts. They all made my skin creep and my green eye boil. I could still feel their presence, I could sense their proximity, but I could not yet see them. Solas told me that I would soon, that I would learn the more we practised. We hadn’t had any Fade practice since before we arrived at the Crossroads, and to be honest, it was my fault. I was empty and my body was ransacked, especially after cRifts. When Maxwell closed them, I could feel the Rifts searching me, claiming my magic to stay just a little while longer, pleading for me to help like they were alive like you and me. And when Maxwell’s mark zapped the tears in the Veil apart, I felt blinded, like they had succeeded in taking some of my power, and it was lost forever. 

Maxwell was dead-tired, Varric couldn’t keep his eyes open, Cassandra was making more sighs than disgusted noises and Solas didn’t seem to be able to walk without his staff. We all needed rest. So, finally, we decided it was time to leave for Haven again. 

***

‘I think I know how to shape the Fade to my memories now…’ I said to Solas and dropped my hands to my sides, the scenery changing from one of our previous campsites to an open generic field. 

‘You can indeed,' Solas hummed, ‘Perhaps now, we can take it a step further.’ 

‘Further?’ 

‘The Fade is formed by our memories, and as you already know, sometimes memories combine. But Dreamers are no normal Fade travellers. We can shape it to our will, not just our memories. What you know was just the first step. Try to escort us to a place you do not know or haven’t been yet, to somewhere new.’

‘New? How do I do that?’

‘By your imagination. Go wherever you want, show me only what you want me to see.’ Solas stared at me sternly, his eyes unwavering. 

‘I… Alright,' I said, trying to ignore his gaze that seemed to know it all. 

But where do I want to go now? I’m not creative… I can’t even draw or… 

‘Don’t stop focussing, Saeris,' he said, pronouncing my name with his deep Elven accent. 

Alright. Where do I want to go? I remember… no, something new. New. Brand new… 

Okay, fairy tales! A princess castle! 

The ground started to shudder again, and I could hear Solas take a breath.

We’re in a mediaeval town. A castle. Big. And pink. Flying on a cloud. Forest. Green. Smells like marshmallows and chocolate. I used to love marshmallows. Fresh grass. Little animal sounds. A channel surrounds the castle’s walls. Blue water. And green stones. Silver fish. A moon. And a sun. Combined into one.

I stared at the place I had created. It could’ve been straight out of a storybook. It was serene, peaceful and… fantastic. It couldn’t be real, and it wasn’t pretending to be real. It relished in being a fantasy, in being imaginary, and it was better than anything out there in the real world. 

‘I am impressed. You train your will to control magic and shape the Fade as only an adept Dreamer would. You have an indomitable focus I have not yet encountered before.’ Solas hummed, his icy blue and grey eyes boring into mine. And for a moment, we stood there and kept staring. This place I had created went quiet. I think I forgot to breathe after a while. Maybe, somewhere I was waiting for that uneasy feeling to creep over my shoulders again, for the need to hide, to shy away from his stare. But that feeling didn’t come. Now, we just were, and I became uncomfortable on a whole other level. A level I couldn’t really place.

‘I… Indomitable focus?’

‘Presumably, I have yet to see it dominated. I imagine the sight would be… fascinating.’ His eyes pierced mine. Then, he blinked and his face became very neutral and distant. And so did the atmosphere, like we both knew that we had been spacing out and we had nothing left to say. 

This place still needed something. Think of something, Saeris. What does a castle need? A princess? Yes. A damsel in distress to wait for her prince to come. And she’ll be waiting in her… tower. A high tower. Round. Made of cold stone. Imprisoning. Encircling. Captured. And waiting. So much waiting. For a chance to flee. For a sign of hope. But the stones are staring. No windows. Only screams. Shouting. And magic. But it has nowhere to go. All locked up. They are watching. And judging. Together with the stones. A pair of eyes burned in my back. Every day. Burning. Waiting. Unwavering. Unchanging. Like the stones. 

‘Saeris?’ Solas’ voice sounded distant, too far gone to be heard in my clouded mind. 

Hands. Grabbing me. Never letting go. Demanding gratitude. The tower does not give. It takes. Pleading. Moaning. Breathing hot breath on my cheeks. Violating. Screaming. 

‘Saeris, wake up. Saeris,' Solas’ tune sounded cautionary, but I couldn’t stop anymore. 

One. Two. They want to protect. Three. He will never let me go. Always watching. Four. Failure. Regret. A life for a life. Unwanted. I don’t want this. Five. Six. Simon. Let. Go. Seven. Lips on my lips. Foreign. I can’t break free. Hot breath. Wet. Tears. My tears. Nine. I don’t want this. I don’t want this. I need to breathe. I want to be free. I have to see the sun. Let go of me. 

‘SAERIS,' Solas was shaking me, my tears drowning my face. I blinked, staring up in his worried eyes, his mask slipping off. ‘It is alright. You are alright. Take a deep breath.’ 

I hiccupped, noticing where we were. I started panicking again, my chest tightening, my head exploding with a million and one thoughts. It’s the Circle. Solas’ hands were warm on my shoulders. And it made me think of…

‘It’s alright,' he sighed again and closed his eyes. My breaths came out shallowly, and I tried to focus on the little scar between his brows, on the brown freckles that spread across his cheekbones like a galaxy. And then the ground started shaking again. 

No more darkness. 

We were back in a meadow, simple. But not. I noticed that we were standing on a floating rock, cascades of clouds hanging near our chests, and water falling down to another world below us. And above, the heavens were colouring a baby blue and a soft pink hue, accommodating the sparkling stars in a symphony of night and day. There were large trees, larger than skyscrapers, with twisting trunks. And there was magic. Everywhere. I could feel it, the Fade could feel it too, like a sheer blanket covering our beings. 

And I could breathe again. I’m still free. I can still see the sun when I wake up. I’m fine. 

‘Ir abelas, Solas,' I huffed out of breath, ‘I… It was an old memory I thought I’d forgotten. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me… I…’

‘The Fade can become a dangerous place if you do not focus. Dreams are easy. Nightmares are on a whole other level, one you cannot escape with just a mere thought. Dark memories are loud, and there are too many here that will feed on them. You must never give in, unless you know you have the control.’ Solas sounded like he was almost scolding me like a teacher would. He let go of my shivering shoulders, folding his hands back behind his back

‘Ma serannas. Thank you, it will not happen again,' I looked down at my hands, and noticed they were still shaking. 

Solas remained quiet, his eyes focusing on my hands as well. For a moment, I thought he was going to take them, place mine in his, and give me a small encouraging pinch. And it seemed like he was thinking of doing exactly that, considering all the possibilities. All the consequences. What were the consequences? 

‘Where are we now? Did you make this up as well? How did you do that so quickly?’ The words tumbled out of my mouth like vomit. 

Solas looked up from my hands and back to my face. ‘This place does not exist, no,' he said, his voice cold. I wondered if this place was as imaginary as my castle. Or was it something more? Because while my fantasy had felt like a fantasy, a fairy tale, this place felt real, like Haven had when I had created it last time. ‘Your mind is exhausted, we should not have trained before you’d rested. We shall continue our training back at Haven.’ He said coldly and reserved, detached, unapproachable and withdrawn. 

‘I’m sorry I—’ 

‘It is fine, Saeris.’ He took two steps back. Why was one not enough? ‘Rest well.’ 

***

But how could I “rest well” after that? Who could? That night, I didn’t sleep anymore but took the two last shifts out of Varric’s and Maxwell’s hands. It took us two more days after that to get back to Haven, where I knew another pile of work was waiting for us. 

Our horses were trotting calmly on the sandy path that was slowly becoming more frozen and cold. A sign of home. 

Home.

Notes:

Song: Little Red Riding Hood - Sam The Sham & The Pharaohs, but Saeris' version was inspired by this cover: https://youtu.be/PTzLgnT9UFI

Since the holidays are nearing, and it's going to be my birthday soon, I will not have a lot of time to write, edit and publish. So, next chapter will probably appear somewhere in January...
I hope you liked this chapter, and if you did, you can always leave me a comment or a kudo!

Happy holidays everyone! See you in the next year ♡ !

Chapter 25: Resolved

Notes:

Hi! Sorry I haven't been posting these last few weeks, but because of the holidays and my finals, I couldn't really write! But I'm back now and got loads of time :)

‘Your kind killed the Most Holy!’ 

‘Lies! Your kind let her die!’

‘Shut your mouth, mage!’ The angry Templar stepped forward to the defiant mage, his hand reaching to his sword. Was this the only thing Templars could do? Solve everything with mindless violence? The crowd of people, mostly humans, tensed, waiting for the blow to come, and for the mage to strike back if he had to. 

‘Enough!’ Cullen strutted forward, his gloved hands shoving the two bickering humans apart like the little children they were.

‘Knight-Captain!’ The Templar’s voice sounded relieved, respectful. I hid myself behind the stone wall of the Chantry, my eyes glaring from Cullen to the Templar and back. What would he do? Would he support his old comrades? 

‘That is not my title. We are not Templars any longer. We are all part of the Inquisition!’ Cullen pointed his threatening finger towards the Templar and then to the mage, his voice soft and careful, but stern and confident. I suppressed the smile that was curling over my lips and folded my arms closely over my bodice, my eyes gleaming as they took up the towering T… no ex-Templar. Commander. I liked the guy more by the minute. And now that I was looking at him, it seemed he was getting better looking by the minute too. The dark circles under his eyes were almost completely gone. And his skin looked healthy, glowing from the confidence he was radiating while standing there before the Chantry gate. 

‘And what does that mean, exactly?’ Oh, for the love of… whatever, not that guy again. I grunted and shifted on my feet as I saw Chancellor Roderick step towards the restless crowd. 

Cullen sighed deeply, a gesture I could return, ‘Back already, Chancellor? Haven’t you done enough?’ 

‘I’m curious, Commander, as to how your Inquisition and its ‘Herald’ will restore order as you’ve promised.’ I’ll show you, stupid man… I wanted to go and stand in front of Cullen and defend Maxwell like no one ever had. We would all succeed, I was sure of it. But when I wanted to show myself, I noticed a familiar face hiding in the crowd. His hood was casting shadows over his expression, but I could clearly see him and feel him there. Maxwell. For how long had he been standing there? Would he intervene? 

‘Of course, you are,' Cullen sighed again, shaking his head disappointedly. He then stepped forward, ignoring the Chancellor’s accusations like they were nothing but the cries of an infant. ‘Back to your duties, all of you!’ He ordered towards the crowd, and I saw all the humans shrink a bit. The Chancellor bit his old cracked lips as the crowd did what Cullen had told them to and dispersed. Everyone except Maxwell, who didn’t move one inch. But the Chancellor’s back was turned towards the Herald, and the old man only had eyes for the Commander who seemed to have more power over the people the Chancellor lived for. 

‘Can someone please enlighten me as to what’s going on?’ Maxwell’s warm voice almost caused the Chancellor to shit his white robes. But the cleric held his poise, his back straightened, his eyes still towards the towering Commander. Roderick refused to acknowledge Maxwell being there.

Cullen stood his ground but nodded politely at Maxwell as he came closer. ‘Herald,' Cullen curtsied, ‘Mages and Templars were already at war. Now they’re blaming each other for the Divine’s death.’

‘Which is why we acquire a proper authority to guide them back to order.’ The Chancellor spat, still ignoring the Herald’s presence. 

‘Who? You?' Cullen almost snickered, ‘Random clerics who weren’t important enough to be at the Conclave?’ I almost cheered loudly at that.

That had seemed to hit a nerve, but the Chancellor tried to stay in control and slowly said ‘The rebel Inquisition and its so-called “Herald of Andraste”? I think not.’

‘You know I’m standing right here?’ Maxwell smiled like nothing was bothering him at all. It showed who was really in control. ‘And so far, you’re the only one who’s insisting we can’t work together.’

The Chancellor straightened his back some more, his eyes on the Herald, finally acknowledging his existence. ‘We might,' Roderick said, ‘If your Inquisition would recognize the Chantry’s authority.’

‘There is no authority until another Divine is chosen,' Cullen sighed again.

‘In due time, Andraste will be our guide, not some dazed wanderer on a mountainside.’ Roderick smiled, but the sneer on his face made sure Maxwell had understood his point. 

The Herald, in turn, sighed while scratching the back of his head, ‘Remind me why you’re allowing the Chancellor to stay?’

‘Clearly, your Templar knows where to draw the line.’ Roderick huffed proudly.

‘He’s toothless. There’s no point turning him into a martyr simply because he runs at the mouth.’ Cullen answered. I held in my breath and tried not to go over and fist-bump Cullen. Who knew the man could be so sarcastic? ‘The Chancellor is a good indication of what to expect in Val Royeaux, however.’ Wait—Val Royeaux? Why were we going there? To appease the Chantry? Would they even listen? 

‘Fine,' Maxwell huffed, ‘Just… don’t let anyone riot while we’re gone.’ 

‘The walls will be standing when you return. I hope.’ Cullen said more seriously than I had hoped. 

The Chancellor seemed to be happy with the stir he had made and turned around proudly to go and mope somewhere else. I bet the man dreamed about annoying people. He was just another example of why I abhorred the Chantry. I wasn’t against Andrastians, they could believe in the Maker, it was their choice. But I just really detested the institution of the Chantry and their dictatorship over the people.

I saw Cullen nod at Maxwell, and I knew they would go into the war room soon. I wasn’t allowed in there, so I took my chance and showed myself.
Maxwell tutted when he saw me smoothly stepping from behind the stone corner I had been spying from. I skipped at him with a kind smile on my face. 

‘And there I was, thinking you would help me.’ Maxwell chuckled. 

‘Lady Saeris,' Cullen bent his head politely, his eyes searching mine respectfully. 

I nodded at him but then turned back to Maxwell. ‘You are a big boy, I presumed you could handle yourself.’

‘And so he did.’ The Commander tried his very best not to chuckle and almost failed. 

‘You’re a great friend, Saeris, really. Always there to support me.’ Maxwell huffed sarcastically. 

‘I know, I’m terrific, aren’t I?’ I winked, ‘So… What was that about Val Royeaux? It sounded like we were going there. We’re not… right?’ 

Please tell me we’re not going. 

‘You hear everything,' Maxwell winked back at me, ‘I’ll tell you after I’ve discussed what just happened with my advisors. Cullen.’ Maxwell looked at him and the Commander nodded. 

‘I think everyone is waiting for you in the war room.’ Cullen was back to serious again. 

‘Well, seems like I need to go immediately.’ Maxwell lifted his shoulders playfully. 

‘Hey now, wait, just tell me…’ 

‘Maybe I would’ve if you had helped me just now… oh well.’

‘That’s not fair…’ I started.

‘I’ll take a while, so don’t wait for me. Be the good girl you are and go spy on someone else.’ He winked and turned away from me towards the Chantry. Cullen gave me a small, but apologetic smile and followed the Herald into the Chantry. 

Shit. 

***

I kicked the snow from underneath my feet, making a hole until I could see the ground. We had been back for one day and Maxwell was already occupied in the war room to plan another journey. Doesn’t he need to rest? Can’t Maxwell handle everything safely from Haven and send others to go out into the field? 

No… he has to go. He is the face of this organisation. He gives people hope. If anyone could handle others, it would be him. I just couldn’t help myself but worry. I knew he had to go out there, but why out of all places, did he have to go to Val Royeaux in Orlais? This was a diplomatic trip, but still… Val Royeaux was the headquarters of the enemy, of the invaders… But… Is Orlais still the real enemy now? They are no longer invaders, they are at peace with Ferelden now. Maybe, the only way to close the Breach is to work together, no matter the past. 

If only I hadn’t let Sybil go into enemy territory. 

‘If you dig deeper, you might end up on the other side of the world,' Varric slammed his broad hand on my back. 

‘Hmm,’ I answered absent-mindedly while staring at the pit of earth I was digging. 

‘Twinkle, hey, you awake?’ Varric said again, now stepping in front of me.

‘Yeah… Just thinking.’ 

‘That doesn’t sound healthy,' Varric grinned, ‘Time for a round of cards, it seems.’ 

‘Don’t really feel like it, shouldn’t you be pestering Cassandra at this time of day?’ I huffed, my breaths forming white clouds that drifted off into the midday sky. 

‘Normally, yes, but it appears that the Seeker is in the war room with the rest of them.’ 

‘Cassandra is in there too?’

‘Yup. Seems like everyone is invited to the party except the three of us.’ 

Great. That means Solas is around here somewhere too. We hadn’t spoken to each other since my misstep in the Fade. Was he so disappointed by my mistake? Or was he shaken by what I had let him see? Would he now stop training me, especially now when I was making such progress? Maybe I should have a word with him? Staying stubborn and waiting for it to get solved won’t happen, and I need Solas to train me if I want to use my eye for good. 

‘Silence is consent, you know,’ Varric grinned.

‘Huh? What?’

‘Wicked Grace, Twinkle, focus.’ 

‘Yes… No, maybe later. Have you seen Solas? I need to speak to him.’ 

‘Oh, how the tables have turned. I think Chuckles is outside somewhere. Said he was off to gather herbs when I asked him for a game of cards. At a guess, he’s too scared to lose against me and is hiding somewhere. I get it.’

‘Thanks, Varric, I’ll tell you his hiding spot when I’ve found him.’

‘Yeah, yeah.’ Varric waved his head as he turned around, off to find someone else to play cards with.

Varric had been right. I found Solas wandering in the woods not far from my cottage, close to the frozen lake where elfroot could be found. That herb could truly grow everywhere, even in frozen grounds. Solas was standing with his face towards the frozen lake and the horizon that spread far behind it. His hands were held behind his back, his natural pose, but his face was almost nostalgic. If I hadn’t seen the little white clouds drifting from his half-open mouth, I would’ve thought he was a statue. How could a living being stand so silently, unmoving? Even the gingery rams that were roaming about grazed not far from his feet. 

I scraped my throat as I took a step closer. It was like I had lifted a spell by my voice. The rams jolted up and stared warily my way before sprinting away behind the trees. Solas, however, didn’t move, but I saw his shoulders tense just a tiny bit. He knew I was there. 

‘Solas… I was looking for you.’ I started, my voice was soft so that I wouldn’t scare the gentle silence away. 

‘And you found me.’ His voice was soft, like a whisper, and I wondered if I had taken away a priceless moment of peace and quiet from him. I immediately felt guilty. 

‘I… Can we talk?’

‘We are already talking, are we not?’ Still soft and in control, like he always was. Solas then sighed, his shoulders slumping just a little, and then turned around. My stomach turned with him as his eyes found mine, but I tried ignoring it. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘I would like to discuss what happened… in the Fade.’

Solas nodded, his face still scholarly. 

‘I… made a mistake by not focussing. And I put the both of us in danger.’

‘Errors are only normal. No one is perfect.’ He tried to smile softly, but his eyes failed to meet that gesture. 

‘True, yes, but… What you… might’ve seen… it wasn’t something I like to show others and I know… that you might be disappointed that I let go like that…’

Solas’ eyes didn’t betray any feeling, and I felt colder by the minute.

‘I just wanted to ask if you… haven’t changed your mind about teaching me?’

‘No, I have not.’

I sighed, ‘Good. I… still have so much to learn and… I kind of enjoyed exploring the Fade like that, I was afraid you… didn’t see any potential anymore.’

‘I am sorry if I made you feel that way, Saeris. But I am still your teacher, you my student. Nothing has changed that.’ He almost sounded sad as he stared into my eyes. My stomach kept turning to the point it almost started to hurt, but I couldn’t break our eye contact. 

‘Great. Good. Perfect.’ I smiled nervously, why was I like this? ‘When can we… start over?’

‘Soon. First, let your mind rest for some nights. The Fade can be fickle if your mind is tired.’ 

‘Alright,' I smiled at Solas again. He then let loose of his formal pose and dangled his hands at his sides. I stared up at him for a while longer, taking in the soft smell of herbs that was drifting off his woollen tunic and cotton pants. I noticed something strange about him and spotted the soft purple circles underneath the icy grey eyes that were boring into mine. This was very unlike him… didn’t he sleep last night? He looked… tired, almost worried. 

‘Anything else I can help you with?’ His voice suddenly sounded deep.

‘Uhm… Can I prepare in some way for our next lesson?’ 

‘No, only to rest well. We will soon be off to Val Royeaux I have heard, and we will visit the Fade again during our travels.’ Even Solas knew we were going to Orlais? 

‘Yes, of course,' I nodded politely, ‘I’ll think of new places to create for our lessons, then.’

‘That should not be necessary. You showed me you can shape the Fade very well on your own last time.’ I stared at the ground, maybe I had shown him too well. 

‘Then what will we do?’

Solas nodded encouragingly, almost approving of my questions. His stance became softer like he was letting go of whatever was spooking around in his mind. ‘This world, or its memory, is reflected in the Fade, as you might know.’ He waited a second for me to nod and then continued, ‘Dream in ancient ruins, and you may see a city lost to history. That is what we will try next. Let the Fade decide what you see, let it find your place in the world. The spirits there will show you past memories that belong to that certain place. And perchance, in time, you may use the power of your eye to turn the roles, so that you can see into the Fade and pinpoint where and what you are looking at. To train your sense of… orientation.’

‘That sounds… amazing,' I whispered and imagined myself looking back at the old battles I had witnessed and at the old cities I had dwelled in. All the possibilities, all the memories I had forgotten and could relive…  

Solas chuckled again, a sound that filled my ears. ‘Some of my fondest memories were found in crumbling cities long picked dry by treasure seekers. The best are the battlefields. Spirits press so tightly on the Veil that you can slip across with but a thought.’ 

‘Anyplace in particular?’ Has he seen battles with me in it? 

‘I dreamt at Ostagar.’ Good, I wasn’t there. ‘I witnessed the brutality of the darkspawn and the valour of the Fereldan warriors. I saw Alistair and the Hero of Ferelden light the signal fire… and Loghain’s infamous betrayal of Cailan’s forces.’ 

‘I’ve… heard the stories… what was it like?’ I knew Cailan’s grandmother. If I had not been locked up in that tower, I would’ve been there. I could’ve helped. 

‘That’s just it. In the Fade, we see reflections created by spirits who react to the emotions of the warriors. One moment, I see heroic Wardens lighting the fire and a power-mad villain sneering as he lets King Cailan fall. The next, I see an army overwhelmed and a veteran commander refusing to let more soldiers die in a lost cause.’

‘And you can’t tell which is real?’ 

‘It is the Fade. They are all real.’ Solas stared at me then, as if we both seemed to remember my last outburst in the Fade. The screaming and the prison of stones… it had all been real. 

‘I… look forward to it.’ I sighed to stop the silence from spreading again. I hoped I would see good memories, things that I would be happy about being real. But, as history has shown me many times, there are no winners at war, everybody loses something. Everything always had two sides to it. 

Solas nodded and stared back at me, trying to figure out what I was thinking again, like I was a mystery screaming to be solved. 

‘I… ‘ll see you around, then.’ I tried smiling but my stomach was turning to the point I felt like vomiting. 

‘Goodbye.’ Solas said while he folded his hands behind his back again, but his face remained open, like he was expecting me to say something else… waiting for something more. But I just bowed my head silently and turned around to quickly walk back towards Haven again, asking myself if Maxwell would be done in the war room already. Yet, as I strutted away, I felt Solas’ lingering gaze on my back. When I had entered past the treeline, I dared to stop and look back behind my shoulders. My breath got stuck in my throat as Solas stared back at me from the distance. I don’t really know for how long we kept this distant and silent conversation up with our eyes, but after a while, I turned around again to disappear into the forest once more, leaving Solas to resume his soundless pondering over the eternal frozen lake. 

As I ran back to the village, I wondered if it had been a good idea to talk to him. We resolved what had happened, and Solas would still teach me. Nothing had changed, but how come it felt like everything had? 

***

‘Well, time to talk to the Chantry.’ Maxwell pushed strands of his brown, curly hair away from his face as he lifted the saddle onto his horse. 

‘I’m sure they’ll be having a huge welcome party for us. Clerics love me.’ Varric grinned as he tapped his hand on the back of his horse.

‘I am sure they love you as much as everybody else does.’ Cassandra mumbled sarcastically as she walked up towards us, her horse already prepared, her armour gleaming. 

Varric had a snarky remark to that, but I was already staring at Maxwell. He was nervous. A lot depended on this trip. If the Chantry would listen to us... they could rally the people. I despised them, but I couldn’t deny they could help our cause. The more united we were, the sooner we would get enough power to close the Breach. Maxwell knew this all too well, and just like me, he feared that he would be talking to a brick wall. 

‘Don’t you worry.’ I rested my hand on Maxwell’s shoulder, and he craned his neck to look at me, his eyes soft. ‘They will listen.’ 

Maxwell placed his hand on top of mine, his lips curling every so lightly, ‘I hope you’re right.’ 

Cassandra mounted her horse, saying loudly, ‘We should go, the Chantry is not prone to wait.’ The Seeker looked at us, and Maxwell quickly let go of my hand while staring at Cassandra’s peering eyes. I hid my smile as I let go of Maxwell’s shoulder. Was Cassandra jealous? How cute. 

We all mounted our horses. Solas, who was standing near the back of our party, was the last one to mount his steed. He kept looking at me as I clumsily climbed on mine, and waited until I was fully seated before he would mount his. Was he checking if I needed help? No, probably not. Stop thinking too much. We steered our horses towards the path opposite the one we had taken last time. This path crossed the valley and led westwards into Orlais. We would pass through a small northern part of the Dales, but stick to the roads since they were the fastest route to get there. Val Royeaux was situated on the northern coast of the far inland tip of the Waking Sea. It would take us three weeks to get there if we were lucky. 

We used the paved pass that led through the Frostback Mountains. Many pilgrims coming from Orlais had taken this passage to reach Haven. I knew many probably lost their lives here. Though the passage led mostly through the valley and the roads were paved nicely, it was still deadly cold here. If one wasn’t wearing the appropriate clothing, death by frost was very likely. But we were prepared, dressed with coats and capes, and especially, magic. Solas had cloaked our party with a heating ward, and after two hours, I would take over, and so on, to make sure we were warm until we were out of this area. I pulled my fur cloak deeper over my head, making sure the tips of my pointy ears wouldn’t freeze and break off. I had put my hair up in multiple braids that covered the back of my neck and my ears, but the chills could still slip through them. No one could survive this place hurt or way-worn. No one. 

‘Why does air come in different temperatures?’ Varric huffed, his teeth clashing, ‘If we freeze to death and get eaten by wolves, I'm blaming the Seeker.’

‘Don’t be such a baby, Varric,' Cassandra bit, annoyed. 

I felt Solas covering Varric a little bit more with his heating ward, and the Dwarf threw the Elf a grateful look. 

Luckily, it took us only a day to cross the passage, and when we entered Orlais, a nice warmth took over from the freezing cold. It was strange, I was happy to be out of the Frostbacks, but I was also very uncomfortable entering this previous enemy territory so openly. When I arrived in Thedas, the Orlesians had always been one of the enemies. And after so much war, injustice and death, people seemed to have forgotten what had happened. The new generation had another enemy to focus on, one greater than Orlais had ever been. But for me, they still felt like the enemy. I was a relic of the past, and maybe I should move on too. These people were not the Orlesians that killed Daniel and Sybil. Can you blame others for what their ancestors had done? Can I still blame them for it? 

Our horses whinnied thankfully when we stopped near a clearing and dismounted. I bound the horses near a running creek and let them drink the clear water blissfully while the others started making camp. Solas did his rounds making protective wards that covered the clearing. I stared at him and wondered about our previous conversation. If I would dream here, would I see lost battles against Fereldan armies? And would the spirits shape the dream according to the Orlesian warriors’ memories? Will I see their side of the story, where the side I fought with is evil? There are always multiple sides to a story, and all of them are as real as the other. Was I prepared to face them all, I wondered? 

I grinned as I heard Maxwell struggling to put his tent up again. Will he ever learn? Though this time, I noticed Cassandra helping him without a word or complaint. 

‘Hey, Twinkle, come light the fire for me, will you?’ Varric called at me, waving his short hairy arms. 

‘Coming!’ I nodded and patted the horses gently as I left them. 

I got the fire burning with a snap of my fingers and then placed myself next to Varric, who gave me an all-knowing look when he opened his satchel and took a book of cards out of it. ‘You promised me a game…’ He winked. 

‘How not-surprising.’ I laughed. 

‘Deal me in.’ Maxwell smiled and wiped his hands on his trousers. He sat down next to me and waved to Cassandra, who made a disgusted noise before sitting next to us. 

I turned around and noticed Solas leaning against a tree near the back of the clearing. I nodded my head at him, and he nodded back politely before leaving the tree and walking towards the horses, where he would stay for another two hours while the rest of the party played cards. 

After two rounds, we ate and then decided who would have the first shift. I wanted to go first, and Varric would take the one after me. Solas agreed to be last. And after everyone went to their tents and I was left alone in front of the fire, I started counting stars again. Humming and smiling each time I found a familiar pattern. The sky was the same everywhere, even in damned Orlais. We weren’t even deep into the country, only at the foot of the Frostbacks and near the Fereldan border, but I couldn’t help but be uncomfortable. Yet, I knew I could overcome it, ignore it, just like I did with the stomach-turning feeling I got when I was near Solas. Even so, this feeling kept lingering, it felt… different - like we were walking into a trap or something. My guts just told me something was wrong, and that something was waiting for us to come to Val Royeaux. 

It was something vile… almost… demonic. 

Notes:

Oh, Bonjour to you Orlesians. Soon, we will be arriving at Val Royeaux.
Y'all ready, 'cuz I aint! *Val Royeaux theme intensifies*

Hope you liked it, and if you did, you can always leave me a comment or a kudo!

Chapter 26: Knighted

Notes:

There is some Elven in this chapter. I suck at Elven, just so you know, so just your imagination that all is correct ;-)
Rough translations of the Elven can be found in the end notes of this chapter.

Enjoy!

Slowly. Breathe. Focus. Aim. And… SNAP! Dead. 

I quickly jumped over the fallen tree trunk I had been hiding behind to see if the rabbit wasn’t completely obliterated. The last time I had shot an animal with my lightning bolts, it had completely turned into ashes. But this time, I had controlled my force, and it seemed like it had worked. I twisted the gammy carcass of the rabbit and smiled a little. Dead with one clean shock. I hung the rabbit on a cord at the side of my hip next to the bird I had shot with a phantom arrow. Hunting was a perfect way to use my power during our travels, and it was a great exercise. Sitting on a horse all day made me palsied, and I yearned for some running and jumping and sneaking and blasting things away with my fingertips. I could never get enough of using magic. Holding it in felt… unnatural. But I can’t go around firing bolts everywhere all the time, and making heating and protection wards really became quite boring after a while. 

The sky was turning a soft orange and pink, so I decided to turn back. Varric had gone out hunting too, and I was sure Bianca caught some game with her accurate aim. But just then, when I turned around, I saw a small deer tiptoeing near the shallow ravine at the back of the forest. Elgadira would’ve told me Andruil was guiding me today. Quickly, I hid behind some bushes and focussed, my eyes peering through the branches. It definitely was a doe, not a halla, for it was robust, brown and had no horns. The creature stretched its hind legs to bow down and nibble on some grass, and I saw the muscles flex in its back. Just think about it, a tender venison stew cooked in a thick wild mushroom sauce over a young crackling fire. Maxwell still had some spiced wine left we’d bought in a tavern some days ago… it would go just perfectly with it… The forest became deadly silent, and I could hear my thirsty breath heaving as I crawled closer. Now, it was just the doe and me. Predator and prey. Huntress and game. Life and death. 

The lightning bolt came to life between my hands as I silently lifted it above the bush. Breathe in. And out again. The doe moved a little, and I re-levelled the electrical arrow again. Pointed right at its heart. 

Breathe… 

And let go. 

The doe raised its head alarmed, its eyes wide as it stared into my eyes. And there, I saw my reflection. Until the bolt struck… and my reflection faded. Dead. The doe plopped down noiselessly, just like the rabbit had. I ran up to it and inspected my catch. Its big eyes were still opened wide. I stretched my hand and caressed the deer’s head, sliding down and closing its eyes carefully.

‘Dareth shiral,' I whispered silently. Survival of the fittest. 

We had been travelling for almost two weeks now. The passage through the Frostback Mountains had been cold, and though it got warmer when we passed over the Orlesian border, snow had still been covering the paths and the trees until some days ago. Now, everything started to melt the closer we got to the Imperial Highway. This meant more game to hunt, more food to eat and a faster travelling rate. Not that we haven’t been travelling or eating well, it all just got somewhat easier now. Two days ago, we slept in the first tavern we had come across. And I must say that I really preferred sleeping in a bed. The tavern, called The Hungry Chevalier, had been almost completely empty. Customers had been scarce since the Mage Rebellion, so the tavern owner had been happy to see us coming. But now, we were again on our way, hunting and scavenging and sleeping under the stars. I was very lucky to have been sharing a tent with Cassandra because Maxwell still couldn’t put up his tent, yet, he insisted on setting it up every single evening. It once fell down during the night. Varric had almost screamed like a little girl. 

Travelling like this reminded me of my lost days as a minstrel. Between 8:55 and 8:96 Blessed, I had been mindlessly wandering around. Though those years hadn’t been my happiest, I still learned how to survive on my own. It had almost become a second nature when I was visited by Asha’bellanar. Everything that had happened back then… felt like it had been a lifetime ago… oh, wait, it had been a lifetime. Sometimes I forgot how old I was. Years stop being significant when you have an unlimited amount of them. 

I dragged the dead doe back to the camp. Cassandra looked up when I appeared through the bushes. She looked alarmed at first, always on her guard.

‘Good catch I see.’ The Nevarran woman stated. 

‘I got lucky,' I smiled while dragging the doe towards the fire Cassandra had made. 

The Seeker nodded and stared at my catch hungrily. ‘I’ll prepare the meat immediately,' she said. 

‘Great! I’ll help.’ I said while plopping down beside her. ‘Where’s Max?’ 

‘The Herald ,' Cassandra querked an eyebrow at me, ‘is off with Varric to hunt. They should be back quickly now.’ 

I hummed quietly. ‘And Solas…’

‘… is gathering herbs and refilling our water supplies.’ Cassandra dragged her dagger along the doe’s throat, letting the cold blood flow down into a pot. After that, she accurately skinned the creature of his brown winter coat. I picked the plumes of the small bird and skinned the rabbit carefully. The fur of the doe and the rabbit could be sown into a hat or maybe some gloves, or I could line Maxwell’s boots with them, for extra warmth. The meat we would turn into a stew which we could eat for dinner, and maybe we could have the leftovers for breakfast too.
I was boiling the stew when Varric and Maxwell walked into camp, their boots sticky with mud and their hair wild and filled with branches and leaves. 

‘You were supposed to hunt animals, not attack the forest,' I smiled as they strolled my way. I stared at them and noticed they had returned empty-handed. ‘We’re lucky I hunted for the three of us, or we would be going hungry.’

‘Yeah, I know, but there was this huge druffalo and we ran behind it and…’ Maxwell started. 

‘But it seems like those beasts are actually quite fast… and strong… and thick.’ Varric laughed and took Bianca off his back.

‘You should’ve seen me, Saeris.’ Maxwell started. ‘I really hung onto that beast and it charged straight at me and I was leaping and BAM and…’

‘In short,' Varric grinned, ‘Our Herald here got beaten up by a big cow.’ 

Maxwell grimaced at Varric. I wanted to pester him about his pride being hurt when I noticed the deep cut on his arm. Drufallo were bison-like creatures with big, pointy down-turned horns. While docile when approached gently, if you attack them, they turn into vicious animals more dangerous than Bronto. I tutted disappointedly as I stood up from behind the pot filled with stew, rolling up my sleeves and staring at Maxwell angrily as a mother would. 

‘You should really be more careful,' I growled, ‘Maxwell if you die, we would all be doomed.’

‘But I know I have this really good healer back at camp that can fix me right up.’ He grinned while looking down at me. 

I sighed deeply and shoved his sleeve up. ‘Damn,' I whispered while looking the deep cut up and down. It was a clear strike, deep, but no arteries had been breached. ‘You really fucked up. I should just punish you and let you sit this one out instead of healing it.’ 

Varric tried muffling his laugh when Maxwell started pouting, ‘But it stings…’ 

‘Come on, Twinkle, have mercy on the kid.’ Varric coughed jokingly. 

‘Please, Saeris! Before Cassandra comes back…’

‘She’ll beat him up even worse than that druffalo!’ Varric heaved again, slapping his knee with laughter.

I hummed and placed my hand gently onto Maxwell’s wound. The Herald smiled when a familiar tingling sensation curled from underneath my fingers. My magic twisted around his arm like tender tentacles of bright blue-green lights, sewing the wound back together, rekindling the ripped tissue and seamlessly stitching the skin. In a matter of seconds, the wound was gone, as it had never been there before. Only the dried-up blood on his clear skin and ripped jacket gave away the previous cut. ‘Don’t thank me. Just be more careful next time.’ 

‘Understood, Serah !’ Maxwell saluted me mockingly.

A couple of minutes later, Cassandra appeared. She had gone to wash her hands in the river below since they had been sticky with blood and animal guts. Maxwell had bribed Varric with half a portion of his stew to keep him from talking about the wound to Cassandra. But Varric still couldn’t help himself and kept making strange druffalo noises the whole night. 

Solas had appeared when the sun had gone down. He soundlessly stepped through the damp grass and sat down in front of the fire next to Varric. Solas had been quiet lately. We still talked, but something had changed. We always had been distant, but now, it felt like there was a whole ravine growing between us. I guessed we would never be the best of friends, but I had figured our lessons would at least bring us on a “good-acquaintance-basis.” I should be happy we weren’t close. At least I didn’t feel like vomiting all the time now. Yet, I couldn’t help but feel… sad, maybe? I don’t know. Our lessons had come to a halt. I trained on my own in the Fade, and sometimes, I could feel him watching me from afar. Some nights ago, I had seen a glimpse of him when I’d been practising shaping the Fade to my imagination, but he was gone as quickly as I had noticed him. Tonight, however, we were sleeping close by an old ruin. This was our chance to sleep where the Veil was thin, and I could feel spirits pressing to the air, calling us to come and see what had happened here. Maybe a battle? Or a heated fight between enemies or… lovers?

‘The stew is absolutely divine,' Maxwell smiled, his head high like he was some stupid noble. Never mind, he was .

‘Cassandra cut the meat really well, that’s why it’s so tender.’ I huffed. 

Cassandra smiled at that, her eyes kinder. A woman that loved some compliments. ‘Thank you, Saeris,' she said while swallowing a spoon of stew, ‘but without you, we wouldn’t even have meat tonight.’ 

‘True, but our Herald here almost caught a—Owch!’ Varric yelped suddenly.

‘Oh my, didn’t you see? There was a bug.’ Maxwell contorted his face to a mean smile. 

‘What meat is it, if I may ask.’ Solas said politely. I looked up at him, it was the first time he had addressed me this evening. 

Before I could say anything though, Maxwell smiled ‘Halla.’

Solas almost choked on the bite he had just taken while Varric rolled on the floor while laughing, holding his stomach as if in pain. 

‘It’s deer, Solas.’ I coughed. Don’t laugh, Saeris. Keep it in. Maxwell winked playfully at me while Solas repositioned himself. 

‘Aren’t we all in a good mood tonight.’ Cassandra said deadpan, but I saw her mouth quirk slightly upwards. 

Varric scraped his throat, ‘I blame the half a bottle of spiced wine Saeris dumped into the stew.’

‘You know the alcohol is boiled away by now… it’s just the flavour.’ I grinned.

‘You say that just because you haven’t eaten as much as I have.’ Varric smiled. We all ate in silence for a couple of moments, until Varric suddenly turned to Maxwell, who was nibbling on a piece of rabbit. ‘So, Herald, who do you think is the toughest? Josephine, Leliana or Cassandra?’

‘I’m right here, you know,' Cassandra gnarled. 

‘That doesn’t rule you out, Seeker,' Varric hummed. 

Solas bent forward, chuckling to Varric, ‘Cullen’s not up for consideration?’

‘Curly? They just keep him around to look pretty,' Varric grinned, winking at me as I felt my cheeks turning red. 

‘I would go for either Leliana or our Cassandra here,' Maxwell said and smiled at the Seeker, who shyly looked away. 

‘You’re just saying that because you’re scared of Cassandra.’ Varric grinned. ‘Twinkle, your opinion, give it to me.’

‘Josephine.’ I said confidently. 

‘Josephine? But she’s… so sweet?’ Maxwell said, surprised. 

I stared at the ground while saying, ‘Josephine knows her way around people, friends as well as foes. Leliana is a fearsome Spymaster, wonderful at what she does, and I think she’d kill me in a second without me even knowing it. And you, Cassandra, I think you’re even stronger. But in the end, you two are straightforward in a way. Josephine… she’s indeed really sweet, but it is those who smile innocently that often hide a hidden strength. She knows her opponents, their secrets, and their thoughts. She doesn’t strike with a sword or dagger but with words and consequences. She could fool the whole Orlesian court and get away with it. She could bring down an empire with just her quill and ink. That is a strength none of the others possess, which makes her, in my opinion, the strongest.’ I felt Solas looking at me, and I dared lift my head, staring into his grey-blue eyes. They were filled with something similar to surprise, but not entirely. I stared at him, smiling a little bit. He smiled back faintly, before breaking our contact.

The rest of the evening Varric and Maxwell kept babbling on, while Cassandra occasionally intervened with a disgusted noise. Solas joined the conversation occasionally with well-rounded answers or intriguing questions. While the others were in deep conversation, I took up my courage and pulled gently on Solas’ sleeve. He stared at me, his eyes open and filled with questions.

‘Solas… You told me some days ago there is a ruin near here…’ I whispered so the others couldn’t hear me, just in case I’d get rejected. 

‘Indeed. An hour away to the West.’ He started. 

‘Can we sleep together?’ Wait, rephrase, ‘I mean, there , can we go sleep there? See what happened?’ 

Solas chuckled, his eyes softer, ‘I did not expect you to be so eager about this.’

‘About what?’ Maxwell said and broke away from his conversation with Varric and Cassandra, who bluntly turned towards us now. 

‘I want to go to sleep in a ruin, to see what happened there in the Fade. It’s training.’ I said with a high voice like I got caught or something. Solas nodded silently, his back straightened. 

‘Alone? Absolutely not!’ Maxwell’s voice became deeper, his shoulders perfectly aligned. 

‘I’m not alone. Solas’ll be there. Besides, I’m fully capable of surviving without you for one night.’ I knew Maxwell’d be safe, I trusted Cassandra and Varric. And I wouldn’t be far anyway. ‘I need to train, how else will I learn how to use my eye?’ 

‘Solas,' Cassandra squinted her eyes at him suspiciously, ‘You say you’re going to witness past events in the Fade or the memories of them. But the Fade distorts reality. Surely it cannot offer a true reflection of what occurred.’ I stared at the Seeker with my mouth open, and so did Varric. That girl had been paying attention. Who knew? 

Solas chuckled, his answer already perfectly formed in his mind like he had said it a thousand times already, ‘Are your own memories any different? The truth is never precise, regardless of where you are.’

‘That is true,' Cassandra dipped her head, ‘Then, you should go.’ She looked at me in the end, her eyes filled with interest.

‘But… then what about your night shifts?’ Maxwell smiled nervously.

‘We can do a double shift for one night.’ Cassandra smiled back vaguely. 

I grinned towards them excitedly, ‘Great! Thanks! We can go, right Solas?’ 

‘If you insist.’ Solas said back with a polite face while he stood up from his seat and straightened his coat. I followed directly, almost skipping like a puppy behind Solas. What can I say? I was so thoroughly excited about this. What was I going to see? What great battle was awaiting? I knew Solas might’ve not felt like going, but I was finally going to learn something new in weeks!

Solas and I silently walked towards the forest, and when we left, I heard Varric slapping Maxwell’s back, saying laughingly, ‘Cheer up, Herald, I’m sure they’ll keep it decent.’

‘Oh shut it, Dwarf.’ 

***

Solas and I had been walking for what seemed like hours, in complete silence. The only noises that could be heard were our feet rustling through the dried-up leaves on the ground, the swaying of the trees in the wind, and small animals skittering around. Solas walked up front, his arms bound behind his back, making no noise whatsoever. After a while, I started wondering if the elf was even breathing. I squinted my eyes and followed him quietly, trying to scan my surroundings in the pitch-black darkness. My eyes lit the way, seeing where I could step and where I needed to be careful. I figured Elves had better eyesight than most humans since our eyes were slightly bigger. Solas was a good example of this, as he waded through the woods as if he knew them by heart. 

‘We are here,' Solas said as he suddenly stopped. I yelped, still blinded by thought, and bumped right into his back, almost stumbling on the ground. Solas turned around quickly, gripping my arm to hold me upright. He pulled me forward, back on my feet, until my face was right in front of his. I swallowed hard as I tried to ignore the sickening feeling in my guts as I stared into his eyes which seemed to light up even more in the moonlight, his freckles resembling the night’s sky. And for a second, I heard him swallow hard too, his eyes bigger than usual. 

My heart skipped a beat. 

‘S… Shall we?’ I huffed and felt my hot breath hovering in the small distance between our darkened faces. 

Solas let go of me, stepping back with care, like I was some kind of dangerous animal. ‘Yes. Come.’ 

I stared up with awe at the ruin before me, lit up by the moon’s light like nature itself deemed this place worthy of showing even in the dark. We were standing in a small round meadow, its borders encircled by short rectangular stones that led inwards to the monument in the middle, or what was left of it. I walked closer, almost brushing Solas’ shoulder as I passed him. But my focus was completely on the marble woman standing in the middle. Not much was left of her but her pearly white body stretched out towards the heavens. Her face had been broken in half, but no one could miss its abstract beauty. At her feet vines and flowers had started to grow, climbing their way up towards her shoulders, almost hugging her like long-lost friends. 

This had not been a battlefield. It was a shrine. Forgotten by time itself.

I turned towards Solas, who was sombrely looking up at the stone woman, his expression cloaked in shadows. Thrilled, I took out my bedroll from my backpack, laying it down flatly on the ground near the statue. My fingers spat out a protective ward over the meadow and then I quickly laid down on the bedroll, pushing myself up by my elbows and looking eagerly at Solas, who was standing awkwardly near the border of the inner circle of the shrine. 

‘Come on!’ I smiled, forgetting we were alone at night, in the dark, in the forest. But I couldn’t wait much longer, feeling the Veil prickling my skin, almost whispering in my ears to go and sleep. To see . We were physically close to the Fade, the Veil separating us so thinly, I could almost touch it.

Solas dipped his head in silence, spreading his bedroll on the grass somewhat farther away from me. He laid down his head, and in some seconds, I heard his breath following a rhythmic pattern. Was he asleep already? I stared at him with an open mouth. He truly was the Fade expert. Or Sleep expert to say the least. It took me at least fifteen minutes to get where he was. I lay down on the hard ground, my eyes counting the stars, searching for their familiar patterns. The statue of the woman was hovering above me, her half-face looking towards the forest serenely, as if saying I was protected by her. Like a mother. The stars seemed to come closer and closer, the wind gently lulling me into a Fade-filled sleep. 

*** 

‘Briathos, venas son, ane then.’ 

‘Ar eolasan. Shalir vhen’alas.’

I stepped closer to the cloaked figures, my eyes big. Solas held out his hand, stopping me in place. 

‘Can they see me?’ I whispered. 

‘No,' he chuckled, his face bright with intrigue, ‘these are memories. Watch them.’ 

Two cloaked males were standing near the statue of the woman, who was now no longer a ruin. The meadow was lit by the midday sun, burning our skins like it was summer. I looked around and saw the broken circle now as rebuilt, the small rectangular stones now large and arched at the tips, almost like in a cathedral. In the middle, the statue of the woman was gleaming brightly. Her long arms and slender fingers reached towards the sun which was almost glowing exactly between her palms. I could now see she was wearing a long gown, simple and classic, with long sleeves. Her face, now complete, gleamed with an expression of eternal love. My eyes focussed on her little smile, her all-knowing eyes and her long, pointed ears. How could I not have seen it before?

‘This is…’

‘Mythal,' Solas finished my sentence, his voice almost softer than a whisper.

I dipped my head, looking back at the Elven Goddess of Love, Motherhood and Justice. The Protector of the People. The All-Mother. Elgadira’s patron. Before Mythal, the two cloaked men were walking up and down nervously. They were wearing emerald green armour with golden decorations, made of a metal I had not seen before. The armour looked strong as well as delicate, fitting perfectly along their lithe figures. Their chest plates had strange writings on them, encircling the lime-green seal of a leaf crossed by a bow. Their hoods, which seemed to be made out of emerald-tinted velvet, had slits in them where their pointed ears could slide through. The tallest of the males had bright long red hair curling from underneath his cowl. He turned towards the statue, towards us, and I saw bright black Vallaslin curling over his face, but I couldn’t see which Elven God it represented. The other one, the one who had spoken with a hushed voice, had long black hair that fell in braids over his shoulders, and a grey Vallaslin of Andruil was glowing on his olive skin. 

‘Emerald Knights,' Solas whispered to me.

‘Who?’ I said without looking at him. 

‘The Dales used to be an independent Elven nation protected by their Dalish warriors of old, the Emerald Knights,' Solas’ voice felt close to my figure, too close, ‘During the Second Exalted March, these warriors protected their lands. I know only that they all perished. Now, they barely exist as mere remnants of a time when freedom of the Elvhen was as true as the sky. Now, those times have long since disappeared together with their heroes, lost to history told by those who’ve won.’

‘But how…’ I started and looked to my side, but Solas’ gaze was focused on the two knights who were still nervously walking up and down the shrine. I wanted to ask so much more, but understood that now was a time of silence.
Suddenly, I noticed two large wolves flanking the Elven figures. Their pelt gleamed like the armour of their companions, their bright canine eyes never leaving them. 

‘The Knight’s Guardians,' Solas inclined his head towards me, his eyes gleaming like they never had before, ‘Tales tell of wolf companions so loyal that they never left their Knight’s side, even in death. An unbreakable bond. It is truly remarkable to see it here and now.’ 

I remembered, long ago in a strange and awakening dream, I had once come across a wolf with the same expression in his eyes. Like the statue of Mythal, the wolf had been made out of a white marble, its tail curled around itself and its big paws resting at its sides as it laid on its stomach. It had been welcoming, protecting, kind, its face serene, as if waiting for its Knight to return to him at last.

The air was starting to feel anxious, like it was pressing down on us. Could Solas feel it too? The Knight’s Guardians growled cautionary, their strong bodies closing on their companions, their trustful eyes peering at the forest behind us. 

‘Enemah, lethallin. Elas josa!’ The black-haired Knight whispered in a nervous tone to the other one. I saw his terrified face from underneath his cowl, the sweat dripping from his eyebrows. 

The other Knight remained calm, his voice deep and confident. ‘Shalir Halamshiral sule’din. Halam'shivanas.’

The nervous Knight eventually nodded, his eyes on the bushes that were now moving slowly. Their wolves bared their yellow-ish jagged teeth, ready to attack. As the tall Knight took his bow and arrow from his back, his friend did the same. Whatever was coming from outside the forest, it felt vile, intruding and violating. What kind of horrendous monsters would we see? The Emerald Knights both raised their weapons to the thundering horizon when our vision transformed.

Suddenly, Solas and I were in the forest, its density blocking out the light. The air felt different now, like we were here for a reason, the sun guiding us towards the path. Solas grimaced quietly as we now saw what—no, who—had been approaching the nervous Knights. A large group of Templars marched on the path before us, their helmets gleaming and their shields at hand. Behind them a group of Chantry priests held their banners high. 

‘Let us move quickly, now they are alone.’ One of the Templars said, his face obscured by his steel helmet. 

‘First,' another Templar stepped forward, his voice sounding like the tall Emerald Knight had sounded moments ago, full of confidence, ‘Let us pray.’ Strangely, the man sounded righteous, and he felt like he was the hero of the story, even though I thought otherwise.
Solas and I simultaneously tutted disapprovingly as the humans knelt down, their voices monotone. They bid the Maker to help and for Andraste to guide them.

Blessed are they who stand before
The corrupt and the wicked and do not falter.
Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just.

Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow.
In their blood the Maker's will is written.

My whole body screamed in protest, but my mind believed them. They felt like they were the good guys. And in their minds, they were the good guys. The Elves were the bad ones. In their minds, they were doing the world a favour, they were protecting their country, their race, their beliefs. They were doing this to protect their children, to do the Maker’s will, so that He may look upon Thedas once more. 

I knew how this story would end. 

The Templars marched through the forest until they reached the shrine of Mythal. Two vile creatures were standing there with two monsters on their sides hungry for blood and death. Gone were the shining Knights, their beautiful armour and their soft faces. Now, all I could see were heathens, faces that were unnaturally wrong. Their armour was made out of black magic, splurging and screaming like demons in the void. The Knight’s Guardians were all but loyal companions. Now, they were huge, demonic, their eyes red and big. This was what the Templars saw. This was their version of history.

And then they attacked. An army against two. The Knights were doomed. 

I pressed my eyes together, my hand finding Solas’ chest. ‘Saeris,' he started but I shivered in a quiet response. 

‘I know how this’ll end. I don’t want to…’ I whispered, but my voice felt lost in the air when I heard the screaming and fighting. I didn’t care anymore what Solas thought of me, I just pressed myself against his chest, my eyes filled with tears as I felt the Templar’s minds scream in victory. And I knew the Emerald Knights had lost. Solas’ hand rested on my back while he watched the battle unfold. Slowly, his palm caressed my shoulder blades as the tears kept flowing from my eyes. 

And then, everything went silent. Our vision moved again. I turned away from Solas’ chest and screamed silently, my hands raised to my face in agony. Mythal’s shrine was covered in blood, and two corpses laid near her feet. The Goddess’ now broken face stared sadly at her Knights, who had lost their lives for her. The Templars were gone, advancing further and further until the Dales would become overtaken. I felt the dreaded air weighing me down, the feeling of hope lost. Only one Knight’s Guardian remained, wounded and barely alive. The wolf limped towards his dead companion, the tall Knight—or what was left of him. I knew he had fought valiantly, he had done everything in his power to protect his people, just like the Templars had thought they had been doing. The wolf pushed its snout against the dead Knight, and howled sadly into the night.

I leaned with my back against Solas’ chest, whose hands rested on my shoulders, pinching to let me know he was sad too, though his face didn’t betray any feeling. I kept crying, even when the wolf slowly laid his bloodied head on the Knight’s open chest, howling one last time. A cry for his companion, his Knight, his friend. And then the wolf died in silence. Off to see his friend on the other side. 

My voice trembled as I softly whispered to them, ‘Falon’Din enasal enaste’.

Solas let go of my shoulders as I could feel his voice thrumming through his chest, ‘Dareth shiral.’

Survival of the fittest. 

*** 

I opened my eyes, the purple sky greeting me first. The stars were still there, yet the moon was gone, replaced by the sun that was hovering near the horizon. Above me, Mythal’s half-broken face stared at me, like she knew what I had just seen. I pushed myself up and felt how my cheeks were wet from crying in the Fade, my hair sticking to the sides of my face. I was laying right where the Emerald Knight had died, in front of his Goddess mother. Near these stone feet, blood had been splattered and a wolf had died from grief. 

A calming wind brushed past me, soft whispers of sadness, but also of hope. Another last tear escaped from my left eye as green as my pupil, and it fell onto the ground. I raised my head, my feet trembling on the ground as I stood upright. Solas was standing behind me, his back straightened as well, but I heard his breath sticking in his throat when my voice finally left my mouth, saying silently;

“Mythal, All-Mother, Protector of the People, watch over us, for the path we tread is perilous. Save us from the darkness, as you did before, and we will sing your name to the heavens.”

I raised my hands, just like the statue, and felt my magic curling around me. Blue forget-me-nots sprouted near her feet, dozens upon dozens of them. A sign of a silent death, a sign of needless spilling of blood. Just like Daniel’s grave, like Sybil’s grave, the grave of these two Emerald Knights would be covered in my flowers for eternity. I did not believe in Mythal, but if she ever existed, I hoped that she’d liked them. My flowers curled along the shrine, along Mythal’s ruined body, all the way up to her face, where only one flower sprouted under her remaining eye. A tear for her Knights. 

‘Let’s go,' I said, my voice stronger than before. ‘Before our Herald wakes up and starts panicking.’ I turned around to Solas and gave him a sad smile. He stood there, staring at the flowers I had just created. There was awe in his gaze, and some kind of gratitude. He stared back at me after some moments, his mouth opening as if he was trying to say something, but it seemed like even Solas could be lost for words. After some minutes, he just dipped his chin. We started packing our bedrolls immediately after that and left the shrine to walk through the forest, back to camp. I turned around one more time to look back at Mythal’s shrine, now not so dreadful anymore, but filled with the blooming flowers of hope. 

When Solas and I walked back to camp, we didn’t walk in line anymore, but next to each other. The sun gleamed soft rays through the branches and onto our skin. 

’Are you still angry with me, Solas?’ I finally spoke after we’d walked for at least thirty minutes. 

‘Angry? I have not been feeling any anger towards you, Saeris.’ He answered, his voice softer than I had expected. 

‘Good. I just felt you had been… maybe avoiding me these last couple of days.’ Actually, it had been at least two weeks. 

‘That has not been my intention.’ Solas remained polite, no feeling seeping through whatsoever. 

‘Great, that’s… great. I was afraid you’d start to dislike me.’ Talking felt strange after what we had seen, but maybe I wanted this awkwardness between us over with. We might never be friends, but we had to be companions. We had to work together.

Solas remained silent for some moments, until he finally said, ‘I thought it was you who disliked me?’ he stopped in his place, staring at me as I stopped too, our gaze meeting each other midway. 

‘I don’t dislike you Solas… I… admire you.’ And you make me feel like vomiting most of the time. ‘You’re strong, you don’t turn away even if the odds are against you. You’re wise and to be true, you can be quite imposing sometimes. But that does not make me dislike you. On the contrary.’ I just felt strange around him, like I had to be careful. But I didn’t dislike him, for he had not given me any reason to. Maybe I had disliked him in the beginning… I had never met someone like Solas before. He reminded me too much of myself, those eyes hiding an ancient sadness I knew all too well.

‘Thank you…’ He spoke softly, his straight posture hanging just a little, like he was… reassured? ‘You are… admirable too.’ He said awkwardly, but in a kind way. 

‘I am?’ I shied away playfully, giving the atmosphere a friendlier feel. 

Solas seemed to form his words carefully, like they were well thought-out, ‘You use your magic in ways I had never seen before, you protect and attack like a second nature. You cast spells like it is the only thing you have ever done in your life, and you seem to do it with such ease and grace. You have chosen a path whose steps you do not dislike because it leads to a destination you enjoy. As have I.’

Wow. It was me now who was at a loss for words. But I tried not to think about what he had said or implied, but grinned childishly, ‘So you’re suggesting I’m graceful?’ I wiggled my eyebrows. Was the stoic elf giving me a compliment?

‘No,' he said softly, and I felt like vomiting, ‘I am declaring it. It was not a subject for debate.’ And just like that, the anxious, stomach-turning feeling was gone.
We continued to walk to camp then, the atmosphere lighter now, our faces more serene. Who knew, maybe after a while, Solas and I could become friends? 

***

A couple of days later, we reached the Imperial Highway, and then it only took us another week and a half to spot a glistering city near the horizon. Our last days travelling were quiet. Solas and I talked occasionally, especially about what he knew about the Emerald Knights and the downfall of the Dales. I hoped we would come back here one day, and maybe discover more about their history. We didn’t come across any other significant place to dream in, but I kept training in the Fade. Sometimes, Solas would even visit me, though he would remain silent and stand at the border of my dreams, only looking at my creations. 

The Imperial Highway was a long paved road with many taverns close by, so it was great to finally sleep in a bed again. We also didn’t have to hunt anymore but travelled from tavern to tavern where warm meals were served in the evening. And the closer we got to the capital, the fancier the taverns became. I kept my head down though, not wanting to talk to any Orlesian that looked my way. My cloak was fully covering my body and face most of the time. My dagger was at my belt, ready to be unsheathed if needed. Yet, I tried to not get distracted by my past convictions about this country. My attention was fully focused on Maxwell’s back, on his mark. Time went faster this way. Travel, protect, eat and sleep. Don’t think about where we were, don’t think about what people we came across, just look forward. 

And I kept looking forward until I had to divert my eyes from the brightness of the stones and the golden ornaments. I got more nervous by the minute. My hands got sweaty and my mind became more focussed. We crossed a long, extravagant bridge, and at the end, gates made of steel and covered in a golden façade started looming upon us. 

The Sun Gates led to the capital of Orlais, Val Royeaux. 

But something worse than clerics and Orlesians was awaiting us there.

Notes:

Translations:
‘Briathos, venas son, ane then.’ - 'Briathos, walk carefully, remain alert.'
‘Ar eolasan. Shalir vhen’alas.' - 'I know. We must protect the land.'
‘Enemah, lethallin. Elas josa!’ - 'It’s about to begin, my friend/kin. You have to flee!'
‘Shalir Halamshiral sule’din. Halam'shivanas.’ - 'We will protect Halamshiral unto death. Do your duty to the end.'
'Falon’Din enasal enaste’ - A prayer for the dead
‘Dareth shiral.’ - Farewell ("Safe Journey")

Now, we are really entering Val Royeaux! *excitement*
If you liked this chapter, you can always leave me a comment or a kudo.

Chapter 27: Envied

Val Royeaux was a city that gleamed like a polished jewel, but to me, its beauty had always been a mask. The delicate lacework of its architecture, the grandiose towers rising toward the heavens, the gilded façades that adorned every building—it all felt like an elaborate lie. Think of this city as a cake, a high wedding-style cake with many tops and layers. Every layer was decorated in detail, sugar twirls and frosted rose petals laid on top of pastel chocolaty letters. On the very top of the cake, you could find its owner, a beautiful woman, an empress, standing gracefully above the decorations, her all-seeing eyes skimming her properties. Yet, if you’d cut into the cake, you would see its flaws. The inside of the cake was uncooked, its flesh a melting pot of ingredients that don’t mix well together. And if you would take a bite from that cake, you would find out that its sweetness had a very foul aftertaste that wouldn’t leave you for hours to come. 

The cake was a façade. 

Val Royeaux was a façade. 

And its core was bittersweet. 

As our party rode through the Sun Gates, I couldn't help but feel a familiar distaste rise in my throat. The elegance and splendour hid something darker, something real. I had lived long enough to know that truth.

The Avenue of the Sun—a long street filled with statues of haughty historic figures—seemed eerily quiet, far too empty for a city like Val Royeaux. The grandeur of its vast market squares and opulent pastel houses felt hollow without the usual throngs of merchants and noblemen. Even the air felt different—tense, almost as if it held its breath. I glanced at Solas, who rode beside me, his face unreadable as always. His eyes flicked toward me, noticing my unease, but he didn’t speak. 

‘Feels like a ghost town,’ Varric muttered from behind, his crossbow Bianca resting on his lap as he scanned the empty avenue ahead of us. ‘You’d think with all the gilded armour and grand titles, they’d at least put on a parade for us.’

‘The city still mourns.’ Cassandra said, her voice lowered. 

I didn’t reply, my gaze drawn to the towering spires of the Grand Cathedral that loomed in the distance, their sharp points stabbing into the sky. The Chantry’s seat of power. 

Suddenly, two strangely-dressed civilians strolled our way across the avenue. The man was wearing a blue shirt with poofy sleeves, a richly decorated brown tunic and a dark green undercoat. He looked like most Orlesians we had crossed during our travels. But his companion… a woman walked next to the man, giggling at whatever he was saying. The woman was wearing a long gown with a wide skirt and a decorated corset. Her hair was weaved into a dark green turban with golden swirls on it, with two golden feathers sticking out near her hairline. The feathers were almost as beautiful as the full-face mask she was wearing. The mask was white with pink and blue sparks on it, and it covered almost her whole face. Only her eyes and her mouth were visible. And by what I could see, she was clearly wearing tons of make-up too. I wondered how many masks she was wearing and where her real face actually started. Maxwell glanced at the woman as we passed them, and she lifted her gloved hands to her face in agony, her voice trembling as she gasped.

‘Just a guess, Seeker,' Varric mumbled, ‘But I think they all know who we are.’

Cassandra sighed, ‘Your skills of observation never fail to impress me, Varric.’ 

We rode to the next golden gate on the avenue—a gate that was already opened. As we dismounted, an unknown scout ran our way, the Inquisition emblem on her chest. The scout bowed deeply in front of us, her hooded eyes glancing to Maxwell and then to Cassandra and back. ‘My Lord Herald,' she greeted, her voice softer than I had expected, and bowed on one knee in front of our party. 

‘You’re one of Leliana’s people.’ Cassandra stated as she looked down at the scout, ‘What have you found?’

‘The Chantry Mothers await you, but…,' she threw a quick look at Solas and me before staring back at Maxwell, ‘so do a great many Templars.’

My stomach twisted at her words, and my gaze snapped to Solas, who gave me a slight, knowing nod. He had felt it too—the sense that something was off, something more than just an empty city.

‘There are Templars here?’ Cassandra’s voice almost sounded hopeful. I couldn’t share her enthusiasm, though.

The scout bit her lip as she said, ‘People seem to think the Templars will protect them from…’ she failed to meet Maxwell’s eyes when she said, ‘From the Inquisition.’

I scoffed under my breath. Protect. The word tasted bitter on my tongue. The Templars had been “protectors” for centuries, but that protection came with chains and fear. I had learned that lesson long ago, in places far less grand than Val Royeaux. Maxwell remained silent, but he had that look again, the one that spoke of burdens far too heavy for any one person to carry. The green scar on his hand flickered faintly, matching the distant green glow in the sky. He was the Herald of Andraste to these people, but how long would their belief last if their religious institution marked us as enemies?

‘They’re gathering on the other side of the market. I think that’s where the Templars intend to meet you.’ The scout finished as she stood up again. 

‘Only one thing to do then,' Cassandra sighed, her hands resting on her hips. She looked around her and met my eyes for a second. And then I knew what we had to do. 

We had to go and face them. 

 

We moved deeper into the city, the streets twisting through winding alleyways and open squares. The sun glinted off the polished stone streets, reflecting the golden hues of the buildings, but the grandeur only seemed to mock the emptiness around us. I noticed the few civilians who lingered at the edges of the roads, huddled in small groups. Their eyes followed us with a mixture of fear and curiosity. Some of them whispered as we passed, their voices carrying fragments of words— Herald , mage , Inquisition —but mostly, I heard Templars .

‘The Chantry fears us,’ I murmured, half to myself.

Solas, walking just slightly ahead, glanced back at me. ‘They fear what they do not understand,’ he said calmly, his voice soft but steady. ‘And when fear guides their hand, it rarely leads to wisdom.’

I gave him a small nod, but my thoughts were elsewhere, tangled in the memories of my own encounters with the Chantry, with Orlais. No matter how much time passed, the feeling of being other —feared, misunderstood—never quite left. Even after a century of trying to prove I wasn’t a danger.

We finally reached the large square before the Grand Cathedral, where a large gathering had formed. Ahead, the massive doors of the cathedral stood wide open, and there, framed by the light of the entrance, were the Chantry Mothers, their crimson robes standing out starkly against the stone. They stood on a stage, as if they were holding some kind of rally.

But what drew my attention wasn’t the Chantry itself—it was the Templars. Dozens of them, standing rigidly, their armour gleaming in the sunlight. They lined the edges of the square like statues, their hands resting on the hilts of their swords. They were there as protectors, yes, but also as a warning.

‘Well, this should be fun,’ Varric said with a humourless grin, his eyes flicking toward the Templars.

I felt the tension building in the air, crackling like a storm about to break. I could sense the fear in the crowd, in the way the Templars stood, ready to act if things went wrong. My gaze drifted over the Templars, but my thoughts were elsewhere, focusing on the magic swirling within me, the eye that glowed faintly beneath my hood. I had to keep control.

Maxwell took a deep breath. ‘We go in,’ he said, his voice quiet but determined. ‘We talk. We explain.’

But I knew better than to expect reason from fear. As we stepped forward, I could only hope we wouldn’t be walking into a battle we weren’t ready to fight. The people gasped as we pushed them aside to get closer to the stage. Cassandra and I flanked Maxwell like bodyguards. Varric and Solas had our backs, eyeing every single person that came too close or gasped too loud. With each person we pushed aside, with each step we took, my heart exploded. Something was wrong here. This feeling, this sickening, twisting in my guts… this wasn’t like the strange ache I had when around Solas, it was… a threatening feeling. A warning.

‘Good people of Val Royeaux! Hear me!’ A Chantry Mother stood in the centre of the stage, two priests flanking her with righteous looks in their eyes. Next to the ranting Mother, a Templar stood. His soft brown skin gleamed against his silver armour, the flaming sword on his chest blinding me as I looked at it.

 Maxwell neared the stage, his eyes only on the Mother, who had now noticed him too.

‘Together we mourn our Divine. Her naïve and beautiful heart, silenced by treachery!’ She nearly spat at Maxwell with her last word, but she composed herself and took a step back. ‘You wonder what will become of her murderer. Well, wonder no more! Behold the so-called Herald of Andraste! Claiming to rise where our beloved fell.’ She pointed her skinny finger at Maxwell, and I had to restrain myself from chopping it right off of her accusing hand. Cassandra growled, and I bet she was thinking the very same thing. ‘We say this is a false prophet! No servant beyond anything but his selfish greed!’

Maxwell exhaled deeply and straightened his back. When his voice finally came out, he sounded annoyed, but confident. ‘We came here in peace, simply to talk. And this is what you do? I implore you: Let us sit down together, to deal with the real threat!’ 

Cassandra looked at him with awe, her eyes gleaming with pride. ‘It’s true! The Inquisition seeks only to end this madness before it is too late!’

‘It is already too late!’ The Mother cried out angrily and pointed to the group of Templars who marched through the crowd and to the stage. People started to cheer, and the Mother glared at us with a victorious grin on her face. ‘The Templars have returned to the Chantry! They will face this “Inquisition” and the people will be safe once more!’

But the leader of the group of Templars ignored what the old woman had said, and walked straight past her while one of his men punched the woman right in the face. The crowd gasped—we all did—as the Mother cried out and fell to the ground. I could hear her jaw snap as she gulped up blood while her sisters knelt beside her. I stared at the Mother. I had wanted to slap her too, but not like this. This was wrong. Maxwell growled towards the leader of the Templar group.

‘Still yourself. She is beneath us.’ The leader of the Templar group had a thundering voice. The tall, grey man patted the Templar that had been standing with the Mother on the stage, who looked at his leader with a confused grimace on his face. My left eye flared with a strange energy when I stared at the grey Templar leader, as it always did when I was near something not of this world. And through that lens, I saw it. The alarming feeling in my stomach stopped, and my body fell to complete silence, incapable of doing anything but breathe as I looked at the man… no… thing on the stage. I saw a Templar, but it wasn’t a Templar. I don’t think it was even human. The contours of the man were smoking, curling with bile and green erupting sparks. Its form was human, but I saw through it, through its glamour, its reflection. 

A demon. 

I wanted to scream, to tell everyone to run. But my voice couldn’t come out. Instead, my legs turned to jelly and I fell with my back against Solas, who was standing behind me. He grabbed my shoulders as I pressed myself against him. ‘Saeris?’ he whispered—no one had noticed the change in me but him. I couldn’t make out any words while staring at the abomination before me. An abomination no one could see but me. ‘You’re not here to deal with the Inquisition?’ Maxwell stared at the demon Templar angrily, his voice controlled but his body clearly shaking. 

‘As if there were any reason to,' the demon Templar said mockingly. I could hear its two voices. One of a man, one of a monster, mixed into one. But the monster’s voice was silent, tucked away into the shadows. This demon was powerful. The demon Templar left the stage, taking big steps while his men followed suit. 

The crowd murmured when Cassandra stepped forward, her voice high and confused. ‘Lord Seeker Lucius, it’s imperative that we speak with…’ 

‘You will not address me,' Lucius, or whatever its name was, said while ignoring Cassandra, disgust seeping from its words.

‘Lord Seeker?’ Cassandra’s voice almost sounded upset, her eyes big and sad. What was going on here? We walked over to the group of Templars that had now left the stage with the wounded Mother. Well, everybody except Solas and I. I couldn’t move my legs, couldn’t raise my voice. I could only stare and hope Solas would keep me upright. And so he did.

‘Creating a heretical movement, raising up a puppet as Andraste’s Prophet. You should be ashamed.’ Lucius spat at Cassandra, who looked completely shaken now. Maxwell gnarled and took a step forward. 

He was too close! He needs to get out of here, away from… it! 

‘You should all be ashamed! The Templars failed no one when they left the Chantry to purge the mages! You are the one who has failed! You who’d leash our righteous swords with doubt and fear!’ The demon raised its hand and pointed towards Maxwell. My body felt like it was on fire. I need to do something! I need to move! ‘If you came to appeal to the Chantry, you are too late. The only destiny here that demands respect is mine.’

‘What we truly need is an alliance that will seal the Breach.’ Maxwell said, taking another step to the demon Lord Seeker. 

No! 

‘Oh, the Breach is indeed a threat. But you certainly have no power to do anything about it.’ The demon spat.

‘But Lord Seeker,' the Templar who had been standing on the stage, took a step forward. I now noticed the kindness behind his eyes, the doubt that was forming in his mind, ‘what if he really was sent by the Maker? What if…?’

‘You are called to a higher purpose! Do not question!’ One of the Templars interrupted his comrade. And I wouldn’t be surprised if he too was a minion of this demon. 

‘ I will make the Templar Order a power that stands alone against the void! We deserve recognition! Independence!’ the group of Templars held their fists against their chest as the demon ranted, the doubtful Templar now complying with his comrades like he had lost his will to think, ‘You have shown me nothing,' the demon Lord Seeker took a step closer to Maxwell, and I think something in me exploded, ‘And the Inquisition… less than nothing! Val Royeaux is unworthy of our protection! We…’ 

‘You never protected this city.’ I said, my voice steady despite the whirlwind of fear in my gut. First soft, and then louder and louder. Solas let go of my shoulders as I took a step forward, the power in me returning. 

The square fell silent. The others—Cassandra, Varric, Solas, even Maxwell—looked at me in confusion, as if I had suddenly lost my mind. They couldn’t see what I saw. They didn’t understand.

Lucius’ eyes locked onto mine, and I saw something flicker there. Anger. Recognition.

The demon Lord Seeker laughed maniacally, but before it could speak, I interrupted it again. ‘You’re not even a real Templar, let alone a Seeker, are you?’ I took two more steps now, my confidence growing and my heart pounding with adrenaline. 

Lucius’ lip curled in disdain, but there was a flicker of unease in his eyes now. I had struck a nerve.

‘You think you are clever, apostate?’ Lucius sneered, his voice cold and calculated. ‘You dare to stand before me and accuse me of—’

‘Of being a demon,’ I interrupted, my voice sharp. ‘Because that’s what you are. An abomination hiding behind the armour of a Lord Seeker. And I will not let you leave this place without revealing your true nature.’

‘Your Inquisition has gone mad! Is this how you stand? Letting a knife-ear childishly throw accusations at me ? Do you even know what I am capable of?’ The demon’s voice thundered through the marketplace. A murmur rippled through the crowd. The Chantry Mothers exchanged confused and worried glances. The Templars shifted uneasily, their hands twitching toward their swords. But still, none of them could see the truth. The Lord Seeker’s eyes pierced into mine, and I saw only rage in them. Yet, deep within, I saw confusion and fear. It knew that I knew. My heart pounded, but I wouldn’t give this demon the pleasure to know I too had fear. I will protect Maxwell. I can’t let this demon go. I can’t stand by idly.

‘I know exactly what you are capable of, demon .’ Try to remain calm, controlled. Confront it, like you did last time during the Harrowing. ‘You can fool them, but not me. Maybe, you’re not so great after all?’

‘Saeris, what are you doing?’ Cassandra whispered cautiously, putting her hand on my shoulder but I shook her off. 

‘You have all been fooled!’ I yelled and pointed my finger at the demon. ‘ This is not Lord Seeker Lucius!’ The demon gnarled and changed his stance from stoic and confident to outright mean and vile, hunched like a predator to attack. The Templars murmured, their hands tightening on the hilts of their swords. ‘What is it you want?’

The demon’s eyes glanced towards Maxwell, and then I knew. I saw it. Grudge. Jealousy. Envy. It wanted Maxwell. It wanted to be Maxwell. This was an Envy demon, I could see it now, sense it, feel it. ‘You will NEVER have him!’ I screamed, but the demon Lord Seeker was too fast. It hurled inhumanly, its face turning even more white than before, its pupils dilating. I ran to the demon as it charged at me, but it pushed me aside with sheer force. It was so quick, I didn’t even have time to react, to spin around and push my magic out.

‘WATCH OUT!’ Cassandra screamed as the demon lunged at Maxwell. I fell to the ground a couple of feet away, my back slamming against a marble statue of a lion. I screamed when I saw the demon’s hands pulling on Maxwell’s chest and a strange power blasted from them. 

‘At last!’ The demon Seeker gurgled. 

A large barrier blasted around Maxwell and the Lord Seeker. It looked like a wall made out of a scorching emerald wind and crystals, with black bile drooping from its corners. I jumped up and ran to the barrier, my mind in disarray.  

‘Maxwell!” I cried, my hands barging on the wall. I felt it stinging my fingertips, like little needles. When I let go, my palms were covered in a strange goo, and I tried not to vomit at the look of them. 

‘Maker help us…’ The Templars started to mutter, their faces as white as a sheet. Their bodies had turned to statues, unmoving, in total shock. 

‘What in the Maker’s name was that!’ Cassandra’s voice sounded high, a panic in it I hadn’t heard before. I turned to her, and saw her sunken face, full of terror, as she put her hand on the barrier. 

‘A demon, I presume?’ Solas said, his voice deep with a hint of concern. 

‘Of course, it’s a demon! It’s always a demon.’ Varric huffed, he had sprinted towards the barrier as soon as it had erupted, the familiar smirk on his face now completely gone. 

‘Envy,' I huffed between my crying, ‘It’s an Envy demon.’ 

Solas nodded while Cassandra’s face turned whiter by the second. 

‘What is going on?’ One of the Templars stepped out of the group, his voice trembling, but he looked more confident than the others. I recognized him as the kind-eyed Templar who had stood on the stage, who had stood up against the Envy demon. ‘The Lord Seeker is…’

‘That is not him!’ I sighed, why wasn’t I getting through to these people? ‘It’s an imposter.’ 

The Templar’s face became more terrified, and he shook his head in disbelief. ‘That monster ensured we weren’t prepared.’

‘We need to get the Herald out of there!’ Cassandra shrieked as she interrupted the Templar while still pushing the barrier with her steel-gloved hands. 

‘This barrier, what is this?’ Solas crossed his arms when he walked up to the barrier, his eyes big. ‘Saeris?’ He looked at me and caught me caged in thoughts, my face probably the scariest one out of us all. ‘Can you see something?’ 

My mouth fell open as I understood what Solas had meant. This emerald wind and crystal sparks… I knew I had recognized them. It was a barrier pulled from the Fade by the demon. A barrier I could look through. My eye! Solas smiled a little when he saw I understood, and then nodded. I turned to the barrier that was still standing tall near the centre of the marketplace. I knelt beside it, lifted my right hand and covered my normal eye. And there. I could see them. 

‘What do you see?’ Cassandra huffed. 

The Templars still stood confused in a corner, but the Templar who had spoken stepped closer, his eyes now fully focused on me as I said, ‘They are in there. It’s holding him… I think.’ 

‘What does it want?' Varric said, his tone worried. 

‘It wants our Herald. And it has him right where it wants him.’ Solas stared at me and I nodded. ‘They are in the Fade, where the demon’s tricks are the most powerful, where it can control what happens.’ 

‘How do we get him out ?!’ Cassandra’s patience was running low. 

‘I’m going there.’ I sighed eventually while still peering at the figures within the barrier. One figure was dark, almost invisible. But Maxwell was bright. He was still alive and had not fallen yet. 

‘No.’ Solas’ voice came out louder than I had expected, and he looked angrily at me. ‘It is too dangerous.’

‘We cannot lose Maxwell.’ I said calmly. ‘He is of the utmost importance. He and I are connected like I am connected to the Fade, I can feel his mark too. I will go in his mind, in the Fade. The demon’s tricks won’t work on me. I can see , remember?’ I smiled a little at Solas, but he still stubbornly shook his head. 

‘You must go then.’ Cassandra’s voice sounded more confident. Better. She had hope. 

‘Saeris…’ Solas started. 

‘Let me do this. This is what I’ve trained for! Let me put our lessons to the test.’ I stood up and straightened my back, and Solas slowly nodded. 

‘You!’ I pointed at the Templars, unable to hide the hint of disgust in my voice, ‘Make sure every citizen is evacuated.’ The crowd was still there and had witnessed everything from a distance across the market. I could hear them gasping and gossiping throughout the events. Some had fled already, but most nobles stayed put, eager to use every information they could get to get higher up in society. But if I could release Maxwell, Envy would surely not give up without a fight. I looked up at the Templars, and they nodded one by one. 

‘Varric, Cassandra, stay put and ready to attack in case something comes out.’ The two nodded, knowing exactly what could come out of the Fade by raw experience. Adrenaline was surging through my body as I commanded like I never had before. I was the quiet type, the one who helped backstage. But Maxwell being in danger released something in me. It was something I’d had when Sybil was still alive. I would’ve done everything to protect her too.  

‘Solas, you have to shield me if something happens, I can’t fail. Even if I scream or whatever, I cannot wake up!’ 

I saw concern behind Solas’ stoic eyes, but he knew that I had to go in there, that I had the highest chance to succeed. I looked up at the tall elf and felt the familiar ache in my stomach, but it wasn’t as strong as the alarming feeling I had from the Envy demon, and so, the ache faded into the background while a more urging sting took over. Fear. We were running out of time, and Maxwell needed help. My help. And I would give it to him, whatever the cost may be. 

The Templars marched towards the citizens, pushing them away from the marketplace. Cassandra and Varric armed themselves, their eyes stuck on the barrier. I knelt down again, put my hand on the barrier and let it rest there, ignoring the stinging feeling. Solas knelt behind me, his hands on my shoulder, and I felt a protective barrier covering me. It was a warm feeling, a feeling that said I would be alright. 

‘Good luck, kid. Don’t let that demon get to you.’ Varric tried to smile confidently, but there was a tremble in his voice that betrayed his feelings. Cassandra nodded at him, and then at me. They had me covered. I would not disappoint them. 

I focussed on the barrier in front of me, and again, covered my normal blue eye. I saw the vague figures of Maxwell and Lucius behind the wall. My green eye spat and twirled and twisted until it had found the mark. Suddenly, I felt it focus, and it saw the mark shine brighter and brighter through the barrier. I could hear Maxwell breathing, smell his sweat, feel his heartbeat. More and more, my mind got sucked within that feeling of Maxwell, until there was nothing but him around me. My body weakened, but I bit my tongue and the pain reminded me not to sleep, but to seek. To find. Solas’ hands tightened around my shoulders as my body slumped, but my eye was still focusing, and my mind was travelling. Beyond. To Maxwell. 

‘Venas son, Saeris.’ 

***

The air felt dense, heavy, burdened almost. There was a thick mist sticking to the ground and the walls, making it uncomfortable to breathe normally. I took a step forward and felt the muddy grass wetting my soles, almost too real. The grass came up to my knees, and it felt like I was wading through a swamp as I took a couple of steps forward. Above me, there was no sky, but a stone ceiling that you’d see in a cathedral, or a temple, with big pillars of hard stone coming down. It reminded me of the ruins of the Temple of Sacred Ashes, but I tried not to think about why Envy had put up this particular reflection. 

Where was Maxwell? 

I felt him. He was close, but so far away. And I had very little time to reach him. The demon’s powers weighed me down. I was the intruder, I didn’t belong here. This nightmare wasn’t meant for me. Did Envy already know that I was here? 

I bit my lip and felt pain. Real pain, though subdued a little. My mind was in deep—deeper than any dream before. If I got hurt here, it would surely affect my body in the waking world. Please, please let Maxwell be alright.
My feet dragged me along, my muscles cramping because of the heavy mud, but it didn’t take long to come across a familiar scene. Hundreds upon hundreds of flaming corpses were spread across the open space, as far as I could see in this strange mist. Their faces were eternalised in their last screams, cries and prayers. Some were covering their heads, and their bodies, others were covering someone else, hoping their arms would stop the blast from killing their loved ones. This was the Temple of Sacred Ashes or a nightmarish reflection based upon it. This was one of Maxwell’s most vivid memories, one he couldn’t remove from his mind. 

I stepped closer, my heart pumping. Don’t look at their faces, Saeris. You’ve already seen them once. Once was enough. Find Maxwell. 

After running for some minutes, I came upon an open space littered with more burning corpses. But something was different here. There was a puddle of blood on the muddy ground. The brightness of the red was stark against the grey of the earth. I looked around some more and found multiple puddles on the ground. This blood was fresh, yet there weren’t any corpses. I closed my normal eye as I focussed on the blood and saw that it actually wasn’t blood at all. As soon as my green eye focussed on it, the bright red blood turned into bubbling black bile. A sense of relief washed over my body. Maxwell hadn’t been hurt here.

But where was he now? 

‘What do you see?’ A looming voice thundered through the open space, echoing against the stone pillars of the fake Temple. Envy. But its voice hadn’t been directed to me, but to someone else. Maxwell. They were close, and the demon hadn’t noticed my presence yet. It focussed solely on him, on Max.
I ran forward to where the Temple ended, and Haven’s Chantry began. A stone archway led me into a darkened room. The dungeons. Cells with cold steel bars could be seen built into the stone walls, and some almost-empty candles were burning in each corner of the room. In the middle of the space stood four guards, their swords out, their faces disguised by a hood. In front of the group of soldiers, Cassandra stood, or at least a reflection of her. My right eye saw the sneering Seeker I had come to know, but my left eye saw but a shadow, a reflection in a biassed mirror. The soldiers’ swords were pointed to the centre, but no one was sitting there. It seemed like someone should, but it was empty. The purpose of the reflection that’d been there, was gone. 

‘Our one chance to make peace between the mages and the Templars. And now it’s over.’ Cassandra’s angry voice filled the room. She looked down at the empty spot in the centre, not noticing she was talking to empty air. ‘You think me a fool? Explain this!’ Cassandra started to walk up and down, ignoring the silence. ‘Do you deny it? Do you dare deny your crime?’

I bit my tongue again and felt the familiar pain, but now, more and more real. I was getting sucked in. I needed to move, and so I ran past the empty spot in the centre and the accusing reflection of Cassandra, and left the dungeons behind me. I now stepped into another room again. The first half of it was grass and open air, the other half was a stone building, a building I didn’t recognize. I looked at my feet and saw the grass had been burned, that something here had been obliterated. 

But I did not see any blood. 

Maxwell must still be alive. I can feel him. 

Wait. No. I can hear him too! 

In the distance, I heard a familiar voice crying out a muffled curse. My heart was exploding, my throat was full of tears I was gulping down. Maxwell. He is here. He is alive. And close. A smile tugged on the corner of my lips as I took a big step forward, towards the sound of his voice. Suddenly, the air got knocked out of my body, and I saw the ground rushing closer as I toppled over. I wheezed as blood flowed from my mouth. My head hurt, I couldn’t think, and my sight became blurry. The air pushed down on me, holding me against the ground, helpless. What is happening?

‘You shouldn’t be here! You cannot be here!’ Envy’s voice rang inside my head, its magic trying to find its way in. But my body was fighting, my mind was closing, making sure there was no way in. Just like in my meadow. Only those I allow can enter. 

I shivered as Envy spoke again. ‘He is mine! You will lose! I am stronger. I am better!’ 

‘Oh, shut up!’ I gnarled and felt my magic push around me, pushing Envy out until his voice became silent. We were in the Fade, I wasn’t helpless here. I willed the air to stop pushing me down, to become quiet and light again. 

Come on. Light. Like a feather. Soft. Warm. A serene breeze. 

I sighed as I found my breath again, the air around me now softly swaying past my spine. I got back up again and took a couple of breaths. Envy knew I was here now. I didn’t have much time left before it would figure out how to push me out of Maxwell’s mind. 

‘Is imitating what you can’t have your only pleasure, demon?’ Maxwell’s voice echoed through the room. I started to sprint then, to run as fast as I could. Maxwell had sounded like he still had control, he wasn’t falling for the demon’s tricks. He was stronger than Envy. 

It will never get to him. 

I ran into the stone building that started past the open air and noticed it looked like the inside of a castle. Strong, stone pillars and wooden beams held the stone building upright, and I noticed vacant Inquisition guards standing about, probably there to sell Envy’s reality show. At the back of the stone room, there was another door, and I wondered what was behind it. The only thing I knew was that Maxwell was in there. I could feel him there. My green eye was thrumming and I felt the soft vibrations of his mark beyond the gate.
I didn’t hesitate and opened the door carefully. 

And there he was… standing in front of… me? 

Maxwell, the real Maxwell, not a reflection or a demon, but the man I had come to care for. My friend. He was okay. I didn’t make a sound though, as I stared at the strange me that stood seductively before Maxwell’s protective stance, his shoulders pushed up and his hands curled into fists. The fake me was wearing a soft blue dress and my favourite cloak hung loosely on her bare shoulders. Her hair waved in soft curls down to her chest. She smiled coyly, but the expression in her eyes seemed vacant, empty, dull. She was almost a statue, and I wondered if she was even breathing. 

‘Is this what you want?’ Envy, shaped into Maxwell’s appearance, stepped from behind the fake me, its hand slipping behind her back and resting above her hip casually. The fake me moved her head, and her white ears slit through her hair, its tips turning a soft red. She smiled faintly at the demon, like a maiden in love. 

‘Or do you prefer this?’ The demon grinned at Maxwell, and I saw the muscles of his back tense as Cassandra appeared on Envy’s other side. The demon placed its free hand on the Seeker’s hip, just like he had done with the fake me. The fake Cassandra, who was wearing the same dress as the fake me, her face slightly made-up, looked at the demon lovingly, and the demon grinned back at Maxwell’s face. ‘What is it you want, Herald? Tell me.’ 

‘You truly think Maxwell is that stupid?’ I finally said, my voice ringing through the room. 

Maxwell turned around, his face lighting up as he looked at me, his shoulders still tense, but he knew—he felt—I was different. I wasn’t fake. ‘I’m here Maxwell,' I nodded at him, ‘We’re inside your head. Nothing of this is real. It’s a charade.’ 

The demon gnarled as the fake me and Cassandra vanished into thin air. ‘You will not have him. GET OUT!’ The demon hurled and vanished as the room started to shake and change. 

‘Maxwell! Watch out!’ I yelled and grabbed his arm, pulling him to where I stood just in time before a strange pillar appeared before him that blasted a green fire onto the floor. The fire seemed to burn even stone, and soon, the room became engulfed in flames. Maxwell grabbed my wrist, and I finally saw how pale his face was, how tired he looked. 

‘We have to get out!’ Maxwell cried and dragged me forward towards the back entrance of the room. 

But before we got there, Envy’s laugh loomed over the room again. Or maybe it was standing next to us, and we just couldn’t see it. I only saw raw green flames snarling on the walls, too close to my skin and I felt them burn every pore slowly, one at a time. The pain rang through my mind. 

Too real. Way too real. 

Maxwell grunted as the door seemed to be locked, and I felt the fire closing in on us. ‘Step back!’ I yelled and lifted my hands to blast the door away. Maxwell jumped aside as he saw a raw whirl of wind escape my fingertips, but the door didn’t budge. The air around us started to get thicker again, weighing down on me more and more. I tried to shape the Fade like I had done before. 

Please! A cool breeze. No fire. But rain. Cold rain. Trickling down on us in an open meadow. A calming meadow. Like the one I had created in the past.

But the Fade didn’t change. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t focus. Too warm. Too much panic! I wasn’t ready for this. Please! I need help, I can’t do this alone, I need someone. Maxwell needs someone. What if I get knocked down again? I feel my mind giving up, I feel its inexperience and I’m waking up because of it. Envy is pushing Maxwell, not with force, but with mental violence. Will he remain this strong? The fire came closer and closer to where we stood, and we pressed ourselves against the unmoving door. A fake door. One to give hope to then take it away. 

But Envy doesn’t want to kill Maxwell just yet, it still needs him. It hasn’t fed on his mind fully, Maxwell hasn’t given in yet. It just wants to kill me. It wants me out. What if I just…

‘You’re hurting, helpless, hasty. What happens to the hammer when there are no more nails?’ A voice whispered to our figures, and Maxwell’s eyes got bigger as he heard it too. It hadn’t been Envy’s voice, it was too soft, too kind, too much out of place. This voice didn’t hurt, it healed. We looked to our sides to see where the voice had come from, and a room to our left had appeared, its doors open. 

‘GO!’ Maxwell yelled and we ran to the corner of the burning room, and I hoped this was real. I hoped this room wouldn’t disappear before we jumped into it. Or the flames would take the both of us. We sprinted and jumped into the safe room, and as soon as we entered it, the burning room behind us disappeared behind the wall that seemed to knit itself together again. We were saved. 

‘What now?’ Envy’s voice echoed again, thrumming through our temples. It sounded more annoyed than angry. ‘Get out! This is my place!’

It became quiet again, the only sound being Maxwell’s and my rasping breaths. He was safe. He was okay. I hadn’t failed yet. 

‘That was close.’ Maxwell rasped, a small smile on his lips as he turned to me. ‘How did you get here, Saeris?’

‘It’s…’ I heaved, ‘It’s not that hard to get into that silly mind of yours.’ I chuckled and then coughed to get the smoke out of my lungs. 

‘Always there to be my knight in shining armour.’ He laughed and spat on the floor. His spit was black. ‘Now, since you’re the expert here. Tell me, my friend, why is there a chair on the ceiling?’

‘What?’ I gasped and looked up. We were… this room was upside down?

‘Envy is hurting you. Mirrors on mirrors on memories. A face it can feel but not fake. I want to help. You, not Envy.’ There was that boyish voice again. Soft, swaying, caressing our minds, trying not to intrude, but still seeing everything. I wheezed and stared at the upside-down painting of a noble woman, my mind too weak to focus.

‘Who are you? I’ve seen you before. Have I?’ Maxwell said and I looked up to see if there was a body connected to that boyish voice, but couldn’t see. My vision became blurry again, and I tried to control my breath. Do not panic, Saeris. Stay calm. For Maxwell. 

‘I’ve been watching. I’m Cole. We’re inside you. Or I am. And she is. You’re always inside you.’

Maxwell and I saw the boy at the same time because we nearly fell on our asses together as we stared at the young man standing upside down on the ceiling. Or on the ground, and we were on the ceiling. I don’t know. I squinted my eyes to look at the creature. Cole. He had blonde hair, concealed under a big hat. I couldn’t quite look at his face, he was standing too far for that. But I could clearly see the youth around his eyes. The kindness.

‘It’s easy to hear, harder to be a part of what you’re hearing. But I’m here, hearing, helping. I hope.’ The boy looked at me then, or at least I saw his head move slightly. ‘You called. Desperate. Save him. Panic. I need him.’ My mouth fell open as I heard Cole speak. How did he know? ‘You see like I hear. I will help like you wanted to.’ 

I closed one eye, letting my doomed curse do the rest. Fear was making me shake, fear of this boy being a demon. But if he wasn’t—if he could help me… help Maxwell… My green eye twisted and twirled, but the boy’s appearance didn’t change. Yet, something stranger happened. The boy… was a boy. But not.

The boy looked back to Maxwell. ‘Envy hurt you, is hurting you. I tried to help. Then, I was here, in the hearing. It’s… it’s not usually like this.’

‘I don’t think anything is usual here.’ Maxwell said and looked back to me, a frown on his face as I stared at the boy, at… was it a boy? He was shining, his body, his contours. No shadows, no foul taste on my lips, but warmth. I felt kindness, loyalty… Compassion. 

‘She knows me. She sees me. But she is too weak. She has to leave us soon.’ Cole looked at me and I looked back. I looked back in awe. This was no demon. This was a spirit. But not just a spirit, he was also a boy, a human. 

Suddenly, we heard screeching behind the walls, nails being sunk into stone. Maxwell took a step back, his eyes big. The screeching didn’t stop there, though. I felt it tremble through my body, nails scratching on the inside of my head, of my mind. And I was weak. For how long could I keep Envy out? Solas had been right, I wasn’t ready for this. 

‘You are always ready, too ready, too old not to be. But this is new. New and it hurts. You need to let me help. I can help.’ Cole’s voice sounded desperate like he felt my panic.

Maxwell turned to me, ‘Saeris?’ 

I fell on my knees as the scraping of nails on my bare scalp didn’t stop, and they sunk deeper and deeper, tearing open my flesh. 

Get out. Get out. GET OUT!

Blood dripped out of my nose, and I coughed and spat and the blood found my lungs and I couldn’t breathe. 

Maxwell ran to me, knelt beside me and lifted me in his arms. ‘Saeris, you have to get out of here.’

‘No, I can help. I—’

‘You can’t. I will get through this. Cole here will help me. Is he safe? Is he…’

‘He’s—’ I coughed, ‘he’s fine. No demon.’ 

‘Good. Good.’ Maxwell smiled as he wiped the blood from my mouth with his slightly burned sleeve. ‘You being here has helped me already. But I need you not to die. Who else will be my knight?’ He tried to laugh but failed. ‘Go. Prepare the rest for battle. I will get out of here soon, and we’ll kick Envy’s ass together.’

I nodded as my body felt weaker and weaker like all of my strength was being sucked out of me. And before Maxwell could say more, before Cole could hear my thoughts, even before I could close my eyes, I felt my connection to this place break. Like a rope cut into two. 

And I woke up.

***

‘Saeris? Saeris!’ 

The sun blinded me as I opened my eyes. I was back at the marketplace in Val Royeaux, sitting just like I had before. I sank to my side. Solas hovered above me, his hands turning a soft green and blue as his magic sought any wounds. But there were none. He looked at me with big eyes, a huge frown creasing his forehead. He seemed really angry. Like a parent whose kid got into a hospital because it was playing too wildly.

‘Where is the Herald! Is he alright? Tell me is he…’ Cassandra’s face hovered next to Solas’, blocking out the sun. She sounded desperate, her face pale and concerned. 

I groaned and felt my chin and my lips were wet. I touched my face carefully and saw my fingers covered in blood. The blood had been real. Solas must’ve been surprised. But I felt fine. ‘He’s alright. He’s fighting, but he’s not alone. He has help.’ The group stared at me, surprised. Varric came closer too, an assured look on his face as he looked me up and down.

‘Prepare yourselves.’ I continued and pushed myself up while Solas supported my lower back. ‘Maxwell is on his way. We will have to finish this soon.’

And I will rip that Envy demon to pieces.

Notes:

This chapter was quite long, but I hope you liked it!

Chapter 28: Justified

"The first of the Maker's children watched across the Veil
And grew jealous of the life
They could not feel, could not touch.
In blackest envy were the demons born."

 

— Chant of light, Canticle of Erudition 2:1

 

*** 

Two hours. 

He is alive. 

He fights. 

But it fights back too. 

And we are ready for it. 

An adamant wall of black and emerald and envy still surged near the centre of the now empty marketplace. I wondered if it ever was so empty here, so quiet. Only our breaths were heard. Cassandra’s controlled huffs, Varric’s impatient shifting, Solas’ near-silent presence, and then my angry, furious wheezes. The Templars stood behind us, their swords drawn, unsheathed for the whole two hours we had been standing here. Waiting. Fearing. Hoping. 

I was there, I had been there. If I had been stronger, more experienced, better, I could still be there to help, to guide. If only I was like that spirit boy, Cole, I could’ve made sure Maxwell would come out of the Fade barrier. But I can’t be jealous, not now. I will become better, stronger, brighter. 

Nobody said a word but stared at the wall that separated them from their Herald. Only I could look in, only I could see. And I still saw them. Envy and Maxwell are still two clearly distinct figures. My eye focused and twirled to find and not lose sight. And it started to hurt. I had been “ seeing” for two hours. Never had I focussed for so long before. When I was pushed out of Maxwell’s head, I had been covered in blood, fresh blood. That blood had long been dried up and wiped away, but I could still feel it sticking to my body and face like dirt. 

Fighting. No fear. He falls and gets back up again, and he thinks of you. Of her. Of his friends. His future and the future of everyone else. He is there. Now he is the one who’s feared. 

What? 

He is ready.

The green wall before us exploded, and I jumped away, the raw power of the Fade thumping through my body, ringing in my ears, swirling in my mouth. It tasted like copper and electricity. Blood and magic. 

‘Herald!’ Cassandra nearly dropped her sword as his figure appeared in the fog, shoulders straight, face determined. There he was. Maxwell. 

He smiled at the Seeker confidently and nodded. 

‘GET READY!’ Cassandra nearly sang from happiness, but her tone was serious. If Maxwell was free, then so was Envy. The Templars moved forward, their swords ready to attack. Bianca’s arrow sprung ready in Varric’s hands, and Solas’ staff creaked as his magic surged through it. 

But I could only stare for a moment, my heart thumping a familiar ache. An ache I had felt when I had walked into this city. This ache warned me to stand up, raise my hands, and kill whatever moved first. 

And I was so angry, so ready to kill. 

Behind Maxwell, Envy finally raised its ugly head. The glamour that had masked Lord Seeker Lucius had fallen away, revealing the true horror beneath—a towering Envy demon, its form twisted and grotesque, with sharp, jagged teeth and eyes that burned with malice. I have seen demons before, through Rifts, in the Fade, in my dreams even, but never were they so monstrous.

Envy’s body was almost humanoid, but its limbs were too long and bent the wrong way as if it had no joints. Its skin was a pale-ish pink and instead of two, it had four arms protruding from its bust, with those long, familiar black demonic claws sticking out from what I thought were its hands. But Envy’s face was the thing that enraptured me the most because it almost had no face. Was that why it wanted to steal others’ faces? It had a head, don’t get me wrong, but there were only veins and bloodied scars that turned inwards on a white dry canvas. It looked like an experiment gone wrong, faces melted into each other to create no face at all. 

Envy screamed, its mangled body turned to Maxwell, who didn’t move one step as the demon opened its bloodied mouth filled with way too many human-like teeth. I think I even saw some teeth puncturing the skin where its brow should be. But Maxwell only smirked as he said mockingly, ‘I get why you wanted my face, you ugly bastard.’ 

Envy screamed again, a furious scream this time, not just annoyed. I saw the muscles flex beneath its thin skin, and I knew this battle wouldn’t be an easy one. The Templars that were here weren’t with many, and I bet they were low on Lyrium seeing how pale and tired they appeared. But I knew they wouldn’t give up without a fight. Templars were too cocky for that. 

‘I touched so much of you. But you are selfish with your glory. Now, I’m no one.’ Envy’s voice gurgled and sneered. But Maxwell didn’t bat an eye. 

Dark and desperate. Death to make yourself alive. I used to be like you.  

Cole’s voice rang through the market, but it seemed only Envy, Maxwell and I were able to hear it. I looked around from my place behind our party but didn’t see the boy standing anywhere.

I’m not anymore. You shouldn’t be, either.

Envy screeched with anger, and I felt Cole’s presence disappear from our minds, gone to wherever he was now. Maxwell screamed victoriously as he finally charged at Envy. ‘Let’s end this!’ 

‘NOW!’ Cassandra demanded and the Templars didn’t hesitate and ran up to the screeching demon. And that’s how the battle began. 

Cassandra threw herself onto the demon, and I heard her scream ‘Maker take you!’ in raw anger and desperation as her sword hit the demon’s skin, clashing through its brittle veins. Black blood-like bile splurged out of the demon’s body as it screamed to find one of its hands cleanly cut off from its arm. Maxwell smiled and hurled at Envy, his daggers biting like fangs into Envy’s back. Envy cried out and waved its bloodied arms around to get the Herald off of it, but couldn’t as the Templars reigned upon him with their swords and shields, bashing and slashing at the enormous demon’s feet. Solas immediately stepped up and cast strong protective barriers around every single soldier, and I saw it took its toll as Envy tried puncturing so many men, and sometimes, it succeeded as its claws cut through Solas’ barriers and into the limp bodies of the Templars. Solas huffed as he bent beneath the power of the demon, trying to hold up his wards. Varric cursed as his arrows found Envy’s missing face, some failing to hit their target by inches, and some cutting through the demon’s scars that crossed its face. Envy hurled, bursting out a raw power that made everyone around fly a couple of feet away.

Maxwell cried out as he lost grip of his daggers and fell down from Envy’s back and onto the ground. The spineless demon bent its body backwards to look at the disarmed Herald. I felt the strength in my feet return and ran towards them, jumping over the Templar corpses. My magic twirled around my fingers, and electric bolts sparked from them. I raised my hands to Envy, who crawled closer and closer to Maxwell, not noticing me coming for it. 

‘HEY! Remember me?’ I screamed, and Envy turned its faceless figure to me. 

‘YOU!’ It screeched. 

Magic left my hands and surged towards Envy, hitting it right in its nerves. Envy groaned and stomped towards me with its many limbs. It drew out its poisonous claws towards me, trying to gut my eyes out, but I jumped aside quickly, running swiftly on my feet, jumping over the mess of arms and blood that clawed my way. Fire now ground across my body and I grabbed one of Envy’s bloodied arms so my fire could spread. Envy gurgled as my fire climbed across his arm, burning its pale skin. And when my fire had captured the whole limb, I twisted my hand and my fire turned to ice, enrapturing the arm in a cold prison of frost and flame. And with a turn of my free hand, the ice splintered and the arm exploded into a thousand pieces. Meanwhile, Maxwell got back up again and pulled another knife from his armour and ran over to slash Envy’s face. But the demon, who now had only two and a half arms left, turned to Maxwell quickly. With a sickening lunge, the demon’s jaws snapped down on his arm. The sickening crunch of bone echoed through the square, and Maxwell let out a cry of pain, staggering back as blood poured from the wound. The demon bit down harder, mangling his arm in its monstrous grip. 

Maxwell's face turned a deadly pale from blood loss, his arm hanging limp. He was barely conscious.

‘No!’ I shouted, the panic rising in my chest. I couldn’t lose him. Not after everything. I raised my hands to Envy’s face, but suddenly, an arrow flung right into Envy’s mouth, cutting through its palate and skull. The demon gurgled up its black blood and let go of Maxwell’s arm. 

‘Eat that ‘ya pissin’ pile of shite!’ A young elven woman jumped from a balcony at the upper market. She smiled with her slightly crooked teeth and spun another arrow on her bow, firing it towards Envy again. The demon waved its arms in confusion, trying to stop the rain of arrows coming from its face. 

Cassandra’s sword found the demon again, cutting through any limb that stood in her way to get to Maxwell, who lay on the ground holding his bloodied arm, or what was left of it. Solas raised his staff again, now not to protect anymore, but to hurt. His staff creaked as bolts of energy exploded from its core one by one, surging to the demon and detonating into a green fire that cut through its skin like a thousand arrows. 

This was the last straw for Envy, as it finally fell down to the cold marble floor. The demon still screamed and roared, until a familiar kind-eyed Templar climbed its mangled, bloodied body, raised his sword and cried out: ‘Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter. Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just. Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow. In their blood, the Maker's will is written.’ The Templar let his sword fall down into Envy’s chest. 

The demon screeched one last time, its face turning to Maxwell in despair, its face so expressionless, but still so full of envy. ‘I… want …’

Dead. 

An arrow was suddenly shot into Envy’s corpse, and then two, and then another. ‘Bits up, face down!’ The young elven woman who had aided during battle jumped closer to the dead demon, dropping her bow as she made sure the thing was dead. I glanced at her quickly before running towards Maxwell, ignoring how she poked Envy’s body with her arrow while making vomiting noises. 

‘You are alright, breathe!’ Cassandra knelt next to Maxwell. His arm—what was left of it—was a mangled, bloody mess. His face was pale, beads of sweat rolling down his forehead. Cassandra turned her head my way, calling out to me in urgency, ‘Saeris!’ 

‘I’m here! I’m here.’ I hushed as I ran to Maxwell’s side and fell onto my knees next to Cassandra, who kept whispering soft words to Maxwell. I hadn’t seen her this concerned before, this… soft and caring. I figured that underneath that hard exterior, Cassandra was a kind woman. She looked at me with concern in her eyes, and I answered her with an assuring nod. 

‘Hey, you’re real now, right?’ Maxwell tried to smile but his eyes were glazed with pain.

‘I’m always real.’ I winked. ‘Let me look at you now.’ Maxwell nodded slightly, his eyes big and almost teary, but he tried to keep himself strong. I slowly raised my hands to his ruined arm, and I cursed myself for being reassured it wasn’t his marked arm. I placed my hands over his wounded arm, the familiar warmth of magic flowing from my fingertips. I could feel the damage—torn muscle, shattered bone—but I didn’t let it overwhelm me. ‘Cassandra, hold Maxwell,' I demanded and she nodded. I ripped a piece of cloth from my bloodied armour and held it out to the Herald. ‘Bite on this, it will hurt at first, don’t want to ruin your teeth.’ Maxwell nodded again, this time not so confident, and opened his mouth so I could put the cloth in. 

I then turned my head a bit, my eyes looking for Solas, who already appeared beside me. ‘Solas, I need you to hold his arm straight. I’m going to heal his bones first, and they need to be regrown straight, not crooked.’ Solas nodded, his eyes focused solely on me. ‘After the bones, I will heal the nerves and veins, then the flesh. The bones will hurt, Maxwell, try not to struggle too much.’ I looked at Cassandra, and she nodded as she understood. Hold him even if he screams. She knew. ‘Ready?’ I stared at Maxwell and he nodded slowly, huffing against the cloth. 

Varric appeared on the other side of Maxwell, his hand firmly in Maxwell’s marked hand, ‘Just don’t break my hand, Herald.’ 

Solas then straightened Maxwell’s arm with one clear snap, pulling it into the right position ruthlessly. Maxwell screamed against the cloth, his eyes bulging out of their sockets. Varric groaned as Maxwell pinched his hand, and Cassandra huffed as she tried keeping him down. I didn’t hesitate and rested my hand on his arm, and Maxwell cried out again. Ignoring his pain, I focussed, my magic surging out of my tired body. Deeper and deeper, my magic twisted and crawled through the Herald’s open wound to find the sharp pieces that were once his lower arm bones. The splintered shards punctured his flesh and his veins, which made him bleed harder and harder. If I didn’t heal him fast, he’d die from blood loss. My magic bound itself around every single piece of bone, pushing it towards the right place. Maxwell squirmed and screamed against his cloth, writhing against the pain as the bones pushed through his arm all over again. 

‘I’m sorry, it’ll all be over soon,' I hushed while looking into his eyes quickly. Maxwell’s eyes were full of pain, but confident to see this through. Come on! I pushed and pushed against my magic, and I felt more and more pieces pushed into place until it formed a whole bone again. And just like a loose puzzle, I glued it back together to form a perfect arm. With a loud snap, the hardest part was completed. I heard Maxwell breathe sharply as he felt his bone being whole again. 

I smiled, feeling the sweat dripping from my face. ‘Solas, you can let go of him now,' I grinned and looked up to Maxwell again, ‘I’m just going to heal your flesh. It won’t hurt that bad, you’ll know the feeling.’ The Herald nodded again, sweat also dripping from his face, but now the colour was returning to his cheeks. I focussed back on the arm, and as I called my magic back to my fingers, they left a trail of healing, knitting first the nerves and veins back together, and then the flesh. Slowly, but still trying to calm the tissue with soothing warmth. And when my magic had fully returned back to me, Maxwell’s arm was clean and whole like it had never been hurt before. 

‘Incredible,' Solas mumbled and looked back at me. ‘You did not even leave a scar.’ He had admiration in his voice, and I didn’t know if I liked that or not. I smiled weakly, feeling my body was too tired to use any more magic. 

Cassandra helped Maxwell sit upright, her face gleaming with reassurance. Maxwell held out his arm before him, flexing his muscles and turning it sideways carefully. He then stared at me, smiling, ‘Thank you, Saeris.’ 

I smiled back faintly. 

‘You can let go of my hand now, Herald.’ Varric grinned. 

‘I’m sorry, my friend. I didn’t break it, right?’ Maxwell laughed loudly and let go of the Dwarf’s hand. 

‘I’m made out of stronger material than that!’ Varric huffed, and I heard Cassandra making her usual disgusted noise while she helped Maxwell get back on his feet. We all straightened our backs now, and I dared to look back at the marketplace. Some statues were broken, some tiles were smashed, but the marketplace looked like it had before. Only Envy’s carcass was out of place, surrounded by a couple of Templar corpses. Sadness took over me. The loss of life, no matter what race or religion or occupation, was always unfortunate. But this wasn’t the first time I’d seen death, and I knew these men and women would be rewarded for their bravery in the next life, even if they had been Templars.

‘The demon is dead. Andraste be praised: she shielded you from its touch.’ The kind-eyed Templar, the one who had given Envy the final blow, walked up to us. He was visibly wounded, all of the Templars were, but I didn’t know if I had the strength to heal them all, or if I even wanted to. 

Maxwell ignored the Templar for a while, still confused as to what just happened. ‘Saeris, did you see Cole? I heard him? Did anyone see a young man appear beside me? Pale, strangely dressed, creepy voice?’ 

‘I heard him, but I think it wasn’t meant for others.’ I said as Maxwell stared at me. 

‘I saw no one. You and the demon were alone.’ The Templar looked down for a moment, his eyes sad. ‘It used Red Lyrium to corrupt the order. I knew that miserable stuff was risky!’

‘It made you use what now?’ Varric interrupted, his voice high and panicky. 

‘They often give us new kinds of Lyrium. Our commanders… some used the red stuff first, to prove it was harmless. Most knights at Therinfal are already using it. That demon turned our leaders so we couldn’t question when this started! I fear most of our comrades have already fallen to it as we speak.’ 

‘Can they still be saved?’ Maxwell frowned. 

‘As soon as they took that stuff, they became… different. Their minds were more violent, without reason. And it got worse by the day…’

‘Well, shit.’ Varric sighed and scratched the back of his neck in thought.

‘We’ve numbers across Thedas, but we let this happen. The Templar order is in disarray. Only a small army of us is left near the border of Orlais… We are ready to hear what… or if the Inquisition needs us. It is our only cause left now.’

Maxwell sighed deeply and rested his marked hand on his forehead, his face twisted into a thoughtful grimace. He then looked at me, his eyes sad and apologetic. Please, no. Not this. Not them. He then looked behind me, peering towards the far horizon above the upper market balconies, above the fancy apartments with bright primary colours and towards the looming Breach in the sky. ‘If that thing hanging over our heads doesn’t terrify you, you’re braver souls than I. The Inquisition can’t seal the Breach on its own. We need the Templars’ help.’ He looked back to our exhausted party, and Cassandra straightened her shoulders and nodded affirmatively at the Herald. ‘We need everyone’s help.’ 

Everyone? The mages included? 

The Templar stepped forward, ‘You speak truths we should never have ignored. But the Order, or what is left of it, is leaderless, gutted by betrayal. We must rebuild it.’

‘No. There is no time. Serve us. Stop the Breach, and then begin again without a stain on your honour. That is our offer.’

‘I, Ser Delrin Barris, will serve. If it is the only way, Templars, will you help the Inquisition to atone for our failure?’ The Templar, Delrin, stepped before his comrades, the ones that were left of the delegation at least. The small group of Templars took off their helmets, and I now saw real faces under the masks I’d always feared. They bent the knee before Maxwell, who seemed to shine brighter and brighter as the now ex-Templars pumped their chests. Delrin turned to us again. ‘The Order will… disband, and take up the Inquisition’s banner.’ 

I didn’t know if I should be happy or sad. I only knew I was incredibly terrified. I knew Templars that could still live… Tibald… Simon… would they join us? Or were they already influenced by the Red Lyrium? And why would they take that stuff? Who needed an army of vicious, mindless Templar monsters? And what kind of army would we get? Would I still be safe in Haven now, or will these “ex”-Templars try to undermine me as a mage again? 

‘I will send a raven to the rest of the Templars, those who are willing to join will travel to Haven. We might not be with great numbers, but we’ll need weapons, training grounds, a place to rest… The Inquisition must prepare for our arrival.’

‘I will alert Commander Cullen of your arrival and have him prepare all you require.’ Maxwell took a step closer. ‘But do know, we might still form another alliance with the rebel mages. I will make sure the Inquisition will have all the power it needs to close that Breach. You are Templars no longer, and we will not tolerate any violence against those who are innocent.’ Maxwell turned to me and nodded as if he had seen the fear in my eyes. 

Delrin bowed again, not uttering a word. I knew they would make trouble with the mages still, but these men were in need of a new cause. Templars always want to fight something. At least they’d be good if we’re ever being attacked. They just need to stay away from me. Far… far away. The Templars turned their backs to us and walked towards their fallen comrades, cradling them in their arms to carry them away. But there was no time to grieve, we all knew that.

‘Oi! You smashed that demon’s arse pretty good!’ The young elven woman who had helped during battle walked towards our group, her lips curled into a dorky smile. I looked her up and down suspiciously, from her funky chopped bangs to her sprout-like nose and freckles. ‘Glad to see you’re… well you’re kind of plain really? All that talk and you’re just… a person.’ Maxwell stared at her with an open mouth. She really doesn’t mince words, does she? ‘I mean, it’s all good, innit? The important thing is, you glow? You’re the Herald thingy?’ 

Maxwell smiled, brushed off his armour coat and looked up to the girl like he hadn’t just fought a demon in his mind, almost lost his life fighting it, and made an alliance with the Templars while disbanding them in one go, ‘First of all, thank you for your arrows.’ He said politely, ‘And second, yes, some call me the Herald of Andraste. But who are you, exactly?’

‘Name’s Sera. Heard you were comin’ here, didn’t expect this whole lot to happen.’ Sera looked around her and raised her eyebrows before wiggling them in a faked surprise. ‘But I’m always in for kickin’ some demon’s butt. I’d like to join that Inquisition thingy of yours.’ 

Maxwell laughed while Cassandra made an angry face and tried to step forward, but he pushed her back slightly. ‘Tell me who you are a little bit more first before I make this decision.’

‘Well… it’s like this… you heard about the friends of Red Jenny? That’s me. Well, I’m one. So is a fence in Montfort, some woman in Kirkwall. There were three in Starkhaven. Brothers or something. It’s just a name, yeah? It lets little people, “friends”, be part of something while they stick it to nobles they hate. So here in your face, I’m Sera. “The Friends of Red Jenny” are sort of out there. I can use them to help you. Plus arrows.’ The girl kept rambling, and I wondered if she’d ever stop.

‘The Inquisition has spies already. Can you add to these professionals?’ Cassandra questioned, her eyes narrowing to slits. 

The girl next started to explain how we “important people” were on top, and something about cods and crushing while making kissing noises, and that her little people could help us to information no one else would get. I didn’t get it all though, her rambling made me dizzy. ‘Look,' she finally finished, ‘Do you need people or not? I want to get everything back to normal. Like you?’

‘Herald, I do not think…’ Cassandra started, but Maxwell raised his hand to stop her, turning his face to show he was thinking. 

‘We could use every able man and woman, Cassandra.’ He finally said after some minutes. ‘All right, Sera. I could use you and your “friends”.’

‘Yes! Get in good before you’re too big to like. That’ll keep your breeches where they should be.’ What now? ‘Anyway, Haven. See you there, Herald. This will be grand!’ Sera jumped up and down with glee and then ran off with a happy scream and something about selling breeches. I knew we would see her appear at Haven sooner or later. 

Maxwell sighed, ‘Good, now can we all please get some rest? I kind of need it.’ 

***

The streets of Val Royeaux were quiet again, though now the silence felt more like an aftermath than an eerie calm. After the fight with the Envy demon, the day had left its mark on all of us—especially Maxwell, who was still recovering from the ordeal with the demon. Exhausted and bloodied, we made our way to the inn. The owner, an older man with a pompous air, beamed when we arrived. His tavern was highly expensive, a place frequented by Orlesian nobles. He was clearly thrilled at the prospect of hosting the Herald of Andraste and the Inquisition, his chest puffing with pride as he welcomed us in, already no doubt dreaming of how he would boast about this to his patrons for years to come.

I barely noticed him. My thoughts were elsewhere—back in Haven. I was worried. This whole situation was spiralling out of control, and I could feel it slipping through our fingers. The Templars had sworn allegiance, yes, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that nothing was going to be the same. The thought of returning to Haven filled me with a strange kind of dread. The place wouldn’t feel like home anymore, not with Templars filling it once more.

I wanted to see it one last time, as it had been—Templar-free, before everything changed again.

My mind also wandered back to a couple of hours ago, when we were walking through the winding streets toward the inn, the cool evening air helping to clear my head. A small figure in the shadows showed herself before us. A woman, elven, small in stature, and draped in familiar circle robes, walked slowly towards us. Her presence was commanding, her sharp eyes locking onto us with purpose.

‘If I might have a moment of your time?’ The woman, who I guessed was in her forties, maybe fifties already, had a soothing voice, but her eyes seemed almost… glazed? Trying not to stand out, I quickly closed my blue eye, but the woman stayed the same. Good. No demon. At least we got that going for us. 

Cassandra turned to the elf with big eyes, ‘Grand Enchanter Fiona?’ 

Solas took a step forward, standing right in front of me, ‘Leader of the mage rebellion. Is it not dangerous for you to be here?’ He looked behind his broad shoulders at me, but I shook my head. Safe. 

‘I heard of this gathering. And I wanted to see the fabled Herald of Andraste with my own eyes. That demon you took down there, it was a good fight indeed. You have quite some talented mages on your side.’ The woman tried to look my way, but Solas positioned himself more and more in front of me. Why was he being so protective now? 

‘I’m surprised the leader of the mages wasn’t at the Conclave?’ Maxwell interrupted, making Fiona focus on him again.

‘Yes,' Cassandra said with a cautious tone, ‘you were supposed to be, and yet somehow you avoided death.’

‘As did the Lord Seeker, or at least his imposter now it seems. Both of us sent negotiators in our stead, in case it was a trap.’ Smart, would’ve done the same. ‘I won’t pretend I’m not glad to live. I lost many dear friends that day. It disgusts me to think the Templars will get away with it, yet, you allied with them?’ 

‘I did, but that does not mean I cannot ally with you. I am not choosing sides in this war of yours, I just want this world not to be destroyed. We need to seal the Breach, we all have a responsibility to close it.’ Maxwell stared at the Enchanter seriously, but I knew he was dead tired inside, done with all those negotiations. But this had to be done, we needed them as much as they needed us. 

‘Good,' Fiona smiled, ‘Then consider this an invitation to Redcliffe: come meet with the mages. An alliance can help us both, after all. And we will find a way to work together, all of us.’ She tried to look at me again, but Solas didn’t let her. ‘I hope to see you there. Au revoir, my Lord Herald.’ The leader of the rebellion smiled coyly, curtsied and turned away. 

Great, now we have to travel to the Hinterlands again.

Varric patted Maxwell’s back, ‘Never thought you were such a good negotiator. I should let you deal with my publisher!’ The Dwarf laughed, but I could see the exhaustion in his eyes. 

‘Come,' Cassandra said, her eyes not leaving Fiona’s figure as she disappeared in the shadows again, ‘Let us return to that tavern.’ 

As we walked, I found myself glancing back in the direction Fiona had gone, a knot of uncertainty twisting in my chest. Redcliffe. An alliance with the mages. The thought of it filled me with both hope and dread.

Notes:

Hope you liked it! Opinions? Comments and kudos are always welcome!

Chapter 29: Uninvited

‘You seem tired.’

‘That’s because I am.’ 

‘They are working you too hard over there. You really shouldn’t overexert yourself—’ 

‘I’m… not. I just need to rest a bit. You mind me staying here?’

‘You know I don’t… I love it when you’re here. I’m just worried, you know.’

‘I know.’ 

Daniel took a step closer to the bed and sat right next to me. I folded my tired arms behind my head like a pillow of muscles and bones. The clan did train me hard every single day I was there. This place was where I would come to relax, to be myself. I could be myself with the Dalish, especially with Nenhara, but with Daniel it was different. With him, I felt like a normal girl again. With him I could be… human. Like I was. 

The Dalish on the other hand, underlined the fact that I was Elven, different from before. They focussed on it, on the history I never had a connection with, on the ears I never felt, on the magic I never had nor wished to have. The clan was my family, my new family, but they unintentionally reminded me of what I wasn’t and never could be. I would never be one of them, always the outsider. I would never be Thedosian, Elven, Dalish… but I could also never be human, an Earthling, normal. I was nothing, yet I was all and everything in between. Daniel didn’t look at me for what I had been or what I was supposed to be. 

To him, I was just Saeris. 

Just me. 

Daniel wiped away a stray hair from my face and folded it behind my ears, which twitched at his touch. I smiled as I stared at his young face, at his perfect kind eyes, his bright long red hair, and the thousands of freckles on his nose and cheeks. I could grow old with this man…

That thought frightened me.

Growing old, here, having a life with him… meant leaving behind everything I was, all the questions left unanswered. Would he even be willing to live with me? 

And like he had seen the questions in my eyes, he smiled tenderly, ‘I wish you could stay with me here, forever.’ 

I stared at him, feeling how my skin started to glow with warmth. Happiness. A rare feeling. I smiled a little, my ears focussing on the murmuring of the woods outside, on the fire crackling in delight, on Daniel’s soft but trembling breathing. He lowered his head closer and closer to mine. And I closed my eyes, raising my head to meet his. 

No sound now but my own heart, beating together with the drum of happiness. 

Our lips met and I couldn’t feel anything beyond him. His rough hands caressed my cheekbones with infinite care, his warm breath engulfing my mouth, my body and every single inch of my mind. And I leaned in. More and more. And our kiss became deeper, filled with a passion we had cherished for the past couple of years, years that had gone by so quickly, almost feeling like seconds. 

But this moment felt like forever. An eternity of blissfulness. And I wished we could become immortal this way.

Daniel let go of my lips, brushing his tongue quickly against mine before he departed, savouring all I was, and all he was. I opened my eyes to stare into his’. He smiled, squinting, and then kissed me again softly. And then again. And again. Like he was making up for all the time we hadn’t spent together.

The clan, my new family, had asked me before I came here, to think. Learn how to fight, defend, and stay with them forever, travelling this strange new world. Receive the Vallaslin. Became a true Dalish. Or refuse, and live with Daniel. 

I made my choice. I will tell them tomorrow. I knew they’d understand, and that I would still be able to visit them, even if they moved further away. 

And then, I would come back here, to Daniel. 

And we would live together, grow old in this eternal happiness we shared. 

How little I knew back then, how stupid I was. And that tender moment of happiness would ghost my mind for the rest of my lonely immortal life. A life without my family. Without him. Without love. 

‘My flower,' he sighed, the corners of his lips curling into a smile. His hands glided to my waist, guiding me to his bed. 

***

The sun crawled between the velvet curtains of my room, glowing warm rays onto my skin, urging me to open my eyes. The bed creaked underneath me as I stretched my limbs. I turned around in the soft blankets, my face buried into the sea of pillows.

Val Royeaux's luxury had spoiled me for one night, though it hadn’t dulled my wariness. I stretched, the soreness in my limbs reminding me of the battle with the Envy demon the day before. I had barely slept since arriving here, and the deep, dreamless rest had come as a relief. Yesterday so many things happened. Blood had been spilt, hope had been lost, and regained… and I had been so tired, so… empty? I knew now even my body could become exhausted by using too much magic. This body might be immortal, but it wasn’t made out of steel. What would happen if I push myself too far, I wondered?

 

The morning light spilled through the window as I dressed quickly, pulling on my travel gear. My black cloak hung loosely around me, its fur-trimmed hood down as I made my way down the inn’s winding staircase. Every step I took echoed softly in the extravagant halls. The inn was fancy, grander than anything I had stayed in for years. Maxwell’s room, I remembered, even had a balcony and a view of the city’s sprawling rooftops.

The breakfast room was no different from the rest of the inn—luxurious. Gilded mirrors, fine china, and silver cutlery lined the tables, while fresh bouquets of flowers filled the air with sweet scents. The servants moved about briskly, carrying trays and filling goblets with freshly pressed juice. But it wasn’t the setting that made me uncomfortable.

The servants—all of them were Elves.

As I entered the room, they glanced at me, but not with warmth. The same familiar looks—grimaces, frowns, the dismissal in their eyes. They saw an Elf, like them, but dressed well, carrying herself differently. They glanced at me, at Solas, who was already sitting at the far table, and then they quickly looked away, their lips tight with disapproval.

It wasn’t uncommon here. In Orlais, Elves were little more than servants. I heard Val Royeaux’s Elves had it even worse than in Kirkwall. I’d grown used to seeing Elven servants—at least as much as one could—but I could feel the sting of their judgement. It was a reminder that, no matter where I went, I didn’t belong.

I scanned the room, searching for the familiar faces of my companions, but only Solas sat at the table, quietly sipping from a cup. His expression was unreadable as usual, but he nodded in acknowledgment when I joined him.

‘Where are the others?’ I asked, glancing around, half expecting to see Varric’s casual grin or Maxwell’s tired but determined face.

Solas set his cup down gently. ‘The Herald has been invited to a salon,’ he said, his voice calm and measured. ‘By Madame de Fer, the Imperial Enchantress of the Orlesian Court, no less. They’ve gone to the chateau of Duke Bastien de Ghislain.’

I frowned, a pang of irritation rising in me. ‘They left without me?’

‘Maxwell did not wish to wake you,’ Solas continued, his gaze steady. ‘You were exhausted from yesterday’s events. He thought it best to let you rest.’

I sighed, a mixture of gratitude and frustration bubbling up inside me. Maxwell had meant well, but still, being left behind didn’t sit right with me. ‘I could’ve gone,’ I muttered, crossing my arms. ‘I’ve faced worse than an Orlesian salon.’

Solas gave a small, almost imperceptible smile. ‘Perhaps. But Maxwell has his duties, as you know. The role of Herald of Andraste calls to him, even when he is tired.’

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. Duty. The word felt like a chain, something that bound him, and now the rest of us, to this impossible task. ‘And besides,’ Solas added, his voice lowering slightly, ‘two Elven apostates are hardly welcomed guests at an Orlesian salon.’

There was a sharp truth in his words, one that stung more than I liked to admit. He wasn’t wrong. No matter how much we had done, how much we had fought, the Orlesian elite would see me as nothing more than an apostate. An Elven apostate.

Fuck them.

I sighed again, sinking into the chair across from him. ‘So what do we do now?’ I asked, trying to push down the frustration building in my chest.

Solas looked thoughtful, his eyes distant as he swirled the juice in his cup. ‘We wait,’ he said simply. ‘And when they return, we shall see what this meeting has brought. The salons of Orlais are rarely straightforward. There will be more than pleasantries exchanged.’

I nodded, though I couldn’t shake the nagging sense of being left out. It wasn’t that I wanted to be at the salon, mingling with Orlesian nobles—far from it. But I hated feeling useless, like a forgotten piece in the greater game being played around us.

‘It seems strange,’ I mused aloud, my thoughts drifting. ‘That we’re here, in Val Royeaux, dealing with Orlesian politics, while the world is literally tearing itself apart around us. And we’re... waiting.’

Solas raised an eyebrow, watching me with his ever-keen eyes. ‘Politics have always played a role in shaping the world, whether we like it or not. Even in the face of war and chaos.’

He was right, of course. But that didn’t make it any less frustrating.

‘Still,’ I said after a moment, ‘I’d rather be back in Haven. At least there, I know what to expect.’

Solas smiled faintly at that, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. ‘We all long for what feels familiar. But in times like these, we must adapt.’

I sighed, resting my chin on my hand as I stared at the empty plates before me. The inn was luxurious, the food was probably delicious, and yet, all I could think about was getting back on the road—back to something real.

Solas sat quietly across from me, his presence oddly calming, despite the storm of thoughts in my mind. I didn’t want to admit it, but part of me appreciated his company. Even if he was strange, even if he unsettled me at times, there was something... grounding about him. A stillness I envied.

‘So, now we just wait around?’ I said after another moment of awkward silence.

Solas watched me with quiet interest. ‘If that is what you would like. Otherwise, we could take a walk?’ he asked, his voice smooth as ever.

I hesitated, not because I had something better to do, but because the idea of wandering the streets of Val Royeaux with its glittering nobles and aloof Elven servants didn’t exactly appeal to me. But, with nothing else to occupy my time, I gave a nod. ‘Why not?’

We stepped out of the inn, the city bustling around us with its characteristic Orlesian flair. The clink of metal armour and the rustling of fine silks filled the air. The sharp smells of pastries and perfumes mingled together as Orlesians went about their business, walking with that haughty air that came so naturally to them.

‘Is there anywhere in particular you wish to visit?’ Solas asked as we walked, his gaze shifting from the buildings to the people, as if the entire city was a specimen to be studied.

I shook my head. ‘Not really. I’m not interested in mingling with... their kind.’

He turned his head slightly, one brow arching. ‘Their kind?’

‘Orlesians,’ I clarified, waving a hand dismissively. I avoided looking directly at him.

Solas considered me for a moment, as if weighing my words. ‘Not humans, then?’

I let out a dry laugh. ‘No. Just Orlesians.’

The quiet that followed made me wonder if I had said too much. There was a reason I didn’t like this place, a reason I avoided Orlais when I could. But explaining that to Solas, explaining that I had fought in a rebellion that took place over a hundred years ago—that Orlesians had killed people I loved, had driven me into a battle I’d never wanted to fight—it was impossible. How could I explain that? How could I even begin to tell him that I had lived a life so long that this place, this city, felt like a scar that hadn’t healed?

‘I see,’ Solas murmured, his eyes drifting thoughtfully toward the horizon. He wasn’t pushing for more, but I could feel his curiosity simmering beneath the surface.

I cleared my throat and changed the subject, pointing toward a path that led to a quieter part of the city. ‘There’s a botanical garden nearby, isn’t there?’

Solas’ lips curved into a faint smile. ‘Indeed there is. A fine choice.’

We made our way there in silence, the atmosphere between us shifting into something calmer. The garden was a quiet refuge from the noise and grandeur of the city. Exotic flora from all over Thedas filled the space—rare plants from the Frostback Mountains, strange vines from the Korcari Wilds, and colourful flowers from Antiva. The vibrant greens, yellows, and reds pulled my attention, distracting me from the heavy thoughts swirling in my mind.

Solas walked beside me through the quiet botanical garden, his expression calm as ever, though I could feel his gaze every now and then. 

In the quietness of the garden, I couldn’t help but think back to the demon we fought the day before—its power, the way it had ensnared Maxwell in the Fade. I had tried to help, to enter the demon’s mind, but I failed. I wasn’t strong enough, wasn’t focused enough. The guilt gnawed at me.

We passed a bed of delicate blue flowers—forget-me-nots—and I stopped, brushing my fingers over their petals. My thoughts were distant, tugged back to the battle, to Maxwell’s cries, to the cold reality that I hadn’t done enough.

‘You seem troubled,’ Solas said, his voice soft.

I shook my head, still looking down at the flowers. ‘I wasn’t strong enough,’ I muttered. ‘When Maxwell was trapped in the Fade... I tried to help him, to enter the demon’s mind, but I couldn’t. I lost focus. If he had died...’ I trailed off, the frustration bubbling to the surface.

Solas paused beside me, his gaze steady. ‘It is no small thing to enter another’s dream, let alone the mind of a demon,’ he said quietly. ‘Even those of us who are Dreamers do not take such an act lightly. You cannot blame yourself for that.’

His words were meant to reassure me, but they only sharpened my resolve. I had been training with Solas for some time now, learning to shape the Fade, to control my own dreams. But this—this was different. Entering another person’s dream, especially one clouded by a demon—it was a skill I didn’t yet have.

‘I should have been able to do more,’ I said, my voice harder than I intended. ‘Maxwell could have died because I wasn’t prepared.’

Solas was silent for a moment, his gaze thoughtful. ‘What you attempted is not something that can be easily mastered,’ he said. ‘But with time and practice, you can become stronger. You already have a remarkable connection to the Fade, Saeris. You’ve shaped it in ways that few can.’

I met his eyes, my frustration and guilt still simmering beneath the surface. ‘Then teach me,’ I said, the words coming out more determined than I expected. ‘Not just to shape the Fade. Teach me to enter other people's dreams, to remain focused even in the presence of a demon. I need to be able to help, to not be a liability the next time something like this happens.’

Solas blinked, a flicker of surprise crossing his features before he nodded slowly. ‘It is no small request,’ he said, his voice careful. ‘Entering the mind of another—especially when demons are involved—requires immense focus and strength. You must be prepared for the consequences. But if this is what you wish... I will teach you.’

I exhaled slowly, feeling a weight lift from my chest. Solas wasn’t offering out of duty or pity—he truly believed I could learn, that I could become stronger.

‘Thank you,’ I said softly, the tension in my shoulders easing just a little.

Solas gave a faint smile, the quiet understanding between us settling like a fragile truce. ‘You have the potential, Saeris,’ he said, his tone almost gentle. ‘But you must be patient with yourself. The Fade is not a place of absolutes. It is shaped by thought and emotion, and entering another’s mind... is an act of trust and understanding. You will need both.’

I nodded, absorbing his words, though the lingering guilt from the previous day still clung to me. I had to become stronger—not just for myself, but for those I fought beside. I wouldn’t let another moment like that slip through my fingers again.

Solas and I continued our walk through the garden, our conversation returning to the Fade and what had transpired with the Envy demon. Solas, as always, spoke with an air of authority, his knowledge of the Fade vast and deep. He knows so much for a man of his age. He explained how the Envy demon must have woven its magic through Maxwell’s mind, how such creatures preyed on insecurity and self-doubt. I listened, absorbing his words.

‘It’s difficult,’ Solas mused as we walked, his hands clasped behind his back, ‘to fight a demon of such power within the Fade. It twists reality, warps your thoughts. Your inability to focus was not a sign of weakness, Saeris. It was the nature of the battle.’

I glanced at him, his calm demeanour frustrating me slightly. ‘But you would have handled it better. You wouldn’t have let the demon get the upper hand.’

Solas gave me a slight smile, though his eyes remained thoughtful. ‘Perhaps. But that is why I am teaching you, no? With time, you will become stronger, more adept at resisting the pull of such creatures. Entering another’s mind, especially one under the control of a demon, is a skill few possess.’

I nodded. I would learn. I had to. The Fade was a part of me, more than I could explain. I had to master it, or it would master me.

As the afternoon light began to dim, we made our way back through the city streets toward the inn. The grand architecture of Val Royeaux seemed to loom over us, a constant reminder of the power and politics that filled this place. The Orlesian nobility and their games of courtly intrigue... I had no patience for any of it. Solas seemed at ease, observing the world around him with his ever-present sense of curiosity.

When we arrived back at the inn, we found Maxwell, Cassandra, and Varric waiting for us. 

I ran outside towards them, Solas on my heels. 

‘Saeris!’ Maxwell smiled and opened his arms for a hug, but I stopped right in front of him. No intention of hugging. My eyes scanned his body, my eyes twirling to see if anything was off. But he was alright. ‘I’m fine, I’m fine!’ he laughed. 

‘Why wouldn’t you be, darling?’ A woman, regal and poised, with a commanding presence that made it clear she was no ordinary human, stepped from behind Maxwell. 

Maxwell stepped forward, gesturing to the woman. ‘Saeris, Solas, let me introduce you.’ He straightened his back and raised his eyebrows as I frowned. ‘This is Vivienne de Fer, Enchanter to the Imperial Court of Orlais.’ The woman, Vivienne, raised her chin, a small smile curling on her lips, but her eyes remained cold. ‘Madame,' Maxwell turned to Vivienne, ‘this is Solas, our Fade expert.’

Solas stepped forward and gave a small but polite curtsy, ‘Good evening.’

Vivienne nodded, her sneer deepening as Maxwell turned to me, ‘And this is Saeris, Healer of the Inquisition.’ 

‘I’m honoured to make your acquaintance,' I smiled sheepishly and stared her up and down. Vivienne’s robes were immaculate, fine silks and gold accents that marked her as someone of great importance. She carried herself with the air of a queen, though her smile was sharp and calculating. There was something about her that immediately set me on edge. Her ebony skin gleamed against the crisp Enchanter robes she wore. A steel, embellished and horned helmet was placed on top of her head, elongating her slender neck. I stared at her, from the gold-encrusted boots to the snobby sneer on her full lips. This was the Enchanter of the Orlesian court who’s salon Maxwell was invited to. I could tell she was a Circle mage through and through. Everything I had spent my life avoiding, she embodied.

‘A pleasure,’ Vivienne said smoothly, her accent lilting with a haughtiness that wasn’t quite Orlesian. I recognised it, though—Ostwick, or something close to it. She regarded Solas and me with a careful eye, though her gaze lingered on me, as if sizing me up. I couldn’t tell if she was wary of us as apostates, or merely curious. ‘I have heard so much about you. We should absolutely speak sometime, my dear.’ 

‘Madame de Fer has joined the Inquisition, and will be travelling with us back to Haven.’ Cassandra said, her voice neutral. 

‘That is great. The more souls, the merrier.’ I lied obviously, my pleasant smile intentionally not reaching my eyes. ‘When will we resume our journey?’ 

‘We’ll be leaving shortly now,' Maxwell grinned as he eyed me, ‘And thanks to Madame, we’ll be travelling in style.’

***

In style he said. It’ll be fun he said. 

I stood at the edge of the boat, my hands gripping the wooden railing as the ship cut through the waters of the Waking Sea with surprising speed. The breeze carried the salty tang of the ocean air, but it did little to ease the tightness in my chest. Boats always made me uneasy, and not without reason. Even after all these years, the memory of those raiders, their cruel laughter, and the way the ocean had roared around me like a living, hungry thing, still lingered.

I watched as a raven—Leliana's raven—soared high above, its sleek black form dipping and weaving in the wind. The bird was carrying a report back to Haven, detailing the mess we’d just left behind in Val Royeaux. Maxwell had received a note in return, instructing us to make a small detour to the Storm Coast. There, a band of mercenaries awaited, eager to negotiate with the Herald personally. A minor diversion, but the sooner we got back to solid ground, the better.

Vivienne's yacht, though luxurious, was far from reassuring. It wasn’t built for battle, with its polished wood, fine detailing, and opulent design meant for leisurely sails along calm waters. Even its sails were a pristine white, catching the wind like silk sheets. We weren’t taking a pleasure cruise, though. I couldn’t shake the feeling that, despite its speed, we were vulnerable—floating on this vessel through waters that held too many memories.

As I leaned on the rail, staring into the endless blue, I heard the familiar clink of metal-heeled boots and the creak of wood as Varric sauntered over to me. He came to a stop beside me, his crossbow, Bianca, slung casually over his shoulder.

‘You alright there, Twinkle?’ he asked, his voice carrying that warm, teasing lilt. ‘You’ve been standing at this spot for hours now. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re getting sentimental about the ocean.’

I huffed a soft laugh, shaking my head. ‘Hardly.’

Varric gave me a sideways glance, one eyebrow raised. ‘Something bothering you? Or is it just the usual aversion to boats?’

I hesitated for a moment, still watching the raven until it disappeared into the horizon. ‘Let’s just say I’ve had... encounters on the sea before. Not all of them pleasant.’

That was putting it lightly. But I wasn’t about to dive into the details of those days. Not with Varric, not with anyone. Some stories were best left buried beneath the waves.

Varric, of course, latched onto the vagueness like a Mabari with a bone. His curiosity always got the better of him. ‘Oh? Raiders, pirates, or something even worse? You can’t just leave it at that, Twinkle. You’ve gotta give me something.’

I smiled faintly, though it didn’t reach my eyes. ‘Raiders from the Felicisima Armada. A long time ago. Let’s just say it’s not a story I care to revisit.’

His grin widened, ‘The Felicisima Armada? Was the Captain named Isabela by any chance?’

‘No.’ 

‘Too bad, could’ve been a fun trip.’ Varric chuckled. ‘But hey, you survived.’

‘Apparently,' I winked at him, ‘by pure luck.’

‘Do I hear an epic story coming up?’ 

‘Maybe another time,’ I grinned, ‘Don’t want to think about it as long as I’m on this boat.’

‘Fair enough,’ he said, leaning against the rail beside me, but he didn’t push further, which I was grateful for. Varric was good that way. He knew when not to press too hard. ‘But if you ever change your mind, you know I’m always up for a good sea story. Especially one with raiders.’

I turned my gaze back to the sea, watching as the water swirled in the yacht’s wake. The ship continued its smooth glide, the Waking Sea stretching endlessly before us, but no matter how calm the surface looked, I knew better than to trust it.

‘How long until we reach the Storm Coast?’ I asked, more to distract myself than anything else.

Varric shrugged. ‘With this yacht? Half the time it’d usually take. This Vivienne’s got some fine taste when it comes to boats.’

I nodded, but the unease lingered in my gut. Faster didn’t necessarily mean safer. But at least it meant I’d be off this boat sooner than later.

Varric straightened up, giving me a light pat on the arm before heading back toward the others. ‘Try not to brood too much,’ he said over his shoulder. ‘It’s just water. You’ve fought worse things than a few waves.’

I watched him go, then turned back to the sea, gripping the rail a little tighter. Varric was right, of course. I had fought worse things. 

The waves crashed against the wooden ship, and I heard it creak against the power. I closed my eyes again as I followed the rocking of the deck, and my mind wandered to memories from long before the Dragon Age. I remembered Sybil’s crying face, distraught from the loss of her mother. I remembered how Cecilia had looked at me, that grin on her lips as I made her that deal. I remembered Aarón and the muted sounds of his fiddle strumming sailor’s songs. I remembered being locked up below deck, counting the days by his melodies.

‘You came from the Circle of Ostwick, did you not?’ Vivienne’s voice brought me out of my trance, and I straightened my back, trying not to grimace as I looked at her. She was a tall woman, just as tall as me. She had seemed young at first, but if I looked somewhat closer, I noticed small wrinkles appearing next to her sneering eyes. 

‘I was... there for a time,’ I answered carefully.

Vivienne’s lips curled into a knowing smile. ‘Ostwick,’ she repeated, as if tasting the word. ‘I spent some time there myself when I was very young. Before I was sent to Montsimmard. I wonder, do you know Senior Enchanter Lydia?’

The mention of Lydia's name tugged at something deep inside me, but I didn’t let it show. ‘I knew her,’ I said, my tone guarded.

Vivienne sighed softly, the kind of sigh one makes when mourning a tragic loss. ‘Lydia was a great friend of mine,’ she said, her voice dipping into something that almost sounded sincere. ‘Such a shame what happened to her. I heard she was... murdered by one of her own pupils. A rebel mage.’

Her words, though wrapped in velvet, struck like a knife. I felt my jaw tighten. ‘No one knows who killed her,’ I corrected, the memory of Lydia’s body in the Great Hall flashing in my mind. Could’ve been that snobby Ruth, or her ex-lover, Tibald. I hadn’t been there, I was… with Simon when it happened. 

Doesn’t matter now, don’t think about it. It’s over. 

Vivienne tilted her head slightly, observing me with those sharp eyes of hers. ‘Perhaps,’ she mused, as if the matter was of little consequence. Then, with that same disarming charm, she shifted the conversation. ‘But I do wonder, Saeris, are you a loyalist like many of your peers from Ostwick?’

I felt her question hanging between us, loaded with subtle implications. Vivienne was known for her loyalty to the Circle, to the established order. She wasn’t simply curious—she was measuring me, gauging whether I was an ally or a threat.

‘I don’t consider myself a Circle mage,’ I said, keeping my voice steady. ‘And I’m neither a loyalist nor a rebel. This... war,’ I gestured vaguely, ‘it isn’t mine.’

For a moment, Vivienne said nothing, but I could feel the air shift between us. She was not pleased. Her lips pursed, just slightly, before she smiled again, though it was more like a mask slipping into place.

‘How very... neutral of you,’ she said, though her tone carried a note of disapproval. ‘But neutrality, my dear, is a luxury few can afford these days. Unfortunately, we are all part of this war. The outcome of it will affect every single one of us.’ Vivienne turned to me, staring into my eyes with a serious look. ‘One day, you might not have a choice but to choose a side.’

I raised an eyebrow. ‘Maybe. I have been an apostate all my life and being in the Circle never changed that. The rebels aren’t my kind. They never knew what life I had, they only knew the life in the Circle. I will never be able to choose a side if my side does not exist, Madame, as far as I know.’

Vivienne clicked her tongue. ‘In my own experience, nothing is more deadly to a young mage than a lack of knowledge. Never forget, my dear. Magic is dangerous, just as fire is dangerous. Anyone who forgets this truth gets burned.’ She turned around to walk away with a snazzy pace, but she almost yelped as Solas appeared next to me. Why does he do that? ‘Ah,' she sneered, ‘Another apostate?’ 

Solas smiled politely, his hands clasped behind his back. ‘That is correct, Enchanter. I too did not train in your Circle.’

Vivienne regained her posture. ‘Well, dear, I hope you can take care of yourself, should we encounter anything outside your experience.’

‘I will try, in my own fumbling way, to learn from how you helped seal the rifts at Haven.’ Solas didn’t betray any emotion before he said, ‘Ah, wait. My memory misleads me. You were not there.’ Ow damn. Good to know Solas doesn’t need magic to burn someone. 

Vivienne scoffed and raised her chin and then walked away to her sheltered bedroom below deck. Bet that was quite a hit, being out-played by an Elven apostate. I looked at Solas and smiled, ‘You just made my day!’ 

Solas watched me closely, his pale blue eyes keen, as if he could see right through me. I looked away quickly, fearing my sea sickness would combine with that familiar ache and I’d throw up… again. I raised my arms above my head to stretch my limbs. Solas leaned against the balustrade with one arm and tilted his head slightly, a small gesture that carried more weight than I liked. ‘You seem... uncomfortable, Saeris,’ he said quietly. ‘Are you unwell?’

I forced a smile, hoping to brush off his concern. ‘No, I’m fine,’ I replied, though my answer was perhaps a touch too quick. ‘I’m just not fond of sailing.’

Solas raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. ‘I see. Haven’t you sailed often? You’ve mentioned before that you’ve travelled extensively. I would have thought you’d be accustomed to it by now.’

I glanced at him, my heart skipping just slightly. Of course, I had travelled far and wide over the years, but the sea... the sea had never been kind to me. And Solas—ever the astute observer—had caught on to something.

‘I preferred to travel by foot,’ I said quickly, hoping to steer the conversation away from anything that could reveal too much. I tried to sound casual, but Solas’s gaze lingered on me, and I knew I hadn’t quite fooled him.

He smiled then, a soft, knowing smile that made my stomach tighten. ‘By foot,’ he repeated, his tone gentle but curious. ‘That must have taken quite some time.’

I hesitated, his words cutting closer to the truth than I liked. My pulse quickened as I scrambled for something to say. Of course, travelling by foot had taken time—far more than any normal life could have accounted for. Almost two hundred years, in fact, but that wasn’t something I could explain. Not now. Not ever.

‘Well, yes, it did,’ I stammered, feeling the cracks in my carefully crafted façade. ‘But... I’m—’I caught myself, my mind racing for an excuse. ‘I’m just... hungry, that’s all. I haven’t eaten much today.’

Solas studied me for a moment longer, his eyes flickering with something like amusement. But then, mercifully, he let it go. He nodded slightly, stepping back as if to give me space. ‘Of course,’ he said quietly. ‘Hunger can make anyone uneasy.’

I let out a breath, feeling my shoulders relax ever so slightly. I had dodged his curiosity for now, but I knew that Solas wasn’t the kind to let things slip so easily. He had seen through me, just a little, and it wouldn’t be the last time. 

Solas nodded and stared at me as I walked off. 

When the sun had gone down, our party assembled near the centre of the deck. Torches were hanging down from the mast of the ship, casting warm lights on our group. We sat down in a circle on the floor, except for Vivienne of course, who had a chair brought up from her room. Varric began telling stories, which started to become a tradition during our travels. Maxwell was dozing off after the first fifteen minutes, his head leaning against Cassandra’s shoulder. She didn’t seem to mind as her cheeks glowed a soft red. As Varric told his story, Vivienne interrupted him countless times. ‘Is that true, my dear?' and ‘I have heard otherwise,' or ‘That seems unlikely, dear.’ And I saw Varric getting more annoyed by the minute. 

‘Hey, Twinkle, tell me about that time with the Raiders.’ Varric winked tiredly. Solas, who was leaning against a pole, in the dark, looked up to me. 

‘Another time, perhaps.’ I smiled politely.

‘Pretty please?’

I stared at the torches’ curling flames and smiled. ‘I can’t give you a story, but I can give you a song?’

‘Even better!’ Varric turned to look at Vivienne, and she huffed. 

Closing my eyes, I let my voice carry the familiar tones. No fiddle was needed, just my memory. A song I first heard from the Raiders, and the first song I had sung with my fiddle in The Hanged Man. 

I've been a wild rover for many a year
And I've spent all my money on whiskey and beer
And now I'm returning with gold in great store
And I never will play the wild rover no more

And it's no, nay, never
No, nay, never, no more
And I'll play the wild rover
No never, no more

…

*** 

‘You should sing more often, Twinkle.’ Varric yawned.

‘Maybe…’ I smiled, my eyes getting tired too. ‘But for now, I’m returning to bed.’ Maxwell had already stumbled to bed, and so had Vivienne and Cassandra. Varric nodded one too many times, indicating he too would go to bed soon. I stood up from our little circle and strolled back to my cabin. As I stopped before the door, a voice suddenly whispered behind me and I yelped. 

‘JESUS,' I cried, and then composed myself to whisper, ‘Solas, damn it, stop being so sneaky.’

Solas leant against the wall next to my door, his grey eyes almost enlightening his face. ‘Jesus?’

‘Never mind that,' I sighed. 

Even in the dark, I could feel Solas’ smirk. ‘Come meet with me.’

A blush crept over my cheeks, and I swallowed hard to keep the nauseating ache away, ‘Excuse me?’

‘In the Fade. Find me.’ A challenge. 

I nodded and grinned back. Solas hummed and pushed himself off the wall to go back to his own cabin. I stayed until I saw his figure completely disappear in the dark. Then, I entered my room and wouldn’t come out until noon.

***

The Fade surrounded me, lulling me. I was in The Hanged Man, in Kirkwall. Through the small windows, I could see it was by nightfall. The smell of ale and sweat filled my nostrils. A soft murmuring danced through the tavern air, and I saw shadows of would-be patrons, but I didn’t feel like giving all of them a face. 

No, I wasn’t here to stay. I had to find Solas. But how do I do that? 

I walked towards the door of the tavern that led to Lowtown and placed my hand on the rusty door knob. But before I twisted it to open, I thought of Solas. 

Not the ache I had with him, not that warning feeling, but who he was as a person.

Magic and elfroot. Wool and old leather. Soft cotton and bone. Spirits. Protectiveness. Knowledge. Freckles. Grey eyes that see everything. And seem so, so old. 

I twisted the doorknob, and it opened silently. But not to Lowtown, Kirkwall, but to a place somewhere else. I gazed upon a large open field encircled by huge, strange trees that I hadn’t seen before. Rocks floated like clouds in the skies, waterfalls of not water, but magic pouring down from them to a place beyond the horizon. I blinked my eyes, not once, but twice as I saw spirits jumping from tree to tree, drifting through this place with no worries. There were no boundaries that kept them away, they were welcome here. Like friends. 

I stepped through the door, but didn’t close it behind me, and strolled towards that meadow, and with every step, my eyes averted to the door. Still there. Still there. 

‘Good. You found me.’ Solas appeared from behind the trees. This time I saw him coming. 

I smiled, ‘Wasn’t that difficult, actually.’ I looked him up and down, my green eye twirling and spitting. Not a reflection. Just him, dressed in his everyday clothes. A simple cotton tunic, no green woollen overcoat this time, his tattered pants and foot wraps, and his favourite jawline necklace. 

I glanced at the door again. Still there. 

Solas stepped around me, his eyes almost… checking me out? ‘Hey!’ I mumbled and stepped away from him before realising I wasn’t wearing my normal gear anymore, but a simple white dress. ‘What the…’ 

‘You stopped focusing.’ He smiled innocently. 

I hummed and willed my other clothes back, and with a snap, I was again wearing my travel outfit, just like before. ‘You got me.’ I smiled sheepishly. ‘So, how will this training go?’

Solas held his head to the side, never looking away from my eyes, ‘I will test you, see if you can learn to remain focussed.’ 

‘I am.’ 

‘You are now,' he corrected. ‘Walk with me.’ We strolled through the meadow and towards the forest. As we entered the treeline, I could still see my door, and I willed it silently to follow me through the woods so I could keep an eye on it. 

‘Where are we?’

‘A place I found during my travels. Many spirits venture to this place in the Fade.’

‘Like a gathering?’

‘Something like that.’ 

‘You told me,' glance at the door, still there, glance at the outfit, luckily still there as well, ‘you made friendships with spirits. Can I meet them?’

Solas raised his brows a little, ‘You would?’ 

‘I met spirits before. A spirit of Learning once helped guide me. But I haven’t seen it ever since.’ 

‘The existence of spirits is not of a fleeting nature. That spirit will find you again when you have need of it.’

‘I don’t really need a spirit of Learning now, I have you, no?’ I smiled playfully. Solas nodded, his face remaining neutral. ‘But, tell me, how do you know you aren’t conversing with a demon?’

Solas hummed approvingly, ‘I learned how to defend myself against more aggressive spirits and how to interact safely with the rest.’

‘Aggressive spirits… meaning demons?’

Solas gave me an encouraging look as he said, ‘The Fade, as you know, reflects the mind of the living. If you expect a spirit of wisdom, for example, to be a pride demon, it will adapt. And if your mind is free from corrupting influences? If you understand the nature of the spirit? They can be fast friends.’

‘Still, it’s impressive. Learning only guided me, nothing more, nothing less.’

‘Yet, you had the potential of creating a bond and were open to it. Few ever try. My friends comforted me in my grief and shared my joy. Yet because they exist without form as we understand it, the Chantry declares that spirits are not truly people. But is Cassandra defined by her cheekbones and not her faith? Varric by his chest hair and not his wit?’

‘True… Maybe next time I encounter a spirit, I’ll think about what you said.’ I smiled.

‘Few are willing to even entertain such a notion. Thank you.’ Solas smiled back and raised his hand. I followed his gestures, seeing how his fingers painted invisible patterns in the air, and suddenly the trees turned aside, giving way to another open meadow. ‘Come,' he nodded. 

And I followed, asking more and more questions about his spirit friends. And he answered them softly, telling me about spirits of Wisdom and Purpose, and in turn, I told him about Learning, and how it had been bound to Tsura, the Rivaini seer I’d met. And he listened to me with intrigue in his eyes. The more we talked, the more I seemed to forget. The more my focus seemed to wade away like foam. 

The door! I stopped talking and looked back, my eyes full of panic. It was gone. I turned to Solas and he smiled innocently. 

Shit!

I took a step back, willing the door with my mind. Return. Return? Return!

‘Focus, Saeris.’ Solas walked around me, his voice strumming through my mind. Focus. Focus. Focus. I opened my eyes again and saw the door again standing near the back of the meadow. 

‘Good.’ Solas chuckled. 

How did he do all of this with such ease? I’m around two hundred years old and even I can’t control the Fade like that. How much time did he spend sleeping? I sighed, wiping the sweat from my forehead. ‘You really know how to challenge someone.’

‘As a teacher should.’ Solas hummed. ‘But in its entirety, Saeris, you are doing remarkably well.’

‘I had practice,' I cursed. 

‘You had.’ Solas hummed as he stepped closer to me again. ‘You have your way out in eyesight and know how to find it when lost. Yet, never lose your focus.’

‘I’m trying.’ I laughed tiredly and looked up at him again. He came closer now, maybe too close. If we hadn’t been in the Fade, my stomach would’ve emptied itself already. But now, silence overtook us, and I felt my green eye flare with the beat of my heart.

‘You are truly fascinating,' Solas whispered, and I wondered if I was supposed to hear that.

I swallowed hard. Control that heartbeat of yours, I’m sure he can hear it. Don’t act all nervous now. Why would I even be nervous? Solas stepped closer again until his face was right up to mine. And deep in my mind, a lost memory of Daniel ghosted me. A memory of his eyes, of his smile, of his lips on mine… a memory of happiness. 

And it scared me. 

Solas suddenly raised his hands and rested them on my shoulders. I looked up at him with a confused stare. My heart was thundering in my chest, completely out of control. ‘What are you…’

But Solas chuckled and whispered, his lips almost touching my ears, ‘You lost focus.’ 

And then he pushed me out of his dream. 

***

I pushed myself up, my elbows deep into the fluffy mattress of the bed. The boat was still rocking solemnly on the waves, the drum of the wind against the sails trembling through my cabin. 

That bastard pushed me out. Damn it! 

‘Fenedhis lasa, Solas!’ I threw my arms against my pillows as a silent curse. 

I resumed sleep again not much later, but the Fade couldn’t find me anymore that night. 

Notes:

Hey everyone! So, I have a favour to ask. I'm not entirely satisfied with the synopsis I currently have for this fic, and I was wondering if one of you would want to help me out? If you have any ideas, comment them down below! Of course I'll mention your name if your synopsis is used!

If you liked this chapter, you can always leave me a kudo or a comment!

Chapter 30: Bullied

Maxwell’s voice cut through the damp air, his groggy words loud enough to be heard over the rain and the sound of the waves slapping against the hull of the boat.

‘I swear, when we get back on land, the first thing I’m doing is eating Flissa’s stew. Solid land and a solid meal. Is that too much to ask?’

Varric chuckled from his spot by the mast. ‘For someone who dreams so much about food, you sure do whine a lot. Get it? Wine ?’

I stood near the edge of the boat, my gaze lost in the grey, churning sea, the cold rain drizzling down. My hood was pulled tightly over my head, a weak shield against the miserable weather. The Waking Sea was relentless, never allowing me a moment’s peace. My thoughts were swirling, carried by the same relentless force as the ocean, pulling me back to places I’d rather not visit.

‘Come on, Saeris, you’re not going to sulk in your hood all day, are you?’ Maxwell teased, breaking into my thoughts. His voice had a playful edge, trying to lighten the mood. I didn’t respond, but that didn’t stop him. Before I could react, he playfully tugged at my hood, pulling it back and letting the rain hit my face.

I glared at him, though the corner of my mouth twitched in amusement. ‘You know, you’re getting too comfortable with that Herald of Andraste title,’ I quipped, pulling my hood back up. The rain immediately soaked through the loose strands of my white hair.

Maxwell grinned, leaning against the railing next to me. ‘Guilty as charged,’ he said, then after a pause, ‘Have you ever been to the Storm Coast before?’

My eyes drifted back out over the waves. The Storm Coast. It had been years since I’d first set foot there, but the memories had begun to creep back the closer we got. When I left Nenhara. When I left Daniel. When I fought with the rebellion. When Sybil died. The Storm Coast was a place of only melancholy. Highever, West Hill, all of the Coastlands… I had spent a lot of time here… ‘Some time ago, very quickly, when I left home for the Free Marches.’

‘Home…’ Maxwell mused, the word humming between his lips, ‘Would you ever go back?’

‘There’s nothing to go back to.’ I swallowed, ‘My home is here now. With the Inquisition.’

Maxwell was quiet for a moment, processing my words. He let out a sigh, his expression thoughtful. ‘I…miss home,’ he said after a while. ‘It’s normal, isn’t it? To miss it.’

‘Of course it is,’ I replied. ‘But you’ll go back one day. When all of this is over.’

He smiled faintly, though his eyes were distant, his mind elsewhere. ‘I hope so,’ he said softly. Then he shifted, as if trying to shake off the melancholy. ‘I have a sister, you know. She used to always tease me about how much I complained too. My sister would’ve liked you. She has your… spunk .’

‘Spunk?’ I grinned, ‘And you have a sister?’

‘I do.’ He smiled faintly, a sad tone to it, and looked at his shoes. ‘But I haven’t seen or heard Evelyn in years. I wonder if she’s alright.’

‘If she has your stubbornness, I don’t think you have to worry.' I smiled, not knowing what else to say… or feel. ‘I had a sister too, you know.’ I said before I could stop myself.

Maxwell lifted his head to me, his eyes finding mine. I continued, ‘She died a long time ago. You remind me of her very much.’

‘Was she uncontrollably handsome too?’ The Herald smiled, his shoulders slumping, but I appreciated the try to get me to laugh. 

‘Yep. Exactly like her.’ I laughed and shuddered, straightening my back. 

‘Your sister, how did she…’ he started.

‘She was killed.’ My voice thundered through the rain, the thought of Sybil making my voice hoarse. I bit my lip and swallowed, trying very hard not to cry. Sybil wouldn’t want me to cry. ‘Well, I’m going back to my cabin for a bit, nothing to do out here anyway.’ 

Maxwell smiled faintly and patted me on my shoulder. ‘I’m staying here for a bit. The quiet does me good.’ He looked at his hands, which were blue because of the ink. A letter from the advisors had been sent to us a week and a half ago. And by the sound of it, the Inquisition was in disarray and in urgent need of their Herald. Ex-Templars had already started showing up and Cullen had been busy retaining them all, making space for them to sleep and to train. And Josephine had gone mad with administrative work. But it was Leliana’s part that had been the most urgent. 

The Elder One. That was the name Maxwell had heard in Envy’s dream. He’d told me, at least. We didn’t know who this guy was, what he was, or what he wanted. We only knew he was the one who probably opened the Breach. But why? 

And there were other things, things they weren’t telling me. 

Leliana was in charge of tracking this Elder guy, and everything she found, she sent to Maxwell in the hope he’d recognize something. But he never did. And so the coming and going of letters went on.

I threw my cloak over the chair that stood against the wall of my cabin, right under the little window that was clouded by the rain. I sighed, kicking my feet in the air as I lay flatly on my bed. I had seen the others’ rooms. Cassandra’s, Maxwell’s, and even Varric’s rooms were grand and luxurious. Cassandra even got a dressing. That Vivienne gave Solas and me the worst rooms. And I wondered if they were guest rooms or servant’s rooms. Not that I minded, I was happy to have a bed, and that’s all I needed, but I just felt like Vivienne was “punishing” us because we were apostates. Or Elves. Or both.

All in all, the only thing I had to do in my room was sleep, which was the only productive thing I could do right now. In my dreams, I could train. And I had done so every single night we’d been on this boat. Every dreaming moment spent sharpening my control over the Fade. It was a strange balance—sometimes he visited my dreams, and we would shape the Fade together. Other times, I ventured into his dreams, learning to focus, to resist being pushed out. But Solas was a master of the Fade, and no matter how hard I tried, he always found a way to trick me, to throw me out. It was infuriating, and exhilarating all at once.

Solas was really good at playing tricks. Who would’ve known? Tonight, however, it was his turn. I needed the distraction.

***

The glass refilled itself with real but not real ale, and I licked my lips to savour the taste just a little bit more. And then I drank again, and felt the liquid glide through my throat, the taste prickling my tongue, but my stomach remained empty, my mind clear. Real ale was more effective.

‘A bar?’ Solas stepped around me, taking a seat at the counter. 

‘Yep.’ I said without looking at him and swigged from my cup again. ‘You don’t like bars, Solas?’

Solas hummed, his face neutral, ‘That depends on the occasion.’ I wondered which occasion he meant. 

‘You are here early, by the way.’ I smiled faintly and drank again slowly, feeling Solas's eyes on me. When I lowered the cup, I deliberately licked my lips, letting my gaze linger on his for just a moment too long. His brow arched slightly, his expression unreadable. But I could feel the shift between us, subtle, like the currents beneath the surface of the sea. I felt daring tonight.

‘So are you.’ He said, remaining composed, but I caught a flicker of something in his eyes. Curiosity? Amusement? 

‘Dreaming is better than being awake. I’m sick of seeing the sea.’

‘Then, we think alike.’ 

‘Would you like something to drink?’ I cocked my head, not breaking contact still. His eyes pierced through me like a blade. He felt different today, or maybe I was different today… I knew we would be arriving to shore by tomorrow. Being so close to… everything made me feel anxious. 

Being so close to Sybil’s grave made me anxious. 

I missed her every time I looked at the horizon and thought of the land and the rain and the green forests that betrayed nothing of their bloody past. It made me melancholic. 

‘No, thank you.’ Solas said without looking away.

‘Alrighty,' I sighed and gulped my cup of ale in one way down, ‘Let’s get to training then.’ 

Solas nodded and stood from his seat, his eyes urging me to follow. I did but left a little door open in the crack of my mind. I didn’t need to visualise that door anymore, I knew it was there, just had to make sure to not let someone else close it. We stepped through the barrier that was my dream, and I felt the energy switch to Solas. We were in his territory now. 

Solas rolled back his shoulders, and I saw the soft creaks in his cotton grey shirt. He rolled up his sleeves and turned to me, his steps backwards. I stared at his arms and they seemed stronger than I would’ve thought. ‘Where are we now, Saeris?’ 

‘Your dream.’ I answered. His dreams were… of a different kind than mine. His dreams were honed, almost real, and spectacularly detailed. Most of his dreams were dreams of magical forests that had long been burned or cities that had been destroyed. They were memories, not of his own, but those he had seen while wandering the Fade. Now, we were standing in an open field again. Our training ground. 

‘Shape it.’ He ordered, his voice low and his eyes focused solely on me. ‘Make it your own.’ 

‘I can do that…’ I sighed somewhat doubtful. 

Solas nodded scholarly like a teacher looking at his student. Though his stare was maybe a bit more… profound. A pool of intrigue and shadows of emotions dwelled within his eyes. If only I could unravel this man. 

I closed my eyes and focussed. If this was my own dream, a thought would’ve been enough. A single word in my mind and that whole world of mine would change. But this wasn’t my dream. I was the intruder here. Here, I didn’t think with softness, with my memories at hand. Here, I couldn’t just imagine something because I wanted it to exist. Here, I had to will it. 

I formed a vision in my mind, a vision that had been dwelling there for the last couple of days. A vision I maybe didn’t want to see, but I had to, just so I could see it, put my mind at ease.

Ferelden. The Storm Coast. Highever. Deep in the mountains of West Hill. Over the River Dane. Rebellion. The Resistance. The Fortress. Safe. Yet dangerous. The Queen. Her guards. The Spymaster. His dead lover. The sick. The wounded. Healing. Poison. Death. Cures. Fighting. War. Sybil. Courage. Bravery. The heroes. My Sybil. My sister. My Sybil. Sybil. 

The vision was there, I had shaped it before when I first tried to shape the Fade. But when I wanted my vision to become real, an adamant wall of marble and rock and magic pushed me back. Solas. This was his barrier, his ward. I lifted my hand and caressed the wall with my finger slowly, searching for cracks. Solas shuddered, I hadn’t seen him shiver ever before, and I noticed goosebumps appearing over his exposed arm. A smile lingered on my lips, and I looked at him with an open challenge. 

Solas squinted his eyes, the icy grey pupils piercing through mine. 

A thick pressure suddenly pushed me down. ‘Shit!’ I yelped and fell to the ground. A single drop of blood fell down to the grass from my nose. I brought my hand to my face and wiped the blood away. The pressure still pushed me down, keeping me from touching that barrier of his. 

This is what Envy’d done. This is how it pushed me out. By force.

‘Focus, Saeris.’ Solas crossed his arms behind his back and walked around me. I stared at the ground and the droplet of blood sticking to the sweet green grass. The pressure invaded my head and my mind until I could only hear my heartbeat drumming through my body, through the field. My eyes looked up to Solas’ footsteps, and I traced his path, focussing on it. Solas stopped before me. ‘Break through me.’ He demanded. A sick feeling clawed in my stomach, a feeling I knew all too well. This ache, this was him. This was Solas as he tried to enter my mind, trying to push me out. And I expected him to win, almost giving up. 

Suddenly, his prodding made way for invasion, and I felt him reach for that little open door in my mind, my way back. And as he looked for it, thinking I was giving up while on my knees on the ground, I did the same to him. Silently, gently, a small part of me looked up at his marble barrier. And there, ever so small, was a little crack I could look through. And I felt it like a little breeze on my skin. 

Solas was almost on my way out. But when he tried to reach out, a wall of stone erected itself before him. But this wall, this barrier, was mine. ‘That’s not yours, Solas.’ I smiled and pushed myself up. My legs trembled as I met Solas’ eyes. He was standing right in front of me, his breath gliding over my cheeks. His eyes were slightly enlarged, but there was intrigue within them. An open look of approval. He smirked back at me. 

My vision seeped through that little crack I’d found in Solas’ wall. He closed his eyes as I invaded him, pushing his pressure away.

‘Onharos,' he chuckled as the meadow transformed. ‘You have done well.’ 

I smiled a little as my vision took over from Solas’. I even felt a little energy, a little power that was once solely his, now shift to me. This wasn’t just his dream anymore. It was ours. ‘That wasn’t really nice of you.’ 

‘If only all malicious spirits were nice, we would have no need to train.’ He chuckled and then stepped away from me. When there was space between us again, I noticed I had been holding my breath. I sighed deeply, my stomach stopped hurting and my heartbeat slowed down.

We were now back at the Rebellion’s tower in the forests of West Hill. The last time I had been here, at the beginning of my training in the Fade, this place had just felt fake. The tower was no ruin, the stables were quiet, the sun glowed across the courtyard and it felt almost serene. And… There wasn’t a grave to be seen. That’s why it felt unreal. Sybil’s grave should be right here, among the graves of her fellow fallen soldiers. 

But now, being so close to the real tower, to her real grave, I was happy for this fake version. This place was a memory of before it had all happened, of before Sybil had died. I didn’t understand it last time, but this was supposed to be a happy memory. Sybil was still alive here. Maybe my mind needed to see this one more time, just to stop thinking of that abandoned grave in a dark and forgotten ruin. This was better. 

‘You have shown me this before.’ Solas stated as he walked through the courtyard, looking up at the proud stone tower.

‘I have,' I whispered while I stared at the gate, the gate where Sybil’s dead body had been carried through, a gate I had wished I had destroyed, so no corpses could pass through it again. But this gate wasn’t crumbling or surrounded by wounded soldiers. This gate was just normal, like before, covered in green curling vines. ‘A lot of things happened here. This place has been haunting my mind as of late… It’s close to the Storm Coast.’ 

Solas looked at me, noticing the sadness clouding my face. ‘Would you like to return, now we are nearby?’ 

‘No. Maybe someday, but I’m not ready for it. Not now.’ I knew this proud fortress was a ruin now, and the sight of Sybil’s forgotten crumbling grave would haunt me forever. I didn’t want to see that. I couldn’t. Not yet. 

‘You had told me last time nothing of importance had happened here.’

‘I lied.’ I turned to Solas. ‘Sorry.’ He walked closer to me and I looked up to him and smiled a little. ‘Your dream feels different now, is that normal?’

Solas nodded slowly. He was standing so close to me. My heart thumped. It shouldn’t. ‘You truly are a natural at this. By pushing through my barrier, you changed the nature of this dream. It is not mine anymore, neither fully yours.’ His eyes bored through mine, and I noticed small specks of violet in them, very small, between the icy blue and grey.

I glanced at him through my lashes, a sly smile tugging at the corners of my lips. ‘You have taught me well.’ 

Solas chuckled, and for a moment, I wondered if he would come even closer. Did I want him to come closer? Was it a good idea to let him even come closer? And if I would, could I do this to him? He can come closer to me, like Maxwell, like Sybil and Daniel and all of the friends I had once made. But in the end, he will leave me. In the end, I’ll always be alone. 

I pushed the thoughts away. No. The challenge wasn’t over yet, I reminded myself. This dream wasn’t over. This training wasn’t completed. Let’s end this. Let’s win. 

The Fade seemed to hum around us, responding to the tension in the air.

I lifted my hand to his face, and Solas looked up at me in surprise. His eyes got serious, and I knew if I pushed him, he’d walk away. I saw doubt behind his eyes though, thousands of questions floating through his mind. And I wondered what kind of questions they were, and if he’d ever find the answers to them. My hand hovered before his face, but then I lowered it. Don’t take it too far Saeris. You can’t play with feelings. Not his, nor your own. Instead, I rested my hand on his shoulder.

There was a warmth glowing through his skin. Strange, I always thought Solas was a cold man. 

‘Solas,' I whispered and he stared into my eyes, ‘You stopped focusing, my friend.’ Solas opened his eyes wide, and then a smug grin curled on his lips. 

I smiled back, and with a flicker of my mind, Solas was pushed out of his own dream. 

Payback. 

***

Bells started to ring, once, then twice, and I sat upright from my bed. My ears budded to the sound of the heavy ring, and my mind struggled to comprehend I was awake now. But then the bell rang again, and I knew now what it meant. 

We’ve come to shore. 

I brought my hand to my face and rubbed my eyes. As I brought them back down, I saw grains of dried-up blood on my fingertips. Ah, the blood was always real. I shook my head and jolted out of bed, walking to the foggy, small mirror that hung against the cabin wall. I took a cloth and made it wet by summoning ice to my hands, and then fire, and dabbed the damp cloth against my nose until it was clean. After that, I sighed deeply and dressed myself. Warm clothes, enchanted leather foot straps, a waterproof armour jacket, and my favourite cloak. The clothes felt warm and dry, and I knew I would be needing them. 

We had arrived at the Storm Coast. We were almost home. 

I pulled my hood over my head and left my cabin. As I closed my door, my stuff already packed in a bag, I heard heavy footsteps above me. Sailors were up and about, preparing to anchor the ship. 

‘We have arrived to shore, I presume.’ Solas was leaning against the wall next to my door. He looked me up and down, his face neutral, but a hint of a smile still lingered on his lips. 

‘Good morning to you too, Solas.’ I pulled my hood slightly from my head so I could look up at him, defiance in my eyes, ‘Slept well?’ 

Solas remained silent, his face still neutral, but his eyes sparked with something I couldn’t place. He ignored my joke and lifted his chin, nodding towards the stairs that lead to the deck. ‘Shall we see?’ 

We walked upstairs, a heavy rainstorm greeting us. How very typical for this area. 

Maxwell was standing near the balustrade of the ship, his shoulders straightened, shifting from one leg to the other in excitement. Cassandra was standing next to him, her hand on her hips as she peered at the incoming land. 

‘Twinkle, there you are!’ Varric walked to where Solas and I were standing, a big grin on his face. ‘And you brought Chuckles.’ Varric lifted one brow to Solas, who decided to ignore the Dwarf. ‘Well, seems like the both of you had a rough night, eh?’

‘No, on the contrary, I slept very, very well.’ I grinned and gave Solas the side-eye. 

‘Do you mind, dear?’ Vivienne said from behind me. I looked over my shoulder. Madame de Fer looked at me with a sneer as I inspected her outfit, a white ensemble with pale blue accents, a silver-lined umbrella in her hands, keeping her horned headpiece dry. With a smooth motion, Vivienne walked past me, almost pushing me out of the way, and strolled with a sway of her hips to Maxwell, standing right next to his other side. Vivienne said something to him, and I heard Cassandra’s disgusted noise all the way to where I was standing. 

‘Come on,' Varric patted my lower back, ‘Let’s go have a look too.’ 

We walked to the balustrade to stand next to the others. I looked at the horizon, through the heavy rain and the thick fog, and there I saw the Coast, its shores grey and rocky. 

The boat wouldn’t anchor to this shore, as it had become too dangerous since the Mage-Templar War. Instead, the captain would sail somewhat further away to a port town, which was too far out of the path for us, and our time was scarce. For now, the boat anchored not far from land, and our party would go by pinnace, rowing to shore.

A small Inquisition camp was already awaiting us. I lifted my eyebrows to Maxwell, who looked over his shoulder as he was rowing. He smiled back at me, sweat and rain dripping from his face. As we stepped out of the pinnace, a familiar woman walked towards us, backed by two Inquisition scouts. Maxwell walked towards the red-haired Dwarf and nodded at her. 

‘Your Worship!’ Scout Harding sounded relieved, and she eyed us all separately with a polite nod. She looked at Vivienne for a moment longer, before she turned to Maxwell again. ‘For what it’s worth, welcome to the Storm Coast.’ She sighed as the rain continued to pour down on us. 

Maxwell and Harding walked together to the camp in conversation. I heard something about bandits, and that he would look into it, but that he’d first had to go back to Haven for business. Harding nodded, answering seriously and handing over maps and locations. 

‘It smells a bit of dead fish here, don't you think, my dear?’ Vivienne sighed to Cassandra, who only nodded politely. ‘I do hope we’ll be leaving shortly.’ She then shook her umbrella a bit and all of the water splattered on me. I grumbled under my breath and thought of maybe burning a hole in that umbrella of hers.  

But before I could, Maxwell and Scout Harding walked back to us, and I heard her say, ‘Well, good luck. And enjoy the sea air. I hear it’s good for the soul.’ 

Maxwell gave her a polite smile, ‘Good work and… thanks.’ 

Harding turned back to the camp as Maxwell strutted back to us. ‘The mercenary camp is up ahead along the beach. Let’s not waste time, I want to get back to Haven as soon as possible.’ 

We travelled alongside the sea for what felt like hours. We were soaked, and the sand was getting into… places. Dry sand tickles and itches, but wet sand weighs you down. Vivienne didn’t nag as much as I thought she would, or she had kept herself strong to impress the Herald. I just enjoyed the silence and the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks, slowly taking back the shore. 

Suddenly, we heard fighting. Cassandra pulled her sword from its sheath, standing defensively before Maxwell. ‘Bandits?’ She asked, her voice stern, but clearly distraught. 

‘Those aren’t bandits.’ Maxwell cursed and narrowed his eyes. 

I looked from behind them and saw fighting in the distance. And as I focussed, I saw Tevinter robes and vigils sprayed across the fighting men. Why were Tevinters here? Were they slave traders? ‘That’s the mercenary group we’re looking for. Come on, let’s go help.’ Maxwell ordered—his face deadly calm. 

‘Maxwell and I will go for the assault, Varric, reach higher grounds to hit them from above. Solas, Searis, Madame, cover us.’ Cassandra eyed us, and we nodded. 

We did as we were told. As Cassandra and Maxwell mixed in the fight, Solas and I started to cast barriers while Vivienne took out men from afar. Varric had crawled atop a formation of rocks, almost slipping, and shot his arrows to weaken the attackers. I eyed the other party, and if I hadn’t known better, they would’ve looked like bandits. The mercenaries cheered though as soon as they noticed our help, and in no time, we had defeated all of the attackers, leaving none alive. 

‘Chargers, stand down!’ A huge man yelled as the last Tevinter reached the ground lifelessly. I ran up to Maxwell and Cassandra, hoping they hadn’t been injured, but stopped midway. Qunari. It was a Qunari. I stared up at the huge man, two enormous straight horns protruding from his forehead. ‘Krem, how’d we do?’ 

The Qunari man walked towards another mercenary, a young man covered in sweat and rocky wet sand. ‘Five or six wounded, Chief. No dead.’

‘That’s what I like to hear. Let the throatcutters finish up, then break out the casks.’ The Qunari ordered. A group of men, slightly wounded, stood up, knives at hand, and walked around the beach, checking each corpse for signs of life. And if someone still breathed, he wouldn’t anymore soon.

Maxwell walked towards the Qunari, Cassandra at his side. I eyed him and sighed with relief. Not wounded. The rest of the party had already walked up to me, and we all stared at the Qunari mercenary from afar.

‘So, you’re with the Inquisition, huh? Glad you could make it. Come on, have a seat. Drinks are coming.’ The Qunari man grinned, looking at us to say we could relax too. But none of us did.

‘Iron Bull, I presume?’ Maxwell said, clearly not with the intention to go sit down and drink. 

‘Yeah, the horns usually give it away.’ The Qunari smiled and turned his back to us, walking off with Maxwell. I stared after them, inspecting this Iron Bull. A large, grey creature. His bare chest, gleaming in the rain, was covered in scars. His face had scars too, a small stubble on his chin, and a leather eyepatch crossed over his left eye. I had an eyepatch like that too once. 

Iron Bull, or whatever he was called, sat down on a big rock, Maxwell standing in front of him. Cassandra stood not so far behind them, suspicion still lingering on her face. I knew she would stay there until she’d be 100% sure of Maxwell’s safety. 

‘Hey, you guys want something to drink?’ One of the throatcutters walked past us, wiping his bloodied hands on his pants.

‘What’ve you got?’ Varric sighed and poked my hip. 

‘I’m going to stand with Cassandra.’ I mumbled and walked past the throatcutter, ignoring him completely. I didn’t trust these Chargers yet. As I walked over to Cassandra, leaving Varric, Vivienne and Solas behind me, I crossed another Charger, the one the Qunari had called “Krem”. We looked at each other for a moment, but then I focussed back on Maxwell as I reached Cassandra.

‘So… You’ve seen us fight. We’re expensive, but we’re worth it… and I’m sure the Inquisition can afford us.’ Iron Bull laughed. 

‘How much is this going to cost me exactly?’ Maxwell scoffed, clearly pretending not to be impressed by the giant. 

‘It wouldn’t cost you anything personally - unless you wanna buy drinks later.’ Iron Bull winked, and Cassandra shifted on her feet. ‘Your Ambassador, what’s her name, Josephine? We’d go through her and get the payments set up. Gold will take care of itself. Don’t worry about that. All that matters is we’re worth it.’

Maxwell sighed and looked at the Bull in deep thought. He then looked over his shoulder to meet Cassandra’s gaze, and she nodded very slowly. Accept them… for now. ‘The Chargers seem like a decent group, we might have use of them.’

‘They are.’ Iron Bull grinned, ‘But you’re not just getting the boys. You’re getting me. You need a frontline bodyguard, I’m your man. Whatever it is, demons, dragons? The bigger the better.’ The giant did look like a good shield… The mercenary Chief and Maxwell walked to the sea in conversation, standing somewhat further away from our prying ears. 

Cassandra huffed, as did I, but we couldn’t hear what was said. We only saw Maxwell nod seriously, asking questions with his eyebrows raised. And I was sure that if it was important, he’d tell us later. But for now, the two men shook hands, and I saw the Qunari smile as he roared with a loud voice, ‘Excellent! Krem, tell the men to finish drinking on the road. The Chargers just got hired!’ 

‘What about the casks, Chief?’ Krem, who was standing close to us with the rest of the Chargers, whined disappointedly. ‘We just opened them up… With axes.’

‘Find some way to seal them. You’re Tevinter, right? Use Blood Magic.’ Boom. Critical hit. Iron Bull grinned at me as he walked past me, and I just got cold nervous chills down my spine.

‘The more the merrier, remember?’ Maxwell poked my waist and I growled at him, annoyed. 

‘Are you sure we can trust these… Chargers? They look—’

‘Dangerous? I know—that’s why we need them. The Iron Bull seems to be quite honest too.’ He raised his eyebrows at me. ‘I’ll explain later.’

‘I do hope you know what you’re doing, Herald.’ Cassandra interrupted, her tone serious and hushed. 

‘Don’t I always?’ Maxwell winked at her and that seemed to shut her up for now. That woman really becomes soft when it comes to our Herald. 

‘Are we taking these… Mercenaries with us?’ Vivienne stopped next to me, her voice filled with disdain. 

‘Yes, we are.’ Maxwell lifted a brow and crossed his arms. With none of the other advisors here, it was solely Max’s decision. ‘Why wouldn’t we? They seem like a good band of merry men?’ 

At that moment, we heard the Chargers cry out enthusiastically as they drummed ‘Chug! Chug! Chug!’ while The Iron Bull gulped down two casks of ale in one go. 

We stared at the group with open mouths as Varric laughed loudly and smacked his knee, ‘Oh, they’ll be great company on the road!’ 

Notes:

Yay! Our Inner Circle is almost complete! + Next chapter will contain *surprise* dramaaa!

And if you liked it, you can always leave me a kudo or a comment!

Chapter 31: Mourned

A woman fled in the darkness across the forest, a child hiding in her embrace, her arms like castle walls. Her voice was hushed, her eyes wet and red, distraught and pain clouding her sharp face. From between her chestnut hair, her pointed ears twitched with every sound. Her eyes, a mixture of blue and brown, darted from bush to bush, as if expecting there was someone following her, watching. 

The woman whimpered and pulled the child closer to her chest. The little baby girl, maybe no older than five, raised her big hazel eyes to her mother, her fuzzy brown hair sticking to her wet chubby cheeks. ‘Mamae?’ She cried. 

‘Durlahn, da’len.’ The mother hushed, her voice in panic. ‘It’s okay, be still now.’ 

But the little girl hiccupped, unable to keep her silence as she saw her mother’s horror when voices thundered through the woods. 

‘Find the apostate!’ They called, and armour rumbled. ‘Search the woods!’ 

The mother pushed herself behind a tree, her chest heaving heavily against her daughter. ‘Fenedhis!’ The woman cursed as tears escaped from her terrified eyes.

The little girl cried now, the loud shriek of her high-tuned voice echoing through the darkness. The mother swallowed, her voice low, but warm. ‘Shhh, shhh, don’t cry, da’len.’ She said and lulled her child back and forth while the roaring voices became louder and louder, closer and closer. The mother hummed a song to quiet her child, a song she had heard from her own parents that had forsaken her, from the clan that never wanted her. The song was lost to the trees, and only a forgotten memory remained, the last words trembling to the heavens. A prayer for hope, for life, not hers, but for her daughter. 

The mother sang quietly, but the child heard her song and stopped crying. 

…

Tel'enfenim, da'len
Irassal ma ghilas
Ma garas mir renan
Ara ma'athlan vhenas
Ara ma'athlan vhenas

…

The last words floated through the air like a spell. The little Elven girl knew that she would see her mother again one day. If only she followed her voice, she would call her home.

‘There she is!’ Armoured men, their steel gleaming righteous in the mourning moon, peered across the unpaved path that led through the forest. 

The mother swallowed loudly, but placed her child on the ground before her, a finger hovering above her lips. ‘Run, da’len, go! Quickly!’ 

The child didn’t move, her eyes teary, but her voice failed to come out. 

‘GO!’ The mother cried as the men caught sight of them. 

They screamed. She screamed. Her child screamed.

But, as if magic had taken over the shivering girl’s weak body, the child’s feet finally started to move. She ran and ran, and never looked back to where her mother stood. ‘Mamae,' she kept whispering. She would never forget her praying words. 

The mother straightened her back as the Templars slowly stalked towards her, their eyes peering at her through their helmets. They wouldn’t let her live. 

The woman snatched the dagger from the side of her belt. She lifted it, scraping the sharp edges across her palm, and she felt her magic flow through her veins, mixing with her pulsing blood. The Templars screamed in terror as she raised her hands, and her blood clawed out of her body in madness, the magic bursting from her pores. 

As the woman realised she would not survive, she whispered one last time, ‘Ar lath ma, Sybil.’ 

And darkness took her home. 

***

‘Are you sure we’re going the right way?’ Varric sighed deeply while the rain poured down on us. 

Maxwell unfolded his map. ‘The map Leliana sent doesn’t make any sense!’

‘You’re holding it upside-down, Herald.’ Cassandra said dryly. 

‘Err… Right,' Maxwell hummed and turned over the map. Varric snickered but stopped when Cassandra threw him one of her deadly “Stop that” stares. I tried peering over Maxwell’s shoulder, but he closed the map before I could see anything. ‘We’re fine.’ He smiled. 

Vivienne huffed, her umbrella hovering above her head, ‘Could you make them… less loud, my dear?’ She lifted her flawless eyebrow towards Maxwell and then raised her chin to the large group of mercenaries behind us. 

“No one can beat the Chargers 'cause we'll hit you where it hurts. Unless you know a tavern with loose cards and looser skirts! For every bloody battlefield, we'll gladly raise a cup. No matter what tomorrow holds, our horns be pointing up!” The whole group roared, their voices echoing through the rain. I smelled the sharp smell of watery ale, and I saw them pass along a big brown bottle. Vivienne rolled her eyes dramatically and sighed again. 

I suppressed a grin and scraped my throat as I led my horse to the front of the party. Never had I travelled with such a big group before. Travelling with four or five is alright, you move fast and remain fairly undetected. But a large party stands out and catches people’s eyes. We’re louder, leave more traces, and move up to three times slower. Therewith, the Chargers weren’t exactly a quiet little group, as you might’ve noticed. 

We had been travelling ever since we met up with the Chargers, making no stops or breaks whatsoever. We were already going slow, and the Chargers weren’t even complete. Maxwell told me on the road they were with over fifty, but a large portion was completing another job near the Hinterlands, and they would join us at Haven. I couldn’t imagine their group being any louder, so imagine travelling with fifty of them? No, thank you. It seemed that this group was more like The Iron Bull’s own inner circle, his best members, or the ones he found most loyal… or decent to make a good first impression? 

I listened to their roaring and singing and laughing, and closed my eyes remembering the times I had laughed like that. Long, long ago. 

It had crossed my mind to join them in song, let these strangers distract me, and maybe get to know these people. But the Qunari, The Iron Bull, made me somewhat nervous. He looked scary, with his enormous dark horns and his scarred grey skin, but he seemed to see everything too—like he was taking notes in his head. Calculating. And he looked suspiciously at me like he wanted me to tell him all of my secrets. Maxwell had told me Bull was Ben-Hassrath . A Qunari spy. That had explained his… curiosity. Maxwell seemed fine with this. Bull had been honest about it, and we could use the information he got from agents in Orlais, but still… It made us all quite uncomfortable. 

So I remained at the front of our group, surrounded by Maxwell and Varric and Cassandra, and I just listened quietly. I was listening so thoroughly, I didn’t even notice the sun was starting to go down until Maxwell halted his horse. 

‘Let’s set up camp, we’ve travelled long enough for today.’

I blinked my eyes rapidly as I woke up from my trance. 

‘Great! My ass was starting to hurt.’ Iron Bull snickered from behind the pack.  

We dismounted at a clearing in the woods, a small creek running nearby. I was happy we had traded the windy, sandy shore for the muddy, but slightly warmer forest a couple of hours ago. Somewhere, I vaguely recognized this place, but I had seen so many forests around the Coastlands, so I couldn’t really know for sure where we were. Just that I’d been here before… I think. Maybe I should take a look at that map? I shook my head. No. Just forget, don’t think about where you are and how far it is from that tower. It doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is that we’re going back to Haven. Focus on something else. 

‘Saeris?’

You know, there are tons of forests down here. And if this is really West Hill, there is a fairly small chance we’d come across the tower. Maybe it doesn’t even exist anymore? Not even a rubble of stones? That’s probably the case.

‘Saeris.’ Solas pressed his hand on my shoulder.

I yelped, my heart almost stopping. ‘Fuck. Yeah. Shit. What?’ I turned around confused and looked up at the Elf. My stomach turned immediately. Ugh, why can’t he be like he is in the Fade?

Solas chuckled slightly, his face gleaming from the rain. ‘Are you alright?’

‘Yeah… Just thinking about something…’ I mumbled and tied my horse to a tree. 

‘Is it something I can assist you with, perhaps?’ Solas cocked his head to the side, a warm glow in his eyes.

‘No, but thank you. It was a long day, maybe I just need to sit down for a bit. On the ground, not the horse, of course. Been sitting on that all day.’ I rambled. 

‘Do not overexert yourself.’ He dipped his head and walked off. 

The rest of the party was already getting the fire started. I went to help Maxwell and Cassandra with the tents. The Chargers had only brought one big tent, and I wondered how all of them would fit in there. There were at least ten or twelve Chargers, and The Iron Bull wasn’t particularly small. I did think that sleeping close together was a smart move, it was warm, and if something happened, everybody was already together and up. But I wasn’t keen on trying it out myself. I’d heard Varric’s snoring and Maxwell thrashing, and Cassandra was a really loud breather… She also drools a little. Vivienne probably compliments herself in her sleep. Wouldn’t be surprised about that. Maybe the only one who’s completely silent at night is Solas. And no, I’m not going to sleep with him… No. 

After we set up the tents, we all gathered around the fire as we always did. The Chargers joined us, half of the casks they had opened this morning already empty. But there was still enough to get all of us drunk. I wasn’t going to drink… What if we were attacked? And our shifts, we had to concentrate. We also had to get up early in the morning and travel all day and…

‘Hey, Twinkle! Want some?’ Varric was distributing the bottles from the casks the Chargers had brought. 

‘… Well… one won’t hurt…’ I mumbled as Varric threw me one. I drank from it, the heat of the alcohol glowing in my throat. It tasted good. Drinking wasn’t my favourite pastime. But now, in the cold woods, so close to all of the bad memories that have been ghosting my mind, the alcohol soothed me. Its warmth is like a hug to my body and soul. 

Make me forget where I am.

The Chargers mixed with us around the campfire, but they mostly stayed together. As did we. And our camp looked somewhat divided. The Iron Bull’s laugh thundered through the clearing, and he turned to Maxwell, who took a bite from the mystery stew the Chargers had brought with them. It didn’t taste horrible, but I didn’t want to know what was in it. Maxwell took another sip from his bottle of ale he’d gotten from Varric, probably to wash down the stew. ‘Good, we’re not drinking alone!’ the Qunari giant grinned, and he even winked at me as I turned my own bottle around in my hands nervously. 

I tried not to gawk back at Bull and instead peered at the rest of his company. Humans, Elves, Dwarves, males and females. They all looked rugged and brawny, but the smile on their faces as they talked and drank made them look nicer than you’d think at first glance. 

‘How you doin' Krem de la Crême?’ Iron Bull smirked at the young man next to him. I lowered my head but peered through my lashes at the company. 

The young man, Krem, rolled his eyes and turned to Maxwell who sat across the fire. ‘Hey Herald, I’m so glad he has someone new to hit with that joke from now on. Better be prepared for it.’

Maxwell almost choked on his stew but returned a polite smile. ‘Will he always be like this?’

‘I’m afraid so,' Krem snickered, ‘The Chief loves his nicknames.’ 

‘Hey, I like to think that’s one of my specialities too. One of the many.’ Varric grinned.

Iron Bull nodded at him and then dipped his stubbled chin towards Krem. ‘When I was growing up, my name was just this series of numbers. We all give each other nicknames under the Qun.’ 

Solas, who sat next to me, scoffed ever so slightly. I turned my head to him, but the Elf was fully focused on the conversation that was happening before us. I raised my shoulders and took another sip from my drink. 

‘Do they ever wear shirts under the Qun, Chief? Or do they just run around binding their breasts like that?’ Krem answered sarcastically. 

‘It’s a harness, Krem.’ Iron Bull grumbled. 

‘Yes, for your pillowy man-bosoms.’ Krem giggled, and I almost did the same. But instead, I focussed on the fire and drank again. ‘Let me know if you need help binding. You could really chisel something out of that overstuffed look.’ 

The bottle in my hand was empty, and I planted it between my feet on the ground. I stared at it from above and saw how the fire reflected in the glass. It looked like the flames were crackling in the bottle, burning from within. I straightened my back as I felt something cold touch my arm. I looked to my side and raised a brow to the Charger holding up another bottle to me. A human man, broad but with an obscured face and muddy blond hair, stared at me plainly, with no emotion in his eyes. He grunted and dangled the bottle in his hands and then looked at me again. 

‘Thank you…’ I mumbled and took the ale from the silent man’s hand. 

‘… and Grim,' Iron Bull chuckled and I was drawn back to the conversation as the silent Charger nodded at his chief. 

Maxwell, a smile on his face and a glow on his cheeks, leaned forward and I saw Cassandra smile a little at him as she ate. ‘Rocky? Was it? Were you born on the surface, or are you from Orzammar?’ Maxwell asked the hooded Dwarf that sat next to The Iron Bull. 

‘Orzammar,' Rocky grunted, ‘I got exiled. Stupid noble crap.  Also, I accidentally blew up a bit of the Shaperate.’

‘Rocky’s one of our sappers.’ Bull grinned. ‘He can take down enemy fortifications faster than a golem.’

‘I’m also working on my own version of the Qunari blackpowder. I’ve almost got it!’

‘Yeah… you really don’t.’ Bull shook his head in jest. 

Blackpowder. Heard of it. Thedas’ version of gunpowder, I think. 

I chugged from my ale again, and the alcohol buzzed in my head. And although it was warming my body, I still felt as cold as ice. With a swift motion, I pulled my hood over my head and drank again, listening to the voices around the campfire. Dalish is definitely an apostate, but she says she’s just an archer. She urged her bow just looks like a staff for aiming. And I definitely heard Solas scoff this time for sure as she mentioned it being an “old elven trick.” Well, I’m old and Elven, and I’ve never heard of it. Skinner, the other elf, was from a city. I saw the pain in her eyes and recognized many. She reminded me of Kirkwall. Stitches, their healer and surgeon seemed pretty decent. Maxwell laughed when Stitches told Bull he wasn’t supposed to drink his poultices though. And then you had Grim, the silent one who had given me a drink. Turns out the man can’t or doesn’t want to speak. Only grunts. There were others that were with them, but I didn’t listen that well and forgot most of their names. You had Diamond, an innocent-looking blonde girl with pale blue eyes that had a knack for stealing valuables, especially gems. Butcher, the name speaks for itself, no? Rouge, a red-headed Dwarf that could shoot someone from miles away. And then there was Smiles, Bugs, and I think someone called Chip… 

‘So, you met my team, Boss. ’ Iron Bull leaned his torso forwards, his one eye squinting, ‘Maybe introduce yours, eh?’

Maxwell nodded and rested his shoulders, leaning backwards. ‘This beauty here is Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast. Hero of Orlais, Right Hand of the Divine and…’

‘Thank you, Herald. I think they get it.’ Cassandra sighed with a small blush colouring her cheeks.

‘Of course,' Maxwell winked, ‘And this is Varric Tethras, the renowned author and storyteller. And on his back, that’s Bianca, don’t mess with her, though.’

Varric grinned and winked mockingly. 

Maxwell turned to Vivienne and smiled politely, ‘Madame Vivienne de Fer, Enchanter to the Imperial Court of Orlais…’

Vivienne’s lips curled with an approving smile, her chin raised, the fire dancing in her ebony eyes.

‘This here is Solas, our Fade expert.’ Maxwell nodded at Solas and he nodded back sternly, no emotion on his face. I could see it in Solas’ eyes though, he didn’t like The Iron Bull. I wondered why? I drank from my ale again. Another bottle empty. My eyes found the emptiness within, and the fire dancing inside of it. I was so preoccupied by the shadows in my empty bottle, that I didn’t notice the group looking at me. 

‘And this is Saeris, our Healer.’ Maxwell raised his brows at me as I looked up, a mix of surprise, confusion and alcohol clouding my face. 

‘Hey.’ I tried to smile, but it didn’t reach my eyes. 

‘Ah, I’ve been curious about you…’ Iron Bull smirked, ‘What happened to your eye?’

‘What happened to yours?’ I grinned, but I bet it looked more like a sneer. Maybe it was meant to be that too. 

‘Ooh, I like her!' Krem laughed loudly and smacked his knee. 

‘Saeris has a special gift.’ Cassandra started and looked at me, I nodded. Continue, so I don’t have to. ‘Like the Herald’s mark, her eye is connected to the Fade. Am I explaining this correctly, Solas?’

‘It is a complicated matter, but in short, yes.’ He said scholarly. 

‘So… meaning?’ Iron Bull frowned deeply and stared at me without blinking. 

I hiccupped, my eyes scanning the camp for another bottle. ‘I can see through Rifts and spot demons.’ I mumbled as I stood up from my seat, walked up to the open cask behind Bull and snatched another drink. With a flick of my fingers, the cork popped from the bottle and I took a big chug from it. ‘That’s it.’ 

The Iron Bull turned towards me, his eye big. ‘Nice!’ He roared. ‘Interesting group you’ve collected!’ Bull looked at Maxwell again, but I felt his lingering stare on my back as I strolled back to my seat. I sat down again and drank until my mind became fogged with alcohol and fire and stupid conversations I wasn’t fully listening to. 

The Chargers were actually a nice bunch of people, and Maxwell gleamed as he could finally joke around with others. And Varric began telling stories again, but I think I’ve heard them all already. I still listened, but my mind wasn’t really there… it was beyond the camp, behind the bushes and over the trees… it was with Sybil, and the tower, and the Resistance. I wish… I wish I could just forget, just let the current bring me wherever it wanted to and I didn’t have to think about the dead and the memories they had left. The alcohol buzzed through my body, and when it cleared away, I drank another bottle. 

And another.

Until my mind swayed to nowhere, floating in a thick mist of silly conversations and crackling fire in bottles. 

Questions were thrown my way. ‘Where are you from?’ or ‘Tell me! You see any demons here?’ I didn’t respond. I didn’t want to make conversation, I had one goal: to forget. I let the liquor burn its way down, hoping it would sear the memories from my mind. Each swallow dulled the ache a little more, the numbness spreading until it settled over me like a blanket.  

I just wanted the ghosts to stay quiet, just for tonight.

‘Saeris?’ Solas’ hand found my shoulder and I shrugged, the alcohol protesting in my stomach. 

‘What?’ I muttered, half-tempted to shoo him away.

‘Are you alright?’ 

‘Y-Yeah, I’m great…’ I tried to control the tremble in my voice. My eyes searched the camp, but those who were still up, Maxwell, Varric, Bull and some of the Chargers, were deep in conversation.

‘I noticed earlier on the map that there is a ruin nearby that might be of some interest to us. If you would like to, we can go there.’ His voice had this warm timbre, and it slithered through my mind, the words he had said unheard, but his tone warm. And I yearned for warmth. 

What did he want to do? Something interesting? ‘Sure, good. Now?’ I lisped. Maybe the fresh air would do me good or maybe if I focussed on something else, I wouldn’t feel so bad? If dreaming could bring me to other places, see other memories, maybe I can forget my own.

Solas said something to the group I didn’t hear and stood up, the look in his eyes urging me to follow. I planted the nearly empty, lukewarm bottle of ale next to my seat at the fire, and stood up. The world seemed to roll upside down as I straightened my back. My legs felt like jelly, and cold as well as hot air seemed to surge around my body. I blinked my eyes rapidly until the world stopped tolling. Maxwell squinted his eyes at me, and he almost walked up to me before I raised and swayed my hands, saying, ‘I’m fine! I’m okay, I’m just going to get some fresh air with Solas…’ 

Maxwell lifted his brows, his mouth opening to say something, but I hushed. 

‘Going to the Fade to dream, you know. I’ll be back by morning.’ I smiled faintly, and my eyes squinted this time too. I think that’s what made him relax.

‘Be safe, Saeris,' Maxwell said, his eyes stern. 

I nodded and waved my arm at him again before stumbling away from the campfire. I strolled to the edge of the forest and felt Maxwell’s eyes still on my back. I rolled my shoulders and tried to walk as straight as I could. 

‘Shall we?’ Solas was leaning against a tree in the shadows of the woods. 

I didn’t yelp this time, the alcohol had made me numb. ‘Okay,' I hummed. Let’s try to forget. 

***

We strolled through the dark woods, the contours of the trees hanging over us like archways. The alcohol buzzed in my body, erasing anything that made me weary. There was no path that led through these parts of the forest, and we had to wade through the branches. Solas walked up front, his staff firmly in his hand, and he used it for balance. The white-blue gemstone that adorned the top of his weapon, shined brightly with his mana, and it cast pale shadows onto the trees. It made them come alive, seemingly moving with us.

And my heart was screaming against my body, beating so hard it made me sick. But my mind and body refused to listen. I tried not to focus on the way the trees looked, the way the moonlight filtered through them just like it had on the night Sybil died. Just keep on going.

Yet, deep inside, I knew this place. But when I tried to think about it, my memories refused to resurface. Every time I recognized something, the alcohol pushed it away until everything was strange and new. Or until I didn’t care anymore, only about placing one foot before the other. Solas walked straight, his posture composed and neutral. His eyes skimmed the overgrown path before us, and he focused as his magic pulsed around us. Searching, protecting, but we were alone. Every once in a while, he turned his face to me, peering from behind the shadows cast by his staff. 

‘Are you truly alright, Saeris?’ His voice was soft, a warmth trickling within it like a seeping waterfall. How many times had he asked me this today already?

‘I think so, yes,' I mumbled while lifting my feet higher than usual. But I was drunker than usual too. ‘Where are we going exactly?’ 

‘We are… Watch out!’ Solas raised his hands to me in caution as I stumbled over a raised root. He caught my arm just in time before my face would hit the muddy ground. I groaned against his strength as he pulled me up to meet his stare. The world turned on me, and I felt the alcohol making me spin around and around. ‘You have consumed too much, we should return.’ He sighed, his auburn brows knitting together, and I felt a sting of disappointment in his voice. 

‘No, I’m fine. I need this…’ I sighed and snatched my arm away to pull my hair from my face. The moon was barely visible through the thick leaves of the trees, and I yearned for its guiding light. I closed my eyes for a moment and guided my breath through my nose. Breathe in, breathe out. I shouldn’t have drunk alcohol. It wasn’t like me. ‘I’m sorry, Solas… But can we please just… continue? I need to take my mind off things.’

Solas’ stare was slightly obscured by darkness, but I felt him sighing. ‘Very well.’ He said, his tone neutral and controlled. ‘But perhaps you should hold on to something for balance? I do not wish for you to fall and hurt yourself. These woods can be tricky at night.’ 

‘I don’t have a staff…’ I hummed as I rubbed my eyes. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe because I needed it, but in the spur of the moment, I grabbed Solas’ free hand. I swallowed deeply to get the nauseating feeling away that now surged through my body. ‘So you should do for now.’

Solas tensed under my grip, and I already regretted my action. Yet, his warm hands pinched mine ever so slightly, as if by saying it was okay. ‘Come.’ He said, and I heard a chuckle in his deep hum. 

We walked the rest of the way holding hands, Solas guiding me with a steady pace. And though his back was straightened and his stance was cold, I still felt warmth radiating from his palms that embraced mine. My heart bellowed against my chest as if I was in danger… like a wolf was going to devour me in the night. And my stomach answered with growls and turns, and I knew I would be throwing up soon. Yet, I closed my eyes and kept his hand in mine. I didn’t care what it meant, for him or for me. It just… soothed me, as the alcohol had done, and it made me think of nothing but beyond his long fingers grasping mine, entangling in his heat. I liked it. I shouldn’t.

But remorse always comes too late. 

And I felt it thunder in my heart as we arrived at the ruin. I sobered up immediately.

‘We are here.’ Solas hummed with content as we passed under the broken gate. The once strong stone arches had fallen down to rubble and green vines, brightened by the appearing moon’s light, were devouring the damned walls where so many had passed through. In life and death. 

I stood there, frozen, the alcohol fading too quickly from my veins, leaving me raw and exposed. I yanked my hand from Solas’ violently. The screams my heart had made finally reached the rest of my body as I understood where I was. The gate gave way to a broken courtyard. The cobblestones were cracked like a thousand men had walked over it too harshly. My eyes darted around, tears flowing down my cheeks. There were the stables, the wooden beams splintered and rotting onto the cold ground. Ivory bones lay scattered behind the walls together with rusted metal blades and helmets and shields left behind by people I had once known and cared for. And I heard their whispers call for me in the distance as I stood there, overtaken by the sadness I had hidden away for decades… a century… The proud tower I had once lived in, worked and studied in, was gone. Half of it had collapsed over many years, and nature was already claiming it, taking it back slowly but surely. The door was bashed in, and an eerie emptiness lurked in the darkness behind the walls. Everything was gone, taken, stolen, or rotted away. 

The memories I had tried to drown were now flooding back with a vengeance, and the sight of that tower struck me like a blade to the heart.

Every sign of life, of there being life, was erased. It was like everything I knew had never existed. All of the people that fought here, searched for answers here, were removed from history. The vigil of the Queen’s Guards had been taken down and the flag of the Resistance ripped to mere pieces that lay scattered in the devouring woods. Erik, Moira, the Guards, their presence was empty, like they never had existed in this world I had cherished. Only one remained, a ghost in my nightmares, and I felt her heart flutter through these broken stones. 

Sybil. 

More tears found their way out, and they broke me, every single one of them. I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see but darkness and the memory of crimson blood covering the cobblestones. And then I heard the screams from deep within my memory. My screams. 

‘No!’ My voice screeched over the ruins, and the stones remembered it from long, long ago. 

‘Saeris!’ Solas was standing next to me, shaking me, touching my face, his magic pushing around my body, but I couldn’t say anything but “no.” I cried, my body shaking, my legs giving way until they banged against the cold stones. 

And then, like my eyes were my worst enemies, I found her. 

A small, grey grave still lingered near the outskirts of the courtyard, little but bright blue flowers growing next to it. There had once been many buried here, but only she had remained. Stubborn, like in life. My body lifted itself up, and I ran and ran, sprinting towards where she lay. Solas was right behind me, calling my name, distress in his voice. I had never heard it before. But now, I didn’t care. My body slammed to the ground before the little grave, my hands clawing at the stones while my tears buried themselves in the shallow ground.

‘Sybil?’ I whimpered like a little child. But the grave was silent, just like my nightmares had predicted. You can search for the dead, but they’ll never answer. 

What is gone, will remain silent. 

Even magic cannot bring her back to me. Nothing can. 

But I was here now. She had been alone for too long. But I was here. I am here. ‘I’m sorry,' I hiccupped, the words barely there. ‘I’m so sorry… my sister…’ 

Solas’ warm hands rested on my back like he was prepared to lift me up and hold me. But he didn’t. Instead, I heard his hushed voice speaking to me with soft words. Words I didn’t understand, but I knew they were Elven, spoken like it was the most natural thing in the world. Caressing me like the wind. 

‘She was my sister,’ I whispered to him as I looked up to the grave, the stone visibly old and cracked, but the memory still fresh and young. The memory of her is one I would never forget. One that wasn’t meant to be forgotten. I had tried so hard to forget, but I knew, I know, that it was a memory to be cherished. I would cherish her, like I cherished my past on earth, like I cherished Daniel. I would always cherish her. I will always keep her in me, and I will never forget. 

Forever. If I was immortal, then so was her memory. Then so was she. And together, we will be eternal. That doesn’t sound so bad. 

I knelt beside Sybil’s grave, straightening my back, and I looked at it with open eyes, seeing all she was, and more. 

‘She is my sister.’ 

Solas knelt next to me on one knee, his eyes boring into mine. They shined so brightly, so tenderly, and it made me cry even more. He smiled faintly, and my stomach didn’t turn this time. Only my heart did. 

I turned back to my Sybil and lay my hands flat onto her shallow grave. My magic twirled inside the ground, growing like the roots of life. And although her body had long been gone, she, her lingering presence, her shining memory, was still there. And as she had waited for me, her presence burst as my magic touched it. She, all she was, all she is, grew to the surface into a brilliant golden flower, the core of its leaves a hazel brown. Like her eyes. 

My Sybil was never gone. She was still here. 

A soft smile appeared on my lips, and I tasted the salt of my tears. ‘Hello there, sister.’ I said, not whispering anymore, my voice loud and clear. 

Hello, Saeris.

A young whisper filled my ears, and the flower swelled until it faded with the wind towards the heavens. Like a last goodbye, her presence filled my body, and I wasn’t cold anymore. 

When Sybil was still alive, I used to sing her a song. It would help her sleep, and I knew it reminded her of her mother. Now, the song reminded me of her too. 

I didn’t sing the song this time. The wind did. Her memory did. Sybil did. And it filled my ears, filled the forsaken ruin until it wasn’t forsaken anymore. 

Elgara vallas, da'len
Melava somniar
Mala taren aravas
Ara ma'desen melar

Iras ma ghilas, da'len
Ara ma'nedan ashir
Dirthara lothlenan'as
Bal emma mala dir

Tel'enfenim, da'len
Irassal ma ghilas
Ma garas mir renan
Ara ma'athlan vhenas
Ara ma'athlan vhenas

Wherever you shall go. Follow my voice.

I will call you home.

 

***

I think I sat beside Sybil’s grave for a long time. But it was still night when I stood up and wiped my tears from my face. Solas was still standing behind me, his hands on my shoulders. 

When I turned around though, I knew what tonight had done. It had set my mind free, my heart, my Sybil. I mourned for her, I hadn’t done it properly before. Now that I had, I felt lighter than ever before. I knew I wouldn’t leave Sybil behind ever again. Instead, I would carry her everywhere. In my heart. 

We didn’t dream at the ruin but returned back to camp. I was happy, calm and soothed. Not because of the alcohol, but because of my heart. Because of Sybil. Ma vhenan. 

Solas held my hand as he guided me back, but he was silent as well. At the time, I thought it was because he might’ve been overwhelmed too, or maybe there wasn’t much to be said. 

I should’ve known it was because he knew what he had suspected before. 

This place was a ruin, but in the Fade, I had shown him the tower as proud, still standing, young almost. 

And I was way, way older. 

Solas knew. 

*** 

Travelling back to Haven took us over a week. And it couldn’t have gone fast enough. The Chargers made the journey interesting though, and at night I loved their bickering and laughing. It cheered us all up. I think Maxwell needed it the most. The stress about the decisions he’d made, the Templars that were waiting, and the threat that was The Elder One, weighed him down. It made him quiet, and that wasn’t very like him. But the Chargers did take his mind off things. And I think Cassandra did too. They grew closer together, and I saw the looks the Seeker cast towards him. I wondered how long it would take for them to finally come together, and if Maxwell was ready or prepared for it.  

Solas had become quite quiet lately too. In the Fade, he remained absent from my dreams, and when I looked for him, his wards were too guarded for me to pass through. At day, we talked though, and he didn’t seem angry. Not at all. On the contrary, I caught him glancing at me during the whole trip, his eyes searching for mine. He looked… almost hungry? Like he had waited for something and now he got it. And I don’t know if I should get excited, or afraid. He didn’t ask about what had happened that night, and he seemed to be figuring things out for himself. I didn’t mind that much, didn’t even think something of it. It was more like I was on autopilot myself too. Seeing Sybil’s grave again, coming to terms with her death once more, it had taken its toll. I just wanted to be alone and think, reflect. I needed the time. I needed to mourn. 

And there were worse things waiting for me at Haven. 

‘Do you require any help?’ Solas drove his mount next to mine. We were climbing the last miles to Haven, and snow was already greeting us. It wouldn’t take long now. 

I struggled as I tried to hold the reins and grab the hood of my cloak to cover my head against the cold. ‘Could you…’ I started. 

Solas raised his arm and I felt the caress of the back of his hand against my spine. I shivered, and he swiftly pulled the hood over my head.

‘T-thank you…’ I stuttered and looked up at him. 

Solas was leaning forward and slowly retreated his hand from my cloak. His eyes stayed connected with mine though. His stare was deep, and I wondered what he was looking for.  

Something had changed about him.  

‘The Herald!’ 

People ran towards our party as Haven’s gate loomed up before us. 

‘Here we go again. Smile and wave, people.’ Maxwell mumbled as he dismounted, handing the reins over to the Inquisition soldier that had greeted us. 

‘Your advisors require you at the Chantry… immediately, Your Worship.’ The guard looked nervous from Maxwell to Cassandra. The latter nodded casually. 

‘We shall go now.’ She started and then glanced my way. ‘Make sure the rest can arrive quietly. Escort Madame de Fer to her cabin…’ 

Vivienne clicked her tongue approvingly. ‘Thank you, darling.’ She crooned. 

‘Find a place for the Chargers to settle.’ The Seeker continued, ‘Maybe… outside of town, close to the gate.’ 

The Chargers mumbled amongst themselves and laughed as The Iron Bull grinned, ‘We’ll try to keep it decent.’ 

The soldier pumped his chest with his fist and gave us all a polite nod. And so it was done. As Vivienne was escorted away, and the Chargers moved close to the stables with their giant Chief, Varric stretched his limbs and sighed loudly, ‘Singing Maiden here I come!’ and disappeared behind Haven’s walls. 

Nervously, I took the reins of my horse and guided it to the stables. Templars were skittering about, and they stared at us, especially at Solas and I, with suspicion locked in their eyes. I felt extremely uncomfortable, and each Templar that looked at me, I looked back at with at least the same level of suspicion. 

They were ex-Templars… they distanced themselves from their Order for the Inquisition. They won’t hurt me. They can’t hurt me. It’s okay. I reminded myself over and over again that everything was fine. Yet, the thought of my cabin, my little remote cottage, made me walk faster, and I heard Solas calling my name in the distance as I jogged to the stables. 

I gave the reins of my mount to the stable boy, who shrunk like three inches when he made eye contact with me. I must’ve looked scary, with my dark cloak and flaming green eye, my face a mixture of exhaustion, suspicion, anger and stress. 

Someone appeared behind me, his shadow obscuring mine. At first I thought it was Solas, but the piercing smell of Lyrium made me realise otherwise. I straightened my shoulders and swallowed loudly. I’m safe, I’m safe, I’m safe. 

‘Saeris? Is that you?’ 

And once again, the world seemed to fade away, the air pushing down on me. I turned around very slowly, the tears already gliding over my cheeks. Chills as cold as ice crawled over my spine, over my body, stilling my heart with deep, uncontrollable fear. 

‘Simon?’

Notes:

Did I say drama? I meant melodrama... #AngstAllTheWay
And do you remember Simon (Ch. 14-16) ? I know Saeris does... The drama continues next chapter!

If you liked it (or maybe cried like my darling beta Nerdsaretotallyawesome), you can always leave me a comment or a kudo!

Chapter 32: Confronted

9:35 Dragon

‘When first I summoned her, she was a rose, unwithering, unchanging, and unthorned. A spirit of the purest love one knows, who never hated, coveted, or scorned.’ My hands trembled and the little scrap of paper almost fell from my hands. A soft smile curled on my lips. I had read most of the books here already, and all of them said the same thing. I knew this little torn page I had found in a book about spirits would still be Chantry propaganda, but the new words drummed through my body. I was excited. For five years, I hadn’t been excited. 

‘A second time I drew her 'cross the Veil, and shared a walk, a dance, a stolen kiss; With such a perfect beauty, pure and pale, no woman could compare, no man resist.’ The whisper of my voice got lost in the turning of pages, the whispering of the Enchanters, and the ticking of the Templars’ steel boots on the stone floor. I pushed against the bookcase with my back so the shadows would claim me whole. Nobody would notice me standing here, in the darkest corner of the library, my voice too soft to hear as I sang the next verse. 

‘Then in my weakness, I essayed a third, tho' magisters their warnings did impart.’ Magisters! There were almost no books about Tevinter Magisters! Their ways of magic were too different from the Chantry’s ideology, and though I couldn’t really parallel myself to the Tevinter mages, I still felt more connected to them than any of the mages here. Don’t get me wrong, most Magisters were corrupt, snobbish, and they tended to use magic I rather stayed away from. But when you only read about Enchanters and Chantry scholars, a text from a Magister is like a gift from Mythal herself. 

The last verse I read very slowly, to savour all of the words that wouldn’t be new anymore once I read them. ‘She broke my binding with a single word, and said this smiling as she clutched my heart: “Though Love I was, your passion's changing fire, has forged this spirit into cruel Desire." A cautionary tale, like all of the tales about spirits here. My smile faded as my eyes followed the last line of the text. ‘Sonnet 126, "The Lover and His Spirit", from A Chant for Dreamers by Magister Oratius.’ I cocked my head to the side, a Chant for Dreamers… what’s a Dreamer? 

‘You there!’ A Templar pointed his steel-gloved finger at me. I choked, the shadows dancing across my face, and fumbled the scrap of paper back between the stack of books where I had found it, hoping that one day, maybe another mage that yearned for something different might find joy in it too. The words of the chant were already etched into my mind anyway. I don’t forget things easily. ‘What were you reading!’ The Templar paced towards me, his stern eyes peering at me through his helmet. I recognized his voice but didn’t know his name. Names weren’t important here. We’re all numbers. 

‘In Pursuit of Knowledge: The Travels of a Chantry Scholar by acclaimed Brother Genitivi, Ser .’ I smiled and twisted the random book in my hand. There must’ve been more than a hundred copies of this one in this very library. I’ve read it ten times already. It was fairly new, but this scholar was particularly loved by the Chantry due to his connections to the Hero of Ferelden and Andraste’s Ashes… The Templar yanked the book from my hands and studied the copy. He twisted it around in his hands as if he had never held a book before. ‘If you open it, there are words you can read, you know.’ I grinned. 

The man clicked his tongue and gave the book back to me like it was something dirty because I had touched it. ‘Back to your quarters, mage .’ He grumbled. 

'But the library doesn't close for another hour...’ I started. 

‘Now.’ The Templar ordered me again, and I heard the whispers of the other mages that were researching here, intensifying. 

I sighed and then dipped my head obediently. I’m not going to start a fight here. It’s pointless anyway. ‘Alright, alright.’ I huffed and placed the book back into the bookcase. As I passed the Templar, I heard him gnarl ‘Stupid apostate’ at me, but I ignored him and slipped back to the Enchanters’ Quarters. I wasn’t allowed to get dinner that day. I was punished for “talking back to a Templar Knight.” I felt like a little kid being punished.  

That night, the stone walls of the Circle Tower were cold, as always, but in my small bedroom, hidden beneath the thin blankets, I tried to find warmth. It was late, long after the others had gone to bed. I conjured small butterflies of light around my fingers, watching them flutter beneath the blanket. My magic, my own personal comfort, always calmed me when the tower felt like a cage. The flickers of light danced around, harmless and fragile, their glow the only warmth in the room.

Then I heard it. The sound of steel. Familiar, heavy footsteps echoed outside my door.

I stilled instantly, my butterflies fading into the darkness.

Voices followed—the low murmur of Templars. My heart sank.

I strained to hear them through the thick wooden door, their voices muffled but distinct enough. There were more than two of them, maybe three.

‘She’s dangerous. Did you see how she looked at you in the library?’ one of them said, his voice dripping with disdain. ‘A demon, that one.’

‘It’s only a matter of time before she loses control,’ another voice added. ‘These apostates always do.’

My chest tightened, fear gripping me as I curled tighter beneath the blanket. They were talking about me.

‘I say we make her pay,’ the first voice snarled, barely concealing his frustration.

Then, Simon’s voice cut through the others like a blade, sharp and possessive. ‘No. She’s mine.’

There was silence for a moment. Then another voice, hesitant, uncertain. ‘You’re sure, Simon? She’s dangerous. We all agreed—’

‘And I said she’s mine,’ Simon repeated, louder this time. ‘None of you will touch her. Understand?’

I felt sick.

His claim over me was something he’d enforced for a long time. In his mind, I belonged to him. I was his to protect—but his protection came at a cost. He wasn’t doing it out of kindness or duty. It was ownership.

And now he was coming for me.

The door creaked open, and I shut my eyes tight, feigning sleep. My pulse pounded in my ears, my breathing shallow and quick beneath the blanket. I heard the heavy thud of his boots as he stepped inside, the door closing softly behind him.

I lay as still as I could, the tension in the room so thick I could barely breathe.

Simon approached, his presence oppressive, looming over the bed. I could feel the heat of his breath on my face as he leaned in close, far too close. His scent—metallic from the armour, mixed with sweat and Lyrium—invaded my senses, making my stomach churn.

‘You thought you could embarrass me, didn’t you?’ His voice was a low whisper, dripping with menace. ‘Talking back to a Templar in front of everyone?’

I kept my eyes shut, praying he would think I was asleep and leave. But I knew better.

He crouched down beside my bed, his lips almost grazing my ear as he whispered. ‘You should be thankful I’m the one keeping the others away. They’d tear you apart if I let them.’ His breath was hot against my skin, and I fought back a shudder. ‘But my patience is running thin, Saeris. Very thin.’

His hand rested on the edge of the blanket, too close, the threat of it moving further enough to make my blood run cold.

‘You’ll have to start showing me some gratitude...’ He paused, letting his words sink in, his voice dark and laced with unspoken promises. ‘...soon.’

The implication was clear.

I lay frozen, my fists clenched beneath the blanket, my magic pulsing beneath my skin. I wanted to scream, to fight back, to push him away with everything I had—but I didn’t. I couldn’t. Not here. Not now.

He lingered there for a moment longer, the threat hanging between us, his hand hovering near the edge of the blanket as though daring himself to pull it back. But then he stood, his breath still heavy, his gaze lingering on my still form.

‘I’ve protected you,’ he whispered, stepping away from the bed. ‘Remember that. Without me, you’re nothing.’

His words cut deep, but I didn’t move. I stayed still, too scared to breathe until I heard the door creak open, his footsteps retreating down the hall. Only when I was sure he was gone did I finally let out the breath I had been holding, tears slipping silently down my cheeks.

But even as I cried, I clenched my fists tighter under the blanket. I would not be his. Not ever.

I just had to survive long enough to make that true.

***

9:41 Dragon

‘Simon?’ I stepped back instinctively, but the stables offered no place to hide. The sounds of the bustling camp around us faded into the background. His eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that sent chills down my spine. 

‘Saeris?’ His voice was thick with surprise, his eyes narrowing as he stepped toward me. ‘I don’t believe it. You’re... here.’

He sounded disoriented at first, like he couldn’t quite trust what he was seeing. His eyes raked over me, from my travel-worn clothes to the cloak I still hadn’t removed. His lips curled into a slow, dangerous smile. I could feel the memories clawing at the edges of my mind—the way he used to look at me, the way he would whisper in my ear, his threats, his hands on me, his breath against my skin.

I whimpered and bumped my back against the stable walls. In a panic, I grabbed the edging stones until my knuckles turned white. I thought the stones would break under my grip.

‘So, this is where you ran off to,’ Simon said, his tone low and sinister, as though he’d finally figured out some long-hidden truth. He moved closer, too close. ‘I didn’t think I’d see you again.’ 

I forced myself to stand my ground, but he took that as a sign to close the gap between us, his smile widening. 

‘And this is where you ended up,’ he murmured, his voice low, almost a purr. ‘I didn’t think the Maker would bring you back to me, but... here you are. It must be fate.’

‘Fate?’ My voice finally came out. It was cold, but it trembled slightly, betraying the fear bubbling underneath. ‘You think this is fate?’

He stopped in front of me, his presence overwhelming, like he had when he used to stand over my bed, whispering promises of what he’d do to me. What he was still waiting to do.

‘Of course it is. Don’t you see? We’re back where it started,’ he continued, his eyes gleaming with sick satisfaction. ‘You, an apostate. Me, a soldier for a holy cause.’

I flinched as he reached out, his hand brushing my arm. The same sickeningly familiar touch. 

‘I waited for you,’ he said, his voice dropping lower, more dangerous. ‘I waited. You didn’t make it easy, Saeris. But now... we can pick up where we left off.’

His body enclosed mine, and he took away all the light of the day, until there was only darkness. I moved my head to the side, hoping to see a glint of an escape route. But Simon took my chin in his gloved hand and yanked my face to meet his. I hissed in response, trying to move my head away, but I was stuck.

No. No. No! 

‘You thought you could run from me?’ he asked, his voice laced with amusement, leaning in closer. ‘You thought you could escape what we had?’

My stomach churned, but I stood taller, finding my voice through the fear. ‘What we had?’ I spat, rage bubbling up from the pit of my stomach. ‘We never had anything. Only what you forced on me. But that’s over now. We’re not in the fucking Circle anymore. You can’t hurt me.’ I wished I could believe my own words. I wished they would’ve come across more confidently. 

He laughed—an ugly, mocking sound. ‘You think you’re free, Saeris?’

His hand gripped harder, and I winced as he pulled me closer. His breath was hot against my face, and I could smell the stale scent of travel and arrogance. ‘You’ll never be free. And what are you going to do about it? Blast me away yet again? Tut-tut… What would the Inquisition leaders say? Attacking a loyal soldier unprovoked?’ He scoffed. ‘They’ll always believe a Templar over a mage. A human over an elf. A man over a woman.’

My vision blurred with fury. The old fear was still there, clinging to me like shadows I couldn’t shake, but something deeper burned beneath it. I wasn’t that girl anymore.

His hand gripped my shoulder harder, his fingers digging into my skin. ‘You belong to me.’ I tried to shove him away again, but his grip tightened. The madness in his eyes flared as he leaned in closer, his lips dangerously close to my ear. ‘You owe me, Saeris. Now, come on. Don’t be so difficult.’

I felt my heart pounding, panic rising in my throat. His grip was like iron, and I couldn’t pull away. The old terror had frozen me in place, just as it always had. Just as I opened my mouth to shout something back, a firm hand grabbed Simon’s shoulder and yanked him back with force.

Solas.

‘Let go of her.’

Solas’s voice cut through the suffocating tension like a blade. His eyes were cold, filled with an intensity I hadn’t seen before. He was holding Simon’s arm in a bruising grip. Simon, for the first time, seemed taken aback. ‘This isn’t your concern, knife-ear ,’ Simon sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. ‘This is between me and her.’

Solas, however, ignored him and focussed solely on me. ‘Are you alright?’ He asked, his voice calm despite the situation, but I could hear the quiet rage simmering beneath the surface.

Before I could answer, Simon’s face twisted with anger. Without warning, he pulled his fist back and drove it into Solas’s jaw with brutal force.

Solas crumpled to the ground, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth.

‘No!’ I shouted, instinctively stepping forward, but Simon caught me by the wrist, jerking me back before I could reach Solas.

‘What’s this, Saeris?’ he growled, his voice dripping with venom. ‘You’ve been refusing me, but you’re fucking this elf? ’ He looked between Solas and me, his eyes burning with jealousy. ‘Is that it, Saeris? You’d rather have him? An apostate? After everything I did for you?’

The panic surged again. I glanced down at Solas, who was slowly getting back up, his expression darkening as he wiped the blood from his lip.

Simon took my face in his hand again, yanking my gaze from Solas back to his. He licked his lips as he said, ‘Don’t look at that filth. Look at me. You’re mine, remember?’

Something snapped inside me.

I wasn’t going to let this happen again.

Before Simon could react, I gathered my magic, pulling on every thread of power I had, and shoved him back with a burst of energy. He stumbled, letting go of my wrist in shock, and for a brief moment, I felt the rush of freedom, of taking control.

‘Don’t touch me again,’ I said, my voice low and cold, the warning clear in my eyes.

The magic still hummed in the air around me, raw and powerful, as I advanced on him, my vision narrowing to the sight of him struggling to stand.

‘I’m not yours,’ I hissed, my voice shaking with anger. ‘I never was.’

Simon’s eyes widened as he saw the fury in mine, and for the first time, I saw fear flicker across his face. But it was fleeting. His lips curled into a twisted smile again, even as he tried to straighten himself again.

I will wipe that smile off of his damned face. 

My hands exploded with electricity, the sparks curling across my arms as I walked up to him. Simon’s smile faded. My magic lashed out, spitting from my palms. Simon cried out as the sparks twisted across his armour and blasted him away. 

‘Abomination! Hold it! Call the Commander!’ Soldiers and Templars ran my way, storming to the stables. 

‘Stay out of this.’ I gnarled and a blast of energy exploded from my body, pushing them back with frightening ease. Simon was back on his feet, his sword unsheathed and he hurled at me. With a swift move, I jumped out of the way, rolling over the iced ground. With a swift move, I tugged my old dagger free from its concealed spot at my hip, swiping at Simon’s throat. But he was too strong, and with a hard crash of the pommel of his sword to my wrist, he disarmed me. The dagger scattered over the icy floor. I roared as I lost my balance. Simon took the opportunity and pinned me down to the ground. 

Simon’s two hands pulled up my wrists above my head. He brought up one knee between my legs as I struggled. And there was that wicked smile again. In his pride, though, he forgot: my whole body was a weapon. And I will not let him get away this time. It ends here. It ends now. 

I screamed and the hatred left my throat, a fire blasting from my hands, hitting Simon in the face. He screamed in agony and buried himself in the snow, and I saw how blood drenched the ice beneath him. 

‘Maker’s breath, what is going on here!’ Commander Cullen ran to us from behind the ramparts, his eyes big as he looked at what I already had done, and was planning to still do. 

Ignoring his presence, I jumped back up and leapt across the open space to Simon, my knee pushing his spine down and he huffed as the snow suffocated him. I cried out as my arms formed to icy spikes, which I pointed downwards to crash down on him. 

‘You’ll never touch me again,’ I spat, raising my hands to strike one last time. ‘Su an’banal i’ma!’

But just before I could impale him, two arms pulled me away. I cried out as my magic pushed, but the arms held me tight. ‘Ane atisha, da’len,' Solas’ smooth, deep voice filled my ears. The drum echoed through my head.

‘Let go of me! Fenedhis, Solas!’ I cried out, and tears finally escaped my eyes, dripping down my cheeks. I struggled against Solas’ hold, and my magic spun and twisted and lashed out, but it did nothing but glide over his woollen coat like water off a duck’s back. I smelled his barrier and heard it buzzing around me, trying to calm me down. ‘Varas, Solas! Let me go!’  

‘Vaslasas, da’len, ane atisha.’ Solas said again, his arms tight around me, and he took a step back, guiding me away from Simon as he pushed himself up. I struggled again. I need to finish this! Simon won’t stop, he’ll always keep on trying. But Solas’ arms were bound around me. I never would’ve thought he was so strong. Not physically. But I felt his muscles tense under my strain, and his heartbeat against my back. 

‘Stop this immediately!’ Cullen pushed the crowd that had gathered around us aside and stepped between us. He stared at me, disappointment piercing through his gaze as he looked me up and down. I wriggled against Solas’ arms like a wildling, but he didn’t let go. ‘What is the meaning of this!’ Culled stared at me with his golden brown eyes, and his voice, so like Daniel, made me still myself. 

‘Get that man away from here.’ I yelled but then lowered my head out of breath. Solas’ arms didn’t leave me, but I felt his grip loosen. ‘I cannot stay here… not if he stays.’ My voice broke in the middle of the sentence as I accepted my defeat whilst hanging there in Solas’ arms, his voice still trying to soothe me with the calming Elven tongue. 

Cullen combed his hand through his golden locks and shook his head. ‘Solas, please take Lady Saeris back to her cabin to calm down.’ Cullen sighed and rested his hands on his hips. ‘I will take it from here.’ Cullen looked me in the eyes, a heavy tone to his voice like he was scolding a child.

Simon had gotten back on his feet and wiped the dripping blood from the corner of his mouth. I gritted my teeth as I stared up at him, the left side of his face scarred with the bloody burns made by my magic. I couldn’t suppress a grin. Simon spat some blood on the ground and looked me in the eyes again, anger clouding his sneer. His left eye was closed because of the wounds. That will make a nasty scar. Simon grunted and limped forward to where Solas was restraining me. Cullen stepped before him, his arm stretched forward to keep the Templar in place, so he could go no further.

‘Fen’Harel ma halam!’ I spat and the spit landed before Simon’s feet. Solas tightened his arms around me again. I cried out in irritation. Cullen squinted his eyes, his gaze piercing, urging me to stop.

Simon raised his chin and I heard him sneer very clearly, ‘You…’ He almost smiled, but his face was so bloodied I couldn’t really tell, ‘You wanted it.’ His eyes trailed to my lips, to my breasts. ‘And…I know you liked it.’ 

Solas pushed me against the ground as Cullen roared suddenly, turning around and crushing his steel-gloved fists on Simon’s jaw, who cried out in surprise. I heard the cracking of bones thrumming through my ears, and the crowd became unnaturally quiet. Solas lifted his weight off of me and I turned around on my side, feeling how the snow seeped through my clothes. Cullen towered above Simon, who had been smacked to the ground. K.O. 

The Commander turned to me, his eyes big, filled with sadness. He lowered his gaze to me and held me there for a couple of moments, his eyes searching for something. I never felt so small before. Cullen commanded something and the crowd dispersed, some ex-Templars lingered and stared at us angrily for a second, but then they too returned to their posts. Two Inquisition soldiers lifted Simon up to carry him away. 

‘Careful,' Solas hushed as he helped me back on my feet. 

‘Cullen… I,’ I started, but the Commander broke our eye contact and looked past me. 

‘Take this man away and get Leliana for me.’ He said to the soldiers and they pumped their chests immediately. ‘I think we need to investigate this one.’ Cullen nodded at me, and I saw concern and pain in his eyes. I knew then that he understood what had happened, or could’ve happened, between Simon and me in the Circle. My gut twisted, and I felt… sick… dirty… The Commander turned on his heel, marching away with the soldiers towards the gate.

I stared at the bloodied snow beneath our feet and cried softly. Solas threw his coat over my shoulders and covered me from the peering eyes of the people standing near us. I didn’t care what they just had seen me do. I only cared about what I didn’t do. 

I should’ve killed him. 

Notes:

Elven translations:
Su an’banal i’ma! - To the void with you!
Ane atisha. - Be calm/peaceful
Varas, Solas! - Let go/Leave, Solas!
Vaslasas, da’len, ane atisha. - Yield, young one, be calm.
Fen’Harel ma halam! - Dread Wolf ends you.

Chapter 33: Unresolved

Back in my cabin, I sat huddled near the small hearth, trying to shake the cold from my bones. The fire crackled softly, but no matter how close I sat, the chill wouldn’t leave me. My mind was spinning, thoughts of Simon and what had just happened outside replaying in my head, over and over again. 

‘Can I do something? Help you in any way?’ Solas lingered near the entrance of my cabin, the door already closed behind him to not let the warmth out. He cocked his head, and I saw a sheen of a purple bruise on his cheek. All because of me. Solas’ eyes seemed to pierce through me, stinging my shoulders with questions he didn’t really want an answer to. 

‘No…’ I mumbled, my voice hoarse because of the screaming and yelling and fighting. What were they doing right now, with Simon? Was Leliana interrogating him already? Or was he still unconscious in the cells below? Would they judge him? Punish him? Or just let him go like nothing ever happened. 

Will they kill him?

Do I want them to kill him? 

It should be me. I should be the one to give him the final blow. I should’ve killed him when I had the chance just now and…

‘I am sorry if I—’ Solas’ voice breached my flow of thoughts, and I lifted my head in response. 

‘You shouldn’t have stopped me.’ I interrupted. If only I’d been fast enough. I looked at Solas and noticed then how his jaw was clenched, his eyes deep and dark. So dark.

‘Shouldn’t have—’ Solas furrowed his eyebrows, his fist balled. ‘Do you have any idea how dangerous this could have been for you?’ Solas sounded agitated then. ‘An apostate mage attacking a Templar in the middle of Haven. Do you realise the risk you took? Do you realise what they could do to you?’

I opened my mouth to respond, but the words caught in my throat. He wasn’t wrong. I knew the risk. I’d known the moment I’d felt my magic surge through me, raw and unrestrained, that I could be signing my own death warrant. But I hadn’t cared. All I had seen was Simon.

Solas paced the room, his fists clenched at his sides. ‘You cannot let yourself lose control like that. Not here. Not with the Templars watching you so closely.’ 

‘I had to,’ I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper. I wrapped my arms around myself, hugging my knees to my chest. The shame of it all was washing over me now—how I’d nearly killed Simon, how I’d let my rage get the better of me.

Solas stopped pacing, his eyes locking onto mine. ‘You could have been killed. Or worse.’

His words made my chest tighten. Worse. There were fates far worse than death in this world, especially for mages like me.

I just stared at Solas in silence until my voice was ready to come out. ‘You don’t know…’ I swallowed, and I saw Solas flinch almost invisibly, ‘They don’t know what he… They would’ve understood.’

‘Would they? When have humans ever understood Our People? You are at a disadvantage, Elven and apostate mage. I do not want…’

‘Maxwell would’ve listened!’ I almost yelled but composed myself. ‘They would listen because they are my friends.’ I panted and shrugged as I stood up and walked over to my bed to sit on it. ‘But you’re right… I shouldn’t act without thinking… not like that… I shouldn’t let my emotions get the better of me.’ I rested my face in my cupped hands and sighed deeply, my shoulders shivering. ‘It’s over now. I will face it again tomorrow.’

‘What did he do to you?’ His voice came out so softly, almost like a careful growl. I swallowed again. At this, Solas crossed his arms before his torso and paced back and forth. ‘Did he…’ He stopped and stared at me, shadows dancing across his face. 

‘No. He wanted to. Threatened me.’ I stared into the fire. I had never told anyone. ‘He was the one who captured me. And the day I got out… He forced—’

‘Ir abelas.’ Solas stopped me. The look in his eyes made me forget to breathe. ‘You do not have to tell me. I can see how this hurts you so.’ Then Solas shook his head, looking at the wall. He said something in Elven, something I couldn’t understand. 

His words hung between us, heavy with understanding. I swallowed hard, feeling a lump form in my throat. ‘It’s okay, Solas.’ I whispered, my voice barely audible. ‘You helped me today. I haven’t yet thanked you for it. Ma melava halani, ma serannas.’ 

Solas nodded, his gaze never leaving mine. There was something in his eyes—something that I couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t pity. It was deeper than that. Almost... protective.

But I couldn’t face him, not now. Not like this. ‘I just need... I need some time,’ I said, my voice shaking slightly. ‘Could you... leave me alone for a bit?’

Solas hesitated for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, he gave a small nod and stood up. ‘Of course.’

He turned to leave, but as he reached the door, he stopped. Slowly, he placed something on the small table by the hearth—my dagger. The one I’d lost in the fight.

I stared at it, confused at first, then looked up at Solas. His eyes lingered on the blade for a moment, as though it confirmed something for him. Something he had suspected for a while now.

There was a flicker of... recognition? Understanding? It was faint, but it was there.

He looked at me then, a long, searching gaze that seemed to reach beyond what I could comprehend, and in that moment, I saw something I hadn’t noticed before—a quiet sadness. And then, without another word, he turned and left the cabin, closing the door softly behind him.

***

‘Saeris? Saeris! You there?’ Maxwell’s voice thundered through the door, his knocking thrumming through my ears. I yawned and stretched my body, ignoring the invasive bashing on my door. A nearly restless night had passed and I’d only slept for an hour or two. Maybe three.

I replayed my fight with Simon over and over in my head, thinking of the words he had spat my way, the intrusive glare in his eyes, the disgusting grin he gave me when he saw me. I imagined impaling him with ice shards and killing him on the spot. At least I had burned half his face, and I wasn’t going to heal him. He’d carry that scar for the rest of his miserable, hopefully short, life. 

‘Saeris! Open up!’

‘A moment!’ I huffed and crawled out of bed, my limbs sore and my head pounding. I pulled a clean cotton shirt over my head and put on some pants, wrapping my cloak around me and then stumbled to the door to open it. Before I could say anything, Maxwell burst into the room, his eyes big and his cheeks red.

Out of breath, he yelled, ‘What did he do? What did that Templar do to you? I swear to the Maker, I will crush that guy’s skull with a Warhammer. If he even just glances at you, Andraste’s holy tits, I’ll spoon his eyes out!’ Maxwell threw his arms up in the air and stomped around my cabin furiously, steam nearly spewing out of his nose like an angry bull. 

‘Maxwell, calm down—’ I laid my hand on his chest and felt his heart pound underneath my pale fingers. 

‘Did he…’ Maxwell heaved, his eyes boring into mine. I saw anger, rage and horror, but also sadness and deep, deep sorrow.

I knew what he meant. ‘No,' I shook my head and Maxwell immediately relaxed, ‘Simon never got that far…’ 

‘If Leliana hadn’t stopped me, I had killed that guy already, pulled his damned guts out.’ Maxwell rested his hand on my cheek and I leaned into his touch, his palms cooling me. ‘When I heard, I wanted to come but… Cullen said to leave you be. I couldn’t sleep and I kept thinking of what had happened and… Sorry I woke you up.’ 

I inhaled, taking in Maxwell’s woody smell that lingered on his hand and placed my hand right on top of his, squeezing it tightly. ‘It’s okay. I’m fine now, really.’

Maxwell smiled a little, but it seemed forced. ‘I’m sorry, but you still have to face the guy one more time. Leliana requests your presence in the Chantry cells… she needs your side of the story… We have to have a verdict to get rid of that… ass … and get him out of here.’ He suddenly grabbed my face with both of his hands now, urging me to look into his eyes. ‘If it had been up to me… I’d killed that man already… very slowly and painfully.’ Maxwell panted, ‘But it’s not solely my decision, I’m not the Inquisitor, no one is. Josephine, Leliana, Cullen and I will decide the Templar’s fate together.’

‘I understand, Max.’ I smiled warmly and swallowed to keep the tears down. Maxwell truly was my friend. I knew he’d stand up for me, no matter the case. 

Someone coughed loudly, and Maxwell immediately retreated his hands from my face, taking a step backwards. Solas was leaning against the doorframe, his eyes cold as he stared at the both of us. And for a moment, an enraging gleam shimmered through his stare as he glanced at Maxwell, but it was gone before the Herald noticed it. ‘Saeris, I came to see if you were alright. I did not feel your presence in the Fade last night.’ He sounded almost irritated. 

I cocked my head, ‘I’m fine. Didn’t sleep much, so I couldn’t enter the Fade, sadly.’ I rolled back my shoulders and looked back to Maxwell, who still seemed to tiptoe nervously as he tried to calm himself down. ‘I need to go to the Chantry. It’s time we settle this matter once and for all.’ Maxwell nodded and strutted out of the cabin, I followed, but Solas stopped me in the door frame with a warm hand on my lower back. His face was close to mine, and I saw that his purple bruise had already faded. I curled my toes as I felt the familiar sickening ache in my empty stomach. It made me uncomfortably dizzy, but I still tried to smile as Solas leaned towards me.

‘Do you want me to accompany you?’ He hushed, his eyes never leaving mine. 

‘That’s not necessary, Solas, Maxwell’s with me.’ I took a step backwards to gain some space between us. My stomach immediately calmed a little. ‘I’ll see you later, okay?’

Solas nodded calmly, but his stare still made me shiver a little. Maybe he’d had a rough night too? 

I left Solas at my cabin and walked with Maxwell towards Haven’s gate. The soldiers immediately dispersed and greeted Maxwell respectfully as we walked through the military camp. The soldiers stared at me, but they weren't angry stares, not all of them. I think some had already guessed why I had lashed out yesterday, and they knew that if their Herald trusted me, they could do so too. But the other ex-Templars, the ones that had joined after Val Royeaux, couldn’t understand why the Herald allowed me so close to him. Maybe they thought I was an abomination, an apostate ready to kill an enemy Templar, a rebel. I didn’t blame them, I nearly killed one of their brothers yesterday. Yet, they didn’t know Simon as I did, they hadn’t yet seen through his façade. They didn’t know the monster wasn’t the mage, but the Templar. Maxwell noticed their hostile looks and walked closer to me, his back straightened and his eyes stern but confident. A true Herald of Andraste. 

Maxwell guided me to the Chantry and as we walked down the stairs, the warm and spiritual atmosphere turned into coldness and despair. The cells. This is where Maxwell’s story as the Herald had begun. In this damp, dark place below Andraste’s shelter. Most cells were empty, except for a few ones in the back. Two spies were locked up on the right, nameless, and foolish enough to think the Nightingale wouldn’t have caught them. And in the cell on the left, laid Simon. 

His face had been partially healed, probably by a healing potion, but it was still bloody and inflamed. Simon looked up at me, his pupils enlarging. As he stared at me, I noticed no “love” or lust was left, I only saw hatred. Great, now we were finally on the same level. Simon’s hands were bound behind his back, and he sat hunched because of the heavy protective barrier that was cast on these walls. Now he knew what that felt like. 

From a dark corner, away from the torches’ light, stepped a cloaked figure. Two icy, sterling blue eyes appeared from beneath the purple hood. ‘Good, you’re here.’ Leliana’s alluring voice filled the deadly quiet room, and the two spies on the right flinched with fear when hearing her calm Orlesian whispers. The shadows behind her seemed to follow her body like sly dogs would follow their master. ‘Follow me.’ She walked over to me and her deadly eyes almost lit up her face. There was a door just before the entrance of the basement, and behind it, an interrogation room. Secluded, soundproof, and away from prying ears. As we entered the stone-embedded chamber, Maxwell closed the heavy door behind us. I immediately felt claustrophobic. The grey, heavy stones reminded me of the cells in the Circle. How appropriate. 

‘Please, take a seat.’ Leliana gave me a polite smile and took out a chair for me. We sat across from each other at a table in the middle of the room, a small candle casting a dim light on our faces. The old wooden table creaked as Leliana rested her elbows on it, and she looked at me with big, but undeniably dangerous eyes. I bet that if you were her prisoner, you wouldn’t come out of this room unharmed. ‘I would like to hear your part of the story, Saeris, since we cannot trust the Templar… or can we?’ She lifted one of her thin red eyebrows, and I swallowed. She noticed and smiled a little. ‘If the man’s guilty of what I think he is, he has to be punished accordingly, no?’

Maxwell shifted on his feet. He was standing behind me, near the door. 

‘Do you want him to leave us?’ Leliana cocked her head, her voice kind, but the tone serious and stern. 

‘No, he can stay…’ I said. He was my friend, I knew I could trust him. Maybe having him here will give me strength. 

Leliana nodded, and folded her hands, her posture straight and feminine, waiting for me to carry on with my story. My side of it anyway. 

‘It all started when I was in the Free Marches, close to Wildervale, and planning on moving back to Ferelden after some years of travelling as a minstrel, when a Templar ran into my camp being chased by a black bear…’

***

‘And then he was here… claiming fate had brought us back together. I tried to tell him off, but he didn’t take no for an answer. When he pinned me against the wall and Solas threw him off, and Simon then hurt Solas… I… flipped. I was done with the hurting. I was planning to end it. If Solas and Cullen hadn’t stopped me, Simon would be very much dead right now.’

‘Is that what you wanted?’ Leliana leaned back into her chair, a lock of red hair swaying in front of her eyes. She had listened to my story without saying anything up until now. 

‘I wanted him dead, and I don’t think I’d feel bad if I had killed him… but I didn’t, so here we are. But… I hope you can understand why I did what I did… and that I can’t stay near that man.’

‘I understand. With your powers, you are a valuable asset to the Inquisition. And a friend of the Herald to boot. We gain more of your presence here than that Templar, yet killing him publicly will anger our new-found alliance with the Templars. I hope you understand that.’ Leliana peered at me through the almost molten candle’s light. 

‘I know… Maybe I should’ve killed him when I had the chance.’ I looked at my hands. There was already so much blood on them, but I think I hadn’t minded the extra smudge… 

‘Hatred is a very defining, and deep feeling. And just like love can make one kill, hatred can sometimes make one unable to do anything at all. Maybe it was better if you’d killed him, or maybe the Maker stopped you for a reason. Do not fret about it.’ Leliana pushed herself from her chair and Maxwell walked to where I was seated and placed his hand on my shoulder, pinching me kindly. 

‘What will happen now?’ I asked. 

‘The Herald and I will discuss everything with the Ambassador and the Commander and agree on a correct punishment for the Templar.’ Leliana gave me a small smile, and for once it seemed to reach her eyes too. ‘Next time, do not act as rashly. You are not alone in the Circle anymore. You can trust us.’ With that, the Nightingale soundlessly walked away, and the shadows took her back into the cells. 

‘I will do everything in my power to get that man away from here, Saeris.’ Maxwell smiled. ‘Come, I’ll escort you out. No need to stay here for a second longer.’ 

I took Maxwell’s hand and squeezed it. ‘Thank you, my friend.’ 

We walked back upstairs to the Chantry. Leliana was already there, Josephine at her side. The Ambassador looked up with a gasp as I entered the hall. She walked my way, the tap of her heels echoing through the Chantry. She clasped my hands and smiled warmly. ‘Lady Saeris, I have heard what has happened… I truly hope you are alright.’ Josephine whispered with her thick Antivan accent and nodded kindly. ‘You have the report, Leliana?’ Josephine let go of my hands and turned to the Spymaster. ‘Let us discuss this matter immediately. It should not be delayed. Herald, if you have time?’

‘Of course.’ Maxwell dipped his head. ‘Let’s head into the war room.’ He straightened his back and then continued. ‘You there, soldier!’ 

A soldier standing near the Chantry’s entrance looked up and pumped his chest respectfully. ‘Yes, Herald.’

‘Call on Commander Cullen, tell him to come to the war room as soon as possible.’ Maxwell ordered, the whole hall quiet to hear his words. Yet, he whispered as he said, ‘He’ll know why.’ 

As the group retreated back into the war room, I was left alone outside in the hall. Whispers returned, and I felt the disapproving stares of the Chantry mothers, sisters and priests. Behind the stone pillars, stood Vivienne, and I felt her sneering look on my back. I knew what she would say, and I didn’t care. After a couple of minutes, maybe ten, the Chantry door opened and Commander Cullen strutted towards the war room with a thundering pace, his face determined. He almost hadn’t seen me, but stopped as I scraped my throat to give him a polite nod. The Commander was in full gear, his armour gleaming, and the fur on his shoulderplates caressing his strong jaws. His blonde hair lay somewhat messed up, and his golden eyes pierced through mine. He was out of breath. ‘Lady Saeris,' he panted and combed his hand through his hair. ‘Are you alright?’

‘Y-Yes, I’m good, I guess.’ I mumbled. I remembered his disappointing stare yesterday. It had gutted me, knowing that for a second, he only saw a defiant mage in me. 

‘I must apologise for yesterday. I—’

‘You haven’t done anything wrong, you handled it professionally… as a Commander.’ I answered and looked at the ground 

‘No… I didn’t. I didn’t assess the situation correctly… if that Templar hadn’t said… you know… I would’ve assumed you were in the wrong.’ Cullen slumped his shoulders a little. 

‘It’s okay… I think I looked pretty crazy yesterday… You’ve stood up for me in the end, Cullen. That’s what matters.’ I rested my hand on his steel-plated shoulder, and though he probably couldn’t feel it, I squeezed a little. Cullen smiled at my hand and then looked down. 

‘I will see that this man gets punished, my Lady.’ Cullen scratched the back of his neck, ‘I will tell the other Templars who have joined about this…if that is alright with you?’

‘You may do that. They should know…’

‘Indeed,' Cullen smiled faintly, ‘You are no Circle mage, and they are no Templars anymore. We’re all Inquisition members, and should comply with its rules.’ Cullen placed his hand on mine, patting it almost awkwardly. ‘I will go in now, you should go and eat something. This might take some time.’ 

‘Alright.’ I flashed my teeth in a hopeful smile. 

‘You will hear from me.’ Cullen took a step back, but before he turned to the door and left. 

Again, I was left alone in the Chantry hall. The eyes of Andraste’s many statues glared down at me, and I was starting to feel uncomfortable. But still, I was happy. Though the Inquisition was based on the Andrastian religion, they still supported me, a nonbeliever apostate mage, over an Andrastian Templar. They had my back, because they were my friends, my companions, partners. I wasn’t alone. Not anymore.

***

‘Twinkle! There you are!’ Varric yelled and raised his hairy arms in the air to get my attention. He was sitting at the big table near the centre of the tavern. I smiled tiredly and walked his way, wading through half-drunken pilgrims and hungry soldiers waiting for their food to arrive. I sat down next to him and he grinned gleefully at me. ‘Heard you’ve been up to no good, huh?’

‘Probably had it comin', innit?’ Sera plopped down on the other side of the table as soon as I was seated. She grinned at me with her crooked teeth, and she reminded me of a child whose baby teeth were changing into adult ones. ‘I mean, didn’t see what happened, yeah, heard he was an arse, all high ‘n mighty ‘n shit.’

‘Something like that…’ I smiled again, but it didn’t really reach my eyes. Right now, they were still discussing Simon’s fate, my fate, in the war room. Though my body was there, my mind was with them. 

‘Hey! Flissa! Could you be so nice to bring us a good bowl of your stew, would ‘ya?’ Varric yelled to the barmaid, who blushed and nodded eagerly.

‘Ahhh! Look who we have here?’ The Iron Bull thundered through the tavern and walked our way, every step he took making the whole room tremble. People looked up when he passed, gawking at the huge grey-horned man. ‘You had a good fight yesterday, too bad you couldn’t finish it, though.’ The Qunari man laughed loudly and sat down next to Sera, who was drooling while staring at his horns. 

‘You were there?’ I cocked my head and furrowed my brows, ‘You could’ve helped, you know.’

‘Ha! You didn’t seem like you needed any help! Healer my ass!’ He smacked the table, ‘You should join the Chargers when you’re done here.’

‘I’ll think about it.’ I dipped my head. No way in hell. 

‘H-Here you go, my Lady,' Flissa stuttered and put down a bowl of venison stew in front of me. I nodded kindly at her, but she didn’t seem to dare to look me in the eyes. 

‘Pretty lady!’ The Iron Bull turned to Flissa. I didn’t really know if she was flustered, or really scared. ‘One round of your strongest stuff! It’s on me!’ 

Varric clapped his hands, ‘That’s what I like to hear!’ 

‘It’s time I get to know you guys better, hmm?’ The Iron Bull glanced with his one eye my way and pursed his lips. I squeezed my eyes together a little. I’ve seen that look in Leliana’s eyes when she was interrogating me before. 

I hummed nonchalantly and started digging into my stew. I hadn’t eaten anything at all that day, so I was starving. We drank and talked for some hours, and I kind of appreciated the distraction. Varric was talking all about his life as a merchant and writer, and The Iron Bull enlightened us about some Qunari customs. Sera blabbered on about Red Jenny things and some shitty nobles, I couldn’t really follow her most of the time. She had seemed quite distant towards me at Val Royeaux, and I understood now that she wasn’t too keen on anything about “magical titstruggles” and “Elven gloryshite.” But maybe because of what happened yesterday, she seemed quite nice to me today.

I told some stories about my days, or decades, as a travelling minstrel. I talked about my journey through the cold steppes of the Anderfels and the warm swamps of Antiva and Rivain. I kept everything vague, though, reminding them that I was born in Ferelden, and just travelled out of boredom and sense of adventure. They didn’t need to know the true reasons why. ‘Do you like it here, Sera?’

The Elf sniggered, her droopy eyes ever droopier. Guess she wasn’t good at drinking. ‘It’s fine, yeah? I thought it’d be bigger… Pfft! Hear that? I meant the stronghold, but it sounded like… well, it’s funny, right? Imagine Heraldy being here.’ She giggled and slapped her knee. Varric gave her a fist bump. They kept on talking about Haven and the war and the Breach, but I couldn’t focus anymore. It’d been two hours already, they should be done discussing by now. I stared down into my almost empty chalice, trying to see patterns in the swirls of the alcohol. 

‘Saeris, I have been looking for you.’  Solas startled me as he walked from behind my chair. His face was stern but concerned and he laid his hand on my shoulder as if by asking if I was alright. 

‘Solas,' I gave him a small smile, but it seemed to only reassure him a little. He pushed his chin out and nodded towards the door. I dipped my head and pushed my chair back. 

‘Pffbt!’ Sera rinsed her drink in her mouth, gurgling it and then gulping it down. Sneeringly, she stared at Solas, ‘Hey Solas! Droopy-ears-says-what?’

Solas, completely flabbergasted, stopped in his tracks to stare the drunken girl down. ‘…Excuse me?’

The Iron Bull giggled in his fist and Varric looked at the ceiling to hold in his laughter. Sera’s mouth twitched, but she lisped, ‘Ugh, you’re no fun!’

Solas sighed overly deeply and looked at me again. I chuckled and lifted my shoulders. When we left the tavern, we heard the group’s laughter roaring loudly inside. We walked silently up the hillock towards his cabin. Solas had clasped his hands behind his back as we strolled, our steps synchronous. For the few moments we were walking, I enjoyed the not-that-silent silence of the village. It was late in the afternoon, but people were still working vigorously. The crisscrossing of footsteps in the snow, the grunting of the military camp outside the gate, the birds chirping carelessly as they twirled through the broken sky… it was the kind of silence you could get lost in, your worries could drift away with the breeze. When we neared Solas’ cabin, he started to talk again, not loudly, his words floating through the air like he didn’t want to disturb the silence too. When he spoke like that, I could almost forget the ache in my stomach, the fire in my throat and the cold sweat on my brows that were caused by his presence. ‘Ir abelas, I took you from your friends.’ 

‘That’s okay, it was starting to get stuffy in there anyway.’ I smiled and lay my hand on the hedge of stone near his door, picking out the powdery snow from between the groves. ‘Have you heard anything? From the war room?’ I didn’t look at him when I said that, hoping the nervousness in my eyes wouldn’t be noticed. I wanted all of this to be over, so I could get back on track, back to protecting Maxwell and ensuring that the hole in the sky would get closed. 

‘There is yet to be any news.’ Solas crossed his arms and lifted a brow at me. ‘They will not leave that man unpunished.’

‘I know…’ I grinned nervously, ‘This could all have been prevented if I just…’ 

‘Maybe it is for the better this way.’ Solas stared at the ground, at the snow melting beneath his bare feet. ‘At least you were not hurt in any way.’

‘Simon punched you quite harshly… Are you alright?’ 

‘I am fine, nothing more but a mere bruise. That will not kill me.’ Solas looked back to my face, his eyes kind and calming, unlike this morning. ‘Were you worried about me, Saeris?’

I scoffed and threw some powdery snow on him. Solas chuckled and took a step back, but the question still lingered on his face. ‘Of course, I was! I do care about you. We’re friends.’ 

‘We are.’ I couldn’t really tell if that was a question or not, but Solas left it open as he smiled faintly at me. It almost seemed like he had been expecting another answer. What was it he wanted? 

I changed the subject. ‘Your words yesterday really calmed me… The Elven language really does that, huh?’

Solas chuckled, ‘Sometimes Our People can feel the meaning of the words just by hearing them. But you speak the language quite well. Where did you learn?’ Solas’ eyes became a little bit colder and sterner. 

‘I lived with a Dalish clan for a while, when I was younger… The Keeper was a very intelligent woman, she taught me a lot.’ Solas hummed. That wasn’t quite the answer he seemed to want either. And I knew he detested the Dalish. I pursed my lips, ‘You called me da’len yesterday, though. I’m not a child.’

Solas stared into my eyes again, very deeply. I swallowed the bile that had formed in my throat. ‘No,' he said, his tone serious and his voice deep, echoing through the cracks of my mind, ‘You are not.’ 

Solas knows.

‘Saeris!’ Maxwell ran towards us, the Commander on his heel. I pushed myself away from Solas’ gaze and walked towards them, a nervous look clouding my eyes. 

‘And? What’s the verdict?’ I squeaked, the stress seeping from my every breath. 

‘Exile.’ Maxwell heaved. He had probably sprinted to me when he left the war room. I looked down at my feet, a little bit disappointed. What had I expected? The death penalty? Leliana had already told me that wouldn’t happen, but still. Exile was still good, it meant that I wouldn’t ever have to see Simon again, not close to my home anyway. I should be happy. 

‘He will be ordered to leave Ferelden or be hanged if he returns. It may not be what you want, but at least he’ll be gone. He will also be stripped from all his titles and sent far to the north…’ Cullen stepped from behind Maxwell and smiled a little at me, his hand resting on my shoulder. Behind me, I felt Solas’ stare, and the stew in my stomach turned sour. 

‘You did your best… thank you…’ I sighed. ‘When… when will you send him on his way?’ 

‘Tonight.’ Maxwell cocked his head a little. ‘You don’t have to be present if you don’t want to.’

‘No.’ I interrupted and lifted my chin confidently, ‘I’ll be there.’

***

The moon rested high in the starry night sky, its light casting eerie shadows on the unpaved path that led through the forest, away from Haven. Cassandra stood next to me, close enough for me to feel her warmth. Solas stood behind me, a barrier buzzing around us. 

I looked up as soon as I heard the crushing of boots. Maxwell, Leliana and Cullen appeared from behind the trees, Simon in chains bound before them. The man who I hated so, now stared at me with equal disgust. A long scar curled across his face, from his forehead, over his left eye, and down his cheek. The skin near the scar had been charred away, leaving red blemishes and dark groves of flesh. I hoped it hurt, a lot. Simon sneered at me as Cullen pushed him forward, towards our party. I felt Cassandra’s hand reach for mine, and she pinched me a little. I looked at her and she at me, her eyes big and kind. Like a big sister. 

Cullen stepped forward, holding the official document of Simon's verdict, his voice carrying over the gathering crowd.

'Simon Halden, former Templar of Ostwick, by the authority of the Inquisition, you are hereby sentenced to exile. You will be banished from Ferelden and all Inquisition-controlled lands. If you are found within these borders again, your life will be forfeit. Leave now and never return.'

The words hung in the air, final and cold.

Simon didn’t even nod, didn’t even look up. 

‘These soldiers will escort you out of Ferelden,’ Cullen continued as five Inquisition scouts appeared from behind him. Two I recognized as Leliana’s trusted rogues. ‘You will be given a limited amount of Lyrium. If you struggle, they have been ordered to kill.’ 

The soldiers took Simon’s chains from Cullen’s hand and pushed the Templar forward. Simon complied with an angry glare but then stared back to the ground. His footsteps crunched against the gravel as he was led past me, his hands bound tightly in front of him. His face remained blank, but his eyes—those cold, dark eyes—flicked to mine as he drew near. For a moment, I thought he might pass in silence, but just before he was out of earshot, he leaned ever so slightly toward me, his voice low and dripping with malice.

‘You haven’t escaped me, Saeris,’ he murmured, his words soft but sharp, like a blade hidden beneath velvet. ‘You can exile me to the ends of the world... but the world is smaller than you think.’

A chill ran through me, but I stood my ground, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing fear in my eyes. His lips curled into a small, knowing smile, his gaze lingering just a fraction longer before he straightened and was pushed forward by the soldiers. It was a glare that said a thousand words, but only a few rang through my mind. He will return. One day, we will fight again on opposite sides, and one of us will die at the other’s hand. And until that day, I would wait for him and he for me. And when that day comes, I’ll make sure I’m ready.

As he walked away, his figure swallowed by the darkness beyond the gates, his threats clung to the chill Frostback air. 

For a moment, I felt secure, calm. 

And then Flissa’s stew came right back out again. 

Notes:

This chapter wasn't as action-packed as the last one, but I didn't want to go lightly over the "Simon-situation" and found it needed another chapter of Saeris dealing with it. So, this villain is still alive, and you haven't seen the last of him yet, that's all I'm saying! Soon, our friends will be visiting the city of Redcliffe... excited?!!

Chapter 34: Mended

‘Mum… Why am I called Saeris?’

‘What do you mean, sweetie?’ Mum dipped a porcelain plate into the foam, roaming it around in the sink. The clinging of the dishes against each other rang through the kitchen. I looked at my brittle nail polish. It’s black, named “Witch”, and it glitters a little. 

‘It’s just… I don’t like my name. I want a normal name.’ I whined.

Mom stopped scrubbing the already clean plate and wiped her wet slender hands on her apron. She turned to me, one brow uplifted, her hands resting on her hips. ‘Why would you want that? Do you want to be called Sarah? There are three Sarahs in your class. Nobody’ll mistake your name!’

‘But… Even my teacher can’t even write it properly.’ I bit my lips. They were chapped. 

‘She will, honey.’ Mum walked over to the kitchen table where I was seated and pushed my seat back a little so she could look into my eyes. ‘You know… Dad really likes your name. It’s special, and means a lot to him.’ Mum combed her fingers through my thick blonde hair and smiled a little. There were small little creases appearing near the ends of her eyes. Like branches of a tree.

‘It does?’ I looked up into Mum’s clear blue eyes. I had inherited them from her. 

‘It does a lot!’ Dad barged into the room and threw his suitcase onto the table with a bang. He grinned at me while he loosened his tie that matched his blue suit. 

‘Why?’ I asked again, this time maybe a little bit more annoyed as Dad pecked Mum on the lips. She smiled when he whispered something as he retreated.

‘Because, the day before you were born, like fate itself, I dreamed about it.’ Dad wiggled his eyebrows and squatted near my chair, looking me in the eyes like he was dead serious. 

I scoffed, ‘Yeah, right.’ 

‘No, no it’s true!’ Dad flashed his white teeth. ‘And in my dream, I couldn’t see anything but two beautiful eyes, and they called to me. “Saeris! Saeris!” And when I woke up, your gorgeous Mum here,' he winked at her playfully, again, ‘was huffing and puffing and not that much later you were there. And I couldn’t think of anything but Saeris.’ 

‘You’re playing with me.’ I stuck out my tongue and pushed myself from my chair, snarling.

I don’t like my name. I never have. And I never will.

***

The strings of the fiddle I loaned from Flissa cut through my fingers, but I ignored the stinging as I strummed a slow melody. With each tone that flowed through the wooden instrument, my heart dropped. I wondered if it could stop. 

Farewell and adieu, to you Rivaini ladies
Farewell and adieu, to you ladies of Rivain
For we received orders for to sail for Old Ferelden
But we hope, very soon, we shall see you again

We'll rant and we'll roar like true Felicisima raiders
We'll rant and we'll roar along the salt seas
Until we strike soundings in the channel of Ferelden
From Alamar to Finley, it's 35 leagues

‘Flissa! Another!’ The Iron Bull bashed his empty cup on the wooden table, and I missed a string. 

‘You know, Tiny, the table can’t help it that you’re drinking too fast.’ Varric grinned and winked at the Qunari man. I smiled faintly and then continued the incoherent song I’d been playing for the last two hours. 

‘It is a tool, Varric , the louder the bang, the better she hears. A show of strength. Ladies dig it.’ Why does that man even bother? You can see, let alone hear him, from two miles away. 

Flissa scurried to our table, her cheeks red from working. She nodded at me but didn’t meet my eyes. ‘The same?’ She asked meekly. Bull flashed his teeth at her, and she became a little bit paler. She should be scared. Bull literally bites… unless she likes that sort of thing. ‘Would you like some stew, my Lady?’ Flissa turned around before she walked back to get Bull’s drink. She stared at my hands, at my fingers curling around the fiddle.

‘Pbft! Don’t! She’ll throw that up, like when… remember? Well you remember, I don’t, I heard. Did it smell?’ Sera giggled and poked my elbow slightly. 

Ignoring Sera, I said, ‘No, thank you, I don’t have a big appetite today.’

‘You gotta eat something, Twinkle.’ Varric stared at me, his tone serious. My father used to use that same tone when I didn’t want to eat my vegetables. 

‘I know, I know.’ I waved my hand, pausing my song. ‘Maybe later, okay?’ I smiled at Flissa so she could finally get Bull’s drink before he got sober. He’s worse when sober. 

‘You’ll become sticky, like a stick, like most Elves…’ Sera mumbled. 

‘You know, Sera, you’re an Elf yourself.’ I lifted an eyebrow. 

‘Pbft!’ She stuck out her tongue at me, slightly annoyed. 

‘Saeris, darling, there you are! I have been looking all over for you!’ Vivienne appeared at our table. Her white leather coat was in stark contrast with the brown furniture of the tavern. Her face was twisted in a heavy sneer like there was a stench and she was holding her breath. Well, it did reek of ale and stew in here. And maybe some sweat. 

‘Madame, what can I help you with?’ I sighed, not looking up from the loaned fiddle as I restarted the tune again.

‘I have been looking for the Herald, yet I can’t seem to find the man anywhere. Most of his spare time, he spends with you. Have you seen him, my dear?’ She fluttered her eyelashes innocently, but the tone of her voice was still denigrating.

I crossed my legs and looked up at her defiantly, one brow cocked. ‘I haven’t seen him today. He usually just finds me.’ Because I’m not someone one would want to avoid, unlike… 

‘Well, if he finds you, darling, I do hope you will let him know I am in need of his opinion.’

About what? Your next outfit? 

‘I’ll try.’ I tried to smile, but it didn’t really work out.

‘I bet!’ Sera giggled, but Vivienne ignored her—very much like she ignored everyone else. 

The Iron Bull leaned over the table towards us, a smouldering grin on his lips, ‘You know, Viv, you can join us and wait for the Herald to appear?’ Bad idea. 

Vivienne straightened her back and lowered her eyes to where Bull was seated. A confident glare in her gaze. ‘You will address me as Enchanter Vivienne, Court Mage to the Empire of Orlais, or Madame de Fer. Not, "Viv.”’

The Iron Bull, completely blown away, stared at her with an open mouth. ‘Oh. Right, ma’am. Sorry, ma’am.’

Vivienne clicked her tongue. ‘Hmm, yes, ma’am works as well.’ 

She turned back to me. ‘My dear, it’d be greatly helpful if you lead the Herald my way.’ She smiled innocently, like a good little girl, but snarly added, ‘And I heard you had a problem with one of our new Templar recruits… I advise you not to brawl with any other, or we’re without a force.’ 

I cursed under my breath and wished that the smell of ale would creep into her clothes, and she’d be unable to get it out. 

‘Although,’ she continued unexpectedly and curled one perfectly trimmed eyebrow,  ‘I heard this one… had it coming.’ She then turned around swiftly and took off, her hips swaying left to right. 

It had been two days since Simon was exiled, and I wondered how long it’d take before Vivienne would comment on it. But this I had not expected. Did she just stick up for me, even if it was just a tiny little bit? 

‘Damn.’ The Iron Bull blinked his eyes at me, and I sighed deeply in response. 

Where would Simon be now? I hope he’s out of the country already. 

Stop thinking about it. He isn’t worth my thoughts. 

I took the fiddle again and continued the song I was mumbling earlier.

So let every man toss off a full bumper
And let every man drink off a full glass
We'll drink and be merry and drown melancholy
Singing, here's a good health to each true-hearted lass

‘Saeris!’ Maxwell plopped in the chair next to me, a giant smile on his face. ‘Want to go spar? Or Wicked Grace? I feel like not thinking.’ 

I looked at him in surprise. ‘Did you meet Vivienne on your way here?’

He cocked his head like a little puppy, his curly brown hair hanging to one side. ‘No, why? Did she ask for me?’

I smiled. ‘Oh, no. I don’t think she needs you. I just saw her pass, that’s all.’ 

Varric poked my knee under the table and winked at me. Sera giggled again. 

‘Good. The last time that woman asked for me, she had ordered me a new armour from Val Royeaux’ “best tailor”. It was a leather shirt . Saeris. It. Was. Cropped.’

‘Blegh! Belly buttons!’ Sera made fake vomit sounds. 

‘Yes, Sera. Hairy belly buttons.’ Maxwell grinned as Sera truly shivered now. 

‘So, Herald. Drinks?’ The Iron Bull winked at me and then at Maxwell. 

The Herald smiled back, ‘Ugh, yes! I really need… Argh!’ He cried out suddenly, gripping his marked hand. The mark pulsed, a green light splashing violently out of his palm. 

I dropped the fiddle onto the table, shoved back my seat and was next to him in a second. ‘Max! Are you okay?’ I hushed and pushed my hands on his mark. 

Maxwell sighed as my fingers seemed to cool the scar down. ‘You really have the hands of a Healer.’ He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

The Healer has the bloodiest hands.

‘Do you want me to look at it?’ I caressed his palm slowly, hoping it would calm the magic down. 

‘Can you?’ He locked eyes with mine, and I only saw warmth. 

‘Of course,' I smiled, ‘And maybe… I can learn something out of it too.’ 

***

‘Do you see anything?’ Maxwell raised his brows as I focussed on the mark on his hand. 

‘Shhh, I’m concentrating!’ I hissed and slapped his wrist playfully. The mark hummed, radiating a green light that faded in and out with the drum of Maxwell’s heartbeat. I couldn’t heal his scar, but since we were together now, I had proposed to look at it specifically with my green eye. Maybe we could unlock something together. The Herald had found it a good idea, and now, we were sitting at the war table together, the map of Ferelden and Orlais in front of us. 

‘What did you do last time?’ Maxwell sighed, flexing his fingers. I had been staring at his hand for an hour now, and his muscles were starting to get sour. 

‘I don’t know… it just happened… like looking through a random, green mirror.’ I huffed. 

Solas was standing behind my chair. He had seen us walking to the Chantry together and joined us. I knew he was studying the mark ever since Max got it. For the whole hour, he had been observing, quietly looking at the two of us. Like a marble statue. Now, I felt him get closer, his face hovering over my shoulder to look at the mark. He smelled like elfroot and fresh parchment. 

‘Are you alright, Saeris? You’re turning red.’ Maxwell lifted his brows at me. I scoffed and kicked my foot against his leg under the table. 

‘Perhaps you should not look at it like a mirror.’ Solas’ voice thrummed through my head, and my sensitive ears twitched as his breath caressed them. ‘Think of a place where you have already been, perchance that is easier. Like we did in our training.’ 

‘You could’ve proposed that an hour ago.’ I grumbled and turned my head to the side. I swallowed deeply as Solas’ face was right next to mine, his eyelashes so close I could count them. Quickly, I looked back to Maxwell, who smirked as I turned slightly red again.

Solas chuckled—a warm sound. ‘It was interesting to see you try.’ Ass. 

‘You’re so kind.’ I said sarcastically.

‘Please focus on the task at hand, Saeris, the Herald has other things to do.’ Cassandra crossed her arms and glared at me a little. She was standing in front of the war table, waiting for me to spot Rifts through Maxwell’s mark and write them down. Or at least she hoped that that’s what I would see. 

‘Don’t worry, Cass, I’ll still have some free time to spend with you today.’ Maxwell winked again, and Cassandra sighed while making a disgusted noise. But the little blush on her face told me she approved anyway. 

‘Alright, let me focus again.’ I laughed and then focused my left eye on the mark again. As soon as I made contact with the mark, the colours in my iris started to twist and turn, spitting the same light as the mark, fading in and out. The magic of the Fade spiralled in the magical mark and in my eye. We felt connected, or at least, the magic felt connected. 

It felt like a bouquet of feathers was tickling my spine, my cheeks and even the soles of my feet. It wasn’t an annoying feeling, but a warm, funny one. It felt more like how anticipation feels like, a good kind of stress. 

Okay, somewhere I’ve been. 

The Hinterlands. 

Good. 

Focus. 

Green forests. The springtime sun. Blossoming flowers. Vast meadows with roaming druffalos. Farmers working their crops. Ruins of strong towers. Mages and rebels. The Crossroads. Little villages. Horses galloping through the fields. A big lake. Green hills. The Hinterlands.  

***

A click rang through my mind, stilling my whole body, turning it to stone. But not cold stone. A hot, sizzling stone. The click sounded like when you connect two magnets from a distance. Two opposites drawn to each other, never wanting to let go. Familiar magic filled my body, tasting like sweet metal on my tongue. And all I saw was green. An emerald, twisting green. Not even, but spinning like oil in water. Liquid. Maybe more like molten lava? Green lava. Burning but soothing. And I wasn’t just seeing it, I was feeling it. The Fade. That’s where I was, that’s where the mark had led me to. I knew this place to the core, like a home away from home. There’s no way I’d mistake it for something else. The green around me moved, pushing me somewhere, to a certain place. My mind soared through the vast emerald space around me, like a spaceship going into hyperspace, and little crystals of light formed a tunnel before my eyes. But I couldn’t see an end. It went on and on and on. 

Until I stopped. 

Destination reached. 

I was now somewhere new. This was still the Fade, I was still connected to the mark, but the vast green space around me, the twisting tunnel of crystals full of light, was gone. The place before me was like a long corridor. The walls, which were not really walls because you couldn’t touch them, were painted the same green as I had just been travelling through. And instead of doors, there were windows. Not normal, framed ones, but strange, emerald-coated windows that seemed to be made almost out of some ice instead of glass. 

I looked through the first one.

I recognized this place immediately. Witchwood. We had travelled through it on our way to Horsemaster Dennet. We had closed a Rift near his farm, but it seems we had forgotten this one. I looked around and saw the thick trees with the spikey ice shards that remained from the rebel mages’ camp. But it was empty now. 

Okay. The next one. 

I looked through all of the windows I could look through. The more Rifts I could locate, the more we could close and the more people we could save. I saw some more Rifts near the Forest Camp, I saw one on the Outskirts and there was still a lingering Rift at Dwarfson’s Pass. And every time I looked through a window, I became more and more aware that these weren’t windows at all. I was looking through each and every Rift. 

And I felt them. 

Demons. 

They lingered behind me, next to me, above me and beneath me, waiting for a moment to get out. They couldn’t see me, and I couldn’t see them, because I wasn’t physically in the Fade like they were. But I could sense them. So they could probably sense me too. 

I turned to the last window. 

Yet, this Rift was weird. 

I mean, all of them were weird, but this one was really weird. When I looked through it, everything around it seemed to move in slow motion. Before me, there was a gate, a steel gate, with two strong towers holding it upright. And there, behind it, I saw the shadows of cowering soldiers, looking straight at me with terrified eyes. Something growled, and I felt the window shudder as something stepped through its boundaries. 

‘Another one!’ A soldier screamed, but his voice sounded far away. Like he was yelling at me through water. 

My heart pumped through my body, cold sweat clinging to my face. 

I need to go. 

I need to open my eyes. 

I woke up, but not before I heard someone scream. 

***

‘Saeris!’ Solas’ hands burned on my shoulders, shaking me nervously. 

I blinked, and I felt like something left me. The connection between me and Maxwell’s mark was gone, and it had taken away all of my energy with it. 

‘Saeris? Do you hear me?’ Maxwell pinched my hand, and I felt the mark’s warmth echo through my body one last time. 

I looked up to him, ‘I do… For how long was I…’ 

‘Only a few minutes.’ Cassandra was standing next to me, squatting to look me in the eye. 

‘It felt longer than that…’ I murmured. 

‘What did you see?’ Solas turned around to stand next to my chair, his eyes big and encouraging. 

‘Solas…’ I spoke his name very slowly, my voice still stuck in my throat, ‘I was… in the Fade. There were windows… no… Rifts… I could look through them like windows…’

‘I felt your mind slip for a moment like you were almost to enter it physically…’ Solas whispered seriously, but Cassandra interrupted. 

‘Rifts? Did you see them? Could you tell me where?’ She straightened herself and pointed to the map, her eyes hopeful. 

‘I… I can…’ I answered and looked down to the map. ‘The Forest Camp… Witchwood… Dwarfson’s Pass… and…’ 

‘And…?’ Cassandra was already hunching over the map, pinning down every area I just mentioned. 

I pressed my hand against my forehead, my icy palms cooling down the burning sweat that had formed near my temples. The memory of the green corridor faded quickly like I wasn’t supposed to have been there, and I should forget. But the thought of that last window, that last Rift, clung to me. The eyes of the soldiers were so full of terror as they stared at me, or whatever was before me. And then that strange mixture of reality and slow motion, like everything that I saw was happening in the future, the past and now. All mixed together. Before that last memory faded, I recalled the soldiers one more time and the scorched heraldry that hung on the steel gate before them. I finally looked up at Maxwell, my eyes locked with his. I heard him swallow as I said, ‘Redcliffe.’

***

I stared at the jagged, dark brown jawbone that dangled on a thick threaded rope around Solas’ neck. There was a pattern of scars and cracks on it, and I wondered how old it was. Had it been passed down from father to son? Or did he find it somewhere during his travels?
Solas was focussing on the drawing I had made of the green corridor and murmured inaudible things to himself. I was sitting on the side of his bed. It was hard and had a thick fur blanket laying on top of the shitty mattress. Everything was covered in his smell, and I felt like a dog sniffing about. Strange how everything here screamed his name. The smell of elfroot and magic, the neatly piled books and papers, the black ink on his desk, his long staff leaning against the wall… Everything here shouldn’t make me scared or sick, or at least not nervous, but still… everything did. 

‘And everything was green?’ Solas’ voice buzzed through the cottage. 

‘Yes… I think.’ 

‘Do you not remember?’ He looked up from my drawing. His scholarly gaze, the one that seemed to want to dissect me, flowed through his eyes again. It made me sick, sick and angry. He could look at me sometimes like he truly cared—like he saw something in me that most people didn’t dare to see. But now, he only saw a mystery to unravel, a creature to dissect, a book to read in a language he was just starting to learn. It made me feel like an object. And I didn’t like it. 

Why do I even care how he looks at me?

I looked away from his stare, and my stomach calmed down a little, ‘The memory of what I saw has faded extremely fast… Like something is preventing me from remembering for a long time.’

‘Perhaps you are preventing yourself?’ He cocked his head, and I heard him put my drawing between the stack of papers on his desk. 

‘And why would I do that?’ I sounded slightly annoyed. Now I’m the problem?

‘Perhaps, what you saw was too much to bear… or your mind is not trained enough to keep the knowledge within reach.’ He took a step towards me, and I cursed my decision to sit on his bed. I should’ve kept on standing… near the door. Why does this man make me feel so uncomfortable at one time, but so calm at another? I couldn’t decide what to feel around him. ‘Or maybe you are not telling me things deliberately?’ 

‘Excuse me?’ Is he accusing me? ‘I proposed to sit down together immediately to discuss what I saw… I could’ve been taking a nap right now, but I’m here. Why would I keep something from you? Where would that take me?’ I scoffed and pushed myself from the bed. 

‘Ir abelas, I was only considering all possibilities. I did not mean to insult you.’ He was standing right in front of me. I looked up, wanting to scold him in some way, but when I stared into his eyes, I saw his regret.

‘It’s fine… I…’ I bit my lip, and I saw Solas squint his eyes as he stared at me whole. Always searching for something more. Always a question clouding his sight. ‘Solas, is there something else you want to ask me?’ 

My question was brutally honest, and I hadn’t expected to ask it, but it came out naturally. Solas hadn’t seen it coming either, it seems, as he took a step back in confusion. ‘Why do you…’

‘Never mind,’ I smiled and waved my hand, ‘I’m just… tired. Sorry. Maybe if I rest a bit, the memories of what I saw might come back to me… and if they don’t, I guess we have to train harder.’ I stared down at our feet and the dust between the cracks of the wooden floor.

‘Wait—’ He called after me, but I passed him too quickly as I moved to the door. I closed my eyes and walked outside. 

I had to contain myself, or I would’ve sprinted to my bed. Instead, I walked a steady pace through the village, ignoring people’s stares. I heard someone call after me, Varric, maybe Cassandra, but I ignored them. And they stopped calling after seeing my face. 

I looked drained. Paler than normal. Tired. And maybe still slightly agitated. 

Solas and I. What are we? Are we even friends? I thought we could be, not in the beginning, but after a while,… and the way he talked to me during training… he had felt like a friend. But then at other times, I don’t know, we just clashed. Maybe we weren’t meant to be close. Maybe that ache in my stomach was really a sign to stay away. 

Yet, why couldn’t I?

Why was I drawn to him? And he to me? 

Because we were Elves? I don’t feel close to any other Elf in that way… Even with Elgadira, Nenhara and Sybil, it had felt different. 

I slammed the door behind me and fell face-first into bed. 

What are we to each other?

***

The next morning, Maxwell knocked on my door, waking me up. I looked up in confusion and crawled out of bed. 

‘Max?’ I mumbled as I opened the door to let him in. 

‘Good morning!’ He smiled and entered my cabin. I squinted against the light he had allowed to seep through the opened door and looked him up and down. He was in full armour, his swords in their sheaths bound against his hip. The Inquisition vigil was painted over his steel and leather chest plate, with white and gold paint. It was rich and very visible. 

An armour meant to show strength. A strong Inquisition with a strong Herald. 

He wasn’t planning on going on a mere scouting mission. 

‘Get packed, suit up, we’re going back to the Hinterlands.’ He said loudly. Too loud for the morning. 

‘What? Why? Now?’ Was he going to close the Rifts now? Why in such armour, though?

‘We’re going to Redcliffe. Remember in Val Royeaux? Grand Enchanter Fiona invited us.’ He smiled and pulled my armour coat from my wardrobe. 

‘Really? I thought we weren’t going because we have the Templars already.’ I took my coat from his hands, stopping him from going through the drawers. They contained my underwear. 

‘Well, we considered it, and then not, and then again… But yesterday, you saw them. Redcliffe soldiers. They need our help.’ He looked at me seriously. ‘Do you not want to?’

I know I’m going to meet other familiar faces there. And I bet the rebels will fight with the Templars here at Haven. It will be hard to get them to work together. 

‘Of course.’ I smiled.

To Redcliffe. 

Notes:

New chapter! Sorry it took a while! I wasn't happy with what I had written, and had to rewrite some parts. I'm just happy I can go to Redcliffe now and start with some adventure!

Chapter 35: Expected

9:41 Dragon, about two or three months ago

We had just returned from Horse Master Dennet, and were on our way back to Haven. After all of the fighting we had seen, all of the victims at the Crossroads, I’d become sick of this place. We had closed many Rifts, and I saw Maxwell getting paler and paler by the exhaustion caused by activating his mark. 

We were travelling alongside the East Road when our horses whinnied as we heard a frightened scream far from behind the treeline. Maxwell immediately made eye contact with Cassandra, before turning to me. I nodded at his silent request for aid. We had helped people many times. Villagers were being attacked by wayward Templars or frightened rebel mages, merchants were on the run from demons, and so on. This time, it was no different. We ran towards the glade from where we heard the scream. The sun was casting flickering shadows on the ground, and I first couldn’t see what was going on.

Until we heard the gurgling screech. 

A Shade brought down its black claws to the woman before it, but she jumped aside just in time. Her staff twisted around in her hand, her magic spiralling out of it. She didn’t seem incompetent, but the terrified look in her eyes showed her weakness. And the demon saw it too. With its mangled body, the Shade leapt to the woman again. Just in time, she cast a barrier around her, but it wasn’t strong enough. The demon managed to push the woman out of her ward and onto the ground again. Cassandra was there first, her sword cutting through the Shade like butter. The demon screeched again, turning to its assailant. But before it could attack one last time, a steel bolt from Varric’s crossbow already hit it in the head. The demon roared and turned to a puddle of black bile on the shining green grass.

We were getting better and better at this. 

‘Peace!’ The woman, Elven, with soft curling grey hair, held up her hands. She didn’t tremble anymore. The rest of us caught up with Cassandra and Varric, and I looked the strange woman up and down. She had a purple, blackish, Vallaslin of June spread across her face, curling from her chin to her cheeks all the way up to her forehead. The Dalish woman soothingly continued, ‘I am no danger to you. My name is Mihris.’ Was she trying to calm us, who rescued her, or calm herself? ‘By your weapons, I see you come ready for battle. Perhaps we face a common enemy in these demons?’ The woman smiled politely, still holding up her hands. I saw her eyes flicker disdainfully towards me and Solas for a second, and then back to Maxwell.

The Herald sighed at the woman, but calmly stored his daggers back into their sheaths. ‘Are you battling these demons on your own?’ Maxwell rested his hands on his hips, his thoughts very loud and clear. What in the Maker’s name were you thinking, woman?

Mihris smiled a little like she understood Max’s sarcasm. ‘Fighting the demons is pointless. There’ll always be more. And I have no means closing the Rifts, but I have heard of Elven artefacts that measure the Veil…’ Solas shifted on his feet a little, the look in his eyes ever so familiar. He knew what she was talking about. I stared at him, and he glanced at me from the corner of his eyes. ‘They may tell us where new Rifts will appear. I was not expecting so many demons, however.’ 

‘Yeah, they do like to come here, lately.’ Varric grinned a little. 

‘I believe one of the artefacts is nearby.’ Mihris’ eyes darted from Maxwell to Cassandra, who stared at her suspiciously. 

‘Well, we have an Elven expert here. Solas, have you ever heard of these… artefacts?’

Solas hummed and retreated into his favourite, scholarly pose. Hands bound behind his back, chin high, a smugness in his eyes, and a serious but passionate tone in his voice. ‘I have heard about these artefacts while researching the Fade. The Ancient Elves could have hidden them close by. If we can find those artefacts they used, it may help strengthen this area against tears.’

‘Well, the less Rifts the better.’ Maxwell lifted up his shoulders and sighed deeply. He clearly just wanted to keep on riding to reach the next camp. From there onward, it would only take a couple of days to get back to Haven.

‘You are right,’ Cassandra said seriously, still eying the Dalish woman, ‘but we should not linger for too long.’ 

‘Thank you!’ I saw Mihris take a deep breath, ‘It should be there further ahead.’ 

We walked with a quickened pace towards a fallen-in cave. It didn’t seem anything special, and I couldn’t feel the magic Solas mentioned. Maxwell calmly asked Mihris some questions, and the woman answered freely and eagerly, not fully knowing the Herald was full-on interrogating her. 

The entrance of the cave was blocked by rocks. I had to contain myself from cursing as Mihris gnarled at Solas and I, ‘You there, flat-ears, can one of you manage it?’ 

Solas remained calm and stepped up, saying ‘Ma nuvenin, da’len.’ I heard the bite in his words though. Mihris scoffed at Solas calling her a child, but that only made his point. I knew Solas couldn’t stand the Dalish. There were some clans who were as racist to City Elves as humans were. I think Mihris came from one of them. But well, Elgadira and the clan called me flat-ear too when I first joined them… 

Green tentacles spiralled from Solas’ hands, and my stomach turned with the smell of them. But it went by quickly as his magic lifted the stones away.

We walked into the dark cavern and were greeted by what seemed like an ancient tomb or temple. It was fairly small, but the old carvings in the walls could tell more stories than any cliff outside. There was a Veilfire brazier barely hanging on the wall. I took it and immediately, the strange green fire—which was neither hot nor cold—summoned itself at the torch. Cassandra stared at it strangely. I think she hasn’t ventured much into Ancient Elven tombs. I had encountered some during my travels, and besides, Elgadira had taught me everything there was to know, or what she still knew, about Elven culture. She had even conjured Veilfire for me once. There were also many books about Veilfire and its properties, but they were banned by the Chantry. Because of this, the art became extinct among most mages.

‘What manner of fire is that?’ Cassandra stared intensely into the green crackling fire, almost hypnotised.

It looked a damn lot like the green in my eye. It danced like it. 

Solas looked at me like he had been thinking the same. ‘I have heard of it but never seen it before,’ he said as he turned back to the Seeker, ‘It is called Veilfire. It is a form of sympathetic magic, a memory of flame that burns in this world where the Veil is thin.’

‘You seem to know it quite well, Saeris?’ Cassandra lifted a brow at me, her voice sounded calm, but I knew the undertone well. Maxwell had used it a few minutes ago with Mihris. 

‘When I was travelling as a minstrel, long ago, I once stumbled upon it… I wanted to hide from the rain and hoped it would keep me warm… That was a bummer, really.’ I smiled and rolled my shoulders. I felt Solas’ eyes behind me pinning me down like he was seeing right through my lie. How could he know I was lying? Either way, I found him suspicious, and I think he thought the same about me as well. But, he did promise to train me in shaping the Fade, and we had done so a few times already. I have almost mastered shaping the Fade to my own memories and wondered what the next step would be. Will I ever be able to use my eye for good?

Solas, Mihris and I made some more magical torches and distributed them to the rest of the party. Then, we continued our way deeper into the tomb. As we went down the old, marble stone stairs, we entered an open hall. Solas immediately quirked his head, almost like a dog hearing a skittering squirrel. ‘There. I sense one of the artefacts.’ 

We closed the back of the temple, where the marble stopped and the natural rock took over. Who knows how deep this place used to go? What made it collapse? Before us, on the ground, stood a strange object. It looked almost like a globe, but made out of a hard, cold metal and topped with strange machinations. It smelled like magic. 

Solas touched it, his fingers gliding over the cold orb, his magic pushing in. With a small “snap”, the globe started to twist, vibrate even, and began to give off a dim green glow. Like Veilfire, like a Rift, like the Fade, like my eye. 

Solas’ shoulders tightened, but he raised his head and smiled faintly at Maxwell. It didn’t reach his eyes. ‘The wards are helping to strengthen the Veil. This area should be safer for travellers now.’ 

I squeezed my eyes together. The air felt… prickly… and I could taste the magic, feel it shifting over my shoulders. My eye sputtered, its iris twisting and turning. It hurt. The artefact should strengthen the Veil, but why do I feel the Fade closer than before? Stranger even, the magic from the artefact reminded me so much of Solas’ magic, and my stomach protested. 

Mihris broke my flow of thought as she sprinted to a chest in the corner of the hall. ‘And it seems the ancestors have left something for me as well!’ She grinned. 

I huffed. She’s just a tomb wrecker. So far goes her “Dalish pride”, huh?

‘Interesting,’ she smiled again, ‘I believe our alliance is concluded. Go in peace, stranger.’ Mihris nodded at Maxwell, who clearly wasn’t happy.

‘Ma halani. Ma glandival. Vir enasalin.’ You must help us. You must believe. We will win. Solas’ voice sounded very deep, and I saw Mihris’ ears twitch as they picked up his fluent Elven tongue. Not many spoke the dead language that well. Even I couldn’t, and I had a whole lot of time to practise.  

Mihris looked at the few necklaces in the chest and sighed. Her grey, curling hair danced over her doubtful eyes. But then she nodded. ‘I… perhaps you are right. Here, take it.’ She threw the necklaces to Maxwell, who caught them with ease. We could study those. 

Mihris twisted the staff on her back to get it back in its sheath correctly. ‘Go with Mythal’s Blessing.’ The Dalish woman mumbled and turned back.

My gut twisted. Maybe we should’ve given her something she could sell. Dalish or not. Cranky or not. It’s hard for any Elf out there. I knew that better than anyone. 

We left the artefact running, turning our backs to the old tomb. The sun was shining, warming us up little by little. We took our horses which we had bound to the trees outside and resumed our ride back to Haven. To home. 

*** 

9:41 Dragon, Present day

Familiar stones, known paths, silent trees and whispering meadows. The Hinterlands were calm, too calm. Like nature knew there was a storm coming, and it was enjoying its last peaceful days. The birds got quieter the closer we came to the city of Redcliffe. Maxwell walked out front. We had left our horses at the nearby camp because the paths in these hills were too tricky. And maybe we all knew something was waiting for us, and we didn’t want our mounts to be killed by Maker-knows-what. I hadn’t been to Redcliffe before. Maybe because it was close, or used to be, to the Ferelden Circle Kinloch Hold. Just like the Circle, the city of Redcliffe bordered Lake Calenhad, named after Ferelden’s first King, Calenhad Theirin. Seems like the Theirin family followed me everywhere I went. Or maybe I was drawn to their history. Redcliffe Castle used to house the now King Alistair. I wondered if he’d look like his grandmother, Moira. 

Maxwell stopped to look at the red, pointy Drakestone protruding from a cliff. The stone wasn’t much used in armour, because it could be quite brittle, but lots of people used it to tint their coats and boots since it had a rich, deep red colour. 

‘Admiring your own reflection, Herald?’ Varric grinned, popping up from behind the rock. 

‘I was thinking of growing a beard… What do you think?’ Maxwell winked at the smiling Dwarf and turned away from the stone.

‘Don’t.’ Cassandra scoffed coldly. Maxwell laughed and cocked an eyebrow at her. 

‘It would make you more menacing, boss.’ The Iron Bull walked up towards the Herald, crossing his huge, muscular grey arms in front of his bare chest. At first, I wondered if Bull wanted to be shot by an arrow. But then again, it would probably deflect right off of his sculpted pecs. He had a harness protecting his heart, though. 

‘Aren’t I already?’ Maxwell furrowed his eyebrows and jokingly straightened his shoulders. Cassandra made a disgusted noise at that. I bet she found him manly enough already. Sera gleefully jumped down from a cliff, rolling over the soft, young grass to strike a heroic pose. And then she giggled. Who knows what she was re-enacting? Nobody minded her, though, we were getting used to her shenanigans already.

Vivienne had refused to come to the base of the rebel mages. I also think taking her to Redcliffe would be a bad idea. We were actually thinking of going with a small group anyway, otherwise, we could look too… dangerous maybe? The Iron Bull didn’t help our image, but at least bandits would think twice before attacking us. 

We travelled further along the road. The closer we got to the city, the better the paths became paved. The road to the city was long, and bordered by steep cliffs and edges, and it could make one quite claustrophobic. But I’d rather be cornered between rocks than between demons. An old lamp post was impaled into the ground next to the road. Only two directions could still be legible: The Crossroads village behind us, and Redcliffe Village in front of us. No turning back. After walking between the cliffs, the road gave way to larger fields. Abandoned farms laid scattered along the meadows, the fields unkempt and the fences unminded. Rams, fennecs and some druffalo roamed free, grazing the springy grass from between the path’s stones. They skittered away when we came too close. 

‘The farmers must’ve left because of the rebel mages.’ Cassandra mumbled as she looked around. 

‘They could have fled… maybe to the Crossroads.’ I nodded at her, hoping quietly that these people had made it out on time. But by the burned cottages and the open doors of the farms, I feared otherwise. A war always hurts the vulnerable first. 

We started to walk a little bit slower, feeling the danger coming our way. I bit my lip as I raised my head, my feet buried into the ground. Stuck. Like stone. On either side of the road stood a post, a flag attached to it, swaying with the wind. The flags were tattered, dirtied and burned at the edges. But the symbols I had seen before. The colours, white and orangy-red, had dimmed because of the fire that had almost burned the vigil away: A stone tower built upon a fiery red hill, or cliff. Redcliffe. 

‘We are close!’ I yelled. 

The atmosphere got tenser. I saw Maxwell’s shoulders heaved upwards, his head straight, and his chest forward. But I almost couldn’t see him breathe. Nor blink. The mark on his hand started to glow, fading in and out, almost warning us of the impending Rift. I saw veins pop up on Maxwell’s neck, Goosebumps on his wrists. He felt it, vibrating through his body, clawing at his mind. 

Rift. Rift. Rift. 

A big one. I felt it too. My eye twisted, following the drum of the Herald’s mark. I smelled fear. Ours. Theirs. 

Theirs?

‘There!’ Varric’s alarming voice rang through our silent party. ‘Out front!’ 

A large stone wall, with two stronghold towers and a closed steel gate in between, appeared at the horizon. Behind it, I saw faces I faintly recognized. Like I had looked into those eyes in a distant dream. Yet, it hadn’t been a dream at all. Everything was as real as the ground we shifted on.

I heard one of the generals behind the steel bars calling, not to us, but to her men. ‘I want a constant watch on that damned thing!’ She commanded, her voice strong, but definitely  distressed, ‘Sound the alarm at the first sign of demons!’

Maxwell walked first, the rest of us beside him. Not behind. We must die before him if we have to. The general behind the gate saw us, her eyes focused on Maxwell and the burning eye painted on his chest. I could see her furrow her eyes. ‘Watch out traveller! The Veil’s ripped open, and Maker-knows-what could come out!’ 

But Maxwell, all of us, had already seen it. Drifting in the air, looming above us. My heart stopped. Have I watched through this? Was I in there? The Rift was big, we could see that, but it didn’t seem abnormal. We had come across such big Rifts before. But why did my heart pound like this? That alarming feeling… maybe it wasn’t because of the Rift, but what had caused it? Maxwell grunted as his mark flayed, a bright green light erupting from it. 

And the Rift above us answered like a long-lost friend. Almost knowing who we were, and why we had come. And I felt it eerily speaking to us, to me. It recognized me. Emerald crystals started to grow out of the green fading hole at an accelerated pace. Moving, dancing with the drum of the Herald’s mark.

It felt like it was challenging us. 

Come and close me if you can.  

And then we heard the sound of Redcliffe’s alarm ring through the fields, bouncing off the cliffs, pulsing through our bodies. The soldiers stopped breathing. 

And the first demons started to jump out of the Rift. 

You have seen me. And I have seen you . 

First came the Wraiths, screaming and burning in agony. Finally free.

‘Demons! Prepare yourselves!’ Cassandra screamed, her eyes big. The steel sword in her hand didn’t tremble though, her shield didn’t lower. Cassandra didn’t cower in the face of danger. And nor did Varric, who raised Bianca at the first Wraiths that looked at him. And The Iron Bull laughed, taking his greataxe from his back. The swoosh of his weapon cut straight through the air, and straight through demons. Sera became quiet, and maybe a little bit pale too, but she took her bow out without thought, stretched her arrows on the string, and fired them one by one, hitting every target. 

‘Snuffed it!’ She chittered as a Wraith screeched while hit by one of her arrows. While fading, its faceless figure growled and then disappeared into nothing.

Solas placed his feet wide onto the ground, his composure stable and calm. Yet, the swishing and turning of the staff in his hands had a quickening pace, his magic twisting and turning and splattering around the battlefield. He cast barriers around Cassandra as she lashed out, pushed back a demon that came for Sera away with his mind blasts, and covered Maxwell as he jumped out of nowhere, crashing down on any demon, killing it with ease. 

It seemed like this was going to be a normal battle, a normal Rift. 

Until it started to warp time. 

I only noticed it after the Shades and the Terrors clawed their way out of the Rift. It happened so quickly, and yet so teasingly slow. I stared at what happened right before my eyes. On one side, Maxwell held out his daggers like fangs, leaping into the air. But he was stuck there, coming down very slowly, and beneath him stood a Shade, also stuck in that very same time-slowing limbo, its blackened claws reaching above its head towards the hovering Maxwell. Their eyes were linked, unblinking, and they came closer ever so damned slowly. And on the other side of me, I saw The Iron Bull and Sera twirling, flashing from one demon to the other. A Terror Fade-jumped at them, but The Iron Bull was prepared and slashed it down before it could surprise him. I couldn’t see his greataxe move. That was how fast he was. And Sera’s arrows were invisible, coming so fast, you couldn’t even see her arms move. And Varric was there too, running from one hill to another to get to higher ground. He flashed like lightning. But the demons were quick as well.

And I was stuck in between, not believing what clearly was happening. And I saw Cassandra move from one side to the other, moving over the battlefield like she always would, but then sometimes in slow-motion, and other times in fast-forward.

I was so preoccupied by watching the time struggle before me, I hadn’t seen the Terror leaping my way. Its long arms stretched before me, its spiked tail swishing my way. I fell down onto the grass, the air escaping my lungs. The Terror crawled over me, its long legs unending. Its many, empty eye sockets bored into my eyes, or rather, my eye, and I saw it cock its head slightly. Almost wondering if it should kill me or not. But then it decided it would. With its wide-opened mouth and pointed jagged teeth, it came closer and closer. 

Until I remembered that I’m not defenceless. 

I turned my palms towards the sky, summoning fire to it. As the Terror’s body closed on me, it shrieked as it met my flaming hands. The demon burned. First, its arms, then its chest, until the flames reached its head. It stopped screaming after that. I melted its skin with my touch until nothing but black ichor remained on the ground. 

‘Fenedhis, Saeris! Are you alright!’ Solas was beside me as the fire extinguished from my body. 

‘Yes, I’m fine!’ I said quickly, but then continued, ‘Are you seeing what I’m seeing?’ 

Solas looked around and nodded. His eyes were big and almost fearful. He too hadn’t seen anything like this before. 

But I had. 

When I had been looking through Maxwell’s mark, and I had felt that sense of being stuck in the past, present and future, that was this Rift’s magic. That was what we were seeing.

‘We need to get the Herald out of that slowing side! Or it’ll take years for us to close that Rift!’ I screamed. 

Solas wanted to say something but got pushed aside by a Shade. He turned his legs forward, back flipping onto his feet. His staff twirled into the air, and his magic burst outwards, a blizzard of ice and spirit magic erupting from its core, freezing the demon in place. With another mind blast, the frozen demon cracked into a thousand little pieces. Solas then turned back to me, not even out of breath. 

Let’s say I was impressed. 

‘We have to get The Herald’s attention!’ Solas yelled. 

We leapt towards the border of past and present, slow and normal. We could see it, though it was invisible. The grass on one side didn’t move, while the grass on our side did, because it was quite windy that day. With only one shared look, both Solas and I knew what to do. We couldn’t go inside the barrier, because that would make us stuck too. We had to get his attention from outside. Solas gripped his staff tighter and lifted it upwards. I did the same with my hands. And I focussed. 

I think each mage’s magic has its own colour, their own vibrancy, their own smell and taste. Magic is connected to the mage, and the mage makes it their own. When a mage casts fire, ice, or sparks, the magic colours to what it makes out to be. But if a mage casts magic that is entirely their own, like creation magic or spirit magic, I believe you can see a glimpse of that person’s colour. Solas is green. Like healing, like Elfroot and tea, and ever connected to the Fade, to dreams. And mine is blue. Like those blue flowers on Daniel’s grave, on Sybil’s grave, the blue flowers that rest on Mythal’s statue, the colour of the sky, of my past when I still had those two identical, blue eyes.

Magic like that is strong and takes up a whole lot of energy. It’s not used to fight or to protect, or anything. It’s just there. And it’s fiercely bright. Solas and my magic combined like a beam into the sky, burning and cooling, and shining ever so bright. 

Maxwell’s daggers were finally cutting through the demon. He slowly landed with his feet back on the ground, and the demon slowly turned, painfully melting, into that familiar black bile. Sluggishly, a shadow created by the light of our beam climbed the grass towards Maxwell. And when the shadow finally started to cover his foot, his arm, and the right side of his face, I saw his head turn to our side slowly. I could even see the brown curls of his hair swaying with the movement of his face, the black pupils of his hazel eyes enlarging as he saw us. Finally. Every movement he made was in slow motion, but I saw the realisation that something was wrong dawn in his eyes. 

He turned to us, running with his arm stretched out to me, leaving his daggers to fall to the ground. Now he really looked like a hero in an epic film. Maybe he really was. I let go of my magic, the beam of light fading as soon as I stopped focussing. My muscles turned sour, but I still stretched my arm over the border, into the slowing area, to grab my hero. It was very strange to see your fingers not move immediately when you order them to. Very slowly, my hand reached Maxwell’s, and he came closer and closer.

I felt a new presence behind the Rift then. 

Turning my head to it, I saw a shadow lurking behind the dancing emerald crystals.

We had to be quick, or that thing will come out. And I felt the air already trembling by its raw power. I didn’t have the strength anymore to battle what felt and seemed like a Pride demon. 

I feared the worst until I felt Max’s rough fingertips caressing mine. I turned my face to him and saw a confident smile curling on his lips. And then I pulled, drawing all of the strength I still had left in my body, and hauled Maxwell over the border, and into the present back again. 

‘I got this!’ He screamed and immediately lifted his left hand into the sky. In a second, it connected to the Rift like a key to the right lock. With a flick of his wrist, the Rift finally cracked and closed, leaving a small trace of black ichor that rotted the grass away. 

You saw me.

The energy of the Rift buzzed through my mind, leaving me to feel like I again lost something, like a power, like a sight. Now I understood that feeling I had every time we closed a Rift, that feeling like something was blinding me. Because every time Maxwell closed a Rift, he closed another window for me to look through. But I’d rather be blind.

‘Not anymore.’ I mumbled. Maybe to myself, or to the Rift that was gone now. 

‘What… was that?’ Solas said to Maxwell, who cracked his neck, loosening his muscles. 

‘I don’t know… I feel like I’ve been battling for hours!’ The Herald whined.  

Cassandra, Sera, The Iron Bull and Varric came running to where we stood, unbelievably out of breath. 

‘Was it me, or did we just fight for only a minute or two?’ Varric rested his hands on his knee, heaving. 

‘We don’t know what these Rifts can do.’ Cassandra said, more at ease than Varric, but I still saw sweat dripping from her forehead. ‘That one appeared to alter time around it.’

‘No… Something is definitely wrong here.’ Maxwell sighed and glanced at me.

‘Maker have mercy!’ The general behind the closed gate yelled, gawking at Maxwell. ‘It’s… over? Open the gates!’ The gates clashed and creaked as they were hauled open, the terrified faces of the soldiers turning tired but relieved. 

One of the soldiers ran to us, kneeling before Maxwell. The Inquisition vigil hung on his overcoat. A scout, one of ours. ‘We’ve spread the word the Inquisition was coming,’ he said, his eyes darting over Cassandra and the rest of us, maybe a little bit longer on The Iron Bull, ‘but you should know that no one here was expecting you.’

Maxwell quirked his head. ‘No one? Not even Grand Enchanter Fiona?’

The scout straightened himself, shaking his shoulders, ‘if she was, she hasn’t told anyone.’ The scout stared at the confused soldiers, but indeed, none of them knew who we were. ‘We’ve arranged use of the tavern for the negotiations…’ The scout continued but suddenly got interrupted by someone. 

A lanky, young Elven man, not Dalish, came running to us. The armour he wore was too big, and his ears were abnormally long. ‘Agents of the Inquisition!’ He squeaked, ‘My apologies! Master Alexius is in charge now but hasn’t yet arrived. He’s expected shortly.’ The young Elf stared at Maxwell with big eyes but kept his composure polite and distant. ‘You can speak with the former Grand Enchanter in the meantime.’ He smiled a little like he was hopeful.

Maxwell furrowed his eyebrows and stared at Cassandra, who for once looked as dumbfounded as the rest of us. 

‘What the heck?’ Sera mumbled, clearly on guard. 

We followed the Elf into the city, none of us at rest. Something here was terribly wrong, and it wasn’t the Rift. It was something… bigger than that. 

This was certainly not what we’d expected. 

Notes:

Tadaaa! Okay, so not that much story progression, but we're going there! Next up: meeting one Venatori ass, and a Tevinter stud muffin!! #DorianTime

Chapter 36: Conscripted

Have you ever walked down the street and heard someone call out to you? Shivers crawl across your spine as you wonder who is behind you that knows your name. But when you turn around, no one’s there. Maybe a woman walking her dog, or a man on a bicycle, but they ignore you, standing there like an idiot. Yet, if they don’t know who you are, who called your name then? 

It happened to me before. 

Not once. Not twice. But more times than I can count. 

Sometimes, I heard a whisper floating through the wind, carrying my name to unknown places. Other times, it was like someone was happy to see me strolling down the street like they hadn’t seen me in years. Once, I’d felt someone brush against my shoulder, my name curling from their lips like they were reciting a soliloquy about my very being. Yet, no one was ever there. When those things happened, I imagined someone calling to me from the beyond, someone long dead, or maybe a creature from another dimension watching me. An angel. Or a ghost. Or a fairy.

Sometimes I hoped there was someone, anyone, screaming to get me to turn around. Someone who had been waiting for me. 

It was lonely to see there wasn’t a single soul. Like I was losing my mind, becoming a paranoid lunatic. 

Maybe it was death warning me it was coming for me. Or maybe it was something, or someone else. 

After I died as a human, though, the voices stopped and never whispered my name again.

***

The moment we stepped through that steel gate, I felt it. Familiar shivers curled over my shoulders.

It was Sera, surprisingly, who mentioned it first while we were walking down the path that led to the centre of the village. ‘The Veil is… veil-y here. Or somethin’.’ She grumbled, pushing away a stray blonde hair from her freckled face. 

Solas looked at her surprised. ‘You are correct, Sera. The Veil is weaker here than in Haven. And not merely weak but altered in a way I have not seen.’ He glanced at me, and I nodded. 

‘Maybe it’s because of that strange time Rift?’ I questioned. 

‘Well, whatever it is, it ain’t good.’ Varric clenched his jaws, looking at Maxwell seriously. 

‘Be on your guard.’ Maxwell answered, his voice hushed. 

Before us, the lanky elf from before was leading us towards the tavern, where “former” Grand Enchanter Fiona was willing to speak with us. 

What was left of Redcliffe, was a distant castle on top of a misty hill and merely a fairly small city centre. The path towards it was bordered by steep cliffs and ruins of stone hedges guiding our way. Flagpoles were embedded on either side of the muddy road, the fabric burned, and the Redcliffe heraldry was barely visible. Redcliffe had suffered for years, and its people looked weary, broken down by years of conflict. The Blight had done enough damage, but it seemed the ongoing war between mages and Templars had prevented any real recovery. 

We stayed close together as a group. Maxwell in the middle, protected by us all. People were gathering at the side of the road, gawking our way. Most of them were mages, rebel mages. You could recognize them by their tattered Circle robes. None were wearing a staff though. Maybe because they were safe here. 

‘Have you heard? The Inquisition dealt with the rebel Templars. They’ve been driven away or killed!’ a man enlightened his friend as he peeped at the Herald. I bit my lip. Did they know now half of the Templars were at Haven as independent soldiers? Would they still accept an alliance with us now? I think I would understand if they wouldn’t. As we walked deeper into the village, farms turned into cottages and marketplaces. The village was buzzing, the chattering of people becoming louder as we walked by. Eyes following our every step. Some villagers who weren’t mages, smiled at us, hoping we would finally take those mages from their lands. But the rebel mages stared after us suspiciously.

And among the crowd, I saw a fairly familiar face. 

‘Saeris?’ She called after me, waving her bright long blonde hair over her shoulders, blinking innocently with her too-blue eyes. Ruth. I had met her in the Circle of Ostwick. She was a snobbish little girl, not that nice. When I first met her, she was only sixteen years old. Now, almost twenty-eight, she had grown into a pretty woman. But that sneer on her face ruined the whole thing. She would like Vivienne if they weren’t on opposite sides of the mage rebellion. When the Circle fell almost two years ago, she had rallied more than half of the mages to follow her to Redcliffe. I had figured they had perished along the way. 

‘Ah, hello.’ Our group stopped as I answered, curious stares thrown my way. The lanky elf in front of us was tiptoeing nervously. Guess he just wanted to get rid of us as quickly as possible. 

‘How have you been?’ She giggled girlishly while leaning against a stone statue of Andraste, ‘You seem good!’ She glanced at the others, clearly sizing up the party before returning her gaze to me. ‘You’re with the Inquisition now? How ambitious!’ 

‘Yeah… I am.’ I smiled sheepishly. I don’t have time for this. ‘I’m sorry, Ruth. We are expected somewhere.’ I forced a polite nod. I remember how she had called Lydia a “Templar-fucker”. How could I forget? I had respected Lydia, she had been one of the few people at the Circle who were nice to me. 

‘Oh, of course!’ Ruth clasped her hands. ‘If you’re done, I’d love to chat up! It’s been so dreadfully long!’ Not long enough.

‘Of course.’ I dipped my head, my tone neutral. We resumed walking then, and in my head, I counted to ten. How long would it last before he…

‘You knew that Circle mage, Saeris?’ Solas strolled to my side, that famous curious look in his stern eyes. 

I grinned. I knew he’d ask. ‘Her name’s Ruth, Ruth Cumbridge. I met her during my time in the Circle of Ostwick.’

‘Looks like a bitch, yeah?’ Sera almost yelled. 

‘She is .’ I winked at her. 

‘She did not look too bad. Well, feisty, filled with frustrations. I can help with those things.’ The Iron Bull flashed his teeth, his unsavoury thoughts clearly written across his face. Ew. 

‘There are enough frustrated girls around at Haven.’ Maxwell interrupted.

‘That’s right… Hey, Cassandra!’ The Iron Bull winked at the Seeker. 

‘No.’ She hissed. 

‘Here we are. Please, former Grand Enchanter Fiona awaits you inside.’ The lanky Elf finally stopped, interrupting our conversation that clearly wasn’t going anywhere. The Elf folded his hands, and I saw the sweat drip from his eyebrow to his hooked nose.

‘Yes. Thank you.’ Maxwell resumed his “political figure” posture and gave the skinny man a couple of coins. The Elf took the money and then took off. Gone as quickly as he had appeared. 

Before us stood the tavern, a stone building with wooden boards hammered over the windows. “ The Gull and Latern” was written with cursive letters on the signboard before the entrance. Maxwell opened the door slowly and we were greeted by the smell of ale and stew and maybe a little bit of puke. But the difference with any other tavern was the silence within. No music, no rattling of plates and tankards, no bickering and laughing. As we entered, the whole stone room—which was painted with an orange hue due to the flickering fireplace and the lit torches on the walls—was eerily silent. There were benches and tables, empty cups and some lost cards used for Diamondback cluttered all over the floor. Two sturdy mages who I didn’t recognize were standing at a table. They shifted as we came closer, clearly on guard. And behind them stood an Elven woman from her chair, a small smile on her thin lips. 

‘Welcome, agents of the Inquisition.’ Fiona said warmly, her sharp eyes piercing through Maxwell. The last time we saw her, at Val Royeaux, I remembered her eyes looking glazed instead of sharp. ‘What has brought you to Redcliffe?’

What?

Maxwell curved his back, breathing in sharply, slightly annoyed. ‘We’re here because of your invitation back to Val Royeaux.’

Fiona cocked her head to one side, a strand of her raven black hair escaping from behind her long pointed ear. ‘You must be mistaken.’ She furrowed her brows. ‘I haven’t been in Val Royeaux since before the Conclave.’

Maxwell looked at Cassandra for a moment, who answered with a roll of her shoulders. ‘If it wasn’t you who invited me here, who was it?’

The two guarding mages were staring at us equally confused when Fiona blinked and said, ‘I… I don’t know. Now that you say it, I feel strange.’ She looked down to the ground. There was a sadness in her eyes, something broken. Strange to see such a proud woman look so utterly defeated. ‘Whoever… or whatever brought you here, the situation has now changed. The free mages have already… pledged themselves to the service of the Tevinter Imperium.’ 

‘Shite.’ Sera whispered as she looked up at Bull, who shook his head in surprise. 

‘An alliance with Tevinter?’ Cassandra interrupted, ‘Do you not fear all of Thedas turning against you?’ 

‘Andraste’s ass… I’m trying to think of a single worse thing you could have done. And I’ve got nothing.’ Varric shook his head towards Fiona, who seemed more and more ashamed. 

Solas took a step forward, and his voice soothed through the room, ‘I understand you are afraid, but you deserve better than slavery to Tevinter.’ 

Then, I also stepped up to say something, but couldn’t as Fiona finally lifted up her hand. ‘As one indentured to a magister, I no longer have the authority to negotiate with you.’ Her voice turned stern as she stared up at me, her eyes turning sharper. I looked equally sharp back, thinking clearly, you can’t do this. This isn’t right . 

Maxwell tutted and folded his arms across his chest. ‘What about the giant hole in the Veil that’s spewing demons everywhere? You’re just going to pretend it isn’t there?’ I saw the look in his eyes. In all of our eyes. We hadn’t expected this. We came to these people’s rescue with an offer of safety and alliance. And now… this. 

‘I’m not forgetting the Breach. But we can only fight one war at a time.’ Yeah, because the Inquisition hasn’t been dealing with your war and the Breach at the same time. Utterly impossible. ‘The Templar threat was immediate. If we live, we can worry about the torn Veil.’

‘If there’s still a world to worry about then?’ I clenched my fists, my voice deep. Fiona took a step back.

Suddenly, we heard the tavern door close behind us. We looked up, and saw two men approaching our group. 

‘Welcome, my friends! I apologise for not greeting you earlier.’ An older man slowly walked towards us, dressed in red armour and a red hood with pointed fabrics sewn on. A Tevinter magister. 

‘Agents of the Inquisition, allow me to introduce Magister Gereon Alexius.’ Fiona sighed, looking at the man with a slightly angered face. 

‘The southern mages are under my command.’ Alexius said kindly, but there was a warning tone to it, like he was telling us to back off. ‘And you are the survivor, yes? The one from the Fade? Interesting.’ I snorted, which made the man glance up at me. I looked down at him, unrelenting. He had those mean droopy eyes with curling wrinkles bordering them. With his little grey goatee, he surely looked like an evil wizard. 

Maxwell had gotten the sneer but ignored it like a champion. Instead, he nodded neutrally, ‘If you’re leading the mages now, then let’s talk. I’m sure we can come to an arrangement.’ Cassandra straightened her back proudly. Good one, Max. Straight to the point. We need the mages to help fight against the Breach. Even if we have to negotiate with Tevinter magisters. 

Alexius grinned, ‘It is always a pleasure to meet a reasonable man.’ Alexius gave me a side-eye. The magister then waved his hand to our Herald, signalling him to come and sit at a table, which they did. The rest of us remained standing, never losing our cool. Fiona stared at the table which the magister and the Herald were seated at. She should be sitting there. ‘Felix, would you send for a scribe, please? Pardon my manners. My son Felix, friends.’ 

The young man that had been standing near the entrance, came closer. He was about Maxwell’s age. Felix surely had his father’s eyes, but he looked kinder. His olive skin looked a little bit paler than most of his countrymen. And not in a good way. The big dark circles underneath his dark brown eyes were stark against his skin and almost matched his black, shaved, hair. His face looked deadly tired, his cheeks hollow and sunken. Felix walked over to Maxwell’s table and curtsied politely. His eyes didn’t meet his, though. 

‘I’m not surprised you’re here.’ Alexius continued, but I kept my eyes on Felix, who stared back at me with equal curiosity. No, that man wasn’t like his father. ‘Containing the Breach is not a feat that many could even attempt. There’s no telling how many mages would be needed for such an endeavour. Ambitious, indeed.’ His tone reminded me of Ruth a few moments ago. That tone… like they think they’re better than us. 

Maxwell leaned forward, ‘Does that mean you’ll lend your mages to our cause?’

Right then, I saw Felix look up at me determined, and then his posture changed as he started to wobble to the negotiation table. 

‘There will have to be…’ Alexius started, but stopped immediately as he laid eyes on his son. Maxwell pushed himself up from his chair and was next to Felix in a second, catching the young man right on time. ‘Felix!’ Alexius whined.

‘My Lord, I’m so sorry!’ Felix coughed, ‘Please forgive me.’

Maxwell helped the man straighten himself, and they shared a strange, long look with each other. 

‘Are you alright?’ Alexius rested his hand on his son’s shoulder, clearly, and overly, concerned.

‘I’m fine, father.’ Felix smiled faintly.

‘Come, I’ll get your powders.’ Alexius dipped his head at the two guarding mages who were still standing next to the confused Fiona. The two mages walked up to Felix and helped him stand. ‘Please excuse me, friends.’ Alexius scraped his throat, his eyes not leaving his son. ‘We will have to continue this another time.’

The mages guided Felix outside. As he passed me, he looked up, his eyes pleading. ‘I don’t mean to trouble everyone.’

‘Fiona, I require your assistance back at the castle.’ Alexius ordered. Fiona nodded silently and followed Felix outside.

Alexius turned around one last time before walking out the door. ‘I shall send word to the Inquisition. We will conclude this business at a later date.’ 

But as soon as we were alone, Maxwell sighed and turned to us, opening his hand I hadn’t seen he had been clenching. There was a little note tucked in his palm, and Maxwell read it aloud. ‘Come to the Chantry. You are in danger.’

‘That’s a trap for sure.’ Varric hummed. 

‘We’ll be careful, but we need to figure out what’s going on here.’ Maxwell folded the note and hid it in his pocket. 

‘Sure, let’s go to where the danger is, yeah?’ Sera grumbled.

***

The Chantry of Redcliffe wasn’t too far from the tavern. We went there immediately under the guise of Maxwell, being the Herald of Andraste, wanting to go and pray for our safe journey home. But we were going to do anything but pray. 

The Chantry was a fairly large, stone building, looking quite like the one in Haven, but maybe a little bit bigger and a little bit more tattered. We walked up to the big wooden door, and immediately as we neared it, the little hairs on my arm spiked up. Maxwell shivered and twisted his marked hand around as if in pain. The scar flared a green light, going brighter and brighter the closer we got to the Chantry. 

A Rift. 

Maxwell turned to us and we all knew that look in his eyes. ‘Prepare yourselves.’ He whispered. 

Inside the Chantry was indeed a Rift drifting in the air, right above the altar of Andraste. Books lay scattered around, and most of the holy candles had been extinguished. A demon, a Wraith, immediately went for Maxwell as soon as we entered. The Herald took his daggers from their sheaths to counter, but the demon screeched before even being able to haul at us. 

Purple bolts of electricity surged across the room, hitting the demon in the back and crawling across its whole body like a virus, obliterating it into ashes. 

‘Good! You’re finally here!’ A man with olive skin, dark brown hair that was shaven at the side of his head, and a glorious, curling moustache, twisted his staff around, smiling at us and nodding at the Rift. ‘Now help me close this, would you?’

Another rush of demons splurged from the Rift. And we went to arms once more. Again, this Rift was big and had the capacity to warp time. Small barriers spawned across the Chantry hall, but this time, we were prepared. Looking at the flickering of the candles’ flames, we could tell which barrier was time-slowing, and which ones were time-quickening. We used it to our advantage. Maxwell, Cassandra and The Iron Bull lead the demons towards the time-slowing barriers, making them unable to attack at a normal speed. Varric, Sera, Solas and I hurried to the time-quickening barriers and fired from a distance. Shot after shot at an incredible pace. Arrows, bolts, and flares of ice and fire were leaping at the demons as fast as light. The damned creatures didn’t stand a chance. As soon as the demons were killed, Maxwell lifted his hand to the buzzing Rift. They connected with a click, and Maxwell willed it to seal until nothing but black ichor was left of it. 

I hated that blinding feeling, though. Another window is gone. 

The young man stared at Maxwell. And then he grinned, flashing his perfect white teeth. ‘Fascinating! How does that work, exactly?’ He laughed. 

Maxwell cocked his head. 

‘You don’t even know, do you? You just wiggle your fingers and boom! Rift closes.’ The man grinned and twisted his perfectly groomed moustache with the tips of his fingers.

‘Yeah… Something like that.’ Maxwell mumbled. ‘I’m sorry, but who are you?’ 

‘Ah, getting ahead of myself again, I see.’ The man rested his hands on his hips and curtsied. ‘Dorian of House Pavus, most recently of Minrathous. How do you do?’ His green eyes sparkled a little. 

Cassandra, unimpressed as always, bit, ‘Another Tevinter. Be cautious with this one. Saeris, could you check, please.’

I nodded and stepped forward, covering my blue eye. Dorian furrowed his brows as he stared into my emerald, buzzing pupil. ‘He’s just human.’ 

‘Pfbt, boring.’ Said Sera, obviously.

‘Suspicious friends you have here.’ Dorian remained all politeness and smiles and looked our party over. ‘Magister Alexius was once my mentor, so my assistance would be invaluable… As I’m sure you could imagine.’

Maxwell left his mouth hanging open, and his eyebrows uplifted. He then looked over his shoulder at us, thinking clearly, this man has some nerve . ‘You’re… betraying your mentor because…’ 

‘Alexius was my mentor. Meaning he’s not any longer, not for some time.’ Dorian continued, every single word perfectly pronounced. ‘Look, you must know there’s danger. That should be obvious even without the note. Let’s start with Alexius claiming the allegiance of the mage rebels out from under you. As if by magic, yes? Which is exactly right. To reach Redcliffe before the Inquisition, Alexius distorted time itself.’ 

‘… Please tell me it is less dangerous than it sounds.’ Maxwell sighed, knowing the answer already. 

‘More.’ Dorian added anyway. At least he’s honest. 

‘That is fascinating, if true… and almost certainly dangerous.’ Solas took a step forward, eyeing the Tevinter guy suspiciously. He stood before me, as if he wanted me out of sight. I don’t need protection, though. And I think this Dorian doesn’t mean any harm, or he would’ve attacked us already. 

‘The Rift you closed here? You saw how it twisted time around itself, sped some things up and slowed others down.’ Dorian continued. ‘Soon there will be more like it, and they’ll appear further and further away from Redcliffe.’ That thought frightened me. These Rifts were powerful, I felt as much when I only looked through it, let alone fight against it. And more of them? Commoners won’t stand a chance. They’ll be slaughtered. ‘The magic Alexius is using is wildly unstable, and it’s unravelling the world.’ 

‘And how do you know all of this? It’s a lot to take.’ Maxwell squeezed his eyes. 

‘Well, I helped develop this magic.’ Dorian visibly swallowed. ‘When I was still his apprentice, it was pure theory. Alexius could never get it to work. What I don’t understand is why he’s doing it.’ Dorian held his hand under his chin in thought and then touched his moustache again pensively. ‘Ripping time to shreds just to gain a few hundred lackeys?’ 

‘He didn’t do it for them.’ Felix had entered the room terribly quietly and I almost yelped as he appeared behind me. For a sickly guy like him, he’s remarkably stealthy. 

‘Took you long enough!’ Dorian smiled. ‘Is he getting suspicious?’

‘No,' Felix shook his head, ‘But I shouldn’t have played the illness card. I thought he’d be fussing over me all day.’ His voice sounded coarse, almost out of breath. ‘My father’s joined a cult. Tevinter supremacists. They call themselves “Venatori”. And I can tell you one thing: whatever he’s done for them, he’s done it to get to you.’

Maxwell snorted and then almost laughed out loud, ‘Oh, I’m flattered, but why would he rearrange time and indenture the mage rebellion just to get to me?’

They’re obsessed with you,’ Felix answered, ‘but I don’t know why. Perhaps because you survived the Temple of Sacred Ashes?’ 

‘You can close Rifts. Maybe there’s a connection. Or they see you as a threat?’ Dorian said, but Maxwell looked at me for a second, his eyes cautious. What would these Venatori do if they find out I can spot their Rifts? Would they come for me too? 

‘If the Venatori are behind those Rifts or the Breach in the sky, they’re even worse than I thought.’ Felix mumbled concerned.

‘I should’ve gotten him anything, all this… for me?’ Maxwell smiled, and I heard Varric laugh quietly. 

‘Send him a fruit basket. Everyone loves those.’ Dorian grinned and then sighed, back to business. ‘You know you’re his target. Expecting the trap is the first step in turning it to our advantage.’ Dorian nodded at Maxwell. ‘I can’t stay in Redcliffe. Alexius doesn’t know I’m here, and I want to keep it that way for now. But whenever you’re ready to deal with him, I want to be there. I’ll be in touch.’ Maxwell and Dorian shook hands, and then the spruce man turned away, walking casually to the back door of the Chantry hall. ‘Oh, and Felix!’ Dorian turned around and waved at the young man. ‘Try not to get yourself killed!’ He then wiggled his fingers and winked at us, and then disappeared. 

Felix sighed and stared after him. ‘There are worse things than dying, Dorian.’ After that, Felix bid us farewell and went back to his dubious father. 

What kind of illness does Felix have? Could I cure it? I can try when his father has stopped trying to murder us. Let’s get a hold on that first. 

‘Well, boss, we hadn’t expected that, did we? I think I am ready now for a drink.’ The Iron Bull lifted his greataxe over his shoulder, a twinkle in his eyes. I had seen the Qunari checking out Dorian, and I wondered what could happen there. 

‘Yeah, you’re not the only one.’ Varric sighed. 

‘Me too, guys, but before we leave, we have to go and meet someone else back at the Crossroads main camp.’ Maxwell rolled back his shoulders tiredly. ‘Let’s hope for no surprises this time.’ 

***

‘Remember how to carry your shields! You’re not hiding, you’re holding. Otherwise, it’s useless!’ A man was walking up and down in front of three armed human men, farmers as far as I could see. Maxwell had told us along the way he had gotten the order from Leliana to go check out a guy who was hanging around the Hinterlands. Rumours were this… heavily bearded man… was a Grey Warden. And we could always use one of those. The man was wearing the typical Grey Warden armour and a chest plate with a fabled and fierce griffon displayed on it.

‘Blackwall? Warden Blackwall?’ Maxwell walked towards the Warden and smiled warmly. The armoured farmers behind them shivered visibly. 

Why were these people here? They didn’t look like they would even be able to lift their swords, let alone wield them. 

‘You’re not… How do yeh know my name?’ Blackwall stomped to the Herald. As a precaution, I was by Max’s side in a second, shielding him if this Blackwall, Warden or not, would attempt anything. But the man ignored me. ‘Who sent…’ 

I yelped as I heard the arrow bash into Blackwall’s shield which he was holding next to my face. I stared at him, mouth wide open. Bandits then appeared from behind the dense trees of the woods, charging for us. 

‘That’s it.’ Blackwall ordered. ‘Help or get out. We’re dealing with these idiots first!’ Blackwall unsheathed his sword and turned to the farmers behind us, who turned from pale and shivering to green and almost crying. ‘Conscripts! Here they come!’

There were only a few bandits, nothing we hadn’t handled before. We took them out just as easily. Sera and Varric fired their arrows from a distance, while The Iron Bull, Cassandra and Maxwell charged at the bandits together with Blackwall and his scared conscripts. Solas and I remained at the side of the battle, casting barriers and glyphs and sometimes a fireball or two if they came too close. When a bandit tried to stab The Iron Bull from behind, I reacted by casting veins that crawled from underneath the ground, bursting to the surface and trapping the sneaky bandit in a prison of roots. I let the veins squeeze their culprit until he collapsed. Solas looked at me from over his shoulder, giving me an approving look. 

I like it when he does that. 

Blackwall sliced his sword into the last bandit’s guts and watched the man fall onto the bloodied ground. He sighed, shaking his head while he impaled his swords into the ground next to the dead bandit, splitting the grass beneath it. He then squatted next to his attacker, grief clouding his stern, sun-kissed face. ‘Sorry bastards.’ He mumbled. The conscripts were waiting next to their trainer unharmed. They had fought quite bravely and even took out a bandit or two. Seems like Blackwall had trained them surprisingly well, even though they still looked like scared farmers to me. ‘Good work, conscripts,’ Blackwall roared, ‘even if this shouldn’t have happened. They could’ve… well, thieves are made, not born.’ Solas nodded at that, and so did I. You’re not born evil. That’s a choice. ‘Take back what they stole. Go back to your families. Yeh saved yourselves.’ 

The conscripts clearly relaxed and took off immediately, back to their villages. Meanwhile, Maxwell strolled to the Warden, storing his daggers back in their sheaths.

‘You’re no farmer. Why do yeh know my name? Who are you?’ Blackwall rumbled. He had a deep, towering voice. The voice of a general. 

Maxwell rested his arms on his back, stealing Solas’ favourite posture. ‘I’m here investigating Grey Wardens for the Inquisition.’ He smiled innocently, the way only Maxwell could. ‘We’re seeing if their disappearance has anything to do with the murder of the Divine.’

‘Maker’s balls. The Wardens and the Divine? That can’t… no, you’re asking, so yeh don’t really know.’ And so doesn’t he then. Blackwell spat onto the ground. ‘First off, I didn’t know they disappeared. But we do that, right? No more Blight, job done, Wardens are the first thing forgotten. But one thing I’ll tell yeh: no Warden killed the Divine. Our purpose isn’t political.’

‘So… where are the rest of you?’ Varric said and cocked his head, looking up at Blackwall, who also wasn’t as tall as you’d first think. And that widow-peaked beard? Is that a thing? 

‘I haven’t seen any Wardens for months. I travel alone, recruiting.’ Blackwall looked down at Varric, rolling back his shoulders. ‘Not much interest since the Archdemon is a decade dead, and no need to conscript because there’s no Blight comin’. Treaties give Wardens the right to take what we need. Who we need. These idiots forced this fight, so I “conscripted” their victims. They had to do what I said, so I told them to stand. Next time they won’t need me.’ Blackwall looked at the dead bandit on the ground as he said. ‘Grey Wardens can inspire, make yeh better than yeh think you are.’

Maxwell pursed his lips and sighed. ‘It’s been a pleasure, Warden Blackwall, but this didn’t help at all’. He then turned around and started to walk. 

I ran after him, grabbing his arm while whispering through my teeth, ‘Hey, what are you doing? Didn’t you say we need this man?’ 

‘Shh! Wait for it… And…’ Maxwell grinned.

‘Inquisition… agent, did yeh say? Hold a moment.’ Blackwall called after us. Maxwell turned around slowly, barely hiding his cheeky smile. ‘The Divine is dead and the sky is torn. Events like these, thinking we’re absent is almost as bad as thinking we’re involved. If you’re trying to put things right, maybe you need a Warden. Maybe you need me.’

‘Bingo.’ Maxwell whispered towards me and then stepped forward to Blackwall, holding out his hand. ‘Warden Blackwall, the Inquisition accepts your offer.’

Our party smiled at that, Cassandra looking at Maxwell proudly. He’s becoming more and more able. 

‘Good to hear. We both need to know what’s going on and perhaps I’ve been keeping to myself for too long. This Warden walks with the Inquisition.’

And so our group got bigger and bigger. More colourful, more diverse, stronger and braver. And we would need it because what was coming next, wasn’t for the faint of heart. 

***

‘We will not cower! We will stand and fight! For our freedom! The freedom of our brethren! And the freedom for the next generation forth! We won’t let them take us back and we will certainly not give them the pleasure to hunt us down! We are done with the persecution and the prejudice! We are no monsters! STAND WITH ME, MY FRIENDS, ANDRASTE WILL SEE OUR CAUSE AND FORGIVE OUR SINS!’ The spirit—formed like a sturdy woman, a Circle mage—shrieked. Its voice echoed through the Apostate Camp. Not the one we had closed down, but another one, when the War had just begun and the fights had just entered the Hinterlands. 

These people would never make it to Redcliffe. 

The apostate group roared, lifting their staffs in the air, the cores buzzing and lighting up with pure magic. ’FREEDOM!’ They screamed again. Together they sliced up their wrists, their arms, and their palms until crimson-red blood flowed through the camp. I felt the magic in the air, tasting it together with the blood. Iron and fear, passion and hope. Blood and magic. 

The first batch of Templars didn’t stand a chance. 

But the second group did. And the desperate rebel mages were cut down mercilessly.

Solas and I were sitting high up on a hill, overlooking the battle that replayed itself multiple times. Then we saw the Templars thinking they were ridding the world of abominations, and then, a scared young apprentice who just wanted to reach Redcliffe in safety, but he got caught up in the fighting and died. There were spirits who clung to the brave group leader who screamed about bravery. And there were spirits clinging to that one older Templar who just wanted to go home and live out his life at his farm near the Crossroads. One final battle, he had said. It was his final battle indeed. 

‘So much death.’ I sighed. But I hadn’t shed a tear. I had seen too much death to know to keep my tears for when they mattered. These people were long gone, but there were still innocents out there to save.

‘A tragic waste.’ Solas whispered to himself. I was leaning against his shoulder, and I felt him inhale and exhale slowly. The Fade made everything easier for us both. Easier to talk, easier to relax, easier to not feel nauseous in his presence. Here, he was a friend. 

‘I am so sick of seeing so many wasteful deaths, so many people losing their lives… but for what?’ I bit my lip as another scene unfolded beneath us. This time, it was about a Templar who was involved with one of the rebel mages in this camp. He kills her. 

‘You speak as if you have seen as such, was there a lot of war when you travelled Thedas?’ Solas cocked his head, the question troubling his eyes again. That man was always seeking more knowledge, more mysteries to make his own. I knew he was doubting my story about me being a travelling minstrel. He knew or at least suspected something. It wouldn’t surprise me if he knew I was older than I told everyone I was. Especially Solas would find out such things, he too has seen much in the Fade. Yet, why wasn’t he asking me about it? He asked me about everything, but not that. What was he waiting for? 

‘There’s always war, and there always will be.’ I answered. 

Solas looked into my eyes and chuckled. ‘That is true, yet do not always linger at the thought of death, this world is also full of wonders for those who seek them.’ 

And there, another scene unfolded. Another mage and another Templar knew each other. But only this time, the two men reached out, their fingers entangling. There was no hate in their eyes, no murder, no prejudice. They held each other, heart to heart, and then… turned away. Leaving death behind them, and choosing life. Life with each other. 

They survived. 

I smiled. ‘Most of the times we go and see history unfolding in the Fade, the spirits cling to death… I hadn’t expected this.’ 

‘Neither did I…’ Solas hushed, not looking below, but at me. 

I swallowed, and for a moment, I looked back at him. At his icy, but deep eyes, and his galaxy-like freckles, at those smiling lips and… ‘Where did you get that?’ I mumbled and reached out for the little scar next to his eyebrow. 

Solas closed his eyes as my fingers slowly stroked it. A little cut, not that deep, but deep enough.

I retreated my hand quickly as soon as I noticed what I was doing. The Fade made it also easier to forget reality. I can’t do this. Not here. Not now. And certainly not with him. I shouldn’t be giving him the wrong signs. It’s better to keep him at bay. I can’t handle anything more than friendship. ‘Now, don’t tell me you got it in the Fade.’ I smiled faintly. 

‘No, I got this when I was younger.’ He kept looking at me, his eyes hinting at things I didn’t understand. 

‘A young Solas…’ I mumbled and pursed my lips. ‘Let me guess, you were a loner?’

Solas chuckled loudly, ‘On the contrary, I was hot-blooded and cocky, always ready to fight.’

‘So… nothing much has changed, huh?’ I poked him in a friendly way, creating more and more distance. 

‘And you, Saeris?’ 

I grinned. ‘Me too.’ I sighed, and then maybe I said too much. ‘I never really changed.’ 

Solas opened his mouth and then closed it again. What was he waiting for? Ask me. Ask me my age. Accuse me of immortality. Say it. But Solas only smiled sadly and closed his mouth again. 

‘Well, I’m waking up. We’ve got some travelling to do. I bet Cullen and Leliana aren’t going to be happy when they hear the rebel mages are meddling with time.’ I straightened myself and looked down at the scene below us once more. But there was nothing there. No corpses, no mages or Templars, not even a battlefield. It was just an empty cliff side now, overgrown by ivy and mist. The spirits were done telling stories. There were none left. 

‘I will await you at breakfast.’ Solas said behind me. 

I didn’t turn around to look at his face. ‘Goodbye.’ 

Notes:

Yaaaayyy our Inner Circle is almost complete, still missing Cole though! So, we're starting In Hushed Whispers soon. Excited?

Chapter 37: Ensnared

Notes:

Okay, next chapter! Beware, some game-heavy dialogue is coming up! Sorry about that!

By. The. Way. I've seen I have over 500 kudos!!! Wow! A really big thanks to every single one of you who gave me love and support. I hope I keep you all happy too with my story!

‘We don’t have the manpower to take the castle! Either we find another way in or give up this nonsense. We already have a reasonably large group of ex-Templar soldiers! They have trained enough, we could be closing the Breach as we speak.’ Cullen’s voice roared through the heavy wooden door that locked me out of the war room. I shifted on my feet and looked around nervously. Apart from some scouts and a couple of Chantry sisters, the Chantry hall was empty. I leaned against the wall, my body turned towards the flickering shadows cast by the many candles burning near Andraste’s statue. Planting my pointed ear against the door, I could hear them speak loud and clear. These big ears were at least good for something. 

‘Redcliffe is in the hands of a magister. This cannot be allowed to stand. Besides, the Templars we have aren’t nearly enough, we cannot take the chance of not being able to close the Breach and losing the mages at the same time.’ Cassandra’s stern voice overthrew Cullen’s with ease. 

They had been meeting for a while now. Maxwell had told them about what had happened at Redcliffe, about the time Rifts, Fiona not remembering inviting us, Alexius claiming power, meeting Dorian and the rumours of the Venatori cult. I’d been standing here for most of it, wanting to learn what they were planning to do. 

‘The letter from Alexius asked for the Herald of Andraste by name. It’s an obvious trap.’ The sharp and sultry voice of Ambassador Josephine filled my ears, a nice change from the brute yelling. 

‘We can’t waste time fighting among ourselves.’ Maxwell interrupted. I grinned while hearing his voice, and the empty Chantry hall didn’t feel as eerie anymore. ‘And although I won’t say no to a luncheon with an evil magister, we have to come to an agreement.’

‘A Tevinter magister controls Redcliffe, invites us to the castle to talk, and some of us want to do nothing.’ Leliana’s presence made the whole building cold again, reminding me of her interrogation about Simon in the cells underneath my very feet. Although her Orlesian accent sounded warm to others, for me, it left a bitter taste in my mouth. 

‘Not this again,’ I heard Josephine mumble. 

‘Redcliffe Castle is one of the most defensible fortresses in Ferelden. It has repelled thousands of assaults.’ Cullen’s voice made me flinch because it was so loud. I never heard Daniel yell, but I imagined he would’ve sounded like our Commander. ‘If you go in there, you’ll die. And we’ll lose the only means we have of closing these Rifts. I won’t allow it.’ He suddenly turned to whisper, concern masked in his voice. Cullen meant well. He didn’t trust the mages, didn’t find them worth the risk. I couldn’t say the man was wrong, mages were fickle. I am fickle. But we could use them. The more power, the higher our chance to close the Breach. To help Maxwell. 

‘And if we don’t even try to meet Alexius, we lose the mages and leave a hostile foreign power on our doorstep!’ I heard the Spymaster walk up and down the war table and imagined the deadly confidence in her eyes. 

‘Even if we could assault the keep, it would be for nought.’ Josephine countered again, ‘An “Orlesian” Inquisition’s army marching into Ferelden would provoke a war.’ Yes, and we don’t want that again. ‘Our hands are tied.’

Cassandra sighed. ‘The magister…’

‘… has outplayed us.’ Cullen completed the Seeker’s sentence, his voice low again. 

Maxwell was tapping his foot on the stone floor. He did that when he was thinking too hard. ‘We can’t just give up. There has to be something we can do.’

‘We cannot accept defeat now.’ Cassandra joined him, of course, ‘There must be a solution.’

The tapping of Maxwell’s foot stopped. ‘Other than the main gate, there’s got to be another way into the castle. A sewer? A water course? Something?’ 

‘There’s nothing I know of that could work.’ Cullen heaved another sigh.

‘Wait.’ Leliana hushed, and I liked the tone of her voice now. She had an idea. ‘There is a secret passage into the castle, an escape route for the family. It’s too narrow for our groups, but we could send agents through.’

‘Too risky.’ Cullen again. ‘Those agents will be discovered well before they reach the magister.’

‘That’s why we need a distraction. Perhaps the envoy Alexius wants so badly?’ Leliana was a genius. A scary, deadly, genius. I wasn’t too keen on using Maxwell as a distraction, but I could go with the envoy, make sure he’s safe… It could work. 

I was ripped from my thoughts as I heard the Chantry doors haul open. A man strutted towards the war room with a quickened pace. It was too dark to see his face. 

‘You cannot go in there! It is for advisors and the Herald of Andraste only! You need clearance… an invitation… but you can’t just barge in! Ser!’ A scout with a sweaty and troubled face ran after the man, yelling and trying to stop him from going inside. 

‘Maker! You Southerners can be so jumpy! I can stand wherever I please. It’s just a bloody room. Besides, I have information about the magister that is invaluable to the Inquisition.’ That voice… isn’t that the other Tevinter mage we met at Redcliffe… Dorian? The man walked by me and stopped, a look of recognition in his eyes. He then smiled dazzlingly, his dark moustache in perfect, twisty shape. ‘Eavesdropping, are we?’ 

Another voice boomed from the war room again. ‘Keep attention on our Herald, while we disable the magister’s defences. It’s a gamble, but it might work.’ Seemed like the Commander was finally, somewhat, on board. 

On this cue, Dorian barged into the war room. The wooden door creaked as it bumped against the stone wall on the inside of the room, where a group of shocked faces stared our way. 

‘Fortunately, you’ll have help!’ Dorian opened his arms, almost expecting an applause and he casually walked inside. 

I was standing openly and clearly caught in the act of eavesdropping, in the doorway. I smiled faintly while scratching the back of my neck. Oops. Maxwell leaned to the side to stare at me with a surprised smile. But I caught Cassandra’s disapproving look.

The scout that had been running after Dorian, straightened his back. But when the man started to speak, you could hear him squeaking from exhaustion, terribly out of breath. ‘This man says he has information about the magister and his methods, Commander.’ The poor scout trembled. 

Stares were thrown Dorian’s way, and I was lucky to not be in the attention of the deadly group of humans. But since I was discovered anyway, I leaned against the doorway, next to the trembling scout, who was doing his very best not to look my way. I could smell his sweat. The shadows partly claimed my face as I resumed staring at the powerful group. 

Cullen glared at Dorian with great suspicion but remained silent. 

Dorian continued. ‘Your spies will never get past Alexius’s magic without my help. So if you’re going after him, I’m coming along.’

I saw Maxwell smile at that. ‘Ah, Dorian, was it? I was wondering where you were at.’ 

‘It takes time to travel in style, Herald.’ Dorian winked playfully.

Cullen coughed, ‘The plan puts you in the most danger. We can’t, in good conscience, order you to do this.’ The Commander sighed and rested his hands on his hips, looking up at Maxwell one last time, concern still troubling his golden eyes. ‘We can still focus on the Templars we have if you’d rather not play the bait. It’s up to you.’

Maxwell looked to Cassandra, who smiled tenderly at him, her eyes calm but neutral. He then looked over his shoulder, peering through his wavy chestnut hair, towards me. I lifted my chin so my face would appear from out of the shadows, and I looked at him in the most confident way I could. 

‘We need the mages to close the Breach, and we will do everything that is in our power to do so. If everyone agrees, then let’s go visit Alexius at that little castle he’s renting.’ Maxwell flashed a smile as the group nodded. Dorian clasped his hands in unbridled excitement.  Only Cullen looked down, the concern wouldn’t leave his face. 

‘We will start to plan this right away, we need to leave as soon as possible.’ Leliana dipped her head, but I still saw that approving grin on her rosy lips. She walked past me without looking and went to work. 

I stepped aside as the rest of the advisors passed me too. Josephine winked playfully and I smiled back, then she disappeared back into her office. She had an invitation to reply to. Next, Cassandra left, her eyes scolding me in a motherly way. Maxwell and Dorian left together, deep in conversation. The two men seemed to be friends already. 

Cullen remained standing in the war room, bending over the table while staring down the map before him. Something was off. Maybe he was concerned about this new mission, or maybe the idea of having rebel mages walk around Haven made him nervous. 

‘Cullen? Will you let me know if there’s anything I can do to help with this mission?’ 

Cullen sighed and looked up, but he smiled as he saw me standing quietly before the table. ‘Of course, my Lady. I will let you know if something comes up.’

I shifted on my feet as he stared at me, his golden eyes boring into mine. My heart stopped beating for a moment. I looked around to see no one was near and then took a step towards him. ‘Have you… have you been sleeping well? Does the… you know… I gave you help?’ 

Cullen straightened his back and brushed his hand through his blonde hair. ‘I… yes. It helps.’ 

I bit my lip and noticed him looking at it. ‘If you’re ever in need of anything, you can call on me.’ That sounds wrong. ‘For suggestions, of course.’ That sounds even worse. ‘And… don’t worry about Maxwell, I will go with him and I will make sure he’s safe.’

‘He is not the only one I’m worried about.’ The corner of his lips turned to a quick and faint smile. He looked less sad now, and that made me feel a little bit more at ease too.  

‘Everything will be alright. I promise.’ I smiled again awkwardly and then turned around to go after Maxwell. The Commander stared after me for a while but then returned his focus on the reports spread out before him. 

***

Hurrying outside, I felt the cold wind barge against me like a whip. My breath got stuck in my chest because of the cold, so I stopped in my tracks, looking at my bare toes buried in the snow. If I wasn’t wearing enchanted foot wraps, I wouldn’t have any toes left. 

It was getting colder. 

Strange how at Haven, it wouldn’t get warmer. There were but two temperatures, cold and freezing. 

I waited until my lungs found my warm breath once more, and then continued down the slope towards the tavern. I had promised Varric some details from the meeting I had spied on. I was taking the shortcut around Adan’s Apothecary when I heard two familiar voices chattering away. 

‘Saeris, my friend!’ Maxwell waved his hand as he saw me peeking from behind the wooden cabin. I really suck at spying, obviously.

‘Ah… Maxwell!’ I grinned and walked his way. Standing next to the Herald was Dorian, the Tevinter mage, or magister, or whatever he was. I wasn’t accustomed to anything Tevinter, since I had avoided that country during my terribly long life. I had met some, and fought some, but never befriended someone from Tevinter. ‘I’m sorry I spied on your meeting…’ I said to Maxwell and nodded politely at Dorian. 

‘I think no one was surprised at that.’ He chuckled warmly, ‘Besides, they’re calling you my bodyguard already so you should know what I’m up to.’ 

‘Who’s calling me that?’ I pouted. 

‘Everyone.’ He lifted a brow at me and smiled again. ‘So, Saeris, you’ve met Dorian Pavus, right?’ 

I glanced at the Tevinter man, who was leaning against Adan’s cabin, and looked him up and down. ‘Of course, though we haven’t had the chance to talk personally.’

‘We met in the hall earlier, no?’ Dorian flashed his teeth, I wondered how he got them so white, most humans here had bad teeth. Probably magic. ‘I have heard a lot about you already. Let us say I did not expect you to be…’

Elven? I thought as I furrowed my brows. 

‘As beautiful as you are.’ Dorian continued, a sassy grin curling on his lips. 

‘Oh… yes… thank you.’ I hummed. 

Maxwell laughed loudly, ‘She’s a good friend. Saved my life more times than I can count.’ He said and smacked my shoulder in a brotherly fashion. ‘We were talking about Dorian’s charming homeland, weren’t we?’

‘I sincerely hope she understands your sarcasm.’ Dorian chuckled warmly. ‘But yes, Tevinter is lavishly charming in, especially, lies, scheming and oh, those wonderful illusions about supremacy. Those are the top tourist attractions.’

I smiled a little at that. ‘Sounds like fun.’

Maxwell crossed his arms, ‘Will you go back after we dealt with Alexius?’ Good question.

Dorian looked at his feet, chuckled, and then looked back up again, ‘I’m not exactly welcome back home. Not that it matters, I’m accustomed to being a pariah, it adds to my charm.’ Maybe Dorian and I weren’t so different. I’m a pariah in some way as well. Well, maybe in every way. 

‘Have you been to Tevinter, Saeris? During your travels?’ I felt the eyes of both men on me. 

I scraped my throat as I spoke, ‘No, I avoided it for… obvious reasons.’ Be it my crazy eye, my immortality, or my race. Probably all. 

‘Ah yes, I was wondering what… that is.’ Dorian stared at me the way Solas did sometimes. But it was gone just as quickly. 

I swallowed. 

My eye? Nothing special, just an ancient curse. 

Maxwell saw me sweat and intervened. ‘Saeris is a mage like you, but her gifts are… rare. Her eye makes her see things others don’t. You know, like demons.’ Thank you, Maxwell.

I smiled awkwardly. 

‘The Imperium would have a blast with you. So yes, don’t you ever go there.’ Dorian winked at me, kindness in his eyes. ‘So, you are a mage as well. You don’t appear to me as an apostate, unlike that other… Elven mage I’ve seen walking around.’ Does he mean Solas? ‘Were you part of a Circle of Magi?’

My smile faltered, and my heart sank. ‘I used to be, for some time.’ I liked this conversation when it wasn’t about me. 

‘Meaning you were locked away like a criminal, at least until you rebelled. It’s such a bizarre notion to me.’ Dorian continued either way. 

I hummed and stared at the ground. Dorian was wearing boots made out of good and sturdy material, and they looked nice as well. When I looked up, I saw Maxwell shaking his head towards Dorian, and Dorian looked back at me in an apologetic way, like he knew what had happened there. It made me more uncomfortable. 

‘I have to go.’ I smiled politely at Dorian and Maxwell. ‘Promised Varric some gossip.’ 

‘Alright,' Maxwell sighed. ‘I will let you know of our mission as soon as possible.’ 

I smiled and dipped my head as goodbye. ‘Herald, Dorian.’ 

‘Until another time.’ Dorian dipped his head politely back at me.  

I smiled and then turned away, leaving the two men to resume their conversation. I liked meeting new people, but I hated those first conversations where they asked questions. I didn’t like questions. I already had too many of those myself. 

As I resumed walking down to the tavern, I heard familiar footsteps walking my way. Silent, light on his feet, but confident. If I hadn’t heard him, the nasty twisting in my stomach would betray Solas anyway. I turned around towards him, and saw that little chuckle on his lips before it disappeared. 

‘Searis.’ Solas said. 

‘Good day, Solas.’ I hummed back. ‘Something’s up?’ 

‘No, not at all.’ He smiled faintly. ‘Well, perhaps… I saw you talking to that… Tevinter mage.’ He almost spat out the word Tevinter. I wondered if there was something more to that. 

‘Ah yes, Dorian.’ I lifted an eyebrow at the tall Elf. ‘He’s actually quite nice. Heard he’s a good mage too, he might be able to teach me a thing or two.’ I joked. 

‘If there is something you wish to learn, I can be of service to you any time, Saeris.’ I saw Solas furrow his eyebrows. 

‘Don’t get jealous, Solas.’ I winked and rested my hand on his shoulder, giving it a small squeeze. 

Solas chuckled, and the strange look in his eyes was gone. The twisting in my stomach intensified though. 

‘Well, I’m meeting up with Varric. You coming?’ 

‘Perchance another time. I have some research still left undone.’ He said. 

We stared at each other for just a second, but then I broke our contact again. ‘Okay, I’m at the tavern if you need me.’ I waved my hand and turned my back to Solas, walking down towards the tavern without stopping. 

Immediately when I opened the tavern’s door, I heard Varric’s loud laughter. ‘You didn’t!’ He cried. 

‘Uh, yeah I did.’ Sera snickered. 

Varric, Sera and The Iron Bull were sitting at their favourite table near the centre of the tavern, close to Flissa’s bar. A new face had joined them. It was that Grey Warden we had conscripted along the way back home. What was his name again? Greybeard… Blackhouse…

‘Twinkle! There you are! Took your time!’ Varric waved his short arm, barely sticking out of the crowd, towards me. 

I waved back and strolled to my seat. 

‘Well, I heard you should have some gossip for us.’ The Iron Bull winked. 

‘How did the spying go?’ Varric leaned forward, and I noticed a red glow on his face. Almost as red as Sera’s. 

‘Well…’ I bit my lip and took a jug from the cup Flissa had just placed before me, a polite smile on her lips. 

‘You got found out, huh?’ Sera giggled again. 

‘Yes… But that Dorian barged in and…’

‘Dorian?’ Varric lifted a brow. ‘That Tevinter guy?’

‘Yes, him.’ I nodded. ‘But he’s actually quite nice.’

‘You should watch yourself.’ The Iron Bull jugged his drink. ‘The pretty ones are always the worst.’

‘Nah, I saw him standin’ with Heraldy.’ Sera lisped. ‘He seems fun.’ She laughed. ‘Could lose a bit Tevinter though.’

‘Maybe it’s the Tevinter in him that makes him look arrogant. He doesn’t even hide it.’ The Grey Warden, whose name I still had somewhat forgotten, slurped from his ale. I noticed the brown liquid dripping into his black pointed beard, soaking it up. I always thought that you could smell the Blight’s taint. Feel its presence. But I couldn’t smell or feel or see anything special about this man. So guess I was wrong.

‘You remember Warden Blackwall, don’t you?’ Varric laughed. 

Blackwall. That’s it. I was so close. ‘Of course. How’s Haven for you?’ 

‘It’s accommodating. Better than my tent in the Hinterlands.’ Blackwall laughed. He had a thick Ferelden accent and didn’t pronounce some syllables. But he seemed like a decent man. Sturdy. One who doesn’t ask questions. ‘But that Breach, Maker.’ He sighed and put down his cup on the table. ‘So much easier to ignore when it’s far away.’

‘It’s strange, innit? Once shot an arrow up there. Didn’t come back…’ Sera mumbled while drinking. I’m proud I could understand what she was saying at all. 

‘You’ll get used to it…’ I answered the man, who stared at me with a distrusting look. Most humans did that. ‘Of course, when we go after the mages, we’ll be able to close that thing soon.’ 

‘Oh? We’re going back to Redcliffe then?’ Varric leaned forward while I heard Sera moan with discontentment. 

‘It seems so.’ I started and leaned forward towards the centre of the table so no one around could hear. ‘Listen up, this is what they concluded…’ 

*** 

‘Did you bring your supply of Health potions?’ 

‘Yes.’

‘Do you have your third dagger with you?’

‘Got it.’ 

‘You surely did not forget your invitation?’

‘Cassandra, I have everything. Don’t worry.’ Maxwell sighed as the Seeker checked his horse. The woman was getting more and more obvious.

I smiled at them while strapping my saddle to my mount. The tall brown horse whinnied as I stroked its back. 

Three days. That’s all they needed to plan this mission. Leliana really doesn’t waste any time. Her spies had left a day before us, so no Venatori spies would notice us riding together. Maxwell was dressed in his “political” armour, meaning he was wearing robes that made him look like a Herald too. But Cassandra still made sure he was able to move swiftly in them. If the mission should fail and our spies get caught, we’d have to fight our way out. 

Most of the Inquisition’s Inner Circle was present. Not all, because that would catch too much attention. Sera didn’t come, she would get too nervous around the mages. Blackwall would also stay at Haven. He had just joined the Inquisition, and he was to train with Cullen and arrange some things with Leliana before he would be able to join us on any missions. Dorian was an exception, of course. We needed him to get past Alexius’ spies. He already left with our spies. We don’t want to be seen with him, or our cover might get blown. Varric, The Iron Bull and Solas were present as well. And even Vivienne wanted to join us this time, saying “I want to make sure the Herald makes the right decisions when it comes to enlisting those rebels.” I wished she would’ve stayed home. I’d rather have Sera. 

‘Be careful.’ I yelped as the Commander appeared next to my horse. His large hands followed the mount’s back gently, and he stroked some stray hairs flat. 

‘Don’t worry, Commander. I will make sure Maxwell’s safe.’ I said when seeing his worrisome eyes.

‘I know.’ He whispered almost. ‘But be sure to protect yourself too, my Lady.’ 

‘I’m a tough cookie to crack.’ I laughed. 

‘So it seems.’ He squinted his eyes as he smiled. 

‘Is everyone ready?’ Cassandra yelled. 

I looked away from Cullen to hoist myself over my horse. Cullen stretched his arms in response but retracted them as I lifted myself into the saddle easily. ‘Ready!’ I called. 

Others did the same, and Maxwell looked over his group in a protective way. ‘Okay, guys. We’ll make this trip short, go to Redcliffe, kick out Alexius, and return. Let’s try to keep ourselves low, don’t attract too much attention. We can’t afford any diversions.’

I looked down to where the Commander had stood, but he had already gone back to his place next to Leliana and Josephine. 

‘Alexius does not expect us to come without a fight. So be careful of any irregularities.’ Josephine called out to us. 

‘My spies should be arriving before you, they know their way in. When it’s time, they’ll take out Alexius’ guards. Make sure to go inside with the pretence of a diplomatic meeting. Don’t ruin that cover.’ Leliana ordered, and I bet no one would forget her words. I think everyone but Cassandra was scared of her. 

Cullen didn’t say anything but just nodded in silent response. But his eyes screamed towards Maxwell. Be careful. Be careful. Be careful.

And then off we were. 

*** 

Redcliffe Castle was a large, mediaeval-like stronghold. It was huge, with courtyards and towers and more rooms than necessary. The gate to the castle was a huge, steel door with heavy ornaments and before it stretched a long stone bridge. A little bit like the one in Val Royeaux, but this bridge was shorter and more robust. The stones of the castle were grey and old and sombre. Not really a welcoming home. 

My heart started to roar. We hadn’t seen Dorian or any Inquisition spies. And that’s good. You’re not supposed to see them. I wondered if they were already inside the palace, waiting to strike at the right moment.

We dismounted at the beginning of the bridge leading towards the gate to the castle. A young squire took our horses, his eyes always respectfully towards the ground. We then walked over to the gate, and the guards let us in. 

Strange, we didn’t have to show the Inquisition’s vigil or Maxwell’s invitation. 

They all knew exactly who we were. 

My stomach turned, and I felt my fingertips trembling. Something’s off. As we walked through the front courtyard towards the main door, I glanced at Maxwell. Sweat was clearly forming near his temples. His shoulders were heaved up tight. Even Cassandra seemed uncomfortable. She kept looking around suspiciously, sticking to Maxwell like she was glued to him. We walked further along the stone path in a tight formation. Even Vivienne, who had been giving snarky remarks about the rebels all day, had gotten eerily quiet. 

I peered at Solas and he answered my look with careful eyes. We all felt there was something off. Not like in Val Royeaux… but… in another, even more threatening way. I couldn’t guess what feeling I was having. Last time, I clearly felt there was a demon around. But this time… it was something else. The strange smell of foreign magic clung to my nose, forming a metallic taste in my mouth.

As we walked inside, a long stone corridor stretched before us, Tevinter tapestry hanging from the walls. Ttwo guards appeared, dressed in strange robes. 

Venatori. 

The Venatori guards wore white and grey armour, with that familiar strange hood with spiked pieces of fabric, like the one Alexius had been wearing, and a steel mask with heavy, rectangular horns protruding straight from their forehead. 

Maxwell walked first. There was a confident look on his face. Gone were the sweat and the uncomfortable posture. This was the Herald of Andraste.

The two guards looked at us strangely, remaining silent. 

Maxwell straightened his shoulders as he snarled, ‘Announce us.’ 

I remained behind Maxwell, close, like the rest of us. Ready to attack if they did. 

Another young man appeared from behind the Venatori guards. He looked Fereldan and was wearing a simple linen shirt and pants. The young man smiled politely, ‘The Magister’s invitation was for Master Trevelyan only.’ He had a high voice. ‘These others will have to remain here.’ 

I grunted and Cassandra took a defensive step forward, her eyes furious. But Maxwell remained calm, resting his hand in front of Cassandra to cool her down. ‘Where I go, they go.’ He ordered. 

The servant stared at Maxwell and then at The Iron Bull, who doomed up menacingly behind me. I noticed the servant was getting nervous. Eventually, he nodded and escorted us to the throne room. The Venatori guards behind us lingered but then followed us in. I almost felt their breaths against the back of my neck.

The throne room was a large ballroom, lit with flickering torches that cast dancing shadows on the grim stone walls. But the room was fairly sober, very Ferelden-like. Tevinter tapestries alternated with Ferelden tapestries, and some statues of Andraste were cut into the walls. 

‘My lord Magister,' the servant began to speak as we walked towards the throne. ‘The agents of the Inquisition have arrived.’

Before us stood the throne of the Earl of Redcliffe, now occupied by someone else. The throne was a large, wooden and steel carved chair, bordered by two giant dragonesque statues hanging from the walls. And on it sat Gereon Alexius, a grin on his thin lips and his legs crossed like he owned the place. Next to him stood his son, Felix, paler and thinner than before. Alexius stood up as we came closer, strolling a step or two towards us, his arms open. 

I had to fight the urge to kill the man where he stood. 

‘My friend! It’s so good to see you again.’ He smiled. The sound of his voice made me want to gag. Alexius’ dark brown eyes glanced over the rest of the party, and I saw a hint of surprise there. ‘And your associates, of course.’ I locked eyes with the evil magister for a second, but the man turned back to Maxwell, the big grin curling over his face again. ‘I’m sure we can work out some arrangement that is equitable to all parties.’

From behind the marble pillars near the back of the room, another familiar figure appeared. Fiona walked towards us, stopping right next to Cassandra, her eyes filled with fiery anger. I heard Vivienne hiss at the sight of the Elven enchanter. ‘Are we mages to have no choice in deciding our fate?’

Alexius scoffed, ‘Fiona, you would not have turned your followers over to my care if you did not trust me with their lives.’ 

Maxwell took a step forward, still confident. He looked down at Fiona and nodded politely. ‘If the Grand Enchanter wants to be part of these talks, then I welcome her as a guest of the Inquisition.’ Vivienne rolled her eyes, I could almost hear her. 

But Fiona gave Maxwell a relieved smile. ‘Thank you.’ She dipped her head respectfully. 

Alexius sighed, scraping his throat in deep thought. He turned back to his seat. His footsteps resounded throughout the throne room, mixing together with the smouldering sound of the fireplace behind the throne. Felix stared at his father as he sat down. I saw an emotion there I couldn’t place immediately. Maybe a mix of… anger… concern… and fear?

I shifted on my feet, stepping closer to Maxwell. 

‘The Inquisition needs mages to close the Breach, and I have them. So, what shall you offer in exchange?’ Alexius cooed. 

Maxwell smiled and rolled back his shoulders, cocking his brows arrogantly, ‘Nothing at all.’ He laughed, and then turned dead serious, ‘I don’t owe you anything, and neither will I give you the chance to gain more than you’ve already stolen. I’m just going to take the mages and leave.’

Alexius furrowed his brows, leaning closer from his seat, ‘And how do you imagine you’ll accomplish such a feat?’

‘He knows everything, father.’ Felix finally spoke up, his voice stronger and louder than I would’ve thought. He looked so sick. 

Alexius stared at his son, his pupils enlarging, and his nervousness now clearly visible on his face. ‘Felix, what have you done?’

Maxwell stood his ground, his own voice louder than before, but there was still kindness there. Not rage, but calm confidence. ‘Your son is concerned that you’re involved in something terrible.’

Alexius hissed, anger dripping from his words like venom. ‘So speaks the thief. So you think you can turn my own son against me? You walk into my stronghold with your stolen mark—a gift you don’t even understand—and think you’re in control?’ The magister pushed himself from his chair and walked towards Maxwell slowly. Cassandra and I stepped next to the Herald defensively. But Maxwell didn’t bat an eye. ‘You’re nothing but a mistake!’

‘If you know so much, enlighten me.’ Maxwell crossed his arms in front of his chest, unmoving. ‘Tell me what this mark on my hand is for.’

‘It belongs to your betters. You wouldn’t even begin to understand its purpose.’ Alexius spat. 

‘Father, listen to yourself! Do you know what you sound like?’ Felix stared at his father, and now I understood the emotions on his face. It was loss.

‘He sounds exactly like the sort of villainous cliché everyone expects us to be.’ Dorian casually stepped from behind another pillar, into the crackling light of the torches’ flames. 

I heard Alexius’ surprised, choked breath from where I stood. ‘Dorian.’ He said his name like it was a curse. ‘I gave you a chance to be a part of this. You turned me down. The Elder One has power you would not believe. He will raise the Imperium from its own ashes!’ 

My heart stopped for a moment as Alexius’ words sunk into my mind. 

The Elder One. 

A name that made me shiver from within my very core. 

Maxwell raised his chin, the many questions prickling his tongue. ‘The Elder One, again.’ He hummed as he remembered the name Envy had gurgled in its twisted nightmare. ‘The one who killed the Divine? Is he a mage?’

‘Soon, he will become a god.’ Alexius sang proudly. ‘He will make the world bow to mages once more. We will rule from the Boeric Ocean to the Frozen Seas.’ 

‘You can’t involve my people in this!’ Fiona cried out. Vivienne stared at them with a pale face and I heard Varric mumble a ‘shit’ under his breath. 

‘Alexius, this is exactly what you and I talked about never wanting to happen! Why would you support this?’ Dorian sounded desperate as he saw his own mentor falling deeper and deeper into his madness. 

I felt the swishing wind of an arrow behind me, my ears twitching with the sound. A guard behind me moaned and quietly fell to his knees. No one had noticed yet, and I didn’t dare to move or make a sound to betray it. 

‘Father,’ Felix continued, ‘Stop it. Give up the Venatori. Let the southern mages fight the Breach. And let’s go home.’

‘No! It’s the only way, Felix. He can save you!’ The pleading sadness in Alexius’ disgusting voice almost made me pity him. 

He was doing this… for his son?

‘Save me?’ Felix cocked his head. 

‘There is a way. The Elder One promised. If I undo the mistake at the temple…’ Alexius spat again and looked at Maxwell in a menacing way. He was the mistake. 

My blood started to boil in my veins, and I felt my eye twisting and turning. No, keep quiet, don’t make a sound or the spies might be found out. I bit the inside of my lip until I could taste my own blood. 

‘I’m going to die. You need to accept that.’ Felix sighed. 

But Alexius refused to listen, it only angered him more and more, until he couldn’t see anything but red. ‘Seize them, Venatori! The Elder One demands this man’s life!’ Alexius ordered and pointed his nasty finger to our Herald. 

But when the other Venatori guards who had been hiding in the dark appeared from out of the shadows, so did our spies, cutting the guards’ throats in a swift and silent movement. 

‘Your men are dead, Alexius.’ Maxwell raised his chin in victory.

Yes! Good! All is according to plan! My heart calmed down a little, but I still stuck to Maxwell, my hand reaching for his sleeve.

‘You… you are a mistake! You should never have existed!’ Alexius opened his hand. 

I screamed and fell to the ground, unable to grab Maxwell’s hand as I reached for my eye in agony as it twisted and turned at the sight of the foreign but powerful magic. 

‘No!’ Dorian screamed and lashed out a blast of his magic at Alexius, who almost dropped the strange, emerald-fading amulet from his hand. 

But it was already too late. 

The presence of the Rift was the first thing I felt, and I saw something I had never seen before as I stared into the abyss of green and red. There was another side. Not the Fade, but another place entirely.

‘MAXWELL!’ I don’t think I’ve ever cried as loudly, but my voice failed to reach him. The Rift swallowed him and Dorian, and I saw Maxwell’s fearful expression as he locked eyes with me once more. 

And then he was gone.

Notes:

Next chapter will be my very first Maxwell POV! Exciting!
I'm trying to get my chapters up as soon as I finish them, but I'm currently in the middle of my finals so sorry if it takes a while!

Chapter 38: Hushed

Notes:

Long chapter coming right up! Double the word count, double the drama ;-) Enjoy!

"Those who had been cast down,
The demons who would be gods,
Began to whisper to men from their tombs within the earth.
And the men of Tevinter heard and raised altars
To the pretender-gods once more,
And in return were given, in hushed whispers,
The secrets of darkest magic."

— Chant of Light, Threnodies 5:11

 

***

- Maxwell -

‘You… you are a mistake! You should never have existed!’

‘No!’

‘MAXWELL!’

Cold, empty and broken. That’s what I felt like. As if someone had thrown me into the air and I had fallen from a thousand miles down, crashing onto a wet and hard floor. And there was nothing but darkness.

First, I thought I was dead. 

But your ass doesn’t hurt if you’re dead. 

And my feet were getting wet. Dead people don’t get wet feet. Or at least don’t feel them get wet. The water smelled like a sewer. Maybe a little bit like Haven after everybody got food poisoning. Something like that. 

I blinked my eyes once, twice, until most of the room I had fallen into cleared up. It looked like I was in some sort of waterway, or a dim-lit cell. Sounds of heavy splashing, the water waving from one side to the other like the Waking Sea itself. 

Two strangely-dressed guards ran, or splashed, into the room. After staring at them for a second, I recognized them as Venatori. Those sorry bastards Alexius hung around with. I thought our agents had killed them all?

‘Blood of the Elder One! Where’d they come from?’ One guard spat to the other. 

Next to me, I heard Dorian groan tiredly. Good, he’s here too. Maybe he knows where we were. But before I could ask, the guards attacked. 

Dorian and I glanced at each other quickly before jumping forwards together. I had hidden my daggers in my armour coat in case I’d need them, and Cassandra had made sure I was able to fight in these robes. 

Maker I love that woman. 

She’ll kill me if she hears that. 

With a swift movement, I sliced up the first guard’s arm, and he roared while dropping his sword. I leapt over the man, twisting my body into the air and landed behind him, hauling open his back. The guard screamed loudly before passing out and drowning in the water below us. 

Dorian laughed, ‘Good one!’ and lashed out with a burst of his magic. An unnatural fire climbed across the second guard. The stupid moron almost burned to death until he realised we were standing in water. The guard threw off his helmet and quickly dove into the smelly sewer to extinguish himself. I took advantage of that and leapt towards the guard, pushing my hands down to grab his head, tilting it so I could slice his throat. 

After we had dealt with the Venatori, Dorian dusted off his coat and tutted while looking around the room. ‘Displacement?’ he hummed, ‘Interesting!’

‘Huh,’ I cocked my head. 

Dorian continued, his fingers twisting his moustache, ‘It’s probably not what Alexius intended. The Rift must have moved us… to what? The closest confluence of arcane energy?’ The mage squatted down and peered into the black water. 

I wiped a smear of blood from my cheek. ‘The last thing I remember, we were in the castle hall.’ And then… Saeris screamed… and I was here. ‘I feel like I’m having a bad hangover…’

‘Let’s see.’ Dorian straightened his back, his face pulled into a thoughtful grimace. ‘If we’re still in the castle, it isn’t… oh! Of course! It’s not simply where, it’s when!’

‘Uhuh…’ Does it make me stupid that I don’t understand what he’s implying? 

Maybe I don’t want to understand. 

‘Alexius moved the amulet as a focus. It moved us through time!’ Dorian clasped his hands.

‘Ah, crap.’ I do understand him. ‘That’s not good… Did we go forward or back?’ I rubbed my thumping temples. ‘And how far?’

‘Those are excellent questions… We’ll have to find out, won’t we?’ Dorian smiled. He didn’t seem worried at all. Or perhaps he was good at hiding it.

If we went back… then maybe it’s not that bad. I can prevent a lot of bad things from happening. But if we… if we went forward. The Breach…

‘Let’s look around,’ Dorian rested his hands on his hips, ‘see where the Rift took us. Then we can figure out how to get back… if we can.’

‘You have a plan to get us back, right, Dorian? Please have a plan.’ I sighed. 

Dorian flashed his teeth, ‘I have some thoughts on that. They’re lovely thoughts… like little jewels.’ 

‘We’re doomed.’ I whispered to myself. 

Fuck. This. 

We waded through the water and opened our cell door with the prison key we looted from one of the Venatori guards’ corpses. As we pushed through the heavy sewer, we came across another room, which was lit in a red fading hue. It could be cosy if the light wasn’t coming from that giant pillar of Red Lyrium that grew out of the wall like a damn tree.

‘That… doesn’t seem right.’ I asked Dorian while staring at the bloody glowing rock. I could almost hear it… whisper… perhaps. Not words. Not entirely. But more like a buzzing, a million voices shushing at me. Ever so softly. 

‘No, it doesn’t.’ Dorian glanced at it quickly. ‘And I do not think it’s just a choice of shoddy interior design… These seem to be growing all over the place.’ 

‘Yeah… Let’s move. It’s unsettling.’ 

‘That’s an understatement,’ Dorian said under his breath. 

‘So, Dorian,’ I continued to chatter while we were entering room after room. The water was heavy and cold, and the hairs on my arm were standing up like someone was watching me from behind. The humming of the Red Lyrium made it worse. And I’d rather hear the sound of my own voice. ‘What was Alexius trying to do?’

Dorian was using his staff as support to push through the sewer. He sounded out of breath as he answered, ‘I believe his original plan was to remove you from time completely. If that happened, you would’ve never been at the Temple of Sacred Ashes or mangled his Elder One’s plan.’

‘What a boring world would that be.’ I chuckled. Think about anything but what could’ve happened. 

‘Indeed.’ Dorian smiled back faintly. ‘I think your surprise in the castle hall made him reckless… He tossed us into the Rift before he was ready. I countered it, the magic went wild and here we are.’ Dorian looked around disdainfully, ‘Makes sense?’

‘No… maybe…’ I chittered. 

‘I don’t even want to think about what this will do to the fabric of the world… We didn’t travel through time so much as punch a hole through it and toss it into the privy.’

‘It sure smells like one.’ I winked, and Dorian laughed quietly. Laughing keeps you warm, that’s what my sister, Evelyn, once told me… before I went to the Temple at Haven.

We finally reached some stairs, climbing up, we left the smelly water behind us. 

But it didn’t get better. 

‘Andraste blessed me. Andraste blessed me.’ An Elven man behind a cage was singing a prayer. Dorian and I glanced at each other and came closer. ‘My tears are my sins. My sins. My sins.’ The man spoke almost in two voices, like the humming of the Red Lyrium. ‘Andraste guide me. Andraste guide me.’

‘What did they do to you?’ I whispered to the man. He looked so weak, so sad. His eyes were glowing a red hue, fading in and out.

The man didn’t look at us, but stared beyond us, his gaze blank. ‘Andraste blessed me. Andraste blessed me.’

‘Come, Herald. There’s nothing we can do for him now.’ Dorian touched my shoulder, nudging me to move on. 

I stared back at the poor prisoner, and my thoughts raced on about my friends. 

If this was the future, please let them not be here. Here is worse than death. 

After some walking, we came across an open room carved into the rock, a cavern of sorts. Two Venatori zealots were blocking the way north and south. There was also a large metal drawbridge to the west, but that one was raised. We had to fight our way through. 

Dorian electrocuted one of the zealots with his staff from afar. The man almost leapt into the air, shivering and quivering, his eyes popping from their sockets. Dead. I took on the other zealot. I threw one dagger forward, and it hit him right into his chest, piercing through his armour. The man gagged for a second but kept on running towards me, his sword in the air. When he tried crashing it down on me, I ducked and rolled to my right before jumping back up again. Dorian twisted his staff from behind us, catching the Venatori into a giant icicle. With the back of my dagger, I smashed the mancicle into a thousand pieces. 

‘Thank you!’ I smiled at Dorian. 

‘You’re welcome.’ Dorian grinned and curtsied. 

We continued towards the northern door, which gave way to a staircase that went down into the dungeons again. With a heavy heart, I headed towards the dark hallways below. 

I heard humming, deep within the cells. 

My heart started to race, faster and faster. Both Dorian and I had gotten silent. We didn’t know what or who we were looking for. 

Yet, we both did. 

We were searching for survivors.

My friends. 

I hoped I wouldn’t find them, that they were safe and sound outside.

‘The light shall lead her safely through the paths of this world and into the next.’ My heart broke into a thousand pieces, just like that zealot had done upstairs. I wanted to sink onto my knees and bury myself between the cold and wet rocks on the floor. And cry. My father had told me that men don’t cry, so I kept myself strong remembering that. I looked at Cassandra wailing in her dark cell, Red Lyrium growing behind her. ‘For she who trusts in the Maker, fire is her water.’ Her voice sounded like the Elven man’s upstairs. Double, like the Lyrium was humming with her. 

‘No.’ I whispered and reached for the steel bars that separated me from her. She sat on the ground, pale and skinny to the bone. Cassandra was a beautiful woman, and I would know, I stared at her day in, day out. But now, her full cheeks were sunken, her scar more prominent. Her tanned glow had turned grey, with black circles underneath her once-strong eyes. Her hair lay flat on her head, hints of grey appearing between her dark braids. Her eyes, which used to be a soft brown, had turned a maroon red, fading in and out, like the Red Lyrium itself. When she looked up at me, there was a spark of recognition. But it still felt like she wasn’t looking at me clearly like she was dreaming.

‘You’ve returned to us… can it be?’ Her voice broke. ‘Has Andraste given us another chance?’

‘Cassandra…’ I started. 

But she looked back down, biting her chapped lips. ‘Maker forgive me. I failed you. I failed everyone. The end must truly be upon us if the dead return to life.’

I opened the door with the same prison key we’d looted and knelt down beside her. Taking her hand, it felt so cold it broke my heart again, I said, ‘I’m not back from the dead, Cassandra, I just got… Well, it’s hard to explain.’

Cassandra stared at my hand holding hers, blinking her eyes. ‘I was there.’ She said, coarsely. ‘The magister obliterated you with a gesture.’

‘Alexius sent us forward in time. If we find him, we may be able to return to the present.’ Dorian said, his voice soft and filled with concern. 

Cassandra jerked up. That fire in her eyes was still there. I could still see it. ‘Go back in time? Then…’ I helped her get up, I could feel her muscles strain. ‘Can you make it so that none of this ever took place?’

‘And I’ll make sure Alexius will suffer for his crimes.’ I spat. I will slice that blighted ball-less welp up into a hundred different pieces and turn him into Tevinter stew.

‘Alexius’ master… After you died, we could not stop the Elder One from rising. Empress Celene was murdered, just like the Envy demon at Val Royeaux had shown you. The army that swept in afterwards… It was a horde of demons.’ Cassandra swallowed painfully. ‘Nothing stopped them. Nothing.’

‘I should’ve been there to help you.’ I caressed the back of her hand I was still holding. She didn’t fail me. I failed her.

I’ve failed everyone. 

‘You’re here now.’ She smiled faintly at me. She was so broken. To break Cassandra… she must’ve gone through so much.

I have to get back. I have to. 

‘Some of the others were locked up together with me. They must be here somewhere.’ Cassandra mentioned as we continued to walk through the maze of cells. She stood strong and didn’t tip over. It was as if she had found some strength back, maybe the last she had, to help us find our way out.

The next one we found was Varric. 

‘Andraste’s sacred knickers!’ He cursed. ‘You’re alive?’

‘Apparently.’ I winked. 

‘Where were you? How did you escape?’ He coughed. He looked worse than Cassandra. 

‘We didn’t escape, Alexius sent us into the future.’ Dorian answered, leaning on his staff.

‘Everything that happens to you is weird.’ The Dwarf joked. He’ll never change. I’m glad about that. 

‘You might be right about that, my friend.’ I smiled and patted his shoulder as he walked over to us. 

‘I’m always right.’ He winked. Though his red eyes made it more unsettling than amusing. ‘And when I’m not, I lie about it.’ Of course. ‘So, what are you doing here?’

We tried to explain what had happened exactly, and that we were planning to get to Alexius to return to our time. 

Varric laughed and smacked his knee. He does that often. ‘You want to take on Alexius? I’m in. Let’s go.’

We found Vivienne in the next cell. She was as she always had been. Fiery, proud, and sceptic. I could understand why most disliked her. I disliked her style of clothing. Did I ever mention she once wanted to put me in a cropped leather shirt? It took some time to convince her Dorian and I weren’t demons. She believed us after I told her about Alexius’ time dabbling. 

After Vivienne, we got to The Iron Bull. He was singing the “Bottles of Beer on the Wall" song when we stopped in front of his cell. The Qunari man looked like a true demon, his muscles tattered but still there, yet with a hell of a lot more scars. And the glowing red of his eyes cast dark shadows on his horns. Bull was surprisingly critical about us too, at first. But after we explained everything, he joined the rest of us. I think the only thing he remembered from our explanation was that we were going after Alexius, and he was totally into that. 

Solas was awaiting us in one of the cells at the end of the dungeon. His back was turned to us, his eyes towards the ground, deep in thought. The glowing red of the Red Lyrium seemed to be clinging onto him harder than the others. The Elf’s whole body practically glowed in the dark. Fading in and out, like a heartbeat. He too had gone skinny, I could see the bones on his shoulder pop out. His hair had grown long - which was a strange sight - and his skin seemed paper-thin as I saw his veins popping through it. Varric coughed and made Solas turn around. He backed away, eyes enlarging, staring at us with an open mouth. ‘You’re alive?’ His voice sounded coarse, his throat was bruised as well. ‘We saw you die!’

‘Well, I can feel my ass hurting from falling, so guess I’m not dead.’ I grinned and opened his cell door.

Dorian started his explanation again. ‘The spell Alexius cast displaced us in time. We just got here, so to speak.’

Solas walked outside, staring at me. His eyes were glowing red, and they bore into my soul. I also noticed cuts across his pointed ears, as if someone had threatened to cut them off. And almost had. ‘Can you reverse the process?’ Solas, ever the scholar, asked us. ‘You could return and obviate the events of the last year. It may not be too late.’ There was hope in his voice.

‘Sorry, but you really don’t look so good…’ I asked the man. It hurt to see him so… so lost. He was but a ghost of the strong and knowledgeable Elven apostate I’d met at Haven. The man that had helped me to understand my mark.

‘I am dying but no matter.’ He smiled ever so faintly as if dying wasn’t so bad anymore. ‘If you can undo this they could all be saved… She could…’ I noticed him look up at Cassandra behind me, and I saw her shake her head in the corner of my eye. ‘This world is an abomination.’ He continued, skipping whatever he had been implying. ‘It must never come to pass.’

‘Alexius locked himself up in the throne room. That’s where we’ll find him.’ Cassandra leaned into me, and I felt comfortable to feel her so close.

‘No… we still have to find the others? We’re not complete yet.’ I looked around the room, but all cells were empty now. 

I saw The Iron Bull look at Varric, who stared at his feet. The Dwarf shook his head, and my stomach twisted. ‘Sera and Blackwall… They were still at Haven when you… died. They came for our rescue with the others of the Inquisition.’

‘They are dead, my dear. I’m sorry.’ Vivienne continued. Her voice was soft.

‘No…’ I whispered. Sera, that happy-go-lucky kid… she had meant so well… And Blackwall had just joined us… we should’ve left him alone. 

But perhaps death was better than… this. 

‘And… And Saeris?’ I asked again. My heart pumped inside my chest. Please, let her be okay. Please, Maker, Andraste, let my Saeris be alright. I can’t take her being… dead. Or worse. I can’t see her like that. She’s like a little sister to me. If I can’t protect her…

Cassandra stared at Solas, who shook his head very slowly. When he spoke, I had never heard his voice so quiet, so full of sadness. ‘They took her after you died… I have not seen her return.’ 

Solas seemed like he wanted to say something else, but Cassandra laid her hand on his shoulder, shutting him up. ‘We have not heard of her since.’ Cassandra was good at almost anything, except lying. I could see it in her eyes. But I didn’t ask any further. I couldn’t lose that spark of hope that Saeris was still somewhere in this castle and that I could still hold her and tell her everything would be alright. 

We left the dungeons to head back upstairs for the cavern. On our left, though, there was a room I hadn’t noticed before.

‘Wait!’ I said, ‘What if someone’s still in there?’ 

‘Be quick! We have to find Alexius!’ Dorian cursed. 

When I went inside, the room showed another row of empty cell blocks. But wait… I saw movement in the one at the back on the left… Maybe it’s… 

‘You’re… alive? How?’ Grand Enchanter Fiona huffed, out of breath or voice. I’d hoped for someone else… and felt bad for not being able to mask the disappointment on my face. Saeris isn’t here. ‘I saw… you disappear… into the Rift.’ I almost couldn’t hear her voice over the humming of the Red Lyrium inside of her. The Elven woman looked as if she was to dissolve into nothing anytime now. Her whole cell was filled with Red Lyrium, she barely had any place to stand anymore. 

‘The Red Lyrium… it’s happening to you too.’ I asked, coming closer to the steel bars of her cells.

‘Yes… Red Lyrium, it’s a disease.’ She coughed, making her whole, tiny body tremble. ‘The longer you’re near it… eventually… you become this. Then they mine your corpse for more.’

I heard Vivienne say something under her breath. An Orlesian curse I didn’t understand.

‘Can you tell us the date? It’s very important.’ Dorian cocked his head.

‘Harvestmere.’ She had a fit of coughing, before saying something else. ‘9:42 Dragon.’

‘Nine forty- two ?’ Dorian stuttered in surprise. ‘Then we’ve missed an entire year.’

I have missed everything! ‘We have to get out of here. Go back in time!’

‘Please!’ Fiona cried, ‘Stop this from happening! Alexius… serves the Elder One. More powerful… than the Maker… no one… challenges him and lives.’

I put my face against the bar, so she could see the determination in my eyes. So I could give her strength. ‘I promise. I will do everything in my power to set things right!’

‘Our only hope is to find the amulet that Alexius used to send us here.’ Dorian added. ‘If it still exists, I can use it to reopen the Rift at the exact same spot we left. Maybe.’

‘Good.’ Fiona heaved. 

‘I said maybe . It might also turn us into a paste.’ Dorian cheekily said, and I heard Varric grunt a laugh. I didn’t think it was so funny. I’d rather not be paste… Maybe pudding… 

‘You must try!’ Fiona coughed, and I saw blood dripping from her pale thin lips. ‘Your Spymaster, Leliana… she is here. Find her. Quickly… Before the Elder One… learns you’re here.’

‘Let me help you get out. Join us!’ I fumbled with the lock on her cell, but the key didn’t fit. 

‘No, leave me. I am… of no more use to you. I don’t think I can… even walk. Just go!’ Fiona heaved again, her breath barely escaping her painful lungs. 

‘Here…’ I took one of the few Healing potions from my belt. ‘To soften the pain.’

‘Keep them.’ I saw Fiona’s grateful little smile as she looked up. ‘You and your companions… need them… more than I do.’ 

We left the Enchanter behind. I didn’t like to, but we had to move quickly now. And Leliana was here. Of course, that deadly woman is still alive and kicking, I wouldn’t expect anything less from her. And if Leliana could still be alive… so could Saeris. 

When we entered the cavern again, the drawbridge was down, and a large group of Venatori were awaiting us, their swords drawn. We took care of them swiftly. I really started to get sick and tired of these obnoxious zealots. Really. After I kick Alexius’ evil Tevinter ass, I’ll make sure to root that scum out. When the Venatori were taken care of, we crossed the drawbridge towards the Guard Barracks. 

‘Take a look around,’ Varric noted as he walked over to the large table, taking a sip of leftover wine. ‘See if there’s anything we can use.’

‘Like that wine, huh Varric?’ I winked at him. 

‘You know how long it’s been for me? I haven’t had wine since I left Haven a year ago.’ Varric jugged the rest of the bottle empty. 

There were some weapons laying around, and everyone took what they needed. Vivienne and Solas even found a staff, though they seemed to have had better days. 

‘It will do.’ Vivienne huffed while staring at the dusty old stick.

And, surprisingly, Varric managed to find his Bianca. He held the crossbow in his arms tenderly, looking it up and down with teary eyes. ‘Ah, that’s where you’ve been hiding...’

Among the empty bottles of wine and the moulding bread on the table, there also laid a tattered piece of paper. While the others rummaged the chests and racks for weapons, I read the fading words scribbled with black ink. 

Praise His name, who has risen from the darkness.
Praise His name, who has striven for the light.
Praise His name, who has walked the Golden City.
Praise His name.

The Old Gods are no more.
The Maker never was.
The New God is among us.

Praise His name.

‘The Elder One is their Maker now.’ Cassandra hissed as she appeared beside me, staring at the prayer I’d been reading. 

‘This is insane… Is this what The Elder One wants? To be a god?’ I mumbled.

‘He wants to be far more than just a god.’ Vivienne dusted off her new staff and glared at me from underneath her thick lashes. ‘Whatever happens, my dear, do not let this creature rise to power… He will bring forth the end of Thedas as we know it.’ 

We left the Guard Barracks to head up another flight of stairs. This one led us into another maze of chambers. This castle truly was a labyrinth. And not the fun kind with a jolly present at its centre. At every door we opened, my heart pounded. Who would I find? And how will I find them? We had clearly entered the torture area since most chambers contained strange tools and metal chairs covered in blood and gore. Every corpse I turned over, I imagined being Saeris. Stripped from her clothes and removed of her skin. Eyes staring at the dark stone ceiling, cold sweat making her icy purple cheeks sticky. Her hair, cut with a dull blade, stuck to her face with a mixture of dried blood and tears. 

But I didn’t find her. 

And with every corpse I saw, I thought of worse things that could’ve happened to her.

‘There is no Maker! The Elder One has taken all that is His and will soon rule from His city.’ A heavy voice roared from one of the rooms, together with the rattling of chains. 

‘That still doesn’t make him a god.’ A feeble voice of a woman answered. She cried out as a whip flogged against her. 

‘There is no god but the Elder One! The Maker is dead! Say it!’ The torturer yelled as he whipped her again. 

I entered the room in pure rage, but I was too late. He cut the woman’s throat in front of me. A Chantry sister. Young, maybe even my age. But I couldn’t recognize anything of her anymore but the blonde hair that still remained hanging from her sunken and bloody face. Her blood soiled her religious gown, which had been ripped to shreds. But the defiance still sparked in her dead, beady gaze.

‘You bastard!’ I cried and impaled my dagger through the torturer’s guts.

I wanted to let him bleed out. A slow and painful death. He doesn’t deserve anything better. I stared at the torturer gurgling and trembling on the ground. The man only laughed as I sneered at him, spitting his own bile over his chin. 

‘The Elder One will take care of my soul!’ He mumbled while spewing blood. 

‘You don’t have a soul, you nasty Elder Ass-kisser.’ I spat.

‘Maxwell.’ Cassandra whispered in my ear, and I felt her hand grazing mine.

I turned around to let The Iron Bull finish him off. That monster wasn’t worth my time.

‘Come on.’ Cassandra whispered again tenderly, taking my hand and leading me outside. I was trembling. The Seeker almost never called me by my name, she mostly used my title as Herald. But when she didn’t and called out to me, it was like the whole world could drift away. And it was just her and me.

We continued on until we heard another voice calling from behind one of the many doors.

‘How did Trevelyan know of the sacrifice at the Temple!’ A man ordered. ‘Answer!’

‘Never!’ A woman spat. We all glanced at each other as we recognized the voice. Leliana. I heard the torturer slap her, and she moaned.

‘There’s no use to this defiance, little bird!’ The torturer chuckled maniacally, ‘There’s no one left for you to protect!’

‘You’re wasting your breath!’ Leliana almost laughed, but couldn’t as the man slapped her again. 

‘Talk!’ He yelled. 

We ran, opening each door to find her, but there was so much moaning to be heard, and the Red Lyrium was singing so loudly, I could barely hear my own thoughts. 

‘You will break!’ Leliana’s torturer held a rusty knife to her throat.

‘I will die first.’ She spat at the man’s face. 

Out of breath, I kicked open the last door. We found the Nightingale hanging with chains from the ceiling. The torturer looked over his shoulder in surprise. 

But Leliana only glanced at me, her eyes showing no hint of emotion. ‘Or you will!’ She hissed. Pulling her up by her arms, she lifted her lower body into the air, her legs entangling around the brute’s throat. The man gasped and struggled against her grip, but the Spymaster twisted her ankles and we heard a loud “pop” as his neck snapped the wrong way around.

I ran towards Leliana, pushing the torturer’s corpse aside and grabbing the key that hung on his leather belt. I fumbled to open Leliana’s rusted chains. ‘You’re alive!’ She whispered as I cracked open the locks. She was almost unrecognisable. Her sharp and sunken face was scarred with burned patches crossing over her grey cheeks. Her rosy lips had gone purple, and her eyes were bordered with dark circles that had almost turned as black as coal. But her piercing blue eyes stared at me determined, and her trademark bright red hair still clung to her face.

‘Well, that was impressive.’ I tried to smile. ‘Remind me not to piss you off.’

Leliana rubbed her chafed wrists as the chains fell to the ground. I was surprised she could still stand on her own. ‘Anger is stronger than any pain.’ She glanced at the rest of our group and nodded calmly at them. Not a hello, or an “Oh, you’re alive”. She just looked at us like it was business as usual. ‘Do you have weapons?’

I dipped my head and Cassandra tapped her sword in response. 

‘Good.’ Leliana hummed, ‘The magister’s probably in his chambers.’ She passed me and took her weapons from the chest near the door.

‘You… aren’t curious how we got here?’ Dorian scratched his head flabbergasted.

‘No.’ Leliana sighed and bound a satchel of arrows on her back together with her bow.

‘Alexius sent us into the future. This, his victory, his Elder One… It was never meant to be.’ Dorian began his explanation like he had with everyone else when we freed them.

I nodded at the mage. ‘If we get back to the present and stop Alexius, then you’ll never have to go through this.’

Leliana glared at Dorian, a deep anger in her eyes. ‘And mages always wonder why people fear them… No one should have this power.’

‘It’s dangerous and unpredictable. Before the Breach, nothing we did…’ Dorian started.

But Leliana interrupted him, ‘Enough!’ She ordered, and it made me shift on my feet. ‘This is all pretend to you, some future you hope will never exist. I suffered, the whole world suffered.’ She raised her chin. ‘It was real.’

She was right. This was real. This could become my reality too. The idea will cause me nightmares for years. This happens if I don’t do my job, or die, or don’t do the right thing, or make the wrong choices. I disappeared, and this future is because of me. All that is happening here, to them, is because of me. Why did Andraste choose me? From all those idiots roaming Thedas, She chose the unluckiest dimwit of them all. 

 ‘What happened while we were away?’ Dorian probed while we moved forward in silence, well up until now. 

‘Stop talking.’ Leliana hissed at him. 

‘I’m just asking for information.’ Dorian rolled back his shoulders. I heard Vivienne tut her lips disdainfully. 

‘No, you’re talking to fill the silence. Nothing happened that you want to hear.’ She glanced at me quickly.

It didn’t take much longer for us to come across the first Rift. We had left the torture chambers behind us, and crossed the other underground parts of the castle in a quickened pace. It was after we had climbed another flight of stairs and crossed another drawbridge, that my mark started to glow. 

I can feel a Rift some minutes before I find it. At first, the tips of my fingers start to tingle, and it begins to hurt after about twenty seconds. Then it feels like someone’s scraping the dirt from under my fingernails with a very sharp knife. Secondly, the pulses start to alternate each other stronger, following my heartbeat. I learned that the calmer I keep myself, the less it hurts. It makes it easier to control. When the Rift is nearby, the mark starts to glow, clawing upwards towards my shoulder. It stings all the way up to my elbow, and the pain keeps climbing. The emerald green pulsing light starts to become overwhelming and the only thing I see or feel is its flaring pain. At that point, if I look at the mark, I imagine it’s Saeris’ eye, and it doesn’t feel so menacing anymore. Maybe she’s always with me in that way. The final stage comes when the Rift is right in front of me. The mark is flaring, the pain is climbing, but now my stomach starts to turn. The only thing that I can now think about, is closing that thing. 

Close it, and all of the pain and dread goes away.

When my mark connects to the Rift, I feel the link between it and me as a bond, feel the Rift flaring. My mark doesn’t follow my heartbeat anymore, but the drum of the Fade. I can close the Rift just by stretching my fingers, willing the mark to close that connection, to seal the hole. And when it does and I finally close it, I feel as if a weight has lifted from my shoulders.

The mark doesn’t stop fading and hurting immediately, though. It lingers and dims, as does the drifting magic the Rift had caused. The hurting only stops when I stop thinking about it. Maybe, it just never stops. I just get to live with it, ignore it, and pretend it isn’t there.

After we killed all the demons and closed the Rift, The Iron Bull turned the rusty gear and hauled open the steel gates that lead us to the docks. There we witnessed two mages sacrificing themselves, turning into vile abominations. They weren’t strong, their sacrifice for nought. 

‘This is madness.’ Dorian hissed. ‘Alexius can’t have wanted this!’

‘Apparently, he did.’ I sighed while staring at the mages’ remains on the stone floor.

‘Such a terrible waste.’ Solas said quietly to me as he stared at the black bile as well. He had been eerily silent this whole time. We didn’t talk often, but I remembered he often made comments about history and the Fade as we travelled. Him being so silent, made me more uncomfortable. Like there wasn’t anything to be said anymore.

It was when we entered the courtyard, the one I had passed through just this morning… a year ago… that I realised why the Fade expert had gone so quiet. It was everywhere. He didn’t have to talk about the Fade anymore, because it had consumed everything. There was indeed nothing else to be told about. We could all see and feel it now. 

‘The Veil is shattered.’ Solas answered our soundless questions. The Elf looked around, and though I saw a hint of wonder, sadness and exhaustion took control of his face. He didn’t have the strength to wonder anymore. He was empty. ‘There is no boundary now between the world and the Fade.’

‘The Elder One and the Venatori,’ Cassandra stared at the green sky, ‘They are the ones who opened the Breach.’ Rocks were adrift in the air, and there were no clouds, there was no sun. Everything was cast in an emerald light. And I tasted magic in the air, I had never tasted it before. You’re not supposed to taste it. Right? At least normal humans don’t.
If you stared long enough at the emerald crystals in the sky, you’d notice they start to stare back. Demons. Everywhere. Chasing the floating rocks, roaming the courtyard and its Red Lyrium mountains. A landscape of doom and dread. There were Rifts everywhere. My hand felt like it was being chopped off with a dull blade. I was biting the inside of my cheek to counter the pain. To try to think of anything else but that feeling of having to seal a hundred Rifts, multiplying by the minute. 

‘I can’t stay here!’ I muffled a cry as the mark flared. ‘I have to find coverage!’ Maker’s balls I would rather be submerged in sewer water that smells like a thousand turds than this. I admit, I’d even rather wear Vivienne’s leather top.

‘Over there!’ Leliana pointed to our far right. ‘Go!’ She ordered. 

We ran across the courtyard. I clutched my hand against my chest as I heard the troops of demons gurgling and roaring and screeching towards us. The Iron Bull yanked open the door and almost threw Varric inside with one hand. Cassandra was the last to leap inside, and she yanked the door closed behind her, barricading it with tables and bookcases. 

‘That was too damn close.’ I cursed. 

‘Really, kid, too damn close.’ Varric groaned as he pushed himself from the ground. ‘Why don’t you just pick me up and put me down gently, Tiny. Gently . I’m a small and fragile Dwarf.’

‘Ha! Fragile, sure… Next time, I’ll make sure to kiss your butt when I save you.’ The Iron Bull wiggled his eyebrows. 

‘Where are we?’ I interrupted the jokesters as I looked around. We were standing in a narrow hallway. There were paintings hanging from the walls of noble women and men who, probably, died ages ago. Against the walls, which were decorated with tacky wallpaper, stood marble tables with chandeliers on them. Only a few candles were burning. Large pillars of Red Lyrium were breaching the walls, the floor, and the ceiling, resembling the teeth of a dragon, covered in glowing blood. 

‘The royal wing, I suppose.’ Vivienne tutted and swiped some dust from one of the tables with her finger, stepping around a Red Lyrium rock carefully while staring at it contemptuously. 

‘Venatori decorating at its finest.’ Varric mumbled.

‘Alexius has made a dreadful mess of this place, hasn’t he?’ Dorian jeered. 

‘You should’ve seen my home.’ I grinned. ‘My mother decorated the place as if it was a shrine to Andraste. She embroidered all of the crochet cushions herself.’ 

‘I would take crochet embroidery of Andraste’s bosom over this. And that says a lot.’ Dorian grinned back. 

‘Stop bickering, we have more urgent things to do.’ Leliana hissed and turned towards the flight of stairs that led down again. 

‘Wait.’ I stopped her. She turned around slowly, her hood partially hiding her restive snare. ‘Why take the stairs down? We’re finally above the ground? Let’s follow that hallway…’ I pointed to the corridors on our left. There were no paintings hanging on the walls there, and almost no candles were enlightening the hall. It looked like it was haunted, but it was definitely a shortcut. 

‘They did not tell you?’ Leliana sounded genuinely taken aback this time.

‘Tell me what?’ I cocked my head. 

‘He does not need to know. We have to move forward. Let’s go.’ Cassandra pulled my sleeve to lead me down the staircase, but I yanked my arm away. 

‘What is going on here.’ Dorian rested his hands on his hips impatiently. 

‘The voices. The voices. The voices! I know I promised, I will, I’m sorry, I know. Please stop. I need my Red. RED! Red to keep the Green away. Please. Give it to me. The voices!’ A high-pitched voice screeched through the hallway.

I stopped in my tracks. My heart had sunken to my feet. 

‘Shit!’ Varric cursed. 

‘Move!’ Leliana grabbed me. 

‘No! No! That’s Saeris! It’s her!’ I yelled and pushed the Spymaster back. 

She cursed in Orlesian and hissed at me furiously. ‘We have to go, you fool!’ 

‘NO! It’s her!’ I stepped forward towards the eerie corridors, and I heard other footsteps, small and almost silent, slowly skulk my way down the hall. 

‘Voices! Red to stop the Green!’ 

The Iron Bull pushed me against the wall behind the corner, away from the crying sound of Saeris’ voice. ‘I’m sorry, Boss.’

‘Hey!’ I struggled. 

‘Be quiet! Don’t move or you’ll kill us all!’ Leliana hushed. 

Everyone was standing against the wall, no one even dared to breathe. I stared at Solas, who looked forward with no emotion on his face. Not blinking. Unmoving.

A large shadow appeared on the wooden floor next to me, cast by the flickering light of the candles’ fire. A figure of a woman, tiptoeing from one side to another. ‘Sun sets, little one, time to dream. Your mind journeys, but I will hold you here.’ She sang in a shivering tone, her voice breaking, heaving heavily, as if she was singing to drown out the world.

Holding my breath, I stared with open eyes at the brim of a bloodied white dress that quickly flashed from the other side of the corner, the one leading to the corridors. 

‘Where will you go, little one, lost to me in sleep?’ Saeris whined, and it broke me. Not just my heart, it broke everything. 

What was wrong with her?

‘Never fear, little one, wherever you shall go. Follow my voice—I will call you home.'  The sound of her song filled my ears, ringing through my soul. I wanted to step forward, let her see me and I her. Her song almost sang only to me, moved me without me being willing to. But my heart told me to stay put and don’t move. Don’t even breathe. 

‘I will call you home… The voices! RED!’ Her voice echoed through the halls as she sauntered back into the darkness. 

Bull let go of me, and I pushed myself from the walls to look behind the corner. But only a large puddle of bright red blood, pulsing with Red Lyrium, was left on the floor. 

‘That was…’ Dorian mumbled. 

‘Saeris?’ I looked around, at Leliana, Cassandra, Varric, Solas… Why didn’t they do anything? ‘What are you standing here for? We have to do something!’ My blood was boiling… Will they leave their friend like this? Because I won’t.

‘Stop this, Maxwell.’ Cassandra took me in her arms. ‘Please.’ Her voice broke at the end.

‘That is not Saeris.’ Leliana’s voice sounded smoother, calmer. Apologetic. ‘She died long ago.’

‘N… No! That was her! That was definitely her!’ I gasped. 

‘That’s not our friend, not anymore.’ Varric patted my back, his eyes down. He couldn’t look at me as he said, ‘She died when you did.’ 

‘They took her… Experimented on her… Like a damned nug.’ The Iron Bull stared at the puddle of blood and ichor, and the path of bloodied bare feet imprinted on the wooden floor, leading further into the dark hall. 

‘They call her the Bride.’ Leliana continued. ‘But she is more like an executioner, a torturer, a ghost to scare his enemies.’ 

I couldn’t think. If only she had died.

‘They took her and I heard her scream from the cells I was locked in. It kept on going for months… Until the Veil came down, and then they broke her.’ Leliana continued on. ‘She roams the abandoned side of the castle. No one goes there. Not even the Venatori soldiers.’

‘The guards put her in a white dress, and when they take prisoners, they send her to their cells…’ Varric continued, voice low and careful. ‘They think the Maker’s Bride has come to rescue them, Andraste herself… Until she opens her eyes.’ 

‘She killed Sera… and Blackwall… and Commander Cullen when they laid siege on Redcliffe to get us out.’ Cassandra shook her head. ‘She tore them to shreds... only to get to her next dose of Red.’ 

‘No! No, you’re lying… Saeris would never…’ I tore myself from Cassandra’s arms, shaking my head wildly. That wasn’t her. That couldn’t be her. 

‘I’m so sorry, Maxwell… She’s with the Maker now. What you see is but an empty vessel pumped with foreign magic and Red Lyrium… She does not know what she’s doing anymore.’ Cassandra lifted her chin. ‘But you can prevent this. It’ll all be alright.’

This isn’t happening… not her. I love her… she’s like family, like a sister, my friend… She was the one who believed in me, who helped me get up when no one would. She risked her life for me, she’d die for me… How can this have happened? She was so good. So pure. 

The Elder One will pay for this. 

I’ll kill him. I’ll kill everyone who stands beside him.

He. Will. Pay. 

Lingering next to the blood on the floor, stood Solas. He stared at her fading footsteps sombrely, broken, emptied. He clutched his chest with his large pale hands, almost grabbing something that wasn’t there anymore. His necklace, that jawbone, was gone. 

***

The magister had grown paranoid, fearful, mad… Desperate. He had barricaded himself behind a large shard doorway. We had to find all keys to open it. Alexius had given them to his most trusted spellbinders, and they weren’t eager to give them to us. 

I even asked nicely. 

‘Come on, your boss has gone crazy. Besides, it isn’t even a pretty key. Just tell him you lost it, no?’ I grinned as the spellbinder roared. 

‘Elder One curse you!’ He spat. 

‘I take that as a no.’ I smiled and impaled my daggers into his chest, cutting it open. The Venatori mage cried out and then dropped onto the floor like the dumb sack of flour he was. ‘Thank you for your cooperation, kind ser.’ I ripped the last key from the man’s neck and twisted it around. I’m coming for you, Alexius. 

Do I have to feel bad killing these men? No. 

Do I feel guilty about hauling open their stomachs with my daggers? Surely not. 

I’ll kill them all if I have to. 

They don’t deserve any better. 

‘May Andraste have mercy on your souls.’ Cassandra snarled at the zealots she just killed. ‘No one else will.’ 

The humming of the Red Lyrium drummed louder through the room as if the stones were alive and approved of the blood. As if it didn’t care whose blood it was, Venatori or not. 

Blood is blood. 

And soon, Alexius will taste his. 

Dorian fitted all of the keys we’d assembled onto the shard door’s lock. The keys flashed, magic spiralling around it, and the lock popped open. 

I glanced over my shoulder. To Varric, who had stopped his jokes. To The Iron Bull, grinning with the thought of slaughtering his jailor. To Vivienne, whose magic was tensing around her, the staff on her back humming with energy. To Solas, who stared at the door with so much hatred in his eyes… To Cassandra who only glanced back at me, prayers on her lips. And then to Dorian, who nodded at me determined. 

Let’s end this and go back. 

Alexius was waiting in the throne room, his back turned to us, staring at the sizzling flames of the fireplace in front of him. He didn’t turn around in surprise, didn’t attack us at first sight. He just stood there, shoulders sagged, face low. 

‘It’s over, Alexius.’ I called, my voice echoing through the bare, cold room. Not even the fireplace could give it warmth. 

‘So it is.’ The magister answered, barely loud enough for me to hear. ‘I knew you would appear again. Not that it would be now. But I knew I hadn’t destroyed you… My final failure.’

‘Was it worth it?’ Dorian stepped up, enraged, disappointed, ‘Everything you did to the world? To yourself?’

‘It doesn’t matter now. All we can do is wait for the end.’ Alexius sighed uninterested. He didn’t even turn around to face us. 

‘What do you mean? What’s ending?’ There was a hint of panic to my voice. The only thing that was ending was his life.

Alexius scoffed and chuckled mockingly. ‘The irony that you should appear now , of all the possibilities.’ He shook his head, still facing the flames. ‘All that I fought for, all that I betrayed, and what have I wrought?’ He straightened his back. ‘Ruin and death. There is nothing else.’ 

‘Regret always comes too late.’ I spat at his feet. 

But Alexius ignored me and continued his senseless rambling. ‘The Elder One comes: for me, for you, for us all.’

Leliana suddenly leapt forward, but not towards the magister. Sitting in the shadows of the fire, out of sight, was a skeleton. Pale flesh clinging to his bones, eyes that were falling from their sockets, blank and empty. The Nightingale grabbed the barely breathing man from his chair, dragged him to his feet, and held a sharp and clear dagger to his throat. 

Alexius finally moved, jerking up in surprise. ‘Felix!’ He whined. 

‘That’s Felix ?’ Dorian swallowed. ‘Maker’s breath, Alexius, what have you done!’

‘He would’ve died, Dorian!’ Alexius cried out desperately, ‘I saved him!’ Felix’s head bobbed back, his eyes moving around erratically. He was a ghost living in a dying body, unable to move, to speak, to scream. ‘Please, don’t hurt my son!’ Alexius begged. It was disgusting, but I pitied him. After all he’d done. ‘I’ll do anything!’ 

‘Hand over the amulet, and we’ll let him go.’ I ordered. 

‘Let him go and I swear you’ll get what you want!’ Alexius reached out for his son, or what was left of him.

‘I want the world back.’ Leliana growled and slit Felix’s throat. I saw the weak man close his eyes calmly when he felt the blade, gasping as it cut through his flesh. 

‘No… NO!’ Alexius screamed and crashed his staff onto the floor. A burst of green magic reverberated around the room and lashed towards Leliana, who leapt through the air and smacked against the stone wall. 

‘Oh, crap!’ Varric jumped aside as Alexius pointed his staff towards the group, a ball of energy firing upon them. 

Cassandra held up her shield and braced herself against the impact. Her feet slid a couple of feet over the wooden floor, but she managed to stop the attack. But Alexius repacked himself and fired another attack and another and another. 

Mind blasts, bolts, barriers, everything he could salvage. But the fear and anger in him blinded his powers and made him an easier target. Dorian, Vivienne and Solas emerged from the back of the group, and casted barriers over Cassandra, The Iron Bull and myself as we lunged towards the madman. Cassandra and Bull went straight for his face, bashing down on his barriers, and I sneaked to the back quietly. Varric fired bolt after bolt towards the magister’s wards. And when Leliana got back up from the ground, she crashed into him with such power, such strength, her arrows puncturing holes through his defences, slipping through the barrier and impaling the flesh on his arm. 

By then, it didn’t take long for us to breach his final barrier, and I saw the man huff and puff from exhaustion, his magic straining, his mana depleting. 

As a last attempt, Alexius raised his staff, summoning all the power its core had stored over the years. ‘For Felix!’ He cursed. 

‘No.’ I appeared from behind Alexius, and he turned around very slowly, his mouth agape. ‘You don’t get to say anything anymore.’ And I hauled both my daggers into his back. One punctured his lung. The other… his heart. 

Alexius gasped as he let go of his magic, and the core of his staff sizzled out, like a fire being extinguished. 

‘This is for Cullen!’ I cried. ‘For Sera and Blackwall!’ I pulled out one dagger and stabbed his chest. ‘This one’s for Saeris.’ I screamed and pulled my dagger from his heart. ‘And this one’s for the world.’ 

Alexius stared at me blankly, falling to his knees. His eyes trembled unevenly, and he rasped one final time, mouthing the words, but unable to produce any sound, ‘My son…’ And he fell down next to Felix, the person he had cared for most yet hurt the most. 

I heaved, the breath in my lungs coming out painstakingly slow. But it was over. 

Dorian squatted down next to Alexius’ dead body. He sighed sadly. ‘He wanted to die, didn’t he?’ He looked up at me. ‘All those lies he told himself, the justifications…’ He shook his head and stared back at the magister’s bloodied corpse. ‘He lost Felix long ago and didn’t even notice. Oh, Alexius…’

‘I… I know you cared for him.’ I answered. Guilt stung me, but I couldn’t look back now. In this future, here and now, Alexius deserved his fate. More than anyone. Perhaps in the present, he can be brought to some sense. But he will pay for it nonetheless. 

‘Once he was a man to whom I compared all others. Sad, isn’t it?’ Dorian laughed to himself and stood back up. 

‘No… it’s not.’ I rested my hand on his shoulder. ‘Men aren’t born evil. They’re made. Fake promises, false hope, the wrong choices.’ Gereon Alexius could’ve been a good man. A respectable mage, a knowledgeable scholar… but he trusted the wrong people for the wrong reasons and killed those he loved. I loved. And I wouldn’t let him do it again. ‘The amulet?’ I nudged Dorian. 

‘Ah yes…’ He mumbled and took the ornament from Alexius’ pocket. ‘This is the same he used before.’ He said as he dangled it in front of us. ‘I think it’s the same one we made in Minrathous. That’s a relief.’ 

‘A big one.’ I sighed. 

Dorian caught the amulet back in his fist, clutching it. ‘Give me an hour to work out the spell he used, and I should be able to reopen the Rift.’

‘An hour?’ Leliana hurried to our sides, her bow stored on her back again. She glared at us nervously. ‘That’s impossible! You must go now!’

As if a sign, the whole building started to shake heavily, and a loud, inhuman screech peeled across the room, every room, through the whole damn castle. It scratched its way into my ears, and I covered them in pain. Dirt and stone debris fell from the ceiling, trickling down on us as if the entire castle was going to collapse because of one cry. We braced ourselves. 

‘The Elder One.’ Leliana gasped, panic erupting in her cold blue eyes. And if Leliana was panicking,… Andraste's dimpled buttcheeks we’re going to die.

‘You have to hurry… this is bad.’ Varric whined and looked around nervously. 

Large wings rattled the building. Another loud screech followed. A dragon. That’s definitely the sound of a dragon. 

The others looked at each other, and it made my heart thunder, my palms sweaty. ‘We’ll hold the other door…’ Solas looked up determined, the others standing behind him. ‘When they get past us, it’ll be your turn.’ He looked at the Nightingale, who dipped her head. 

‘N… No!’ I shook my head to Cassandra. I won’t lose her too. ‘I won’t let you commit suicide.’

‘Look at us!’ Leliana stepped in front of me and took down her hood, showing the bald patches appearing on her head, and the grey and burned skin showing up beneath it. ‘We’re already dead. The only way we’ll live is if this day never comes.’

‘No!’ The tears flowed down, and I wondered if my father wouldn’t be proud of me now. ‘I… I can’t do this.’

‘You can.’ Cassandra strutted towards me and wiped the tears away with her thumb. ‘Maxwell. You must.’ 

‘I can’t lose you…’ I put my forehead against her and closed my eyes, feeling her soft breath caress my skin. 

‘You won’t. I’ll be there when you return.’ She hushed, her voice trembled ever so slightly. 

I took her face between my hands, and I stared into her eyes that glowed brighter and brighter a maroon red. I didn’t care anymore. Just for a second. I leaned in, my lips almost pushing on hers…

But she brought her head back. ‘Not yet,’ she whispered. ‘I want it to be… real… You’ll have to properly court me… I have to be happy… Not like this.’ She smiled faintly and then pushed me back hard. ‘Now go!’

‘I… I won’t disappoint you!’ I yelled, but Cassandra strutted towards the gate already, not looking back. 

‘See you on the other side!’ Varric waved his hand. 

‘Let’s count who kills the most demons, ma’am.’ The Iron Bull grinned at Vivienne. 

‘You will lose dramatically, my dear.’ She sneered back cockily. 

Solas lingered for just a moment, and before he joined the others, he quickly came to me and patted my back. ‘Can you do something for me?’ He rasped, the Red Lyrium almost taking over completely. ‘Can you tell my past self, only him…’ I leaned in as he whispered the foreign words into my ears. ‘ Ase amin. Ma’las.’ 

‘I’ll try.’ I mouthed.

‘Thank you.’ He said and then turned back to the others. 

‘Cast your spell.’ Leliana raised her chin, walking backwards to the door while taking the bow from her back. ‘You have as much time as I have arrows.’

Vivienne, Varric, Bull, Solas and Cassandra opened the door and disappeared. I kept looking at Cassandra’s back, but she didn’t look at me again before the door closed. 

Dorian leapt over the stairs to the throne and immediately began working his magic on the amulet, which floated in the air, giving off strange lights. ‘Kaffas!’ He cursed as the amulet struggled against his focus. 

I heard fighting and crying outside. Focussing on the door, I felt my veins buzzing with adrenaline.

‘Though darkness closes,’ Leliana hummed to herself, ‘I am shielded by flame.’

Suddenly, everything turned silent. Too silent. No screams, no demonic roars, no fighting, nothing. And then, the door hauled open. 

There were no demons. No army. No dragons.

Only Saeris. 

Standing in the opening of that giant door. She opened her arms to us and smiled. I couldn’t cry. I couldn’t do anything but stare. Her bare feet, her arms, and her long, flowy white dress, were all covered in blood. Black and dried, fresh and wet. I understood why they called her the Bride. She looked almost unreal, god-like, bright… but not with hope. With fear. Not like the Bride of the Maker. No. She was the Bride of The Elder One and chanted only of Darkness. There was no spark of Light in her left. 

She took a step forward, stepping over Cassandra’s corpse. 

No. 

In her right hand, she held Solas’ body by his arm. His face turned to his back, agony reflecting in his wide-open eyes. 

She cocked her head at Leliana and smiled innocently, but her eyes didn’t follow. One had gone completely red, her pupils and her whites, and black tears dripped down from it. Her other eye… her beautiful green eye, twisted and turned in its socket, spewing bright emerald green flares, lighting up even the veins in her pale and perfect face. She dropped Solas on the floor and flashed her straight, white teeth at me while cocking her head. 

‘Andraste guide me.’ Leliana continued and opened fire on my friend. 

But Saeris only lifted her hands, and the arrows deflected away from her. She didn’t bat an eye and slowly skulked towards us, eyes solely on me. And they saw everything. My loss, my fear… my hope. 

The blood of my friends, her friends, dripped from her arms, drenched all the way up to her elbows. Her long white hair curled softly aside her smiling face, her long ears sliding between it, twitching each time Leliana fired an arrow in vain. 

‘ Red?’ She purred, her voice so kind and soft. ‘ Tel’enara bellana bana’vhenadahl, sethen’a ir san’shiral, mala tel’halani.’ She hummed when Leliana didn’t answer. It was like singing, but not entirely. It was more like praying, to stop herself from talking any more.

‘Maker, take me to your side.’ Leliana pushed Saeris back as she came too close, and kept on firing arrows, aiming for her face.

Yet, Saeris… no… The Bride only shook her head and snatched the bow from Leliana’s hand. ‘ You lie… Like the voices! RED!’ Saeris screamed, and with one signal of her hand, pushed Leliana back, the satchel of arrows on her back flying over to Saeris’ side. With a raise of her long and slender, but bloodied fingers, she lifted every individual arrow and fired them to the Spymaster. 

Leliana looked at me one last time. Her eyes closed as the arrows struck. 

I flinched, but Dorian hissed, not looking up from the amulet. ‘You move and we all die!’ He screamed. 

‘ Ir sa’vir te’suledin var bana’vallaslin, vora’nadas san banal’him emma abel revas.’ Saeris’ voice overruled the humming of the Red Lyrium, the sound of my heart and blood pumping inside of me, she overruled everything. She was everywhere.

I peered back to where Saeris had been standing, but she was gone. Instead, she now stood right in front of me, so close I could see the drops of black tears on her face, and the glowing red and green of her wide eyes. The red eye was opaque, glowing with Red Lyrium. And the other… it swirled like liquid, like the Fade outside, and thundered like lightning. 

‘Ir tela las ir Fen halam, vir am’tela’elvahen.’ She glanced at me, and then suddenly reached for the amulet.

‘NO!’ Dorian screamed, but it was already too late. 

Saeris twisted the amulet around in her hand, and the green magical light that Dorian had activated, faded. ‘ Red?’ She purred again. ‘ Do you have it?’

We lost. 

Everything is lost. 

Cassandra, I’m so sorry.

‘Saeris…’ The tears stopped streaming as I looked into her celestial face. ‘My… sister…’ 

Saeris stopped staring at the amulet, and her dark and menacing eyes turned upwards, to me. ‘S… Sister?’ She mumbled. ‘Sybil?’

‘N-No. It’s Maxwell.’ I answered. Dorian cursed behind me. 

And, as if a spell had been broken. She snapped her head up, her eyes wide and scary. ‘Maxwell? Maxwell. No Red?’ She blinked her eyes and shook her head in confusion. ‘Go.’

‘What?’

‘GO!’ Saeris screamed and the amulet in her hands started to flare up again.

‘She activated it!’ Dorian laughed loudly, almost in denial.

‘Go.’ She said again. 

‘Quickly now!’ Dorian pulled my sleeve and disappeared through the Rift that flashed open next to us. It led back home. 

I backed slowly, not breaking eye contact with Saeris, standing there so sadly, so lonely. Before I disappeared, she grabbed my hand. 

She felt warm. 

‘Never let me fulfil my promise. Kill me a thousand times if you must. Or there’ll be a future worse than this one.’ She sang in a monotone voice, as if it came from very deep within her. ‘Maxwell… RED!’ She started to scream, the castle trembled by it. ‘RED, RED, RED!’ 

I stumbled back into the Rift, and stared at her one last time as she tore up her arms, scratching open her venomous skin. And that’s when I noticed the jawbone necklace hanging from her slender neck. Solas’ necklace.

‘I PROMISED!’ She hurled. 

And then, the Red and Green, the Darkness, the Bride, faded away. Until it all turned to Light again.

Notes:

I know the chapter was longer than usual, but if I'd split it in two, the chapter would lose its flow so I just kept it whole like this :3

What did you think of Maxwell? And this dark future? Did you find Saeris creepy too?

A big thanks again to my beta, nerdsaretotallyawesome !

Chapter 39: Allied

Notes:

I just got back from a wonderful holiday in Madeira and started writing asap!
I was so happy to be writing again, I finished another chapter in but 2 days! Hooray!
Sorry I was a bit late with answering comments, but I had bad Internet in my hotel... :-o

Hot air. Damp breaths. Sweating bodies squirmed against each other, moving to the drumming beat of the unrecognisable music banging from the enormous black boxes hanging from the ceiling. Lights—blue, red, purple—flickered against the dancing mass of humans, creating hovering shadows that crawled on top of each other. 

First, it looks like hell. Demons fouling each other, moving ritualistically against the screeching of the earth. 

Then, the shadows move, and the lights focus. You see the eyes closing, arms trembling out of pure sensation. The touching, sexual and loving, wanting and uncaring. Free. 

My hands slid over my hips as the man behind me pressed himself against me. He hummed to the beat. His whole body. Mine responded, dancing wilder, moving faster, and feeling the music pounding in my chest.

I pressed my eyes together, feeling my wet lashes full of mascara imprinting on my cheeks. 

Up until then, my life had been so perfectly imperfect. 

I swept my blonde hair up and drops of sweat trickled down the nape of my neck. And then I moved some more.

‘Dance! Dance ‘cause this night ain’t over yet!’ A robotic voice that resembled that of a woman whispered through the vibrating boxes. People cheered as the beat dropped. 

‘Hands up! Let me see those hands!’ The man behind the turntable shouted, his headphones rattling around his neck. 

The mass moved wilder and wilder. And I joined them. Allying with these demons in their ritual of uncaring passion. It made the man dancing behind me grunt, and I felt his fingers on my hips as I twirled. 

I didn’t care. 

I turned around to him and smiled sheepishly as I continued my swaying movements. The man grinned. I couldn’t see him through the shadows of people and the colourful lights flashing over our faces. 

‘Saeris!’ Someone in the crowd called out to me, the voice almost as loud as the thrumming music. 

I didn’t care. 

He moved closer to me, his lips, wet and salty, grazed mine lustfully. And I answered, pulling my body to his until we moved into a unified dance. His hands caressed my behind, feeling how thin my short sequin dress was. His grip tightened and I knew very well what he intended. But I didn’t care. 

More movement, more swaying. More. I closed my eyes, his lips parting mine. I remember how his kiss had tasted … bitter. 

I opened my eyes and looked up. 

***

Emerald and scarlet. Green and red. That’s what I saw in that swirling abyss that swallowed my friend.

He was gone.

Maxwell was gone. 

The powerful magic danced across the shaken room. My eye responded, painfully wanting more. But my mind was blank as I stared at the empty space before me. 

It took Dorian. And then my Maxwell. My friend. My hope.

I couldn’t feel anything for a moment. My heart stopped beating, my sight darkened, my toes went numb. All was lost. My promise, my hope to join my family, my friends, my sister in the afterlife… Thedas was lost. And it would become a hell of an eternity to live in. And these people… Cassandra and Varric and Bull and… and Solas… they were doomed. 

We were all doomed. 

I was too late. 

I lost him. I’ve lost everything. 

Nobody was able to utter a word, unable to even gasp. Let alone cry.

And then, just some mere seconds later, my eye started to whirl again, screaming for that power that reopened itself before me. 

And in those seconds, staring into that familiar abyss of black and green and red, I heard my voice, screaming and screeching. Two eyes, one completely red and one overtaken by a humming green light, stared into mine.

I finally gasped. And then, the eyes were gone, replaced by two kind hazel ones, looking up confidently at the magister before us. 

Maxwell walked out of the Rift covered in black bile, dust and blood, both human and demon. His eyes were opened wide, filled with anger and despair as he stared Magister Alexius down. The old mage backed away, his mouth open. I heard Cassandra breathe assuredly as Maxwell’s eyes skimmed our group, nodding quietly. 

‘You’ll have to do better than that.’ Dorian appeared from behind Maxwell, smiling triumphantly. He too was covered in blood and bile. They seemed to have gone through hell and back. 

Alexius, completely drained from whatever magic he had used, fell to his knees, his eyes on the ground. 

‘Is that the best you’ve got?!’ Maxwell spat, heaving out of pure fury. I wondered what had happened, what had he seen? His eyes were hollow, full of hatred and exhaustion. 

But the magister just huffed, lifting his shoulders up and down. ‘You won. There is no point extending this charade.’ There sat a man, weak, lost, and who had completely given up as the last of his magic faded into thin air. He looked up to his son, who was standing next to him, eyes big and shaken. ‘Felix…’ Alexius mouthed. 

Felix shook his head and squatted next to his father, his eyes softening as he realised all was well again. ‘It’s going to be alright, father.’ He assured, voice coarse.

Alexius cried, and I almost felt sorry. Almost . ‘You’ll die.’ 

But Felix rested his hand on his old man’s shoulder and smiled faintly. ‘Everyone dies.’ 

Only the lucky ones do. 

Leliana’s Inquisition spies took the magister away. The man didn’t struggle or say a foreboding last word as every movie villain does. He just walked away silently, head down. Felix walked behind him, escorting his father to wherever Leliana was planning to lock him up. 

‘Well, I’m glad that’s over with!’ Dorian brushed through his hair, which looked incredibly shiny although they had seemed to have gone through a lot. 

Maxwell grunted, unable to smile as Dorian did. What had happened? Why isn’t he looking at me?

Suddenly, the giant door was hauled open. I jumped back to my feet as I stared at the delegation of Fereldan soldiers marching loudly into the throne room, coming to a halt in queues on either side of the room.

‘Or not…’ Dorian mumbled. 

Two humans strutted into the room. A woman with an arrogant face and a little bit too much makeup, dressed in a beige gown embroidered with Fereldan flowers and gemstones. Her fair blonde hair was put up in a bun at the back of her head. She stood next to a human man, who was quite tall and had an angry sneer on his face. He too had blonde hair, but his skin was a tad darker, and I noticed his ears being ever so slightly pointed. But that was barely visible. The man wore official noble robes, coordinating with the colours of his wife. 

Clearly and obviously, these people were royalty. 

I squinted my eyes. I recognize this man… I swear I’ve seen him before… no… That hair and those clear and confident eyes…

‘Grand Enchanter.’ The noble spoke and the room got quiet, although I could almost hear Varric grin. ‘We’d like to discuss your abuse of our hospitality.’ 

‘Your majesties…’ Grand Enchanter Fiona appeared from behind us, her head down as she tiptoed forward. So… they were indeed royalty.

‘When we offered the mages sanctuary, we did not give them the right to drive our people from their homes.’ The royal woman spat. She had a high voice, and her disdainful eyes reminded me of Vivienne, who had also gone remarkably quiet. 

‘King Alistair, Queen Anora. I assure you, we never intended…’ Fiona began humble. 

‘In light of your actions, good intentions are no longer enough.’ Queen Anora spat again bitterly. 

But I stared at the King… King Alistair… Alistair Theirin. 

I knew I recognized him! Should I say I was friends with his grand… no… great-grandmother? 

‘You and your followers have worn out your welcome.’ Alistair began. I couldn’t help myself but smile faintly. He looks so much like Moira. They had the same tone of righteousness and justice in their voice. She would’ve been proud to see her family on the throne… even in these circumstances. ‘Leave Ferelden, or we’ll be forced to make you leave.’

‘But… we have hundreds who need protection!’ Fiona’s voice flared high, worried. She looked at the king pleadingly and desperately. ‘Where will we go?’

Maxwell sighed and walked down the stairs to stand aside Fiona, who was so short she barely reached his chest. Maxwell dusted off some… I-don’t-want-to-know-what from his armour as he appeared before the King and Queen of Ferelden, who nodded at him politely. ‘I should point out that we did come here for mages to close the Breach.’ Max spoke. 

‘And what are the terms of this arrangement?’ Fiona shifted uncomfortably, unsure if she should be happy or concerned. 

So now she was asking about our terms? She should’ve done that with Alexius… 

As if Dorian had read my mind, he crossed his arms and took a step forward while mumbling. ‘Hopefully better than what Alexius gave you.’ He glanced at Maxwell. ‘The Inquisition is better than that, yes?’

Cassandra stepped forward, and I saw Maxwell blink his eyes, almost becoming teary. He swallowed hard and closed his eyes as she spoke, taking in her strong voice. ‘I suggest conscripting them. They’ve proven what they’ll do, given too much freedom.’

Varric shook his head and went to stand next to her. ‘I’ve known a lot of mages. They can be loyal friends if you let them. Friends who make bad decisions.’ He laughed quietly. ‘But still. Loyal.’

‘They have lost all possible supporters. The Inquisition is their only remaining chance for freedom.’ Solas was standing next to me, eyeing the Herald curiously.

Maxwell glanced at me for a second, and I nodded quietly. I won’t say anything to change his decisions. It’s his to make, not mine. As a mage myself, I am too biassed… and involving myself in this is against my principles of remaining in the background as much as possible. Maxwell looked away then as if he didn’t want to look at me for too long. Not like he was angry… more like afraid.

‘I don’t think you need to ask about my opinion.’ Vivienne interrupted. Yes, we all know what she wants. She had been practically shouting it for the past few weeks.

Fiona ignored Madame de Fer subtly, ‘It seems we have little choice but to accept whatever you offer.’

Maxwell scraped his throat in thought, shifting on his feet, scrunching his eyebrows as he stared the Grand Enchanter down. ‘What I just saw… It forbade nothing good. Mages can create so much damage… so much death…’ He mumbled under his breath and stared right at me for five long seconds. He stared at me so intensely as if saying… I was to be careful… and it made me uncomfortable. When have I ever damaged something? Killed, yes, but those were our enemies. I didn’t understand what he was trying to say, or implying… I furrowed my brows and saw Maxwell swallow. ‘But… But you can also create so much good… given the proper help.’

‘In the Circles…’ Vivienne started. 

Maxwell raised his hand and shut her up with a gesture. ‘We would be honoured to have you fight… as allies … at the Inquisition’s side.’ He stated, and Fiona smiled. ‘But.’ And then she stopped smiling. ‘This proposition is conditional. As the Templars who have laid down their vows to join us, you will have to stop fighting your cause until the Breach is closed. You will abide by the Inquisition’s rules and transparency. If you cannot do this, then we will conscript you as prisoners of the Inquisition. Is that clear?’ Maxwell’s voice was loud and confident, and it shook the room.

‘It is clear.’ Fiona nodded politely. ‘I’ll pray that the rest of the Inquisition honours your promise, then.’

‘The Breach threatens all of Thedas.’ Maxwell looked at us, at me, at Solas, Cassandra and Varric, Dorian, Vivienne and Bull. ‘We cannot afford to be divided now.’ I glanced up at Solas who stood still next to me. He brushed his woollen sleeve against my arm. ‘We can’t fight it without you. Any chance of success requires your full support.’

‘It’s a generous offer.’ King Alistair concluded. ‘I doubt you’re going to get a better one from us.’

Fiona bit her lip, and couldn’t look the king in the eye. Was she ashamed? Or was it personal? ‘We accept.’ She finally said. ‘It would be madness not to.’ 

Maxwell sighed and I saw his shoulders drop. 

‘I will gather my people and ready them for the journey to Haven.’ Fiona continued. ‘The Breach will be closed. You will not regret giving us this chance.’

‘By Andraste’s glorified tits, I hope I won’t.’ Maxwell cursed and finally, he laughed a little. The whole room did. ‘My apologies for my words, your majesties.’ He curtsied at King Alistair and Queen Anora. 

The Queen didn’t move, but I saw the stern Alistair snicker faintly. 

Solas quietly tugged my cloak so I’d look up to him, but I ignored it and stared at Maxwell. Something in him had changed. 

Something was broken. 

***

A dark future. Full of death and demons. Everything had gone wrong. 

Empress Celene had been assassinated. Just like Envy had implied in Val Royeaux. 

And a demon army led by the mysterious Elder One was coming for not only Ferelden and Orlais but the whole world. 

That was what would… will happen if we fail to close the Breach. If I fail to protect Maxwell.

And this fact weighed on me during the day when I helped Adan at the apothecary and at night, when I was too exhausted to even sleep, let alone to visit the Fade. And even there, demons found their way into my mind, stealing my power and feeding on my fears.

But now, more and more mages were arriving at Haven. 

The ex-Templars were nervous around the rebels, and vice-versa. And it was too crowded. The tavern was completely full, and outside there were so many tents, I stopped counting them as I passed to go to my cabin… which nobody dared to come close to. I was happy about that. 

Dorian had decided to stay with the Inquisition. He had said he found the south so “charming and rustic”, and had started to like it. He, Solas and Vivienne were in charge of helping the mage recruits settle and kept an eye on them for security. Vivienne did that more than necessary. 

Josephine, Leliana and Cassandra had their hands full working on how to organise the troops and the mage recruits, and they were planning to go seal the Breach as soon as possible. Commander Cullen had it the most difficult. He had started to accept mages, but this was too much for him. I could hear him rummaging as I passed his tent at night, and I left a note at Adan’s to make more sleeping potions for the man, although I doubted the Commander would drink it now… 

And Maxwell… he had… changed. The joking brother I had come to love had turned silent and had thrown himself into his work. Day and night he sat in the War Room to plan out the attack on the Breach. And I couldn’t get close to him… I waited outside the War Room, at his cabin, outside Leliana’s lair and at Cullen’s tent. But he always managed to evade me. I knew he had seen terrible things in that dark future… Dorian had told me as such. 

Cullen, Josephine, Sera and Blackwall and even Commander Cullen had died. Cassandra and Solas, Iron Bull, Varric and Vivienne had been corrupted by Red Lyrium… and at the end, before he went back to the present, Maxwell saw them all die…

But Dorian didn’t tell me what killed them. 

And I had asked countless times to just tell me. But Dorian refused. ‘It’s not for me to say…’ or ‘I don’t remember, I have other things on my mind!’ or ‘I’d rather not speak of it.’ 

And I was getting so sick of it. 

What had shaken Maxwell so? Was it Cassandra’s death? I saw how he looked at her… seeing someone you love die… or the death of all of his friends, was enough to scar one for life. 

But something in me told me there was more. 

Had it been the demon army who had slaughtered everyone? Or the Elder One?

And… where was I? Had I died? Fled? Was I imprisoned somewhere else? 

My feet tiptoed on the ground. I will catch Maxwell, and he will tell me. I can’t sleep because of it, can’t think or can’t eat. All thoughts had crossed my mind. 

Where was I in this dark future? Deep down, I already suspected the truth.

I heard the stomping of feet on the ground and pressed myself against the stone wall while holding my breath. Holy crap it smelled in here. These bathrooms were horrible…

‘Maker!’ Maxwell screamed as he turned around the corner. He was buckling up his trousers, and they almost fell to his knees as he encountered me. 

‘You’ve been avoiding me!’ I shouted and raised my hands up in the air. 

‘Couldn’t you have surprised me somewhere else? I just… you didn’t hear, right?’ He cursed. 

‘Maybe… But that’s okay…’ I mumbled. Everyone takes a crap sometimes. ‘But you always evaded me…’

Maxwell combed through his hair and looked down while sighing. I hope he had washed his hands.

‘Max…’ I whined. ‘Look at me… please… I don’t know what I’ve done wrong… I can’t help if you won’t let me…’ 

Maxwell shook his head. ‘That’s not it… I just…’ He swallowed. ‘Let’s talk somewhere else or I’ll throw up…’ He pulled me aside and we walked towards my cabin, stopping somewhere in between in the forest. We were all alone now. 

I crossed my arms and stared at Maxwell impatiently. He has been avoiding me for more than a week, two at most. 

‘Okay…’ he breathed. ‘I’m sorry… I… I shouldn’t have left you in the dark… I just couldn’t.’ 

‘Why? What has happened in that future you won’t tell me?’ Why are you looking at me as if you’re afraid? It breaks my heart. It breaks everything. 

‘You… You were…’ Maxwell stared at the snow melting beneath our feet. 

‘Maxwell.’ I touched his cheek, caressing it. He shuddered. I then took his chin and lifted his face towards me. ‘Max. Look at me… whatever happened… it wasn’t real. We’re here. We’re all here.’ 

‘It was real.’ He shook his head away from my hand. ‘Saeris… What I saw… What you did…’ He scraped his throat. ‘You weren’t you. But you became that way… all because I wasn’t… I couldn’t…’ Men don’t cry. That’s what most men tell me. On Thedas and on Earth, if I remember correctly. But that’s a lie. We all cry. 

We all break. 

I took Maxwell into my arms as he wept silently, and his tears fell on my shoulders, wetting my clothes. I cradled him like a mother would, and rocked him back and forth. For the Inquisition and its followers, Maxwell was the Herald. He was strong, confident, and brave. He wouldn’t cry. But for me. Maxwell will always be Maxwell. A friend. And I didn’t care if he was brave or strong. All I cared for was that he was well. 

‘I’m sorry for whatever I’ve done…’ I mumbled in his ear. 

‘No.’ Maxwell shook his head. ‘No… It wasn’t your fault… The Red Lyrium, it had corrupted you, made you addicted to it and… and…’

‘It’s okay, you can tell me.’ I hushed. 

‘It changed you… You had become a monster, Saeris. You changed so much… your eyes, and… and you had gone completely mad…’ He swallowed but looked at me. Longer than he had since Redcliffe. ‘You killed…’

‘Who did I kill?’ Stay calm, Saeris. For him. Don’t break, don’t cry, not now, stay strong when he can’t. 

‘Everyone. You killed everyone.’ 

I stopped breathing for a moment and pushed Maxwell away ever so slightly. ‘What?’

‘It was the Red Lyrium… they had tortured you and you were under a spell or whatever, it wasn’t you and…’ Maxwell kept on rambling. Something about a Bride, and red and green… but I couldn’t hear him anymore. 

If I don’t fulfil my promise of helping Maxwell… not only will this world collapse… I will be the one to kill everyone? 

That can’t be. 

This can’t be why I’m here… 

‘Saeris?’ Maxwell shook me, his warm hands burning my skin. ‘Saeris!’ 

I blinked. ‘I’m so sorry…’ I whispered, my voice breaking. ‘I’m so… so sorry.’ 

‘It’s alright.’ Now it was his turn to hold me. And he held me for what felt like hours. After a while, he spoke again. This time, he didn’t stumble or whisper or cry. ‘I will make sure that future will never come to pass. Never. And you will never become like that. I can promise you.’

Making promises is dangerous, out of all people, I knew that best. But this promise, I was willing to accept. To hold onto it. ‘We will make sure of that together.’ I smiled faintly. 

‘We will.’ Maxwell smiled back. 

***

 ‘And what are we to do exactly?’

‘What you always do, complain.’ Cassandra was standing near her practice dummies when I neared her. A familiar mage was impatiently tapping her foot in front of the Seeker, clearly annoying her. I would recognize that arrogant, self-centred snare anywhere. Ruth. 

‘We’ve already spoken with Commander Cullen.’ Ruth rested her hands on her hips, her polished fingernails digging into the thick fabric of her fur coat. Her blonde hair was stark against the dark fabric. ‘No one listens! We want better quarters… we want the Templars kept at a distance. And some respect for…’

‘This is not the Circle.’ Cassandra snapped back. ‘You mages are our allies, not our wards. Act like it.’

Ruth tutted loudly, swishing back her ponytail. ‘How are we supposed to…’

‘Deal. With. It.’ Cassandra bit and crossed her arms.

Ruth grunted, and I saw her wanting to scratch some eyes out. But I knew who would win that catfight. 

‘Ah, Ruth.’ I stepped in between and saw Cassandra nod at me gratefully. 

‘Saeris!’ Ruth gasped. ‘There you are! Gosh, I’ve been looking for you! These…’ She eyed Cassandra, who remained standing there with crossed arms and an annoyed face. ‘… brutes refuse to listen to me! You understand right? The apprentices and juniors can sleep in tents, but they expect us, the Enchanters, to do that too! I can’t sleep on the ground! My back is killing me! They have no respect for us… and those Templars, how can you even stand them!’ Ruth rambled on and on and on. I stopped listening after “I can’t sleep on the ground.” 

‘Listen, Ruth. I know you’re used to more luxurious treatment, but this is not the Circle, as Seeker Penthagast told you.’ I started. 

‘But…’

‘We’re all living in such a small space with one another, it’s bound to become uncomfortable. Focus on closing that Breach, and then you can complain, okay?’ I smiled sheepishly. Payback time for all those years in the Circle she got whatever she wanted. Not here. This is the real world. 

Ruth rolled her eyes dramatically. ‘You really didn’t change, huh? Always the know-it-all.’

I cocked an eyebrow at her. 

Ruth clicked her tongue and tapped her fingers against her golden belt. ‘And tell me… Have you seen our Simon here somewhere? I haven’t seen him among the Templars. It’s too bad he isn’t here, isn’t it? We all know how much you two…’

‘Enough.’ Cassandra took a dangerous step forward, and Ruth became smaller and smaller. 

Ruth grunted. ‘Whatever.’ And walked away.

‘She was an annoyance at the Circle too. Guess she’ll never change.’ I shook my shoulders and winked at Cassandra, who smiled back at me. 

‘It never ends, evidently.’ The Seeker poked my arm. 

‘You don’t need to tell me that…’ I sighed. 

‘I just don’t know who told them I’m the one to yell at.’ Cassandra groaned.

‘I’m happy most of them are scared of me… still.’ I’ve never been happier to have been called a green-eyed demon. At least I don’t get nagging mages at my doorstep. ‘Is it that bad?’

‘The mages are here as equals. They need to get used to what that means.’ Cassandra answered. 

‘They’ve been at the Circle all their life. It will take some time… Who knows, if they had captured me sooner, I might be like that.’ I joked. 

‘And I’m happy you’re not.’ Cassandra smacked my back. The Seeker had become more and more friendly with me. And I was happy about it. She reminded me of Nenhara, strong and stubborn, but with a hell of a big heart.

‘Have you seen Maxwell, by the way, I haven’t seen him since this morning?’ And I wanted to ask him some more things about how he was planning to seal the Breach. I have to be with him when that happens.

‘Ah yes, I have heard you surprised him… at the sanitary this morning…’ Cassandra suppressed a smile. Of course, he told her. What doesn’t he tell her? His feelings, probably.
‘I heard he is reporting to Solas. You should find him there, I presume.’ 

‘Great!’ I smiled. ‘Thanks and… don’t let those mages get into your head.’ 

‘No, I have enough there already.’ Cassandra joked and walked back to the training ground. 

I followed the path to the village, up the slope and past the tavern. I stopped in my tracks as I heard them whispering to one another. 

‘Are you sure, Herald, I had not said anything else? Not a word?’ Solas questioned, his hands on his hips and his face pulled into a deep and thoughtful expression.

‘No. That’s it. And it wasn’t like we had much time…’ Maxwell answered and scratched his head. ‘I’m sorry… I wanted to tell you sooner but with everything going on…’

‘No, don’t think of the matter. You have more important things at hand, Herald. I will not hold you from your duties much longer.’ Solas apologised, but his eyes were looking past Maxwell, to nowhere specifically. I saw the thousands of questions troubling his eyes. 

I coughed and walked towards them. 

And suddenly, those questions in Solas’ eyes seemed to clear up, and he was only staring at me now. My stomach protested as I came closer and it became worse the more I stared back into Solas’ eyes. I smiled a little uncomfortably. 

‘Am I interrupting?’ I started. 

‘Never.’ Maxwell grinned. ‘I was just telling Solas something I remembered.’

‘Oh?’ I cocked my head. 

‘Ah, but I don’t think it was anything useful, was it, Solas?’ Maxwell stared at the Elf. 

‘It is incoherent, something to be researched upon.’ He answered vaguely. Such as he is. 

‘Well, I have some questions about your plan to seal the Breach.’ I looked back to Maxwell, and felt Solas’ eyes on my back, burning and burning and my stomach turned upside down.

‘Which reminds me.’ Solas interrupted, clearly talking to Maxwell, but his eyes were still on me. ‘You should proceed in sealing the Breach as soon as you are able.’

Maxwell wiggled his eyebrows and tiptoed in between Solas and me, but the Elf remained staring at me. 

‘This Elder One… You have now interfered with his plan thrice. Once at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, then at Val Royeaux and now again at Redcliffe. A being who aspires to godhood is unlikely to ignore such an affront. Closing the Breach will impact it more, perhaps even weaken it before it strikes.’ 

‘Yes… I know.’ Maxwell winked at me. ‘And don’t worry, my friend.’ Maxwell grinned, and that made Solas finally look away from me. 

I had almost vomited. But that look he had in his eyes… it had surprised me. Gone was that dissecting stare that wanted to understand me. No, the look in Solas’ eyes had been… wonder… maybe something deeper. 

And it didn’t only hurt my stomach. It pained my heart as well. I didn’t know what to think anymore, but that warm feeling I got when he stared at me like that. So deep. So hopeful … 

It made me want more. 

‘Saeris? You listening?’ Maxwell waved his hand in front of my eyes and I blinked in surprise. 

‘Huh? Yes?’ 

‘As I said… We’re done.’ He grinned. 

‘Done with what?’ 

‘Planning.’ He winked. ‘We will seal it the day after tomorrow.’ 

‘What?’

‘We’re ready.’

Notes:

This one's a bit shorter, because last chapter was kind of heavy, and I wanted this chapter to take it slower, nothing much happens, but next chapter will be more... exciting...

Did you like it? I will try to update soon!

Chapter 40: Sealed

“You made a promise, an unbreakable vow. The People’s salvation rests in you.”

“I don’t understand. What promise? I’ve made no vow.”

“Not the current you, yet the other you in the past. The you who came before. When your eye appears in the heavens, go to where the heroes are, and protect the one who holds your eye in their hand. They will lead you toward the vow you promised not to break.”

“I… I don’t understand?”

“When in doubt, search for your memories. They will hold the outcomes. Your dreams will tell you the answers of your past and of your future.”

“And… what will happen when I fulfil this promise another me made?”

“You will receive that for which you longed for. Death. Eternal rest with those lost to you.”

“And what if I refuse?”

“You will eternally wander these plains alone.” 

- Chapter 12, Awakened

 

***

A large pale shadow covered my whole body. It grew and grew and grew as she… no… as it skulked closer my way. Close enough for me to see its deep and hollow eyes. 

‘Red?’ It purred as it stared at me. 

I took a step back. 

Fight it! Take back your control! This space is yours! Not theirs! 

‘You don’t scare me. I am not you.’ I hissed back. 

Focus! 

But the tall pale creature walked closer and closer. Locks of perfect white waves dangled from its grinning head, and its pointed ears twitched as I spoke. It flashed its straight blood-stained teeth and held out its hands to me. 

‘I am you. You are me. We made that promise together. We broke it. Together.’ It hissed, its voice so warm and soft it made me doubt. 

‘NO! No. I haven’t broken any promises! I won’t!’

It came closer again as I backed away. Like a mirror doing the opposite. Resembling a me that was never meant to be. 

An abomination. 

Its hands were covered in blood. Their blood. The blood of my friends. Specks of bile were splattered on its stark long white dress, its border covered in dirt and soil. 

The Bride opened her hands and held out one hazel eye to me in the centre of her palm. Max’ eye. 

‘What did you do?’ I screamed. 

‘What did “you” do?’ The Bride smiled back. 

The eye moved and stared at me, not angry… but afraid. Maxwell was afraid of me. 

‘You did this. You will.’ The Bride smiled, and the longer I stared into its deep and whirling eyes, the more I lost myself in them. 

The green eye twirled and spat and twisted. But the red eye… it looked like pure liquid dropping out of its iris. Maroon blood. Red. Red and Green. 

‘Let’s be us, together?’ It took another step closer. ‘Let’s be One.’ 

‘Never.’ I looked back up and stared into my own eyes. ‘Be gone. Demon.’ Behind its mask of the Bride, I saw the smouldering shadow of the terror, its eyes as bloody and red as the Bride herself. 

I imagined a high and broad wall of adamant and will. 

And then I pushed. I pushed out that wall until I could hear the demon scream, see its disguise weaken and fade away until it could no longer hide from my sight. 

‘I. Am. Not. You.’ I spat and with a final push and the Fade was mine again. 

***

I woke up in sweat and tears, the sheets on my bed ripped and scattered about in my room. Outside, it was still dark, but the sky was turning purple and orange instead of dark black and blue. The morning was on the rise, maybe after an hour… 

I tucked my knees into my chest and rested my head on top of them. My long white hair curled beneath me, like a pillow. A sweaty pillow. It was almost fluorescent against my skin as the light of the moon reflected on it. Closing my eyes, I wondered if I should go back to sleep, back to the Fade… but I couldn’t.

I felt the despair and terror in my dreams. It was as if the Fade itself knew its Breach was going to be closed. It was as if the demons knew that their only way to escape was going to be sealed off. Forever. Hopefully. It made the air in the Fade almost nervous. It made me nervous. I kicked myself out of my bed, my shadow dancing behind me, and dressed myself in thick armour and my cape. As I pulled the hood over my face and glanced at my reflection in the mirror. And although it was dark in my cabin, I could see myself clearly while my green eye was flaring brightly, almost like a candle. There were dark circles beneath my eyes, and my cheeks were red and puffy, my hair wild. But my eye… my green eye… maybe like the Fade, it knew what today would bring…

Outside, the snow was fresh and thick, and the air was so cold it stung my face. The high pine trees loomed above me, grasping towards the star-speckled sky. I pushed forward against the snow and wind. 

If you get lost in these mountains… you’ll freeze to death.

The military camp in front of Haven’s gates was quiet. Soldiers, Templars and mages alike were still fast asleep… resting for what today would bring. They would need all of their strength and power to do what has to be done. 

To seal the Breach. 

I sat on the edge of the wooden embankment at the frozen river, which seemed to be made out of pure glass, spreading out into the mountain range in front of me. And above those high peaks of eternal snow and white light, far up in the sky next to the moon and stars, hovered the Breach. 

I felt my eye twist as I stared right into it. The swirling and spitting abyss of green seemed to stare back at me, at my eye, whispering my name. It felt almost like begging. Begging me to stop the Inquisition from sealing it away from the waking world. Asking me to save it. And somewhere within myself, I wanted to save it. I wanted to keep it open . 

Why? 

Maybe because the Breach felt so powerful to me, so strong and supportive of the strange magic within my eye. Maybe because it was like a giant window to the beyond. And if I could just step right through it, I’d find my friends and family behind its emerald curtain.

Maybe I didn’t want it to be closed, because closing it would mean another end. Another chapter done. 

Maybe I didn’t want to close it because… because… I was scared of what would happen. 

When I woke up in this world, I didn’t understand why. Why was I here? Why didn’t I age and die like the others? Was I cursed? Had I done something wrong?

Later on, I understood that I am indeed cursed. I cursed myself. Well, my ancestor made a promise. And I was to fulfil it.

My promise. 

My curse.

But what was that promise?

Protect the one who holds your eye in their hand, for they will lead you towards the vow you promised not to break .

That’s what the voices once said to me in a dream long ago.

Protect Maxwell while he has the mark. He will lead me to… to the Breach? Close the Breach and I fulfil my promise? Fulfil my promise… and die?

Will I die immediately? Wither where I stand into ash and air?

Or will I just age normally from today on? Grow old and wrinkly… and die when the time comes? Like any other? 

Or… will nothing happen? What if closing the Breach while helping Max, isn’t what I’ve promised? What if it’s something else?

These uncertainties… chilled me to the bone. Will I die today? Will I become mortal? Or will nothing happen, and will all of this have been for nought? Yes, I will have helped save the world. But will I save myself? And if I don’t… 

‘It is bright, is it not?’ A voice whispered behind me. I almost screamed and fell onto the heavy ice below. Commander Cullen grasped my arm and hoisted me straight. ‘My apologies, did I scare you, Lady Saeris?’ He stumbled, his voice warm but tired.

I looked up at him, his face enlightened by the Breach above us. ‘Just a little bit.’ I chuckled honestly. ‘I was just…’

‘Lost in thought?’ He continued, his golden brown eyes piercing mine. ‘I was doing the same thing.’ 

I smiled faintly as Cullen sat next to me, his face locked towards the sky. He wasn’t wearing his armour, but just a linen shirt, and his blonde hair was messy. ‘How have you been faring?’ I asked and stared at him.

‘Quite well.’ He mumbled and faced me. ‘Thanks to you partly, my Lady.’ 

‘Just Saeris.’ When will he stop with the “Lady” thing? ‘And I did nothing.’

‘The brewage you have given me. It helps. I haven’t thanked you enough for that.’ He stared at our feet dangling over the embankment.

‘Adan made that for you… but if it helps, that’s all that matters.’ I pursed my lips. ‘But why are you awake now? You should rest before…’ 

‘I’ve rested enough.’ He sighed deeply. ‘And I have much work to do.’

‘Will you come with us today… when we seal the Breach?’ 

‘Of course…’ He looked up at me, furrowing his brows. ‘I want to be there when we close it… see our plans come to fruit.’ 

‘What… what will happen after?’ I didn’t know what I was saying… Today was just one of those days when everything seemed to stop. Seemed to end. 

The Commander chuckled. ‘The Inquisition has yet many tasks to complete.’ He said. ‘Will you not remain after?’ He turned quiet as he locked eyes with me. 

‘I’m…’ I want to. I really want to stay. 

I don’t want to die. 

Always. I always wanted to stop living this eternal life. To join my mum and dad and brother and Sybil, Daniel and Elgadira, Nenhara… everyone in the afterlife. Or if there wasn’t an afterlife… I always just wanted to rest. To sleep. To go to that serene state. Because I was always alone. 

But I wasn’t anymore.

I had new friends, new hopes and goals… and for once in decades… I wanted to stay alive. 

For Maxwell. 

And Cassandra and Varric… Cullen… for everyone here. 

For Solas… 

I wanted to get rid of my curse, of course. But if it meant dying today… 

‘If I can… I will.’ I finally answered. 

‘Why could you not?’ Cullen looked down for a second, and then up again, scratching the back of his neck. ‘Of course, you can. You are…’ 

I cocked my head. 

Cullen stared at me. ‘You are important.’ 

I am important. 

I matter. 

‘Thank you…’ I blinked my eyes.

The sun rose behind the high and steep peaks of the Frostback Mountains. Rays of sunlight crawled over the river slowly, until it reached our faces. It made the Commander look golden. His blonde hair, his golden brown eyes… He looked…

‘So beautiful.’ Cullen mumbled. I stared at him and he at me. With an open mouth, Cullen shook his head confusedly and smiled awkwardly. ‘The sunrise…’ He stumbled as his face turned a strawberry red. He scratched the back of his neck again.

‘Oh.’ I smiled. I thought he meant… 

‘Saeris!’ Someone behind us called out. I turned around quickly and saw Solas walking at a quickened pace towards me. 

‘Yes?’ I furrowed my brows. 

‘You were… Are you alright? I heard an uproar in the Fade but could not reach you.’ He seemed out of breath. 

‘Everything’s fine. I’m fine.’ I sighed. 

Solas rested his hands on his hips and stared at Cullen, his eyes squinting. 

‘I should get back to my duties.’ The Commander straightened himself. ‘We will be leaving shortly for the Temple of Sacred Ashes…’ He stared at me for another moment, but then looked away. ‘Make sure to prepare.’ 

‘We will.’ Solas answered for me. Curtly.

Cullen glanced at me and nodded before walking away to his tent. 

‘What’s wrong, Solas?’ I huffed. He didn’t have to be so rude to the Commander. 

‘You… I sensed a disturbance but could not see what was wrong. When I came to search for you, I could not find you at your cabin.’ He stared at me sternly. 

I stood up and wiped some fresh snow from my back. ‘I had a bad dream… A terror slipped through my wards. I went for a stroll afterwards.’ Was he worried? Do I have to feel charmed? Or concerned?

Solas sighed, and I noticed the redness on his nose and cheeks, the sheen of sweat and melted snow on his head and shoulders. And he was shivering… dressed in only his old and patched-up pants and woollen shirt. He hadn’t even bothered to ward his clothes against the cold. 

‘Fenedhis, Solas.’ I cursed. ‘You’ll get sick…’ I took my dark and heavy cloak from my shoulders and placed it over his own, tying the rope at the nape of his neck. 

‘You should not leave yourself vulnerable.’ He scolded and looked down at me. 

Look who’s talking… I lifted my face up and hadn’t noticed how close I was standing to him, our faces so close to one another, his nose almost brushed against mine. I swallowed and my body turned to ice, unable to move.

‘You had me concerned.’ He hushed, his voice seemingly stuck in his throat. I felt the gush of his warm breath against my face.

I took a step back and swallowed some bile away that had formed in my mouth. The world started to twist and turn upside down… 

‘Are you alright?’ He took another step towards me. 

And I stepped back, holding my hands in front of me. ‘Yes… I just haven’t had breakfast yet…’ I lied. I was just getting nauseous by his proximity. 

Even though I kind of liked him being so close to me. 

I liked his warmth. 

I yearned for it . 

‘Come. Let us ask Flissa to prepare a meal.’ He said and held out his hand to me. His stare was neutral, calm and patient. But I saw the slight tremble on his long white fingers. Was he that cold? Or… 

I walked past his hand, and he lowered it slowly. ‘Oh no, it’s fine… I have some bread in my cabin… I’ll see you at camp in an hour, alright?’ I waved hurriedly and fast-walked back towards the forest. Solas remained staring after me at the frozen river. 

Maybe I should’ve taken his hand and eaten with him… together, but I was afraid, afraid to take that hand. Afraid I might not want to let it go. 

But today… not today. Today will mean the end of something. 

The world… The Breach… Myself. 

***

‘Recruits!’ Cullen walked back and forth among the lines of soldiers, mages and Templars. His face was stern, his armour shining brightly in the morning sun. Leliana and Josephine were standing next to him. Leliana would join us, but Josephine wouldn’t. Leliana wore her dark hooded armour, and I saw her dangerous eyes glance over the recruits anxiously, scanning for any irregularities. I noticed the men and women shrink as she skimmed them. Josephine smiled nervously, her book of attendance clutched in front of her. Her golden frilly pants and tunic matched Cullen’s brightness, and her dark olive skin gleamed in the sun. She looked down at her papers and scribbled something with a long quill. I couldn’t read what. 

Maxwell stood at the far right of them, his face somewhat pale, but his eyes confident. His silver armour carved with the Inquisition vigil, shone like the moon itself. He looked holy. Like a true Herald of Andraste. His curly brown hair was combed backwards, and he had shaved off his stubble. The mark on his hand was flaring, just like my eye had been doing all morning, and I noticed him flexing his fingers against the prickling pain. Maxwell and Cullen shared a look, and the Commander nodded at him. 

‘The Breach has been above us long enough!’ Maxwell started, and everyone got quiet. ‘Today, we will close it!’ Some people cheered. ‘Although our many differences, we will work together and history will remember all of you. All of us. Because this is our world. And we will do anything to save it.’ Maxwell pumped his chest in front of his soldiers, and they stared at him. Templars and mages, standing next to one another, working together for a common goal. ‘Are you with me!’ He screamed and raised his marked hand into the sky. 

‘YES!’ The soldiers screamed. Behind me, Cassandra gleamed with pride. 

‘Soldiers!’ Cullen raised his sword. ‘We march!’ 

Everyone cheered and the large group of soldiers marched forward along the path that led towards the mountains. Behind them, the inner circle followed. Everyone was present. Sera, Blackwall, Dorian and Vivienne, the Iron Bull, Varric and Cassandra. And Solas. He had gone awfully quiet but stood next to me nevertheless. We hadn’t talked since this morning. 

Maybe that’s for the better. 

Cassandra stared beyond the soldiers to Maxwell at the front. She was proud but worried first. I rested my hand on her shoulder. ‘He’ll be fine.’ I whispered. 

‘Of course, he will.’ She breathed back to me. ‘He has to.’ 

We walked up the path that had once been a pilgrimage but was now overgrown by rocks and plants and snow. The armour of the ex-Templars rattled as they marched. Next to them, the mages were silent in their long but thick robes. Once, I had seen queues of mages and Templars on either side of this very path. Separated. Enemies meeting up at a Conclave to discuss their war with one another. And now, they walked together towards a common goal. Towards the Breach. 

The last time I had walked across the crater, where once a beautiful temple must’ve been, I had been uncertain, doubting and nervous. I had seen Max’ mark, and I knew back then I needed to protect him. He had been so weak, so scared… but now he walked assuredly, he knew what he could do. And he didn’t need my protection. 

The burned remains of Conclave attendees had withered away with the season. The scarred faces that had been charred into place, were overgrown by snow and soil. 

Everything seemed different. But still the same. 

The crater where the explosion had been, was still bare and dark. Not even snow could reach it. Templars and mages aligned on the steps of some remaining ruins above us on the edge of the crater. I saw the ex-Templars visibly shiver as the mages took out their staffs, aiming them forward. The Templars had been trained for all of their lives to stop the mages from doing just that. But now, they were there to support them. It must’ve felt strange. 

Looking down on everyone and everything, was the Breach. Dooming and glistering, covering every corner of the crater, the sky and the sun. Its emerald hue hung around us like a foggy curtain. Deadly quiet, yet so loud. Thousands of whispering voices filled my ears, creeping into my head and calling my name. Calling our name. With fear. Hatred. And deadly confidence. 

Commander Cullen stood on the broken railing above me, staring at the Breach. His golden eyes reflected green. Just like they did when he stared into mine. Leliana was standing next to him, her eyes skimming the crater suspiciously. The Spymaster’s clear stare stopped at the giant broken statue of Andraste in the middle of the crater. Her holy face hovered shattered into the air, glowing green like the Breach above Her. Leliana’s glance faltered for a moment, almost in recognition. Yet, after a second, she looked away again. 

The rest of our group was standing on the ground with Maxwell. Red Lyrium was growing between the barren rocks under our feet like a weed, humming with the drum of the Breach. Dorian was swallowing loudly at the sight of them and clutched his staff tighter. Varric did the same with Bianca. 

‘Please don’t spit demons. Don’t spit demons.’ Sera was mumbling, a deep snare on her face. She almost shot an arrow towards the Breach, but Bull pushed down her bow. 

‘Calm down, crazy…’ He cursed. 

Once everyone had settled, Maxwell stepped forward. Like a reflex, I looked up to him, taking a step forward. 

‘It’s okay.’ Maxwell turned his head towards me and winked. ‘I got this.’ 

‘I know…’ I tried to smile back.

The mark on Maxwell’s hand started to flare again, spitting and flashing that familiar emerald light. He looked down at it, facing the pain, and smiled faintly. Maybe almost nostalgically, like he was remembering how he had closed his first Rift. Cassandra stood next to him and whispered something I couldn’t hear. 

Maxwell didn’t look up from his hand but whispered something back that made Cassandra smile tenderly. 

Then, Maxwell walked forward, closer and closer to the broken statue of Andraste. One of Her shattered eyes seemed to stare right at him. No emotion was left on Her face.

I followed his stare, right into the abyss of emerald. And I felt a thousand eyes looking back at me. 

You promised… They seemed to whisper. Come. Come here.

‘Templars! Mages!’ Cassandra ordered, her voice so loud it made me break my contact with the Breach. I straightened myself, my magic ready on my fingers. 

Solas appeared from behind me and strutted forward, lifting his staff above his head to get the soldiers’ attention. ‘Focus past the Herald! Let his will draw from you!’ He planted his staff firmly on the ground, the crystal on top aimed towards Maxwell, who was still pushing towards the Breach. The mages, Dorian and Vivienne followed Solas’ example, the loud stomp of their staffs on the ground echoing through the crater. Solas stared with squinted eyes forward, neutrally, but there was a hint of hope. 

The closer Maxwell was getting to the centre, the harder he was moving forward. As if he was pushing against a stormy wind. Green flares spouted from the Breach, trying to shove Maxwell back, but he didn’t comply.

‘Templars! Now!’ Commander Cullen yelled, his steel sword drawn. On this cue, the Templars took out their swords and with a dazzling swish, they impaled them into the ground, a force of blue energy glittering from their steel armours. 

The mages followed suit, and the power crystals on their staffs started to glow deeper and deeper. All of that power, that magic combined as Maxwell raised his hand to the sky.

And then, I felt it. I felt the mark connect with the Breach. I felt them push against each other. My heart started to beat faster, my breath got stuck, and my throat turned dry. 

This was the moment. This is my moment. 

I lingered for a second. I couldn’t raise my hands. 

Time seemed to stop.

I have to do it now. Are you watching, ancestor? Can you see me? You cursed me. Us. And I am going to set us free. 

Finally free. 

I raised my hands, and a flashing emerald light embodied me. My eye screamed against my body, ordering me to stop, trying to take over to make me do nothing. Like it didn’t want me to help. But I would. 

And then, time seemed to flow once more .

My magic flew towards Maxwell, to his mark.

And then the Breach exploded. 

Everything exploded. 

A surge of green light, a storm of emerald winds, pushed through the crater and roared the earth. Maxwell was shoved back, and he flew across the crater towards the ground. And then, the wind reached the rest of us. I planted my feet into the ground but the storm was too strong. 

You promised! The wind seemed to cry, to scream, to screech as it passed me. I felt hands grabbing my chest in rage, in… disappointment, and they shoved me hard. 

‘Watch out!’ Someone screamed. 

Everyone was yanked to the dirty ground. Some cried out in surprise. 

I closed my eyes. 

I felt cold. 

Two hands grabbed my arms from behind, softly, tenderly, lovingly. They gave me a small squish, and I pressed myself against the warm presence. And it held me there, in its arms, hushing back and forth. 

‘Saeris?’

I was too afraid to open my eyes. To see that I wasn’t in Thedas anymore. 

That everything was over. 

‘Saeris.’ 

It felt like Daniel was holding me like he did long ago, his body against mine, his lips to my ears. Calling my name. 

‘Saeris!’ Solas pressed his hands against me harder. And I opened my eyes in surprise. 

Looking down, I saw Solas lying beneath me, and I was in his arms. Protected. Held. I stared at him, and his clear grey and blue eyes stared right back at me, his grip tightening. A warm chuckle appeared on his lips.

I was still here. 

I am still alive. 

‘You did it!’ I heard Cassandra’s voice in the distance. I pushed myself away from Solas’ arms. And he let go of me, maybe somewhat reluctantly it seemed, helping me get up by moving his body upwards. 

‘Are you alright?’ He whispered, his arms helping me steady myself as I wobbled forward, my eyes searching the crater frantically, searching and skimming.

And there, he stood upright. Maxwell. 

He turned around, and flashed his teeth, smiling brilliantly. 

He did it. 

He closed the Breach. 

The skies were roaring. Scorching. Empty. 

All was empty. 

Serene. 

My heart dropped. 

Everything was so… so silent.

Behind me, people roared and cheered. Templars and mages flew into each other’s arms. Maxwell hugged Cassandra tightly. Solas stood behind me, saying something… but his voice couldn’t reach me. 

I couldn’t say anything. Couldn’t do anything. 

The only thing that I was able to do was stare. 

Stare and feel so lost. So empty. 

Just like the sky. 

***

Stars covered the dark blue sky. Soft grey winds danced among them. Freely. Widely. The moon’s light could reach Thedas now, and it rejuvenated the earth. 

Gone were the emerald shadows, the thrumming voices, the looming presence. 

Everything was how it should be. How it belonged to be. Changed, but still the same as I remembered. It was the same sky I had seen before… before the Inquisition, before the Circle, before the Dragon Age. It was the sky I had stared at, lying in the grass while dreaming of a future with Sybil or Daniel… remembering the night sky from a previous life, in another world. 

And although everything was back to normal.

Everything felt wrong. 

It was as if I was looking at a reflection… a mirror of something. The same, but not quite. It was as if the sky had been scarred.

For me, it would never be the same. 

And I found myself looking for that familiar emerald gleam between the clouds and sky.

But it was truly gone. 

I felt blinded. I felt betrayed. 

‘Need another drink, Twinkle?’ Varric poked my arm.

I looked down at the Dwarf, and how the shadows flickered on his smiling face. Behind us, Haven glowed with the warmth of its celebration. Firepits crackled and filled the air with a comforting scent of wood smoke, and people gathered in tight circles, sharing tankards and laughter. Mages and Templars alike dropped their grudges for the night, each falling prey to the euphoria that comes with a hard-won victory.

The snow beneath us had turned to dirt and mud, melting by the heat of the bonfires. An Elven woman twirled in the arms of a human man, and their lips pressed on each other lustfully, lost in a song. I noticed Adan sitting on a bench near the tavern, Blackwall lounging next to him. The alchemist hunched over as he snickered loudly at Blackwall’s joke. The Grey Warden laughed with him and spilt some of his drink on his beard. Sera appeared from beneath a table and stared at Blackwall, hiccupping and grinning. Not far from us, I saw Iron Bull and Dorian in a deep conversation, their faces almost pressed against one another, eyes locked and sultry. 

My cup was still filled to the top with ale that had turned lukewarm, the foam disappearing underneath the muddy brown liquid. ‘No thanks.’ I mumbled. 

Two girls passed me. Giggling and dancing with one another, their feet stomping on the ground. One of them almost dropped her cup as she jumped around. 

‘Ah come on, don’t act so soggy… A miracle has happened, kid! Celebrate!’ Varric raised his cup. ‘I bet someone wants to dance with you!’

I looked around and saw soldiers passing along the crowd, or leaning against the cabins in deep conversation with one another. Some glanced my way, their eyes twinkling. 

‘I don’t feel like dancing so much.’ I smiled at Varric sheepishly. 

‘Tell that to them.’ He winked back at me. The Dwarf then continued his way and wobbled to the tavern to get another drink. He almost stumbled over Sera’s leg which appeared on the other side of the table she was sleeping under. Flissa had opened up half of her stock of ale for this celebration. And everyone was partying the night away. 

But an ache stirred in my chest, spreading to every part of me, hollow and gnawing. I should have felt something—relief, perhaps, or even joy that the Breach was closed and the skies were no longer screaming. But I felt… lost. And small. I had dared to hope, with each moment spent aiding Maxwell and battling the Breach, that this might be my release. Perhaps, somehow, I’d been foolish enough to believe that by helping the Inquisition save the world, I’d finally be allowed to leave it.

But I was still here, still unchanged, still breathing, still waiting. I looked down at my hands, half-expecting to find the sheen of an eternal, mocking reminder that my life stretched on in cold perpetuity.

I looked back up and on the hill, behind Leliana’s tent, stood Maxwell. He held his cup tightly, a warm look in his eyes. He skimmed Haven, the bonfire, his soldiers and followers dancing around it, and the sky. I saw him sigh as his eyes followed the stars and the clouds. They wavered near the spot the Breach once was, and I noticed him clenching his marked hand. If only that mark had disappeared too. Leliana, Josephine, Cullen and Cassandra were standing in a circle next to him, talking and laughing. Cassandra looked to her side, her eyes on the Herald, her hand brushing his. The others had noticed too, and I saw them retreating to the Chantry behind. Cullen glanced over his shoulder as he walked away. He smiled. 

Cassandra asked Maxwell something, and he answered with a sigh. She smiled at him and laid her hand on his shoulder. Maxwell looked over his shoulder to where she stood and he cocked his head, cracking up another joke that made the Seeker laugh, maybe a little too loudly. I saw that spark between them growing, brightening, and I almost felt like I needed to look away, but couldn’t. 

That could’ve been Daniel and me long ago. We had that spark too. Once. 

Maxwell’s eyes glanced down, and they found mine between the crowd. He smiled at me happily, his dark curls encircling his face like a halo, his hazel eyes so kind and welcoming. Cassandra followed his stare and nodded at me with a motherly gaze.

‘They have grown closer the last few weeks, haven’t they?’ Solas appeared beside me. 

Cassandra and Maxwell looked away and continued their conversation. Just the two of them. 

‘They have.’ I answered calmly and smiled faintly, staring back at the bonfire and its engulfing flames.

‘You do not seem to be celebrating like the others.’ Solas continued. I looked back at him. His face was covered in dancing shadows, his eyes reflecting the flickering lights of the fire behind me. ‘What is going through your mind, Saeris?’ Solas said, his voice so deep and calm. 

‘Nothing much.’ I lied. ‘Just thinking of the future.’ That wasn’t a lie.

‘Ah yes.’ Solas bound his hand behind his back and chuckled. ‘Without the threat that was the Breach, the future does seem closer at hand than before.’ He said, his eyes kind. 

‘Uhuh.’ I answered vacantly. 

‘Yet I doubt the future is that which is clogging your mind.’ 

I closed my eyes and sighed. Deeply. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Is it something I can help you with, ma falon .’ My friend. I had never heard him call me that, or anyone else. 

I bit my lip until I could taste my own blood. I liked the taste better than the ale. ‘No…I think I’m just going to go to bed for the night… I used a lot of magic today, it has worn me out.’ I lied again. ‘If you’ll excuse me.’

‘Do you need any assistance?’ Solas grabbed me before I could turn away. His fingers enclosed my whole arm, his palm was warm against my cold skin. 

He stared at me. He smiled, his eyes squinting.

For a moment… I just wanted to lose myself. Drown myself in the grey-blue ocean of his pupils, fill myself with his warmth, steal his smile and take his lips away so they could only be mine. 

I wanted him to say ma falon again. I wanted him to say my name and lose any worry in the world. 

‘I’m okay. I’ll see you tomorrow. Solas.’ His name fell from my lips a little too slowly, a little bit too desperate.

He stared at me for a moment, and let go. 

I nodded at him and looked away quickly, following the trail back to Haven’s gates. Solas remained behind me, the bonfire’s light swallowing his figure, his shadow. His arms dangled by his side, and I felt his eyes following me as I disappeared between the dancing mass of people.

Outside, it was quiet. The camp was empty beside some miscellaneous soldiers guarding the walls. They went quiet as I passed, and moved away silently. Almost frightened.  

My eye was a thing which resembled the Breach, that light they had feared so greatly. 

Now, I was the scar. I was the oddity. Again.  

The path in the forest was lit by the moon’s light. And I tiptoed silently past the elfroot and the flowers. And behind the large rock and the pine trees, under the sky filled with only stars and clouds, stood my steady cabin. Plants and flowers grew alongside its walls, its small windows foggy. I opened the door and threw my cloak on the floor, unwrapped my foot wraps and unbuckled my harness. My linen shirt underneath felt clammy. I unsheathed my old dagger from my belt and placed it on my dresser with a sigh. 

I twisted my hands and two flames appeared in the centre of my palms, I shot them towards the fireplace, and its light filled my room with a cosy hue. With one hand I untied the ribbon of my ponytail. My hair fell in loose ribbons around my shoulders. As I retreated my hand, I brushed against the brim of my long and pointed ear. It flinched as I followed its shape, from the top to the lobe.

‘Saeris.’ 

I gasped and turned around, almost tumbling back. 

Solas was standing in my doorway. Out of breath. 

‘What’s wrong, Solas?’ I breathed, surprised. For how long had he been standing here? ‘Why are you…’

‘I was worried.’ He interrupted and took two steps forward.

‘Why would you be?’ I turned back around and continued uncluttering my bed. 

‘I…’ He sighed. ‘I was thinking you might leave.’ 

A sad smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. ‘And what if I had?’

He stepped closer, his gaze unwavering. ‘Then I will follow you.’

I looked away, half-smiling to disguise the ache in my chest. ‘Why would I leave? I have nowhere to go anyway.’ I mumbled and stared at the ground. Where can I go? What do I do now? Wait until I see myself age? What are my options anyway? 

He swallowed and closed the door behind him to not let the warmth get away. ‘The Inquisition needs you.’

‘It doesn’t.’ I bit back a little too harshly. ‘All it needs is Maxwell.’ 

‘And he needs you.’ 

‘Not anymore.’ 

‘That is untrue.’ Solas shifted on his feet. ‘You are invaluable.’ To whom? 

I rolled my eyes angrily and turned back around again. I was sick of being told I was important when I clearly wasn’t. Yes, I’ve helped. Protected and healed. But Maxwell is strong, and surrounded by even stronger people. Even if I hadn’t been there, he would have still succeeded. He won against Envy, against Alexius, and he will do so against the Elder One. 

I felt Solas’ hand on my shoulder, and his warmth spread across my body. ‘And because you are… my friend.’

I closed my eyes. How I yearned for his warmth. For a moment, all of my worries seemed to wash away with his presence. I didn’t feel sick or nauseous… I didn’t feel uncomfortable. 

I twisted around to hold his gaze, my defences softening despite myself. Friend. The word felt so simple, so small compared to the weight behind it. ‘You hardly know me.’

‘Then let me know you,’ he replied, his tone suddenly so earnest that I felt it echo through me, resonating with something I’d kept hidden far too long.

‘What do you wish to know, then?’ I turned around to him. He was standing so close to me, I felt like I needed to back away. But I didn’t. Instead, I sighed and turned my head to the side, staring through the small window that had cleared up. Outside, the forest was calm, the sound of music shifting through the air. ‘I told you where I’m from, that I’ve travelled, that I’ve been in the Circle and back out again. There isn’t much left to be said.’ 

‘Indeed.’ He came closer again, one step, then two. Until his face was right in front of me, his nose almost brushing mine, our lashes clashing. ‘Yet there is but one thing I have been wanting to ask, but have not yet.’ His voice sounded so deep, so coarse yet so full.

I lifted my chin, my eyes connecting with his. ‘What is it?’ My heart was bursting through my chest. The Inquisition, the Breach, my curse,… everything cleared up until only Solas was left. Only him. 

Ask me. 

‘I know your name, your past, but I have yet to catch your age.’ His voice broke a little at the end as if it was almost unbearable for him to ask. As if he had waited for so long to ask me what he already knew. 

I hesitated, my voice caught somewhere between a whisper and a sigh. ‘Twenty-six,’ I began, almost wincing at the familiarity of the lie. But he waited, his eyes patient. No. The truth. ‘At least, that’s how old I look,’ I continued. ‘I stopped counting a long, long time ago.’

There. I said it. 

Solas smiled. He smiled brilliantly.

‘But you knew that already.’ I bit my lip and stared at the wooden floor beneath us. He knew ever since the Storm Coast at Sybil’s grave. Maybe he even knew the first days after the Breach had opened. 

‘I suspected.’ There was a tremble in his voice. A relief. ‘I never imagined…’

‘I know this is a lot and… and probably very strange…’ I rambled. It’s been so long since someone knew my secret. I felt light now, freed. 

‘It is not… not for me…’ Solas chuckled. I shouldn’t be surprised he isn’t blown away. He probably has seen a lot in the Fade… Though I felt like he understood me on a whole different level. Yet, my heart started to fill with hope again. Maybe I became mortal. Maybe not. I don’t know that for certain. Maybe I’ll die tomorrow or in a week. Or maybe I will be here for a hundred years to come. 

The silence between us thickened, deepened, with all the unspoken things that words failed to express. But his gaze held me like an anchor. And I let him see the truth, let him see the years behind my eyes, the decades I had spent wandering, searching, waiting for an end that never came.

He reached out slowly, as if afraid to break the spell, and his fingers brushed against my cheek, soft as snowfall. I looked up, something within me shifting, breaking free from all the walls I had so carefully built. And then, without another word, I closed the distance between us. I lifted my chin and my nose bumped against his. And with a small tilt of my head, I kissed him. 

It was short. Uncertain. Small. Just a peck. I pressed my eyes together and stopped thinking. Stopped fearing and doubting and thinking and… I let go. 

I quickly moved my face away, taking a step back. Feeling how my blood rushed to my cheeks, I looked down and bit my lip again. I felt the warmth of his breath linger against my skin, his gaze unfocused but soft, vulnerable in a way I hadn’t seen before.

What did I do? 

And moreover, why don’t I feel sick? I haven’t felt sick around him ever since the Breach closed… Why? 

I looked up and saw Solas looking down at me, his pupils enlarged, and a smirk on his lips. 

‘You change… everything .’ He breathed coarsely and pulled me by my arm against his chest. Before I could respond, he leaned in again, his lips meeting mine with a hunger that left me breathless. This kiss was deeper, more intense, and I felt my heart shatter and rebuild itself in that single moment. Every brush of his lips, every touch of his hands spoke of longing, of the years we had both endured in our own loneliness, and I allowed myself to be swept away in it, to lose myself entirely in him. He then let go and kissed me again a second time, this time more… more . I opened my mouth to his, and let him fill me with his breath, his warmth. I closed my eyes and let him take over, take control, move me, free me. He kissed me like I hadn’t been kissed before. 

He filled me with hope. With life.

His hands followed the line of my spine at my back as he kissed me a third time. I clasped my hands behind his neck to pull myself closer.

He moved his head away slightly and breathed harshly. As did I as I rested my forehead against his, eyes still closed. When I opened them, so did he, and I saw the green lights of my eye reflected in his own. 

‘Saeris.’ Solas sighed, unable to say a thing but my name. He said it as if it was a spell. As if it could turn back time. 

My heart stopped.

What did I do?

The memories returned, old wounds reopening in my mind. I remembered all those I had lost, the graves I had left behind, and the pain of letting myself fall only to be left once again.

I wasn’t here to fall in love. I was here to… And what if I didn’t become mortal and… and Solas will die and I will be alone. 

I can’t do this to myself. 

Not again. 

I pulled away, my hands trembling as I touched my lips, still warm from his kiss, as if I could somehow take back what had just happened. ‘Solas… I…’ I stammered, the words coming out fractured. ‘I can’t—’

I yelped and jumped aside as someone barged inside, taking down the door with him.

‘Step back!’ Solas cried out and held out his hand in front of me. 

I stared up at the giant hole in my cabin. 

And right where my door used to be, stood a figure, looming between the debris. A large flaming sword was embedded on his armour plate, and two maroon red eyes stared at us maniacally. 

Red Lyrium hummed through his bloodshot face, basking it in an unnatural light.

The Red Templar smiled at me with his blackened teeth and drew his sword. Flames licked at the trees beyond, the scent of smoke thick and suffocating as Haven burned.

They’re here. 

Notes:

I hope you liked it :-)
So this chapter is the start of "In Your Heart Shall Burn". It's gonna be a wild ride folks!

Chapter 41: Burned

Notes:

Update!
Okay, sorry my updates take some time at the moment! I have a summer job and I'm also finishing up my thesis.... But I try my best!

Enjoy!

Then the Maker said:
"To you, My second-born, I grant this gift:
In your heart shall burn
An unquenchable flame
All-consuming, and never satisfied.
From the Fade I crafted you,
And to the Fade you shall return
Each night in dreams
That you may always remember Me."

— Chant of Light, Threnodies 5:1-5:8

 

***

Dark red flaring eyes bore into mine. Terrifying. Evil. Slaughterous. There was no spark of humanity left within those eyes, only a thirst for blood. More red. Everything red. The veins in his face had turned a charcoal black, almost bursting, thick and inflamed. I saw tufts of withered brown hair hanging down from his balding scalp, and between them, from his ears to the top of his head, grew a pike of red flaring stone. It hummed and danced within its own flames. It grew out of him like a virus. An infection. 

‘Step back!’ Solas cried out and held out his hand in front of me.

The Red Templar smirked at us, putting his sharpened, blackened teeth on full display for us. His tongue left a smear of bile as he licked his broken, flaky lips. 

I swallowed. The Red Templar noticed. ‘Did I interrupt, rabbits?’ He spat, his voice humming with the Red Lyrium, almost as if it spoke for him, imitating a human voice. 

My eyes flashed from his drawn, rusty sword, to the forest behind him. An escape route. But we wouldn’t get far— everything was aflame. The pine trees, the path to Haven, the elfroot and the flowers… and the fire climbed across my cabin, and I could already smell the burned wood, the charred paper and melting metal. 

Solas cursed under his breath and glanced down at me. My eyes remained on the Red Templar, determined. The gruesome man took a step forward, smiling at my thin linen shirt. ‘Tasty rabbit, aren’t we?’ The monster hummed again. 

Solas hissed through his teeth, retracted his hand in one swift movement and blasted the Red Templar away with a surge of his magic. 

I swore and jumped aside, rolling over the ground. As I jumped up, my magic already flared on the top of my fingertips. ‘Fen’harel ver na!’ I cursed. Dread Wolf take you. And three giant bolts of electricity fired from my hands. The Red Templar cursed as the bolts struck through his body, electrocuting him. 

I saw Solas grin at me for a second, and then he finished the Red Templar off. He was good at magic without his staff, but we definitely needed to go get it before we fought any more.

‘We need to get to Haven.’ I heaved in panic. 

‘We must warn them of the attack if they have not gone to arms yet.’ Solas picked up my cloak from the ground and threw it at me. ‘Quickly.’ 

I cursed and hauled my leather armour over my head, bound my foot wraps and pulled my cloak over my shoulders. I grabbed my old dagger from my dresser and saw my reflection rush by the mirror. My hair lay wild over my face, but this wasn’t the time to braid it. As soon as I was ready, we ran outside. Just in time before my cabin collapsed. The roof came smashing down. I jumped aside and landed on the ground, staring up at the place I had come to call my own. Now, it lay shattered, burned, in smoke and ash. 

‘We need to move.’ Solas helped me get up. We shared a look, and I saw a slight panic in his eyes. 

We ran through the burning forest, forsaking my collapsing cabin. Some trees were falling to the ground, the path was barely visible. All was cloaked in fire and smoke. I took Solas’ hand and led the way. He followed silently, his palms sweaty. But I knew my way through this part of Haven with my eyes closed. As we finally crossed the treeline, I stopped and stared at the mountain range before us. Thousands of soldiers marched down the valley, torches at hand. My heart stopped. We’re under attack. Red Templars… Who’s leading them? 

The few recruits who had been guarding Haven’s gates lay scattered across the military camp. Two Red Templars lay on the ground near them. 

Shit. 

The other Red Templars were going for the gate while three… wait are those Venatori? Three Venatori soldiers were encircling someone. I couldn’t see who. 

‘We have to help!’ I cried out and ran forward. Solas followed suit. 

I conjured two giant spikes, impaling two of the three Venatori men. Solas went and took care of the two Red Templars storming the gate. He trapped one into solid ice and crashed it into a thousand little pieces with a blast. The other Red Templar, this one having a giant pillar of Red Lyrium as an arm, swung towards Solas. But the Elf jumped aside swiftly. With a sharp wind of mind magic and ice, he pushed the monster back, tumbling it to the ground. On this cue, I turned to his aid, and let roots crack through the snow, ensnaring the Red Templar. But I wasn’t done. Giant thorns formed across either side of the green flaring roots, and they impaled the Red Templar’s skin, bursting through his steel armour. With a twist of my hand, the thorns burst into fire, burning the Red Lyrium humanoid from within.

Behind me, the last Venatori soldier was cut down, two narrow daggers slicing into his back like fangs. A young man retreated his daggers from the dead Venatori soldier’s corpse. His big, patched-up hat masked half of his face. He looked up to us, and I noticed frizzy blonde hair sticking from underneath the giant hat, the bangs too long, they hung over parts of his innocent blue eyes. The lanky kid stared at me. His eyes were large, panicked. 

And I felt like I knew him… from somewhere. 

‘You know me.’ He whispered, his voice soft. 

That voice… ‘Cole?’ I mumbled. The boy who helped us in Envy’s nightmare! 

‘Saeris…’ Solas interrupted warningly, and pointed to the looming army of Red Templars and Venatori storming down the mountains, coming our way. 

Cole ran past us, his footsteps so quiet, I couldn’t even hear the snow crunch. He yelled at the door, ‘I can’t come in unless you open!’

The gates were silent. 

‘Open up! It’s us!’ I called out, banging with my fist on the door. 

With a creaking sound, Maxwell hauled open the gates, Cassandra and Cullen behind him. Their swords were drawn, their faces as white as a sheet. 

‘Thank the Maker! Saeris!’ Maxwell cursed and grabbed my shoulders. ‘Where were you? Is Solas with you… who is…’ Maxwell heaved, and his eyes followed mine towards Cole. I saw Max smile a little in recognition. 

‘Cole… I wondered when I’d see you again.’ He grinned reassuredly. 

‘I came to warn you. To help. People are coming to hurt you. You probably already know.’ Cole spoke rapidly, eyes focused on Maxwell only. 

‘It’s okay, I know him!’ Maxwell hushed behind him to Cassandra, who stared at the blonde boy suspiciously. ‘Cole, do you know what’s going on?’

‘The Templars come to kill you.’ He whispered.

‘Templars?!’ Cullen pushed through Maxwell and Cassandra, his voice loud and angry. Surprised. ‘Is this the Order’s response to our talks with the mages? Attacking blindly?’

Cole hurried a couple of steps back, his eyes big. ‘The Red Templars went to the Elder One.’ The Elder One. Is he here? ‘You know him?’ Cole glanced at me and then at Solas, eyes still big. ‘He knows you. You took some of his Templars and his mages.’ Cole looked over me, lifted his arm and pointed in the distance. ‘There.’ 

My heart stopped, unable to breathe, I looked to where Cole pointed. Towards the burning mountains, high up on a cliff. First, a man appeared there. I couldn’t see much, but I saw his white, ageing face, and filthy, black hair. Next to him stood a woman, also fair-skinned, but with blonde hair. And… behind them… there appeared something huge, a monstrous being. Incredibly tall, maybe double the height of the people standing before him. I could see from afar that his body was mangled, distorted with Red Lyrium, his arms long and his claw-like fingers black and sharp. There wasn’t much left of the Elder One’s face, for the Red Lyrium infection had almost taken over everything. The black armour he wore was embedded into his grey, leather-like skin. He looked like a huge, Red Lyrium-infested corpse. 

That thing sent thousands of little shivers down my spine. 

‘That woman is Calpernia…’ Dorian appeared from behind Cassandra, terribly out of breath, and pointed to the blonde-haired mage. Varric and the others ran after him, their eyes following our stares towards the Elder One. 

‘Ah, shit.’ Bull spat. 

‘She commands the Venatori.’ Dorian continued. Behind him, our troops were already gathering, mages and Templars stood nervously in queues. Some looked to the ground, some dared to stare towards their enemy.

Cullen stepped forward too. ‘And I know that man…’ He mumbled. ‘but this Elder One…’

The Elder One peered at us from afar, and I felt his eyes on us, piercing, full of hatred. 

‘He’s very angry that you took all of his mages.’ Cole said deadpan as if he was just saying the obvious. Well, it was obvious. 

Maxwell had gone paler, paler than before. He could almost disappear into the snow. ‘Cullen! Give me a plan! Anything!’ He ordered, panicked, his eyes still on the Elder One on the mountain. 

Cullen sighed, deeply. It made me more concerned. ‘Haven is no fortress. If we are to withstand this monster, we must control the battle.’ Cullen pointed to the trebuchets at the far end of the military camp. The large, wooden constructions hadn’t been used for ages. ‘Get out there and hit that force. Use everything you can!’ Cullen glanced at me, a worried look on his face. I dipped my head back to him. The Commander nodded and drew his sword, turning towards his recruits behind him. ‘Soldiers!’ Cullen ordered to his troops. ‘Gather the villagers! Fortify and watch for advance forces!’ He turned towards the mages standing between the lines. ‘Mages! You… You have sanction to engage them! That man there is Samson, he will not make it easy!’ Cullen walked back and forth between the lines of soldiers, mages and ex-Templars. The men and women stared back at him bravely. The Commander halted next to Maxwell, who lifted his chin as Cullen continued, ‘Inquisition! With the Herald! For your lives! For all of us!’ He raised his sword into the air, towards the bulk of the mountain, enlightened by the torches of our enemies. Everyone cheered, screamed, cried. 

Many would die today. 

Too many. 

‘Cassandra, Solas, Bull and Varric, you’ll join me at the trebuchets. Cole, you may join me as well.’ Maxwell turned to us, his face confident. ‘Vivienne, you and Dorian go to the Chantry, help the villagers.’ Maxwell finally looked at me. ‘Sera, Blackwall and Saeris, you will have to stay near the gates, make sure no enemies enter!’ 

‘No! I will go with you!’ I stepped forward. I can’t let him go alone. I won’t. 

‘Saeris.’ Maxwell whispered and grabbed my shoulders. ‘I need you here, you’re strong. Halt any Red Templar or Venatori who passes, and help the villagers get out. You understand?’ He shook my shoulders firmly.

‘But…’

‘Please. Trust me. I’ll be fine.’ Maxwell squinted his eyes at me. 

I glanced around. Everyone was staring. Finally, I nodded. 

Please don’t let me regret this. 

‘Good. Let’s move, everyone!’ Maxwell clasped his hands. He winked at me before he turned away, hurrying to the trebuchet at the end of the camp.

‘Promise me you will be careful.’ Solas said before he left, his hand caressing the back of mine.

I retreated my hand slowly, hiding it behind my back awkwardly. ‘I promise.’ I said as I looked down to the ground. 

Solas hesitated for a couple of moments, almost as if he wanted to say something else. But he then turned his back to me and ran behind Maxwell. 

‘Alright.’ Sera grinned. ‘Let’s kick us some arses.’

***

‘Thirty-two!’ Sera took another arrow as a Red Templar plopped down onto the ground, three arrows piercing his chest. She grabbed another arrow and took out yet another enemy that came running towards us. ‘Fifty-three!’ 

‘Sera.’ Blackwall heaved as he smashed his shield against a Venatori soldier’s head. I could hear his skull crack. ‘Ya’re cheating!’

‘Twenty-five!’ She giggled again as another Venatori mage tumbled backwards, dead. ‘I ain’t! I just can’t count!’ She grunted.

A Venatori spellbinder grinned from under his hood towards me, his lips moving rapidly as he readied to make another attack. 

‘Too slow!’ I grinned and took the mage down with a large storm of electricity. I looked to my side and saw another Red Templar storming my way. I readied myself. 

Some Red Templars were more advanced than others. There were men who had red eyes and blackened veins, men with Red Lyrium growing from their heads and arms, and then there were the men and women who didn’t resemble anything anymore, and were slowly growing into Red Lyrium corpses, their bodies scarred and grey. These creatures had gone into a full frenzy, berserk. They didn’t scream as you cut them down, they didn’t bat an eye or flinched at anything. They were as good as dead already. The Venatori mages and soldiers were almost as crazy as their Red Lyrium brethren. They cast their spells so quickly, they didn’t even care they were exhausting and depleting themselves of energy. They gulped down normal, magical Lyrium as if it was water. Their eyes glowed blue because of it, and foam appeared near their mouths. 

I moved my hands and conjured six phantom arrows, firing them forward. Two hit the Red Templar in the head, and three hit him in the chest. The Red Templar moaned and fell down face first, a couple of inches away from me. 

‘One missed!’ Sera grinned. ‘Minus two points!’ 

I rolled my eyes and focused on the next enemy trying to breach our defences. Blackwall laughed though, and gave the strange Elf a fist bump.

I was done fighting another Red Templar as the trebuchet fired a huge flaming rock into the air. The ground shuddered, and the sound of the rock crashing down on the mountain in front of us made me lose my balance. 

‘Bam!’ Sera cheered. 

‘Guys…’ Blackwall cursed. Behind us, five enemies had slipped through, climbing over the wooden stronghold walls. 

‘Stay here! I’ll take care of them!’ I heaved and ran inside.

Near the extinguished bonfire, six villagers were encircled by the Red Templars who had slipped past me. Two human men, a human woman and a female Elf, and two young children hiding behind their human mother were crying and begging for their lives. In front of them, an Inquisition scout and a Templar were cursing and threatening, waving their swords in an attempt to keep the Red Lyrium monsters away.

‘Maker curse you!’ The Templar yelled. I had seen her around. What was her name… Lysette? She never once talked to me. I remembered she didn’t even look me in the eye… certainly not after what happened with Simon. The Templars and ex-Templars at Haven despised me. But right now, I didn’t care for their opinion. I will help them, if Lysette likes it or not. 

I laid my hand flat on the ground, willing it to move. Two spikes erupted from the earth, impaling one Red Templar, and hurting another. The creatures roared, their group dispersing. 

Lysette and the other scout attacked. Together we took out the rest of them. 

‘Go! To the Chantry!’ I heaved to the shivering villagers, who had pressed themselves against a cabin wall for safety. ‘Now!’ 

The villagers murmured, frightened, and ran up the hill. The Inquisition scout nodded at me gratefully and followed the villagers. 

‘Thank you.’ Lysette grunted, finally looking at me. 

I dipped my head silently.

Suddenly, the earth thundered again. I turned around and ran back to the gates, just in time to see that another flaming rock had been fired from a trebuchet. It had hit the mountainside, creating a huge avalanche of debris and snow. I watched as the curtain of ice and death buried the enemy troops that were still marching down the valley. They cried out in surprise, buried alive. 

Good. 

The lights of their torches that had been enlightening the mountains dimmed, extinguishing with the avalanche. 

‘That’s friggin’ awesome!’ Sera cheered and clapped her hands. 

‘That’ll teach ‘em!’ Blackwall wiped some red flaring blood from his face, sweat dripping down his beard. 

I stared at the mass grave before us, the white snow still rummaging through the valley. It was too quiet. Too easy. 

Something else is coming. 

A huge, loud screech filled the silent air, thundering louder than the avalanche ever did. I held my breath as the screech came closer and closer. 

A sound I had heard before. 

I ran to Sera and Blackwall, eyes opened wide as I screamed. ‘DRAGON!’ The great beast blasted one of the trebuchets into little pieces, splinters flying through the heavy air. 

‘Oh… balls.’ Sera mumbled, her eyes following the dark, winged creature crossing the sky above us.

‘Everyone to the gates!’ Commander Cullen ran towards us, his troops behind him. His golden eyes were big and panicked. His armour had turned black with blood and bile. ‘Pull back, now!’ He screamed as he passed us. 

Sera and Blackwall turned around immediately, following the troops inside. 

The military camp and its tents, dummies and training pits were burning to the ground. ‘Blasted shoulder!’ Harritt, the blacksmith, cursed. He was barging with his fist on the door of his house near the stables. 

‘Saeris!’ Commander Culler yelled at me. 

Fuck! I ran towards the forge, jumping over the frozen bodies of Inquisition soldiers, villagers, Red Templars and Venatori. They had just died… how are their corpses frozen already? The air was growing darker and cloudier, the wind raging against me as I sprinted towards the blacksmith. A storm was coming. 

‘Move! I’ll try to open it!’ I yelled at Harritt.

‘Thank you!’ Harritt wheezed. The cottage was on fire, and debris was blocking its entrance. I tried to push it away first but failed. I summoned magic on my hands, preparing to blast the whole damn wall away.

‘Incoming!’ The Iron Bull came running towards me. I jumped aside just in time as Bull smashed into the door, horns forward. ‘Here you go!’ He roared. Maxwell, Cassandra, Varric, Solas and Cole were hurrying behind the Qunari man. They were covered in blood and dust and wood. Their faces were pale, lips blue because of the cold.

‘Good one!’ Harritt hurried inside his ruined home. I saw him take a small necklace from the table, opening it in a hurry. On the inside, there was a picture of a woman. The fire had not burned it away yet. ‘Just grabbing the essentials.’ Harritt huffed. ‘Won’t die for the forge!’ The smithy then ran back outside, sprinting towards the gates.

‘Thanks, Bull.’ Maxwell smacked the Qunari on his back. Bull straightened himself, and plucked some dust from his horns. ‘Saeris! Are you alright? Have you seen the…’

‘Who didn’t?’ Varric spat some blood on the snow. 

‘Yes. I’ve seen it.’ I nodded. ‘But we have to move, now! They are evacuating the village!’ 

Soldiers and mages were running towards the gates, leaving their posts, their belongings, everything behind as the dragon raged above us. 

We ran back towards Cullen. ‘Move it! Move it!’ He yelled. As soon as all of us were inside, the Commander hauled the doors closed. ‘We need everyone back to the Chantry! It’s the only building that might hold against… that beast!’ 

I stared at the sky and saw how the stars disappeared behind a dark creature, the span of its wings double the size of its body. The dragon screeched again.

Cullen sighed as he looked towards the Herald, his voice softer as he whispered. ‘At this point… just make them work for it.’ The Commander didn’t look at me as he turned around and marched towards the Chantry with his men.

This can’t be happening. We can’t lose! 

Maxwell put his hand on my shoulders. ‘See? I’m fine. They haven’t killed us yet!’ He winked at me. He hadn’t lost hope. Not yet. We followed Cullen upstairs but saw that some Red Templars and Venatori had climbed across Haven’s walls like before. 

Maxwell raised his hand. ‘We’ll take care of them! Cullen, reform your troops. We’ll meet you at the Chantry!’ 

The Commander nodded and hurried forward, while we turned right towards the fighting. Some survivors had fled into the tavern. Two Inquisition soldiers were holding back three Red Templars as the monsters tried to get inside. 

‘Shitty… arse… red things!’ Sera cursed as she shot down one of the Red Templars with an arrow to the face. 

Cole appeared from behind me. I yelped out in surprise as he jumped across the path, hauling his daggers across the enemies.

We killed the other Red Templars, and the people who had been hiding in the tavern hurried back outside. 

‘It’s burning!’ They screamed. 

Fire was climbing across the tavern’s walls as the villagers stumbled outside, trampling on one another. 

‘Shit!’ Bull cursed and helped some people get up.

‘Get to the Chantry!’ Cassandra ordered. 

‘I can’t get up! Help me! It hurts!’ Someone was still inside, screaming anxiously. 

‘Flissa’s still in there!’ Varric cried out. 

‘Maxwell, no!’ I screamed, but Maxwell already jumped inside the burning tavern.

I had almost jumped in after him, but Solas grabbed my arms, pulling me back against his chest. After a couple of seconds, Maxwell hurried back outside again, Flissa hanging on his shoulders. Her face was smeared with dust and smoke, and she coughed badly. But she was alive. 

‘Damnit Max!’ I cursed.

Blackwall took Flissa from Maxwell’s shoulders, looking at the weak girl, concerned. 

‘Take her to the Chantry… Go!’ Cassandra looked down at Flissa motherly. Blackwall nodded and ran back to where we came from.

‘Don’t worry, Saeris!’ Maxwell smirked. ‘I have Andraste on my side.’ He smiled and lifted his hands to the sky. At that point, the roof of the tavern collapsed. ‘See?’ He winked at us. 

‘Help!’ Other people screamed. 

We saved Adan near his apothecary. But for Mineave, the Elf who did research for the Inquisition, we were too late. She was barricaded behind the doors of the healer’s hut. The pots filled with herbs exploded before we could get to her.

Adan cursed and then cried. ‘Our Lady is with you, Herald! Thank you!’ He heaved. 

‘She’s not hurting now.’ Cole was standing in front of the burning Healer’s hut. 

‘I’m sorry.’ I whispered to the flames. I’m sorry we couldn’t save you. 

‘Fenedhis!’ Solas cursed as he blasted the door of his cabin away. ‘I have to retrieve my staff!’ He cursed and went inside. 

‘Solas!’ I screamed as his cabin burst into flames. 

But the Elf hurried back outside, ice coating his body. ‘I have it.’ He sighed, twisting his staff in his hands, the crystal on top buzzing with familiarity. 

We continued for the gates, and came across the body of Threnn, alongside two Venatori. We also couldn’t save Seggrit, the merchant… I heard he died while trying to grab some of his wares. 

I wanted to save everyone. I wish I had. But there were so many things going on… so many deaths…

I hope they are at peace. I hope that they find the beyond they deserve. To their Maker’s, or their Creators’, side. 

‘Move! Keep going! The Chantry is your shelter!’ Chancellor Roderick was standing inside the Chantry doors and called out to the villagers who ran inside. His face had turned from cranky to worried, pale. Blood was splattered on his white, Chantry gown. Vivienne was standing next to him. She smiled faintly as she saw us running towards them.

We ran inside and closed the doors behind us. Inside, the Chantry was full of people and soldiers, wounded and scared. Lost. We were with so many… just some hours ago… I never… I never got the chance to speak to most of them… to look them in the eyes. 

I never dared to. 

I always thought they wouldn’t look back at me. 

But I never gave people a chance to become a part of my life. 

And now, I might’ve lost friends I never had. 

‘Maker, save us!’ Chancellor Roderick huffed and collapsed onto the floor. Cole was beside him, his face partly obscured by the shadow of his hat. The Chancellor moaned slightly and stared at the young boy under his shoulder. 

‘He tried to stop a Templar. The blade went deep. He’s going to die.’ Cole murmured, almost too silent to hear. His face was pulled into a sad, and painful grimace, almost as if he was hurting himself. As if he could feel it. 

‘What a charming boy…’ The Chancellor heaved. 

‘Here! Quickly!’ Some healers had made it and had regrouped alongside Andraste’s statue at the back of the Chantry hall. Cole pulled the Chancellor upright and helped him get to the makeshift beds that were scattered on the ground. 

I went and sat down next to some of the human healers. There was one surgeon and two nurses left. Adan was helping too, although he didn’t have any ingredients ready to make health potions. I knelt down next to an Elven man squirming on the ground. My magic slowly left my hands, tracing his body for wounds, and closing them carefully. 

‘Herald!’ Commander Cullen pushed through the crowd and stopped in front of Maxwell, who was talking in hushed tones to Cassandra not far from me. 

The Seeker nodded, her hand squishing Maxwell’s shoulder tenderly before she stepped aside. 

‘Our position is not good.’ Cullen continued. ‘That dragon stole back any time you might have earned us.’ His fur armour coat was covered in blood, the golden sheen turning copper. His face was pale, bloodied. There was a nasty, deep cut alongside his forehead, and drops of blood were dripping down onto his blonde, thick and furrowed eyebrows.

‘I’ve seen an Archdemon.’ Cole mumbled from Chancellor Roderick’s side. His eyes were large, skipping from one corner of the room to another as if he was hearing everything and everyone at once. ‘I was in the Fade, but it looked like that.’ 

What? He was in the Fade? He means he was dreaming, right?

‘I don’t care what it looks like!’ Cullen sighed deeply, frustrated. ‘It has cut a path for that army. They’ll kill everyone in Haven!’

‘The Elder One doesn’t care about the village.’ Cole interrupted again, his voice calmly monotone now. ‘He only wants the Herald.’ 

The man underneath my hand winced as I stood up quickly, my eyes piercing through Maxwell. 

Maxwell glanced at me. ‘If it will save these people…’ His eyes crossed the room and found Cassandra. I saw him shiver. ‘He can have me.’

‘Maxwell. No.’ I stepped over the freshly dead bodies on the ground, passing the Chancellor and Cole, and grabbed Maxwell’s arm firmly. ‘No.’ I bit again.

‘It won’t.’ Cole stared at us, his voice shook a little. ‘He wants to kill you. No one else matters, but he’ll crush them, and kill them anyway. I don’t like him.’ 

‘You don’t like…?’ Cullen raised his shoulders in confusion and annoyance. ‘Herald, there are no tactics to make this survivable. The only thing that slowed them was the avalanche. We could turn the remaining trebuchets, cause one last slide.’ The Commander dropped his firm, confident shoulders.

Maxwell shook his head. ‘We’re overrun. To hit the enemy, we’d bury Haven.’ He pulled away his arm so I’d let go. His eyes were strong and determined as he looked down at me. No need to worry. I’ll fix this. I’ll fix everything. That’s what he was thinking. 

He was wrong. 

Tears started to form between my lashes. I looked down for a moment. 

Is this the end?

A hand caressed my lower back, its warmth sipping through my wet and cold clothes. Solas smiled softly at me, his eyes calm. 

Everyone started to gather around us. Leliana, Josephine and Varric, Vivienne, Sera, Blackwall, Dorian and Bull… we were all together. Cassandra took Maxwell’s hand in hers. He stared at her long, dirty fingers entangling with his.

‘We’re dying, but we can decide how.’ Cullen glanced at me, his eyes boring into mine apologetically. ‘Many don’t get that choice.’ 

Many don’t, indeed. 

‘Yes, that.’ Cole intervened and looked the Chancellor in the eyes. ‘Chancellor Roderick can help. He wants to say it before he dies.’

The old man stared at our group. As he spoke, blood-coloured spit dripped from his cracked lips. ‘There is a path. You wouldn’t know it unless you’d made the summer pilgrimage. As I have.’ Roderick pushed himself up, and the healers cursed as their bandages slipped from his wounds. ‘The people can escape. She must’ve shown me. Andraste must have shown me so I could… tell you.’

‘What are you on about?’ Maxwell took the man’s shoulders, lifting him upright. His eyes were big, hopeful. 

‘It was a whim that I walked the path. I did not mean to start, it was overgrown. Now, with so many in the Conclave dead, to be the only one who remembers… I don’t know, Herald.’ Roderick coughed. ‘If this simple memory can save us, this could be more than a mere accident. You could be more.’

Maxwell let go of the Chancellor’s shoulders slightly and looked over his shoulder to the Commander. ‘What about it, Cullen? Will it work?’

‘Possibly.’ Cullen’s lips turned up ever so slightly, his golden brown eyes brightening. ‘ If he shows us the path. But what of your escape?’

No. 

Maxwell stared into the empty space above the hunched Chancellor, towards the hundreds of flickering candles at Andraste’s marble feet. And I could clearly see what he wanted to do. 

Over my dead body. 

Hell no. 

He will not go out there. I won’t let him. 

‘Perhaps you will surprise it, find a way…’ Commander Cullen whispered, his eyes sad. 

‘No.’ I stepped forward, my voice so loud it surprised the others standing near us. ‘Maxwell, I will not let you kill yourself. It’s too dangerous.’

Maxwell grinned. ‘Saeris, I’ll be…’

‘No! You won’t be fine! This is suicide!’ My voice cracked at the end. The tears dripped over my swollen and red cheeks. 

‘There is no other way, Saeris.’ Maxwell rested his hand on my shoulder. I shook it off angrily. 

‘I’ll go. You’re too important.’

‘No. You can’t. This is… this is my duty. Only I can do this.’ Maxwell dangled his hand to his side. ‘This is my destiny.’

‘Please…’ I heaved, panicked. I can’t lose him… not another friend… a brother. ‘I promised I’d protect you.’

‘And you have.’ Maxwell took my hand and kissed my bruised knuckles. ‘Now, it’s my turn.’ 

***

He took a couple of minutes to prepare and to say goodbye to everyone. 

I can’t let this happen. In good conscience, I can’t. I won’t. 

Maxwell was standing in front of Cassandra, they were holding hands. Their voices were so soft I couldn’t hear them from where I was standing. But I saw how difficult the words were leaving their lips, how slow and… painful. Cassandra laughed half-heartedly at the joke Maxwell cracked, but she couldn’t fully. She knew he was saying goodbye. Forever. 

Solas was standing next to me, talking. But I wasn’t listening. My eyes were glued to my friend… my friend who was going to let himself be killed… for us… for me. 

‘He will not perish.’ Solas wanted to put his hand on my shoulder, but I stepped aside stubbornly. ‘He is resourceful, he will find a way.’ Solas retreated his hand slowly, his eyes searching for mine.

I stared at the ground. Papers were scattered everywhere. Books, notes, letters… floating through the Chantry, burning between the candles. I bit my tongue until my mouth filled itself with blood. And it was hot. Boiling with pure wrath. 

I will not let Maxwell die. 

‘I know, Solas.’ My voice was hard, cold. And I was lying. Pretending to be alright with… with letting him go and die for nought. 

The Chantry was emptying itself as people hurried through the small door that led to the path… to safety. Everyone was helping, carrying each other. 

‘Don’t do stupid things, kid.’ Varric smacked Maxwell’s back amicably, but his voice was filled with sadness. 

‘Kick that Elder Arse’s… arse!’ Sera snickered. 

‘What she said.’ The Iron Bull tried to laugh. But it didn’t quite work. 

‘Herald, ya’re an honourable man. Andraste guide you.’ Blackwall lifted his chin respectfully.

‘Too bad we haven’t been able to talk much.’ Maxwell smiled back at the Grey Warden. 

‘You must be careful, my dear.’ Vivienne’s lips curled slightly, but honestly. She truly cared. 

‘Oh, you’ll be just fine! With your luck, you must be!’ Dorian was standing next to Bull, his fabulous armour dirty and tattered. But his face was bright and hopeful. 

‘Good luck, Herald.’ Solas stepped forwards to Maxwell, his hands bound to his back, not letting any doubt or sign of fear slip through.

‘Take care of her.’ Maxwell glanced at me. I couldn’t look up to his stare, and bit my lip more, turning it into mush. 

‘I will.’ Solas answered softly. 

Almost all people had left for the path below. Now, Varric and the others turned back too. Only Maxwell, Cassandra, Cullen, Solas and I remained. 

‘Come.’ Solas grabbed my hand firmly and stepped back. But I planted my feet on the ground, not moving even an inch. 

‘I’ll come… You go already.’ I mumbled, still staring at the ground. We couldn’t take the dead with us, so the corpses will all remain here, with Andraste, buried underneath Her shelter. 

Solas lingered for a moment, and I almost feared he would drag me downstairs. But then, he nodded and turned around, strutting towards the others. 

‘Saeris.’ Maxwell took my chin between his fingers, lifting me up so he could look into my eyes. ‘Go.’

‘I’ll go.’ I lied. ‘I just want to see you as long as possible.’ I faked a sad smile, and tried to look away, wrenching my face from his grasp. 

‘… I’ll see you soon, alright?’ Maxwell blinked a couple of times too much, and it betrayed the tiny tears that he had been trying to hide.

‘Okay.’ I whispered brokenly. 

Some scouts passed us, running outside.

‘They’ll load the trebuchets. Keep the Elder One’s attention until we’re above the tree line.’ Commander Cullen laid his hand on Maxwell’s back. ‘If we are to have a chance, if you are to have a chance, let that thing hear you.’

Maxwell smiled and nodded and walked back to the Chantry door. He stopped next to Cassandra and smiled at her. 

She smiled back. 

And then, Maxwell opened the door, letting the bright white light seep into the dark room filled with death.

And there, in that heavenly light, he disappeared, the heavy doors closing behind him, casting us into darkness. He hadn’t even looked back.

He was ready to die. 

But I wasn’t ready for that. 

Cassandra walked back to me and stopped. ‘We have to go now.’

‘I know.’

‘You won’t be coming with us, will you?’ She sighed. Of course, she saw right through me. 

‘I have to protect him, Cassandra.’

‘I know.’

‘Don’t tell Solas until you’ve left Haven. The Inquisition needs him.’ I stared at the black doors in front of me. 

I will follow Maxwell into the light. 

If I am mortal now, I’ll die for what is right. For my friend. And that isn’t such a bad death. I’ll welcome it. 

‘Maker be with you.’ Cassandra took my shoulder and squeezed it. 

‘And with you.’ I smiled and looked up at the Seeker. ‘Good luck.’

Cassandra dipped her head and took off. She didn’t look back either. She and Maxwell really belong together. I’ll make sure that happens. 

‘Saeris, what are you… no.’ Cullen stopped in front of me. ‘You will not go out there.’

‘I will, Cullen.’ 

‘Maker… You will die!’ He yelled. 

‘And so will Maxwell if I don’t do something!’ I cursed and stepped aside, going for the Chantry doors. ‘I promised…’

Cullen blocked my exit again, his whole body hovering above mine. ‘Saeris.’ He doesn’t call me Lady anymore. Good. 

I sighed and took his face between my hands, and he closed his eyes at my touch. Slowly, my magic spiralled from my fingertips, curling over his stubble, his cheeks, towards the deep cut on his forehead. He didn’t back away, but let my magic slowly close the wound, stitching the skin back together carefully. 

‘There.’ I smiled, my eyes watery. ‘That’s better.’

‘Be careful.’ Cullen whispered, his eyes still closed. 

‘Of course.’ I lied. 

Cullen didn’t open his eyes as I stepped around him towards the doors. I grinned as I opened them, light and wind and snow stinging my face. I breathed in the air and closed the doors behind me. The Commander disappeared back into the darkness within, his armour covered with flickering shadows cast by Andraste’s candles. His eyes were open as I glanced at him one more time through the crack of the doors as I closed them. 

They were confident. 

As was I. 

***

Outside, it was empty. The only sound was the wind screeching and blazing past the burning houses. I stepped over the corpses on the ground that were almost completely buried underneath the snow. Faces I recognized, and faces I didn’t, all were the same now. 

I saw the familiar pattern of Maxwell’s boots imprinted on the ground. They lead down the hill, towards the trebuchets.

It was awfully quiet, a silence before yet another storm. 

And what a storm it would be. 

But that wouldn’t hold me back. The cold won’t, the wind won’t. No friend or foe. Not the Elder One. Not even destiny. 

This is what I have to do. 

Mortal or not. Human or Elven. I will do this. 

And if I’ll die, so be it. I’ve lived long enough. Maxwell is still young. He deserves a chance, how small it may be. I will give it to him.

I will give it my all to protect him. 

I passed Solas’ burning cabin, Adan’s apothecary, the tavern… I ran past the extinguished campfire and Haven’s gates, the military camp and the stables… and I could feel Maxwell’s presence growing. I was close. He’s still alive, I can still help him. 

A small smile curled on my lips. 

We’ll confront the Elder One together… we’ll fire the trebuchets. I’ll distract the Elder One as Maxwell escapes. That’s the plan. It’ll work. It has to. We can still have the higher ground. 

We can still…

I cried out, screaming at the top of my lungs. But no sound could leave my mouth. I hunched over, my knees digging into the ground. The snow beneath me slowly turned a crimson red. Blood. 

My blood. 

I winced as the steel sword that pierced my stomach was slowly retreated from my flesh. It left a gaping hole inside of me, and I felt the wind passing through me like I was a ghost. 

It felt unreal. 

It hurt… but it didn’t… at first. And then it did. I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe… 

My fingers pushed against my wound instinctively, as if it would stop the blood from pouring out, and stared at my hands covered in deep red, warm blood. I choked, coughed, and felt how my blood dripped from my body, seeping into the ground like the roots of a tree. Deep. Thick. 

The snow cracked underneath the heavy footsteps that slowly walked around me, teasingly. The steel boots stopped in front of me, and I could smell the Red Lyrium, hear it buzzing and see it glowing from the hand that lifted up my face. 

The Red Templar kneeled in front of me and grinned, his teeth blackened and rotten.

I tried to breathe, but could only heave ever so slightly.

Simon cocked his head and smiled brighter. 

‘I’ve been looking for you, Saeris.’

Notes:

TaTaTaaaaaahhh guess who's back? Back again? It's Simon! Yay?

This was the first part of In Your Heart Shall Burn. Next chapter will contain even more dramatic *gasp* situations! Thank you for reading and have a great day!

Chapter 42: Saved

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

— Dylan Thomas

 

***

The steel of the sword felt cold against my skin, against the warm blood gushing out of my wound. I’ve been stabbed before. But not like this. Not this deep. The tip of the edged blade pierced through my back and I could see my pale and shocked reflection in the muddied steel that stuck through my stomach. Gashed. Impaled. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. I could only stare at the blood spreading underneath me, clawing through the snow faster and faster, thicker and thicker. My hands reached for my wound instinctively as the blade was slowly retreated from my flesh. 

I felt every inch drag against my intestines. 

I heard the scraping of the metal against my skin. 

I smelled my own blood, tasted it in my mouth. 

I wondered how long that blade had been inside of me, how long it took to retreat it from my body. It felt like hours. I hadn’t breathed, hadn’t blinked, hadn’t cried or winced. 

My knees were drenched in ice and blood, cold and warm. 

I couldn’t focus on the Red Templar in front of me. Not until he spoke, lifting my chin upwards.

It was then that my mind started to work again, that I recognized his face. 

‘S…’ I gurgled. Spit rolled over my chin, its consistency red and thick. It dripped down my neck and underneath my bloodied leather armour. ‘Simon.’

Simon smiled. His teeth had turned black, his brown hair grey, falling from his head in patchy locks. The veins on his face were on the verge of popping and glowed a familiar red. Shards of Red Lyrium followed the lines of his face, along his brows to his jawbone. His lips were brown, almost a greyish black. And his eyes… a mix of empty grey and full, glaring red.

‘I’ve been looking for you, Saeris.’ He whispered against my ears, his voice mixing with the buzzing Red Lyrium. He said my name slowly, pronouncing every syllable as if it was a moan. Deep, sultry, and full of hatred. 

Not him. Not now.

Maxwell… 

‘Not happy to see me?’ Simon grinned and let go of my face, slowly taking a step back to get a better look at me. His eyes followed my trembling figure. There was no humanity left in them. 

The blood splattered across my hands. Slowly, I willed my magic. It took everything. But after some seconds, I felt my fingertips glow against my wound. The flesh knitted together teasingly slow. But it was healing silently, tissue by tissue, skin by skin. It felt like a needle was trying to sew my stomach back together with my own blood as its thread. 

‘Go to hell.’ I managed to gasp. More blood splattered over my face. 

‘Already been there.’ Simon grinned.

I cried out hoarsely as he grabbed my neck, my throat bobbing from the lack of air. He lifted me up, my whole body floating from the ground, and held me before his looming figure. My healing hands let go of my stomach, and I felt some of the knitted flesh rip against my own weight. 

‘Now,’ Simon tutted mockingly, ‘Let’s not undo my work.’ The hand he held across my throat squeezed the remaining air out of me, and I saw his red flaring veins colour a bright blue. 

‘Don’t!’ I choked, squirming against his smothering grip. But it was too late. The little Lyrium that was still flowing through his body, reached his fingertips and crossed over to my skin, climbing in between my pores. 

He was Smiting me. Like he had done so many years ago after I first met him. Like he had done to take me to the Circle. Only this time he wouldn’t take me anywhere. He only wanted to kill me. 

Maxwell! I can’t lose my magic now! I can’t help Maxwell like this! No! 

But I felt the thousands of little needles pricking my skin, weeding me from my powers. My magic dripped away from me like water - like my own blood was doing from the partly-healed wound in my stomach. 

I’m done for. 

‘Here we are.’ Simon laughed, almost howling from satisfaction as he dropped me back on the ground, into my own puddle of blood and ice. 

I screamed as my wound ripped open again, and I felt how my skin was holding on as if by a thread. 

‘You should’ve killed me when you had the chance.’ Simon walked around my quivering figure balled up between the dirt. ‘But I knew you couldn’t hurt me, Saeris.’ 

He stopped next to my face, his armour squeaking as he squatted down. 

‘You bastard.’ I heaved. You damned bastard. I’ll kill him. I’m going to murder him, cut him into a thousand pieces and burn his flesh with my own hands. I swear. 

‘What? I can’t hear you?’ Simon cackled sarcastically. He lowered his head to mine, turning his ear in jest to my mouth. But before he could fully turn away, I lifted up my chin and spat. The mixture of spittle and thick, clogging blood splashed across his face, dripping down his hollow cheeks. 

‘You little bitch…’ Simon mumbled as he wiped away my bloodied saliva with his thumb and pointer finger. He didn’t have any nails anymore, I noticed. He raised himself slowly, as if it hadn’t bothered him, and walked around my body, stopping in front of my smaller, but still heavily bleeding, gaping wound. ‘I don’t understand I ever wanted a rat like you.’ He growled. 

I shrieked as Simon buried his dirty, cold, steel boots into my stomach. The kick was hard, brutal. I felt the push all the way against the inside of my lower back. I rolled a few feet away by his sheer strength, ending up on my back, my eyelids turning heavy as the clouded sky greeted me. The dagger on my belt loosened from its sheath and clattered away from me as I rolled back. Hiccupping, tears started to roll down my face, my body convulsing with pain I couldn’t feel anymore. I almost felt nothing but the ice-cold wind. 

‘You’re really something.’ Simon sighed and slowly skulked my way, the snow crunching underneath his towering figure. ‘Normal rabbits would be dead already. But you’re not normal, are you?’

My heart was pumping rapidly, faster and faster the closer he came. He’ll kill me. And there’s nothing I can do. I’m nothing without my magic. Now, I’m just a wounded, little rabbit… If I die… 

No. I can’t die now. 

If I am mortal, and I let this… monster… kill me… I can’t help Maxwell. 

But the pain will be over? Everything will be over? You’ll be warm, you won’t be alone anymore.

Death will find me one way or another. But not yet. Not when my friend needs me. He can’t die. Not now, not when this world needs him more than ever.

But the world doesn’t need you, does it? Does Maxwell even need you? Probably not.

I don’t care if he needs me. I need him to live. And I can’t rest until I’m sure of that. 

Then why are you laying here? Kill the bastard. 

I stared at the burning sun above me, its light was starting to engulf me, pulling me into its blinding warmth. And as if it was a heavenly sign, the sun flashed dark. Not by a cloud, not because I closed my eyes… but because of the dragon screeching along the skies. 

Heaven doesn’t want me just yet. 

‘I’ll be gentle.’ Simon stopped in front of me and kicked my dagger away before I could reach it, and it skittered even further away, until it became buried beneath debris and snow. I curled my back against the ground, bracing myself. 

I’m going to kill Simon. 

I will. 

‘You should’ve let me in. You should’ve accepted me. This–this wouldn’t have happened.’ He raised his muddied sword into the air, dangling it above me. It was caked with my own, semi-dried blood. ‘We had such potential.’ It lasted a second. His hesitation. There was a flicker of doubt in his eyes, a sliver of humanity flashing in his enlarged, maroon pupils. For that small, but everlasting second, I pitied him.

But I didn’t doubt it. Not anymore. 

The humanity, the light in his eyes, was gone as quickly as it had appeared, and the Red Lyrium took over again. 

The Templar I had despised had been dead for a while. Simon screamed, the Red Lyrium in his body singing his sorrow, as he dragged his sword down towards me. 

Now!

I rolled away just in time, screeching at the top of my lungs because of the effort it took. The steel sword impaled itself into the ground. 

‘Shit!’ Simon cursed, his neck muscles straining as he tried pulling his sword out of the ground. 

I scurried to my feet, but couldn’t straighten myself completely as I felt my wound rip with every little movement. Hunched over, I tiptoed on my feet to get the feeling in my legs back. Spit dripped from my mouth, sweat gleaming on my face. ‘The… only potential we ever had… was death.’ The words flowed from my lips like venom. They rolled off of my tongue with so much hatred, so much odium… I almost didn’t recognize my own, scowling voice. Hoarse, soft but so loud, and deep. ‘So let’s get it over with.’

Simon roared and thrashed his sword from the ground with so much strength, it made the earth shudder. He ran forwards, like a whirlwind, his sword ready to carve my face out. 

I’m not so strong. I’m not able with swords or with a bow… Maybe the only thing I’m really good at is using my magic. Without it, I should be lost. 

But I’ve been alive for too damn long to be killed by such a whiny bastard. 

And I’ve been alive long enough to know that men driven by rage are often blinded by it. So much that they can’t even see me coming. 

Instead of running away, I ran forward.

Unarmed. Powerless. Wounded. But not scared. 

Simon drove his weapon forward, but I ducked and lunged across his towering body. The Red Lyrium in his blood sang stronger, feeding Simon more and more of that enraging power. Simon turned on his feet, foam sprouting from his mouth. Again, he raised his sword, swinging it above my head. I cried out as the tip of my left ear was cut off, the warm blood gushing down my earlobe, spreading across my pale white hair.

Simon took another swing, but this time I jumped aside fast enough. 

Adrenaline rushed inside of me, taking away the pain of my open stomach, my pulsing ear… until there was nothing but pure focus left. Focus and burning wrath. I sprinted forwards, too quick for Simon to react. Jumping into the air, I stretched my legs in front of me, pushing with all of my power against his chest. Simon gasped and fell backwards, his sword falling from his hands a few feet away. 

I too fell with my back onto the ground, my wound scraping across the snow. 

I ground my teeth until I could feel them crack and chip against the inside of my cheek. Blood filled my mouth entirely. 

For a moment, Simon and I were both on the ground, the sword an equal distance away from our tired bodies. 

I raised myself up, and so did Simon. We shared a look, our eyes connecting so deeply, maybe for the first time ever. My green eye started to coil, to burst into emerald flames. I felt power… a power I hadn’t felt before. 

There was still some magic left in me. 

A little puddle. 

It was foreign, maybe a drop of a river I had never been able to reach before. 

Simon saw it too and was almost frozen by looking at it too long, too deeply. Almost. He blinked and cursed, his face pale, his lips parting. The Red Lyrium in his veins danced, urging him to go faster and faster, to strike me down right now. With his bare hands if that’s what was necessary. 

He rushed forward. 

I looked at my side, to the sword buried underneath the snow and blood, and stretched out my arm, my fingers flexing. 

Please, please, please! 

Simon was right in front of me, his body tumbling down on me, his gloved, spiked fists ready to finish me off once and for all. 

And then, faster than a second, faster than I could think or even realise what had happened, the steel sword lunged into the air and into my hand. The jagged point raised into the air and the sword trembled in my hand. Simon screamed out in surprise, but it was too late. As he tumbled down on me, not his fist, but his sword reached its victim first. 

The sun reflected on the silver of the sword that stuck out of Simon’s back. 

It had cut through his armour like butter and impaled his heart. 

He was hanging over me, his face inches from mine. I could even feel the pulsing heat of the Red Lyrium embedded in his face, in his veins. He winced and wheezed a jagged breath, drops of too-warm, glowing blood dripping on my cold cheeks. Like tears. 

‘Saeris.’ He groaned.

I held my breath, unable to move as I held him there hanging on the sword in my trembling hands. 

With wide-spread eyes, Simon stared down at me. Tears of bile and blood dripped down his chin.

I bit the inside of my lower lip and pushed the sword forward, hearing it slice deeper through Simon’s body. He groaned again as I tilted the sword backwards, retreating it ever so slowly from his body like he had done to me. 

I couldn’t help the wicked smile that danced around my lips and wondered who the real monster was right now.

With the last inches of the sword pulling back from his body, Simon gasped for air. But it flowed right through him. Right now, we were equal.

I pushed Simon away with my legs, his body flopping down on his back. Staring up at the sky, his eyes shook, the pupils dilating at the sight of the blinding light of the sun radiating on his face.

‘Saeris.’ He whispered again. Not as a curse. Not full of hate. But as a prayer. I raised myself, wincing at my tearing wound, the cold stinging my insides. I limped towards him, stopping next to his face, staring down at the man I hated so. 

Simon looked away from the sun, but the light didn’t yet leave his eyes as he stared at me. A crooked grin curled on his lips, tears streaming down his cheeks. One more time, he breathed, clouds dancing from his stilling body.

‘Saeris.’

He exhaled, the sound barely leaving his lips, the lights dying out in his damned eyes. The Red Lyrium kept glowing in his veins for some seconds, and then all turned pitch black, drying out on the spot. 

It’s done. 

I’ve killed him. 

I stared at the man buried in the snow and contemplated going back inside. I was so cold and in so much pain.

I dangled my hands to my sides and felt the wind howling through my body, cascading against the emptiness inside of me. In the distance, I heard the Elder One’s dragon screeching through the heavens, and for a second I wondered if it was going to come for me, take me to hell. 

And as the screeching came closer and closer, I braced myself, back towards the battlefield, eyes still staring at the shallow look in Simon’s pupils. 

But the dragon didn’t come. Not for me. I turned around slowly, eyeing the empty military camp.

It’s not coming for me. 

Maxwell!

I almost howled as I limped forward, my hands clutching my stomach. My ear had stopped bleeding, and I couldn’t feel the wind gushing against it. Trying not to think too much about how my body was dying, I kept hurrying forward. With a hard wince, I ducked to uncover my dagger from underneath Maker-knows-what. Not that it would help me fight a dragon, but I felt a little more secure when I sheathed it again to my hip.

Continuing on, I tried to find a path between the frozen corpses on the ground and winced when I felt something crack underneath my feet. It wasn’t snow. Don’t look down.

The echo of the screeching, roaring dragon, high-pitched and clamorous, filled the abandoned village, filled my body with fear. I have to go faster! Faster! 

In the distance, I could already see the trebuchet, ready to fire. The wooden weapon was partly obscured by grey and black scaled wings, crossed with scars and blood and Red Lyrium. I hurried closer, my feet louder than I wanted to.

As I neared the clearing, I stopped behind the partly-destroyed stronghold walls of Haven and stared at the scene unfolding. The dragon scowled in front of me, its enormous, spiked back turned towards me, its tail swinging against the ground like a dog ready for its meal. And in front of that dragon, stood the Elder One. 

He—or it—was even more grotesque from close by. A mangled, grey corpse. Darkspawn. He looked like darkspawn. Little was left of this monster’s face. Red Lyrium clawed at his frame, almost forming a helmet of sorts. It practically gleamed black instead of red, that’s how deep it went, how old it seemed. His torso resembled mine. Bloodied. Open. Gaping. The raggedy armour he wore was embedded into his rotting flesh, his skin almost resembling the dry scales of his dragon, which didn’t seem as scary anymore compared to its master. 

The hands of the Elder One had turned into claws, with scarring long, black nails. And in those hands, dangling in front of that monster’s face, hung Maxwell.

I held my breath, unmoving. 

Maxwell. 

He’s alive. He’s okay.

He was covered in blood, but it wasn’t his own. I couldn’t see any wounds either, but couldn’t really see his face, for it was inches apart from the Elder One’s head. The mark on Maxwell’s hand buzzed, flaring an emerald light. The light crawled across Max’s arm as if trying to escape the Elder One’s grasp.

My stomach turned to lead. Well, at least what was left of it. In the Elder One’s other hand, gleamed an… orb? It resembled one I had seen in a dream before, a long, long time ago. Or at least I thought so, I felt so… the green in my iris started to twist and turn, humming against my skull.

Take it! TAKE IT! 

‘I once breached the Fade in the name of another, to serve the Old Gods of the Empire in person.’ The Elder One spoke, his voice so deep, it drummed like a bass inside of my chest, filling the eerie silence. The dragon quieted. Maxwell started to thrash in mid-air, wringing against the pain in his hand, his face turning paler and paler. ‘I found only chaos and corruption.’ The Elder One continued. Uncaring. ‘Dead whispers. For a thousand years, I was confused. No more. I have gathered the will to return under no name but my own. To champion withered Tevinter and correct this blighted world.’ The Elder One held Maxwell closer to his face, staring into his eyes hatefully. ‘Beg that I succeed, for I have seen the throne of the gods, and it was empty !’

With a gesture, the Elder One threw Maxwell across the clearing. Max smashed into the trebuchet, which groaned against his weight. My friend cried out, his face muddied with pain and desperation. I winced at the sight of it.

Yet, I couldn’t move. I couldn’t help him. I could only stop and stare. If I reveal myself now, I’ll just be killed. I have to move at the right moment… 

‘The Anchor is permanent.’ The Elder One took a step towards Maxwell, who lay against the trebuchet like a sack of flour, holding his breath. ‘You have spoiled it with your stumbling.’ 

The dragon started to move, its wings spreading across the open space. It bared its rotten, jagged teeth, drool dripping from its slithering tongue. A predator closing in on its victim. The Elder One took a step forward, the dragon following suit, its enormous claws burying into the ground, making it shudder. Maxwell cursed under his breath, and stumbled back on his feet, a sword trembling in his hand.

Max’s hazel eyes darted from his sword, to the trebuchet and back to the Elder One. He blinked rapidly, tears of despair rolling down his face. He was ready to die for us, but still feared it. 

I won’t let this happen.  

‘So be it. I will begin again, find another way to give this world a nation—and god —it requires.’ The Elder One spat. 

Behind me, along the horizon between the valley, I heard the flicker of an arrow reaching for the sky. It burned, like a falling star. A last sign of hope. 

I saw Maxwell close his eyes, taking a deep, trembling breath. 

‘And you.’ The Elder One hadn’t noticed the flaming arrow and neared the Herald. ‘I will not suffer even an unknowing enemy. You must die.’

Then, Maxwell opened his eyes, gleaming with the confidence I had feared he’d lost. Bracing himself, he grabbed the rusty sword with both hands, his grip tightening, his eyes focusing on the enemy. Solely. A sly grin appeared on my friend’s blue lips. Cocky, brave, so much like the man I’d come to see as a brother. ‘You expect me to fight, but that’s not why I kept you talking.’ Maxwell scoffed and raised his chin, wiggling his brows in jest. ‘Enjoy your victory. Here’s your prize!’ He quickly turned to his left and kicked the wheel of the trebuchet with his foot. 

The trebuchet groaned as it catapulted a boulder of rock and dirt towards the side of the mountain peak behind it. A loud thunder rang through the skies as another avalanche cascaded down the dark hills. It gulped away the pine trees, flowing like a wave towards us. 

The Elder One sighed with disinterest and annoyance as Maxwell turned away and made a run for it. He gestured for his dragon, and the beast lifted him up with its bat-like wings. I gaped at the enemy flying away to safety. And then, for just a small moment, I saw the Elder One glare down at me, his eyes piercing through mine. 

And I think I saw a hint of surprise. 

The avalanche of ice and death raged over the village of Haven, taking down the small cottages and burying the dead with a soft blanket of eternal-resting snow. I burst into a sprint, running forwards, my eyes darting across the clearing. 

‘MAXWELL!’ I screamed at the top of my lungs. In the distance, I saw his figure, running as fast as he could.

NO!

I reached forward like I had with the sword. But instead of pulling, I pushed. 

I pushed so hard I felt my fingers crack, the bones twisting by the sheer power. I pushed Maxwell as hard as I could, with all of the hope I had mustered for a hundred years, with all the desperation I had carried. I pushed and pushed, hoping the snow wouldn’t drown him too. 

Let it drown me instead. 

Come on!

Maxwell was blasted forwards, and his cry echoed through the rumbling air. I saw him disappear underneath the ground. I stopped breathing. 

Did he fall?

‘Maxw—‘ I howled, but the snow had already reached me. 

It consumed me.

And then all went dark. 

***

I opened my eyes, my vision blurry.

It was dark. And deadly silent. 

Was I dead? 

I winced as I tried to look around, the wound in my stomach protesting my movement. 

I’m still alive then. Pain is good. 

The stab wound had stopped bleeding. It felt dry, crusty. My skin was clammy with sweat and blood. It felt like I didn’t have any power left in me. I couldn’t feel my legs, couldn’t hear or smell anything. But I could still feel the sting of my injuries. I held onto that. 

I lay on my side, my hands still reaching forward. I twitched my fingers and cursed from the pain. My right hand was fractured, my fingers brittle. My wrist twisted in a strange way, dislocated from the rest of my body. I squinted and tried not to cry. 

In the distance, I heard someone gasp. 

My eyes flared open again, my left eye casting emerald shadows onto the stone walls. 

‘A shaft…’ I mumbled. I had landed in some sort of… cavern… perhaps another pilgrimage path, or a mine underneath the mountain? 

Another moan echoed through the halls a far distance away. 

I quivered as I planted my good hand onto the dusty, rocky floor, and pushed myself up. As I took a step forward, I shrieked in horror. My leg… blood was splattered all over it… and a wooden spike was bursting right through my thigh. Wailing, I limped forwards. My body was broken, utterly broken.

But I still moved forward, along the path, towards the heavy breathing reverberating through the empty halls.

My eye cast a fair light along the walls and ground, like a torch. I tried not to blink. I was afraid that if I did, the darkness would consume me whole. And I wouldn’t open my eyes again. I stopped a few feet away from where I had fallen, already terribly out of breath. I saw a small pile of wood, covered in blood that wasn’t mine. Between the splinters and the dust, I noticed a gold flickering sheen. My left eye focused on it, and the gold emblem reflected back. I hunched over, trying not to scream as my wound again ripped a little, and grabbed the golden pin from the ground. The eye of the Inquisition, surrounded by flames. Maxwell’s vigil… the pin he had clipped on his armour… 

I stared at the ceiling above me and noticed the dark hole enclosed by melting snow, dripping down on my face. 

It was like a punch. 

Reality kicked in. 

Maxwell is still alive. He fell down like me… He’s wounded… there was so much blood… 

Another moan in the distance. 

I started to limp again, faster and faster, until I saw a light at the end of the tunnel. 

For a moment, I thought heaven was behind this cavern. I thought the Beyond was welcoming me within its lights. 

But then the wind howled against my broken frame.

I sighed a trembling breath. 

Before me, meadows of snow and ice and wind spread towards the horizon, towards the mountains. The moon was enlightening the no-man’s-land, the dark sky flickering with a thousand little stars. The air scorched along the empty plains of heavenly white, and in front of me, like the footfalls of a cat, scattered a path of blood. It was stark against the pureness of the ice. The blood was dark, wet…

Fresh. 

Maxwell. Maxwell. Maxwell. 

He’s close. 

Again, I hobbled forwards, almost falling over as my feet sagged into the thick, powdery snow, the wind trying to push me down. And yet, I felt the strength returning in me. Maybe it was adrenaline, the last rush before death. Or perhaps my magic was returning… or my remaining hope was urging me to go on in vain? 

I didn’t care. 

I had to keep moving. 

I had been following the trail of blood for what felt like hours when I saw Maxwell’s hunched figure in the distance. The wind was blasting the powdery snow into the air, and I saw Max holding his arm in front of his face to get a better sight. 

The wind whistled into my ear, toying with me. 

I’ll take your friend down… I won’t let him make it.

But I saw Maxwell’s determination, his fortitude. It made me hopeful. 

His frame was but a shadow in the distance, but I could still hear him groaning, see him limping… badly. The path of blood before me had deepened, widened. Perhaps the wind was right, perhaps he won’t make it…

A warm rush blazed inside my body. My magic was slowly returning.

But too slow. 

Time to make some very hard decisions. 

I can heal myself slowly, and try to help Maxwell… but I won’t be strong enough to heal him too, let alone warm him up. 

Or… or I can heal him from a distance while warming up his body… it will be slow… but maybe I can give him enough strength to get to the others…

But then I’ll… 

I will die today. 

I have to die today. 

Only one of us will survive. One of us has to. 

For some, it might’ve been a difficult choice. But not for me. I had been alive long enough… and maybe this was my destiny? This was the promise I had made?

Not to help close the Breach. 

But to help Maxwell? He will save this world. Not me. 

Perhaps, in a way, Andraste has chosen me too?

I lifted my hands, ignoring my broken fingers and my bruised knuckles that were turning black, and felt some magic twists around my fingernails. Focusing on the trembling figure pushing against the blazing wind, I fired away everything I got. One push felt like a thousand spells. It felt like I was on a battlefield protecting hundreds of soldiers at a time, healing and warding. But in reality, almost nothing burst from my hands. Drops of magic followed my eyes towards Maxwell, creeping over his shivering shoulders almost like a caress. 

Maxwell stopped, his back straightening as the magic kissed his bruised knuckles, his fractured ribs, his bare scratches all over his body. He faced me, eyes squinting, in the distance. 

But he couldn’t see me.

I was too far away, too deep into the snow.

He turned back, resuming his struggle against the snow.

And for the hours to come, I kept following him, tracing his steps, casting drops of the little magic I had his way. And in every drop flowed my hope, my prayers. 

Heal. 

Please.

Live. 

I don’t know how long it took for us to reach the top of the mountain. I think I’ve forgotten. The only thing that I remember is my magic screaming inside my body, yearning to heal my own skin, to warm my bones. And I remember how hard it was to refuse that pure instinct of survival. Over time, I saw Maxwell taking bigger steps, the trail of blood getting weaker.

And I got further and further away from him. 

Blood was drenching my clothes and my body was numb from the raging cold.

And as hungry wolves howled in the distance, I wish they’d come and finish me off. I wished for Simon to be raised from the dead, to come for me with his sword again and release me from this agonising pain and cold. 

I flickered my hand upwards, sending down another drop of magic forwards, commanding it to reach my friend. Send him warmth. Release. Take away his pain.

Lead him to safety.

To the Inquisition. 

Take me instead.

Take me.

I couldn’t go on anymore. I was empty. Tired. Broken. Slowly, the pain started to ebb away.

No…

I tried going faster, cursing against the wind, against the snow grabbing my ankles and refusing to let me go.

And—and then the wind started to calm, the storm coming to a halt. 

Time seemed to stop. 

And there some feet away, bordered by dark pine trees, stood Maxwell, his back again to me. And before him were two rocks, a small opening in between them. Like a gate. A crossing to the other side.

For a second I thought we were both dead.

But that wasn’t the gate towards heaven or hell… but to the valley.

‘There!’ A voice echoed through the open plains of ice. 

Maxwell fell to his knees. 

‘It’s him!’

Another figure came running through the passage. 

And then another, followed by a small group of soldiers. 

Commander Cullen signalled his men, his orders following loud and swiftly. 

‘Thank the Maker!’ Cassandra cried out, sprinting to Maxwell’s hunching, shivering figure. I heard her curse and pray at the same time, her voice softer with every gasp of his name. Over and over again. 

I stopped in my tracks and stared at them.

I couldn’t feel the cold snow anymore. Nor the pain in my stomach and leg, in my fingers or ear. I couldn’t feel anything at all. 

Except for relief. 

He made it. 

He will survive.

It’s done.

I too sagged onto my knees, tears gliding across my blue cheeks. 

‘O Falon’Din.’ I whispered, my voice softer than the howling wind. I felt hands creeping at my back, caressing my spine with warmth, alluring me to close my eyes. ‘Lethanavir—Friend to the Dead.’ 

Maybe for a second, I’ll lie down.

The snow felt… warm. I pressed myself against the soft ground, and it felt like a pillow made of feathers and clouds. So warm. So calm. 

‘Guide my feet.’ I hushed, my breath drifting away. ‘Calm my soul.’ 

‘Help! Someone’s over there!’ Someone screamed, footsteps running my way. 

I reached forward, towards Maxwell, and saw him being carried away. Cassandra was under his arm, hoisting him straight. She stared at me over her shoulder, eyes big and scared. Her mouth traced my name. It made Maxwell turn around too, and finally, he saw me. His eyes turned big, his mouth agape. Tears were gliding over his tanned, blood-splattered cheeks. And then he went rigid, bashing against Cassandra’s strong arms. But she didn’t let him go. Instead, she held his broken body, hushing his name, crying for him to stop. He had to move on. He had to, for me, for all of us.

I smiled faintly and tried to look up, tilting my head. Everything felt so heavy, so tiring. The stars above me glittered across the foreign sky that actually wasn’t so foreign. It’s been the same sky since I came here, a sky I’ve known for the longest time. I don’t think I can remember the sky on Earth. Perhaps it looked like this one.

Maybe I’ll visit it one day. 

Maybe tomorrow.

That sounds good.

‘O Falon’Din.’ I whispered again.

‘Maker—no!’ A familiar voice shrieked, warm hands touching my frozen face. ‘Please, no!’ Commander Cullen draped his lion-like mantle over my rolled-up body.

But the snow still felt warmer. 

Saeris. 

Someone else called out to me. 

I traced the patterns of the stars.

‘Saeris—Saeris, please! You there! Get more help! QUICKLY!’ Commander Cullen shook my body, lifting me up. I felt the press of his armour against my chest, his hushing words floating past my ears as he rocked me back and forth. ‘Stay with me!’

My mother and father… Sybil and Nenhara… Daniel and my brother… Elgadira and Moira. They all called out to me. Beyond the stars.

‘Lead me to my rest.’ The final words floated from my lips. The last lines of a Dalish prayer.

I think I once told you that death isn’t like drifting off into a deep slumber. That it doesn’t feel like going away to where it’s warm and cosy. I told you that death feels cold. Quick. Silent. Death was like switching off the lights in your room, or blinking your eyes when you go to sleep at night and the next moment it’s morning.

And I told you, that in the end, we are all alone. 

But I wasn’t alone.

Many were smiling at me behind the curtain of silence and pain and cold, behind the stars and the clouds. They called out to me, calling me home. 

I closed my eyes. 

Have I fulfilled my promise? Am I free now?

The stars didn’t answer. 

I didn’t care. 

I followed the voices.

Buried in blood and snow, I died.

Notes:

Enjoyed it? ;-)

Next chapter: POVs! Yay!

Chapter 43: Lamented

- Maxwell -

Her fingers curled into mine. Rough. Bruised. Calloused. And yet they were the softest hands, the warmest. 

‘You know… that Elder One won’t be able to handle my holy handsomeness.’ I joked, a crooked smile on my lips. ‘Who can, eh?’

Cassandra smiled softly while scoffing. Though I didn’t think it was a disgusted scoff. Maybe a sad one. ‘You are insufferable. And a fool.’ 

‘Isn’t that why you like me so?’ I flashed my teeth. 

Cassandra pinched my hands ever so softly. An answer. 

Maybe if I had been sooner—met her sooner… we could’ve… But it’s too late now. It’s time to fulfil my duty.

Everyone whispered to me words of courage. “You’ll be fine” and “Kick the Elder One’s ass”. Varric smacked my shoulder, the Iron Bull gave me a cheeky grin, and even Vivienne told me to be careful.

And then there was Solas… That Elf could look at me so strangely, and I couldn’t truly comprehend if he was really worried or not… but now, the way he kept staring at the woman next to him, I knew I could trust him. I knew he would protect her.

‘Saeris.’ I took her icy, pale chin between my fingers and stared into her bright eyes. Her blue eye trembled as the green eye spat all too familiar colours. A green I hated. A green I loved. And although her eyes were open wide like a doe, she more resembled a wolf. Rigid, powerful and protective. But I hoped she’d understand that this was something I had to do on my own. ‘Go.’

‘I’ll go.’ She hummed sadly, trying to look away as she wrenched her face from my grasp. I could hear the thick lie in her smooth voice. I knew they would have to drag her away. 

‘…I’ll see you soon, alright?’ I swallowed, and couldn’t stop the tears from forming. I swallowed again.

Will I die today? 

‘Okay.’ Her voice broke.

‘They’ll load the trebuchets. Keep the Elder One’s attention until we’re above the tree line.’ Commander Cullen laid his hand on my back. It shook me from my trance, back to focus. Don’t think about your death. Think about all who have died for you. I will avenge them. Now, I will die for them. ‘If we are to have a chance, if you are to have a chance, let that thing hear you.’

I nodded slowly and looked one more time towards Saeris. My eyes traced the silky white curls of her hair, the old and tattered fabric of her cape, the ancient dagger on her hip, and her hands clenched in fists and trembling.

I will die for her. 

I turned around, the door of Haven’s Chantry looming before me like the end of the tunnel, the gates to the Maker’s side. 

‘Andraste guide you.’ Cassandra whispered as I passed her. 

I stopped and turned towards her, smiling. ‘I love you.’ I whispered, almost soundlessly. 

Cassandra flinched. 

I will die for her too.

I didn’t wait for her response. If I die, at least she’ll know how I felt… how I cared for her. As I moved forwards, my feet felt heavier the closer I got to that door. I felt the eyes of the Inquisition burning in my back. 

I will die for their cause. 

I opened the door, letting the bright light from outside creep into the sober hall. I breathed, letting the cold air fill my lungs and lift my heavy heart. And as I stepped outside, I told myself not to look back again. 

I will die for Thedas. 

***

‘Elder One curse you, fool!’ The Venatori mage spat at my feet. 

‘Sure, and he can kiss my hairy buttocks while doing so.’ I cackled and slid my dagger along the mage’s throat. 

The woman gasped, her fingers flexing at her neck, her body convulsing. Another one dead. I didn’t flinch anymore at the people dying before me. I didn’t care anymore whose blood was dripping from my hands. As long as it’s the enemy’s blood, I will taint myself with it. 

I stepped over the partly frozen corpse and saw how the snow already started to bury it. 

This damned storm. Why do they attack in winter? Why not spring? What’s wrong with the sun and flowers? Stupid snow… stupid mountains. If I die, I hope at least it’ll be summer in the afterlife. 

I ran further down the hill.

Haven had turned into a mass grave. A pilgrimage for the dead. How ironic it all must seem. There were almost no Venatori or Red Templars to be seen. I doubted they had all been buried in the avalanche… perhaps they knew all too well who I was and who I was planning to meet.

I bet the Elder One is waiting for me.

Though, he won’t really know what’s coming for him.

I turned around the corner, passing the burned tavern. And there, to the right! The last trebuchet standing! It was like seeing the sun. My heart swelled with hope. I was alone, no one around. 

Perhaps…

I grabbed the wooden wheels of the trebuchet and started to turn them. Of course, they were heavy because nothing can be simple today. Everything has to be hard and cold and painful. Luckily, I am a muscular man—not to brag—and slowly, but steadily, the trebuchet started to turn, creaking underneath its own weight. As before, I aimed it towards the mountainside in front of Haven. 

We’ll have to bury this place once and for all. Just like the Temple of Sacred Ashes once was. Perhaps it was meant to be this way. 

A loud screech filled the skies. My heart sunk to my frozen feet. 

Shit. Shit. Shit. 

I started to turn the wheels faster, my muscles protesting, cold sweat dripping from my forehead. 

I’m not afraid. I’m not afraid. 

The screeching became louder and louder. I didn’t dare look behind me. 

And then, the trebuchet’s aim clicked into place. Letting go of the wheels, I followed to where the catapult was raised. And as I traced its path, calculating the damage it would do, I couldn’t do anything but stop and stare at the grey sky bordering the mountains, see how empty they were with the Breach gone. The heavens were in disarray. And as the sun started to appear behind the clouds like a sign of the Maker… a sign of hope… a black shadow covered it again.

I swallowed. Maybe even peed a little. 

That shadow is coming towards me. 

Oh crap. I let go of the wheels, taking not one but two steps back, arms trembling. 

The dragon roared towards me. It made the earth shudder. I turned around and made a run for it, jumping away just in time before the dragon spat its fiery breath towards me.

‘Fuck!’ I cursed as I tumbled over the ground, my knees scraping in the dust.

Another blast and I flew across the clearing, landing on my back. I’m going to feel this if I live tomorrow…

I groaned as I pushed myself straight, my eyes searching for the trebuchet. Fire was crawling along the clearing, but luckily the trebuchet had been spared…

Trying to get back to my feet, the world started to dance around, twisting before my eyes. I scratched my head, taking another step forwards. 

And then… I stopped. 

Behind the curtain of blighted flame, stepped a large figure. Its torso was long and twisted, its arms ending in long, sharp claws. Its head was infected with Red Lyrium, it grew from its grey, dead skin like a virus. 

Ah. Finally. The Elder One.

Uglier from close by, it seems. 

The Elder One stopped, his eyes squinting at me hatefully. 

I took a step back but cursed as the earth shuddered again. Behind me, the dragon had come to land, charging towards me. I almost screamed like a little baby as the beast revealed its rows upon rows of vile teeth to me, ready to devour me whole. 

My feet refused to move, my body too rigid to react. I felt like a statue entombed in fear. 

‘Enough!’ The Elder One’s voice echoed through the silent clearing, and I saw the dragon flinch and back away. Far enough so it wouldn’t eat me, but close enough to let me know it could. 

I looked over my shoulder, back to the gnarling enemy. ‘Pretender.’ He had a deep voice, and too loud. ‘You toy with forces beyond your ken. No more.’

‘Whatever you are, ugly, I’m not afraid!’ Maybe a little…

The Elder One showed me no emotion. ‘Words mortals often hurl at the darkness.’ Or at spiders, I thought. ‘Once they were mine. They are always lies.’ The Elder One flashed his rotten teeth. ‘Know me, know what you have pretended to be. Exalt the Elder One! The will that is Corypheus!’

‘Oh!’ I laughed mockingly, a cheeky grin twisting along my face. ‘Exalt the Herald of Andraste. The will that is Maxwell?’ Humour to mask fear. Good one, Max. 

The Elder One, or Corypheus, whatever, ignored my comment. ‘You will kneel.’ He ordered instead. The dragon behind me whisked its tail impatiently, its damp breaths tickling my back. 

I scoffed again, trying not to show how damned scared I was. ‘Sorry snowflake, I don’t really kneel for anyone.’ Unless perhaps for Cassandra—if I live—one day.

‘You will resist. You will always resist. It matters not.’ Corypheus said tiredly. And then, he lifted his long, bony arm. Within his hand, encircled by awful black talons, the Elder One held an orb. It was strange, with swirly lines on it, and reminded me of… ‘I am here for the Anchor .’ Corypheus continued, activating the orb in his hand. The little thing suddenly clicked, glowing an emerald green and a crimson red. Green and Red. A little memory flashed in the back of my mind, of a future never meant to be. A memory of a Bride. ‘The process of removing it begins now.’

‘Shit!’ I groaned as the Elder One lifted his mangled hand towards me, the magic twisting and spitting. The mark on my hand started to flare again, hurting the veins from my fingertips to my toes. The scar then started to pulse, as if it was reacting to that… that flashing orb? Instead of following the beat of my heart, it hummed to something else, something it vaguely recognized. My stomach turned, and I grabbed my wrist in despair, trying to pinch the pain away.

‘It is your fault, “Herald”.’ The Elder One mocked me. ‘You interrupted a ritual years in the planning. And instead of dying, you stole its purpose.’ He twisted his hand and the red magic flared brighter, harder. I cried out, feeling how my skin was burning from the inside out. But the mark—the Anchor—didn’t give in and refused to let go of its grasp on me. ‘I do not know how you survived.’ Corypheus bit. ‘But what marks you as “touched”, what you flail at Rifts, I crafted to assault the very heavens.’ 

Again, he pushed out his magic further. I tumbled over, my knees digging into the icy soil beneath. I bit my tongue until the coppery taste of blood filled my mouth. The dragon behind me slowly surrounded me with its blighted large body, growling with my every movement.

Corypheus ignored my pain and continued as if nothing was even happening at all—as if the magic he used didn’t require any strength. ‘And you used the Anchor to undo my work! The gall!’

I gripped my wrist tighter, to will my body to calm down. ‘Why are you doing this? Do you have a thing for chaos or something?’ I hissed and blood splattered across the pure white snow before me.

‘The “chaos” will empower me, and ensure we no longer beg at the feet of the invisible.’ The Elder One growled as he slowly walked towards me, stopping in front of my balled-up figure. He then grabbed the wrist I was clenching, pushing me up and lifting me into the air until his face was right in front of mine. I flinched as the muscles in my shoulder protested against the weight of my body. The pain that flowed through my mark had free reign now and clawed across my body teasingly. ‘I once breached the Fade in the name of another, to serve the Old Gods of the Empire in person.’ 

The dragon behind me quieted, its eyes following the pulsing light of the orb and the Anchor. My body started to convulse, and I thrashed against the Elder One’s hold.

‘I found only chaos and corruption.’ The Elder One continued. Uncaring. ‘Dead whispers. For a thousand years, I was confused. No more. I have gathered the will to return under no name but my own. To champion withered Tevinter and correct this blighted world.’ The Elder One held me closer to his face. Maker’s balls, this man is ugly. ‘Beg that I succeed, for I have seen the throne of the gods, and it was empty!’

And then, with just a flick of his hand, I was flying across the clearing. The sky toppled in front of my eyes until I crashed against the trebuchet.

I cried out as I heard something crack… My ribs, I had broken perhaps two of them. I shrieked with agony.

‘The Anchor is permanent.’ The Elder One took a step towards me. ‘You have spoiled it with your stumbling.’ The dragon spread its enormous wings, almost playing with me, to show me it was dinner time. 

Andraste’s shimmering ass, I’d rather be a frozen corpse than dragon shit. I will not go down like this. 

I can’t fail them. 

I can’t fail her. Cassandra.

I looked to my side and noticed a steel sword laying not too far from me. I flexed my arm and grabbed the weapon, stumbling back to my feet. Hunching over, I held the sword in front of me as the dragon closed in on me. Its sharp, black claws buried themselves into the ground below, and the earth shuddered in response. 

The sight of the Elder One nearing me, and the dragon drooling behind him, made me realise that this was it. 

This is the end. 

Tears of despair rolled down my face, and I blinked rapidly. 

I don’t want to die. 

Please.

‘So be it. I will begin again, find another way to give this world a nation—and god—it requires.’ The Elder One sighed. I was just another obstacle in his path. An annoying one at best.

And then… a sign. 

My heart burst in my chest as a flaming arrow was launched into the sky, far away into the mountains. Its glittering flames lit up the heavy clouds around it. It looked like a falling star. A last wish.

And I wished for them to survive. 

I knew what I had to do now. 

I followed the arrow until it spiralled down to the valley. The skies turned dark once more, but my mind couldn’t be clearer. I closed my eyes, my breath trembling.

‘And you.’ The Elder One hadn’t noticed the flaming arrow, it seemed. Good. ‘I will not suffer even an unknowing enemy. You must die.’

I opened my eyes. The Elder One won’t kill me. Maybe the snow will, but I won’t give that monster the pleasure. 

I’m going to bury Haven. 

I grabbed the rusty sword with both hands, tightening my grip on it, tilting the point upwards. I stared into the Elder One’s eyes, unflinching. Bastard. 

‘You expect me to fight, but that’s not why I kept you talking.’ I grinned and lifted my chin mockingly. ‘Enjoy your victory. Here’s your prize!’ I quickly turned to my left and kicked the wheel of the trebuchet with my boot. The wheel spurred, releasing the tight ropes of the trebuchet and launching a huge boulder towards the mountain peak behind me. An echoing thunder cascaded through the valley, ringing in my ears. 

Waves upon waves of snow rolled down the mountain, consuming everything on its path. 

I didn’t look at the Elder One anymore, and instead just made a run for it. Fuck that guy. 

My lungs emptied themselves as I screamed out. The broken ribs were stabbing me from the inside while I ran, faster and faster. I heard the wings of the dragon spreading as it was taking flight. 

Yes, you better run, coward! Well, guess I’m the one who’s running. 

I tried to get as far as I could, perhaps the snow wouldn’t reach me, perhaps I could find a latch I could hide under. But deep down, I knew I needed a miracle to survive this.

I’m going to be buried like all the others. Never to be found again. Frozen for eternity. 

I felt the shuddering avalanche nearing but didn’t dare to look behind me to watch it consume Haven, to watch how it would consume me.

Cassandra. I’m sorry. 

Andraste guide me.

‘MAXWELL!’ 

Andraste?

Suddenly, I felt two invisible hands grabbing my shoulders. I closed my eyes, ready to embrace death as it welcomed me. Is this really Andraste? Is she here to guide me? I never thought she’d be real… 

The two hands caressed my skin. But then they pushed me away, launching me forwards. I cried out in surprise. 

And down I went. 

***

I groaned. Everything hurt. I think I broke something else… I’m bleeding… a lot. 

But I’m alive.

Maker’s balls. 

Did Andraste just call out to me? Is she—is she real?  

I opened my eyes, feeling how the wood beneath me pierced right through my stomach. That’s the only thing I knew. I was hurt, and I needed to get out of here. All else was dark and strange. I couldn’t understand what had happened… I just escaped the Elder One and his pet dragon, and I clearly heard someone scream my name as I prayed to Andraste. 

I felt hands on my back. I know I did. They pushed me, saved me! 

Well… mostly… I’ll die if I don’t get moving—if I don’t find the Inquisition soon.

I looked around and noticed I had fallen into a dark… cave? I heaved as I tried to straighten myself, clenching my bloodied stomach and ribs. Before me was a large tunnel carved out in stone. Had I fallen into a mine? Another pilgrimage path? 

Alright, let’s do this. I have to. 

With every step I took, I felt my body scream in agony. I could feel my bones moving, and not in a good way. Blood was drenching my ripped-up armour. And I felt cold. So cold. 

Come on!

Hunching over, I limped forwards along the long and dark tunnel. 

Sometimes, I thought I could hear footsteps coming closer, and couldn’t stop thinking it was death nearing me, trying to catch me. So I quickened my pace, almost stumbling over a loose rock. 

I moaned and felt the skin around my wounds rip. 

Don’t cry. Man-up. It’s but a flesh wound. It’ll be a nice scar when this is over. It’ll look cool. 

As I continued on, I feared the tunnel might stop at a dead end, or that it just wouldn’t end at all, and that I was dead already. Maybe… at the end of this tunnel… awaits the Maker and His paradise?

I will have to find out. 

You could understand how happy I was when I reached the end of the tunnel and met only snow and ice and wind. 

‘Good. I’m not dead yet.’ I sighed jokingly. 

The sky had turned pitch black, and thousands of stars were twinkling beside the moon. And as the wind howled, so did the pine trees. Snow was blasted around into the air, like a thick foggy curtain, but then wet and really cold. 

I took one step forward, and then another, and another. My footprints were drenched in blood, and I was too afraid to check where it was coming from. I’ll worry about that later. 

I held my arm in front of my face to keep the scorching wind from scarring my skin. But I kept pushing on, only forward. Even if all the odds are against me, I will find my friends… I have to. 

I can’t die here. 

I had been pushing against the snow for what felt like hours… and… I’m so damn tired. 

I’m so fucking cold. 

And then, I stopped. The wind blasted against me like I was a rock, I felt like a rock. I couldn’t move, couldn’t blink or breathe. My heart was punching my chest as I felt two ghostly hands touch my shoulders again. 

They felt so familiar. 

Like little warm kisses, I could feel the hands searching my body. My wounds were stopping to rip and my bones starting to mend. The hands caressed my bruised knuckles, healing my ailments… 

I twisted around, staring into the distance. 

But all I could see was white. Pure white and grey and black. The snow here consumed everything, melting into the sky. The only thing I could see were my bloody footprints.

I turned back and resumed my struggle, thinking I had just imagined it all. 

If only I had waited. 

But no, I thought I was having delusions. I heard you would see hallucinations before death by frost. Never knew they would be so vivid. So warm. So… good. 

I thought perhaps it was Andraste again. Helping me on my way. 

I didn’t know.

My sister, Evelyn, truly believed in the Maker and His Bride. She told me many stories. But that’s what I thought they were, just stories. I had never seen something “divine”. I had only seen pain and death and hardships. I believed in demons. I could see they were real. But how could I believe in something I couldn’t see? Couldn’t feel or sense? If there was a Maker, is He then such an asshole to leave mortals to suffer like that? Is He that petty? When they proclaimed me “Herald of Andraste”, I presumed it was just another title. I could use it to my advantage… become a symbol of hope.

But now, being so alone, and yet feeling so cared for. Those warm, heavenly hands… it cannot be… yet it must be Andraste? 

Who else wanders these wastelands? Who else could survive here and have strength left to heal me, warm me up?

But it’s actually all but a load of crap. 

The Maker doesn’t exist. Andraste wasn’t His Bride. She never helped me. Never chose me. I’m just a fool who was at the wrong place at the wrong time and got himself way over his head. I am nobody. I mean nothing. 

I realised that when I reached the end of my cold journey when Cassandra and Cullen found me. I realised I was a damned fool.

I deserved to die. 

I had meant to die.

It should have been me. 

Not her. 

Not Saeris.

‘There, it’s him!’

‘Thank the Maker!’

Cassandra took my hands, tears of joy running over her flushed cheeks. I stared into her beautiful brown eyes. The stars reflected in them. ‘Maxwell,' she whispered. 

‘Help! Someone’s over there!’

I heard Commander Cullen and a scout rush past me. It didn’t register, I only stared at my Seeker, who searched and found me. 

I was so selfish to be happy to be alive.

I thought this awful ordeal was over. 

Cassandra hoisted me back on my feet, supporting me from under my shoulder. I took a step forward, and then Cassandra stopped, her grip loosening. She looked over her shoulder past me, towards the distance I had crossed. 

‘Saeris.’ She breathed. 

What? 

Saeris? Where?

I turned around. 

And then I saw her. I found her. Too late. 

I screamed, pushing back Cassandra. She grabbed my chest, ordering me to calm down. But how could I?

There, on the ground, she stared at me. Saeris. She smiled, blood covering her face, her armour, drenching the snow around her. Her body was broken, frozen. She was paler than the snow, and yet so dark with crimson blood clinging to her frail figure. 

She smiled at me and then looked up to the dark sky above us. The moon lit up her hair. Her vibrant, clear emerald eye stopped glowing.

‘Maker—no! Please no!’ Cullen held her in his arms like a ragdoll, rocking back and forth, calling out her name in vain. I never saw the man cry before. Now I had. ‘Saeris—Saeris, please! You there! Get more help! QUICKLY!’ Cullen ordered the scout and then looked back to the frail girl he held in his arms. ‘Stay with me!’

Saeris stared forwards, and the stars called out to her. 

And then they took her.

Andraste had not been guiding me. 

Saeris had. 

***

I was laying on my back, staring towards the ceiling of the worn-out tent. There were rips near the stitching at the point of its roof, and I could see the dark sky and its swirling stars through them. Some stars were sparkling brighter than the others, almost dancing to their own song. 

I wondered if she was among them. 

They had removed my armour and tucked me into one of the makeshift beds near the small bonfire of the camp. My ribs felt sore, even though I had drunk what must have been a dozen health potions. I knew there were more scars on my body than before. The biggest one though, wasn’t visible. Enemies can stab me, impale me, and the healers can close those wounds. But not this one. 

This gaping hole will be here forever. An invisible scar. I can feel the empty wind howling through me, crying her name. 

Saeris. 

‘What would you have me tell them? This isn’t what we’ve asked them to do!’ Commander Cullen’s voice stormed through the camp. His voice was coarse, broken. 

I think the Commander feels a hole too. I think I could see his invisible scar almost as clearly as he could see mine.

Cullen had carried her through the open plains of darkness and ice. He had cradled her broken body, rocked it back and forth, hushing her name. I think he could still feel her in his arms, feel how she sighed her last breath. It still clung to him.

‘Maker… Maker don’t take her away.’ I had heard him cry before we had entered the camp. He hadn’t realised she was gone already. He still believed. 

How can he? How can he believe there’s a Maker who would take away a gift like that? 

I don’t want to believe in such a monster. Not anymore. 

‘We cannot simply ignore this! We must find a way!’ Cassandra bit back. She was so strong, stronger than any of us men. I knew though, she was barely keeping up. I heard her cry next to me when I was pretending to sleep not so long ago.

‘And who put you in charge? We need a consensus, or we have nothing!’ Cullen ordered. I could hear his ragged breaths, his roaring anger. 

His guilt.

I pushed myself straight, and stared into the distance, at the group of people arguing. My advisors… what were they now? 

‘Please, we must use reason!’ Josephine intervened. Her wavy, black-brown hair had fallen from her sophisticated hairdo, curling along her olive skin that had turned a sickly pale green. ‘Without the infrastructure of the Inquisition, we’re hobbled!’

‘That can’t come from nowhere!’ Cullen sighed back. His fur, lion-like mantle, was still absent. It was keeping Saeris’ cold body warm. 

‘She didn’t say it could!’ Leliana countered. The Spymaster surprised me the most. The deadly woman had looked distraught when we entered the camp. Happy first, broken later. But I saw how she had straightened her back. Leliana had seen death before, and I knew she believed where Saeris would be now. To the damned Maker’s side. 

But I can’t see it like that. 

Saeris is gone. She’s fucking gone… and it’s because of me. 

I’m an incompetent twit. Someone who can’t even take care of himself. I’m an infant who relies on others to die for him. And Saeris had known that. 

‘Enough!’ Cassandra cried out. ‘This is getting us nowhere!’ 

‘Well, we’ll agree on that much!’ Cullen bit back. 

I closed my eyes. If only she were here. If only….

‘Shhh…’ Mother Giselle rested her soft, warm hand on my shivering shoulder. ‘You need to rest.’

‘They’ve been at it for hours.’ I answered. The voice that came out of my mouth didn’t sound like me. No, it was foreign, cold, uncaring. I felt so muted. Stopped. Like a Tranquil. I hated how the people around me were so loud, so angry at one another and their situation. But I liked their yelling more than their silence. The camp, which was so small in comparison, had been deadly silent when we had entered it. I hadn’t been able to believe my eyes. How many others had lost their lives… 

I saw how others smiled at my presence. And then stopped smiling at the lack of Saeris’. 

Varric had run towards me, his arms opened wide, a big smile on his face. The others, Sera, Blackwall, Vivienne, The Iron Bull and Dorian, were on his heels. All happy. Until the Commander appeared behind Cassandra and I.

I wanted to push away the memories of their faces when they saw her body. I don’t want to remember.

I also don’t want to remember how Solas had pushed through the crowd that had formed around us. I wish I hadn’t seen his face. The man had always been able to conceal what he felt. It was comforting at times, neutral and honest. But when he saw our Saeris, I saw his mask slip from his face.

He had screamed her name. 

It had made me shrink until I was non-existent. I wanted to be. I knew what Solas had felt for her, and I had seen her look at him too. Had he known she would follow me? Had he let her go because he had been sure she’d be alright, that I could protect her? 

I hadn’t seen her…  I hadn’t heard her… 

Solas was still with her now. I could see her tent in the corner of my eyes, at the far end of the camp. So many people had died here already. From the cold, injuries, sadness… I could see the figures of their bodies at the back of the camp. Some were getting buried already. They had put Saeris in a tent of her own. Solas hadn’t stepped away from her side. I could hear his voice slithering from underneath the tent’s edges… his Elven words trickled from its walls. I could smell his magic… I knew he was using a lot of it if even I could smell it. 

But no magic can bring her back. 

Not even his. 

‘YOU! YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO…’ Solas was no man to raise his voice, but he had against the Commander. ‘You were supposed to stop her!’

‘I thought…’ Cullen had shrunk from a Commander to a ghost. He hadn’t entered Saeris’ tent ever since.

‘They have that luxury, thanks to you.’ Mother Giselle answered me, shaking me from my trance. I didn’t even remember what I had said to her. ‘The enemy could not follow, and with time to doubt, we turn to blame.’ 

‘No… not thanks to me.’ I mumbled back. 

Mother Giselle stared at me, her white and red gown was dirty, and I noticed blood was splattered across it. I didn’t know if it was my blood or the blood of others who had died. ‘Infighting may threaten as much as this Corypheus.’ She said, ignoring my words, or perhaps heeding them. 

‘I have to be there, with them.’ Not laying around like a useless pig. I was so useless already.

‘Another heated voice won’t help. Even yours. Perhaps especially yours.’ Mother Giselle stared at the mark on my hand. ‘Our leaders struggle because of what we survivors witnessed. We saw our defender stand… and fall. And now we have seen him return .’

I scoffed. ‘I shouldn’t have returned . Their true defender, their hero, has fallen. And they ignore her and argue instead. She should’ve returned .’ 

Mother Giselle shook her head. ‘Lady Saeris has given her life for you as many others have. She has done what she thought was her duty. Do not be sad because of that. The Maker has given you a chance through her.’ The Chantry Mother smiled faintly. ‘And that is hard to accept. What “we” have been called to endure? What, “we”, must come to believe?’

‘I don’t have time to believe in your Maker.’ I said bitterly. ‘Not anymore after what I have seen. What is hope to “us” now, when “we” have seen hope die in the snow?’ I pushed myself straight, my bones shaking with anger. ‘Saeris was our hope. Now I’ve lost them both. We all have.’ 

I walked away from the tent, around the campfire. The advisors stopped arguing as I passed them. Cassandra bit her chapped lips, almost wanting to say something. She couldn’t. 

What could she say to me? To everyone?

If I can’t even protect my own friend, how am I to save Thedas? 

I’m not the Herald of anyone. I am the damned Herald of Death. Everyone I care for will fall because of me. 

I stopped in front of Saeris’ tent. I balled my fists. Then, I opened the flap of the tent and stepped inside. 

Candles were lit across the border of the tent, lining up all the way towards her bed. I could see her pale hands, her palms turned downwards, lying next to her sides. Her bare feet peeked from underneath the white blanket that covered her naked, but clean body. They had washed her, dressed her wounds, and prepared her for what was to come.

She seemed so perfect. Almost asleep. 

Solas’ back was turned towards me. He didn’t move. Perhaps he had turned into a statue. Cold and dead inside, just like me.

‘You have come.’ He said. His voice was coarse, like he had been screaming or crying, or both. The Elf didn’t turn around to look at me. His eyes couldn’t leave her. They never would. 

‘Yes.’ I whispered. Every word seemed wrong. 

Solas swallowed. ‘I shall leave you.’ He whispered. ‘I will be outside.’ The Elf turned around, still not looking at me. Every step he took seemed painful, like leaving her alone was unbearable. I understood that. He left her alone once and never saw her alive again. Because of me. I couldn’t look at myself either. As the man passed me, I saw the dark circles underneath his cold, grey eyes. They looked determined, angry… and alone. 

As Solas left the tent, I took a step closer towards her bed. 

‘Saeris?’ I whispered. A single tear glided across my cheek, dripping from my chin. She didn’t answer. I would never hear her say my name again. 

Do I even remember the last time she called out to me?

Had it been her when I thought it was Andraste? 

Did she try to reach me in the mountains? 

Why didn’t I hear her? WHY DIDN’T I TURN AROUND? WHY? 

Her eyes were closed. I couldn’t see the emerald light seeping from underneath her lashes. Even that was gone. Her pale face was neutral, her lips almost resting into a faint smile. There was no colour on her cheeks. All colour was drained away. Her white hair curled along her face, barely masking the cut ear that I didn’t dare to stare at. There were scars on her face. Deep ones. As if somebody had taken a knife and carved at her. Perhaps someone had. Yet, there was no dirt underneath her fingernails, no blood on her wounds… She looked so clean, so unreal. 

She was a ghost. 

‘Damnit, Saeris.’ I hiccupped and fell to my knees. ‘You should’ve stayed away…’ I grabbed her hand and pinched it. She was so cold. Colder than the wind, the snow, and my heart combined. And yet I pressed her hand against my forehead. Warm, wet tears drowned me. 

I didn’t know for how long I had been kneeling before her. 

I dreamed how her hand pinched me back, that she lifted my chin and kissed away my tears. 

But when I finally looked up, she hadn’t moved. The dead don’t comfort us, they don’t care anymore.

‘Saeris… I’m so sorry.’ I howled. ‘Please…’ Forgive me. Take me too. 

‘Maxwell.’ Cassandra’s voice called out to me from outside. ‘Maxwell, we need to… we need you.’ 

I bit my lip. 

‘Maxwell, please.’ Cassandra wailed. It would’ve broken me before. But there isn’t anything left to break. 

I let go of Saeris’ hand and stood back up. 

Solas pushed through the opening of the tent and walked back to her side. I stared at the ground and turned back around. ‘I’m sorry.’ I said again. I didn’t know to who, to Saeris, or to Solas… or to myself. 

Solas stopped in his tracks, his shoulders heaved up, his breath harsh. I knew he wanted to call me out, to threaten and hurt me and curse me and… and he just sighed. ‘You should leave.’ He only said, his voice empty of emotion.

And I did, slowly, painfully, broken. 

Cassandra was waiting outside, her eyes deep and hollow. Her skin had turned pale, her lips blue because of the cold. There was a heavy frown on her forehead, and I noticed how purple her dark circles were, how red her nose was, and how flat her hair was. ‘It’s time.’ She said. Her voice was soft, like a little girl’s. There was nothing left of that strong woman I had heard arguing before. She didn’t have to keep up that façade for me.

I nodded slowly.

When I followed Cassandra to the centre of the camp, I looked over my shoulder one more time. Through the crack of the opening of Saeris’ tent, I could still see her lying in the bed. Eternally resting. Solas stepped in front of her, softly singing the words of a lullaby I couldn’t understand. His words sounded like the howling of a wolf that had lost its mate. The Elven man bent forwards and pressed his lips to her forehead. 

His words clung to the air. They were drifting along towards the sky. 

Ar lasa mala revas.

I didn’t have to speak Elven to know what those words meant.

They were as much a declaration as a goodbye. It was time now. 

Time to move on, time to grieve as we bury the dead.

Everyone gathered in front of the large fire in the centre of the small survivors’ camp. Leliana and Josephine were sitting on a bench nearby, eyeing Cassandra and me as we came closer. Commander Cullen stood up as we passed him. He seemed older. The lines on his face are deeper. In his hand, he held his fur mantle. It was sticky with dirt and blood. 

Nobody said a word. 

Even the stars were louder. 

Dorian was leaning against The Iron Bull’s chest, the Qunari’s arm curling along his shoulders. A warm embrace, to stop the cold that was starting to spread inside all of us. Sera sat on another bench, her droopy ears purple. She stared at the ground while drawing small circles into the snow with a broken arrow. Blackwall sat next to her, his eyes downturned, following Sera’s slow circles in the snow. Vivienne was standing next to Mother Giselle, talking silently. Madame de Fer nodded towards me. Like she understood. 

Varric was standing alone in front of the fire, looking at how the flames curled and crackled. ‘Damnit, Twinkle.’ I heard him mumble. ‘Shit.’

Not far from him, also close to the fire, sat Cole. The young, ghostly boy supported Chancellor Roderick as the man turned in his sleep. From Cole’s troubled stare, I could tell the man would die soon. As Cassandra and I passed them, Cole stared up at us from underneath his large hat.

‘Broken, lost, alone. It should have been me. Not her.’ Cole mumbled, blurting out my naked thoughts. 

I smiled a little at the boy. Weird kid. Too bad he didn’t get the chance to get to know Saeris. She would’ve liked him. She liked mysteries. She was one herself. 

‘He has lost The One. He didn’t feel alone, now he is .’ Cole mumbled again, his eyes staring past me. I followed his stare and saw Solas coming out of Saeris’ tent. ‘She was the one, my hope. Ase amin, ma’alas .’

That explains that one. I smiled to myself. I didn’t think Solas and I had much in common. But we have. She was my hope too. 

Behind Solas, two Inquisition soldiers left the tent, carrying Saeris’ bed. They had covered her face too. I could only see her figure underneath the white, clean blanket that covered her, and her pale hand sliding from underneath it, hanging down the bed. My heart stopped. 

We do not bury the dead in the ground. We bury them in flames. Like Andraste was. Some Andrastrians scatter the ashes of the dead near a Chantry, on sacred ground, or at the feet of one of Andraste’s statues. Some families keep the ashes of the dead in a case or vessel and store them at home so they’re always close. There were people who buried the dead’s ashes in graveyards or grounds that are special to them. 

Most people choose how they are buried, or burned before they die. 

But some people, like Saeris, didn’t get the chance to express their wishes. Here, in the Frostback Mountains, no one gets a chance. 

You can’t be buried in ice. 

The soldiers carried her body forwards, leaving Solas alone standing next to the now-empty tent. Perhaps the tent had always been empty. Saeris was long gone when we put her in there.

Cassandra took my hand in hers and squeezed it. She then raised her chin, keeping the tears from escaping her eyes as the soldiers neared the fire. ‘The Light shall lead her safely,’ Cassandra began, her voice small but loud enough for the others to hear. ‘Through the paths of this world, and into the next. For she who trusts in the Maker, fire is her water. As the moth sees light and goes toward flame, She should see fire and go towards Light.’

I cried, unable to contain myself. Let them see their “Herald” cry. Let them see their coward “defender” fall. I am but a man that has lost his friend. His sister. His hope. I am a man with no divine power protecting me. I am a man who was lucky enough to have had an honourable and wise woman like Saeris protecting me. 

She was my Andraste. 

‘The Veil holds no uncertainty for her,’ Cassandra continued, crying together with me. ‘and she will know no fear of death, for the Maker shall be her beacon and her shield, her foundation and her sword.’

Saeris was placed into the fire. 

It consumed her figure immediately. 

I fell to my knees, screaming for the flames to stop. For the stars to bring her back. 

The Commander broke down. The Spymaster prayed silently. The Ambassador shrieked. 

All of our friends cried for the flames to be gentle. To carry our Saeris gently towards the heavens, wherever those might be. 

Shadows fall
And hope has fled
Steel your heart
The dawn will come

Mother Giselle started to sing. Her voice was loud, howling with the wind. I stared at the flames consuming Saeris bit by bit. Until she was nothing but ashes.

The night is long
And the path is dark
Look to the sky
For one day soon
The dawn will come

The flames became fluid with the stars, lighting up the dark skies with a hopeful, warm light. People from all around us, soldiers, scouts, villagers, pilgrims, advisors and friends, believers and non-believers, joined in on the song. Gone was the silence of death. 

The shepherd's lost
And his home is far
Keep to the stars
The dawn will come

The night is long
And the path is dark
Look to the sky
For one day soon
The dawn will come

Between my cold tears, I felt my heart thumping again. Not with sadness anymore. But with rage. Corypheus will pay for this. His whole freaking cult will. 

I will avenge Saeris. We all will.

Bare your blade
And raise it high
Stand your ground
The dawn will come

And then, suddenly, I heard Cole shriek behind me. I turned around and stared into his frightened eyes. They were big, giant as they glared at the fire. ‘It burns!’ He screamed. ‘It hurts! She’s hurting! IT BURNS!’

I turned around, seeing how Solas ran through the crowds of chanting and crying people. His face had turned white, his mouth opened wide as he roared at the top of his lungs. ‘STOP! SHE IS ALIVE!’ 

I screamed and pushed myself from the ground, almost making Cassandra tumble to the ground. I reached to the fire in agony. The mark, the Anchor, on my hand started to hurt a familiar pain.

The night is long
And the path is dark
Look to the sky
For one day soon…

Between the dancing fire, I saw a figure standing up. 

Two bright eyes appeared behind the curtain of flame. One blue, and one green.

They stared at me. 

The dawn will come.

Notes:

*Voice of Doctor Frankenstein* SHE'S ALIIIIIVE!!!!

Thank you for reading! I hope it was worth the wait! Sorry again for not including Solas' POV, but I'm working on it!

Chapter 44: Dawned

Notes:

Here it is!
Did I want to update sooner? Yes! Did I manage to? Obviously not :p Life has happened, but do know I am not stopping this story! I'm thinking about it every day, and I am always trying to update as soon as I am able to! Thank you all for being so patient with me!

Aaaand, I replied to most of your last comments, but today I noticed none of my answers showed up, so I replied again, sorry for that! I hope my replies got through this time <3 You are all amazing!

"The ninth sacred mountain upon which rests
The moral dust of Our Lady ascended
Whole into the heavens, to be given high honour
In the Realm of Dreams forever.
And around it, a chorus of spirits sang:
"Whatsoever passes through the fire
Is not lost, but made eternal;
As air can never be broken nor crushed,
The tempered soul is everlasting!"

— Chant of Light, Canticle of Exaltations

 

***

I remember the stars. 

I remember how they sang for me, danced for me and called out my name. 

I remember the stars smiling down on me, their light engulfing me, soothing me.

And then, it was like falling asleep. 

You’re out. 

You’re gone. 

Game over. 

And yet, even after dying before, it felt so different. 

I had hoped that I would see all of them. My friends, my family,… I thought they’d come rushing towards me through a field of long, soft leaves of grass. Or that I would fall into their arms among the skies. 

But nothing of that sort happened. 

Instead, the stars became the ground again. And I stared into my own, dulled eyes. 

I have heard before, that when you die, you get this “out-of-body” experience, as you look down onto your own dying self. There, between the snow and the sky, my body lay broken and bloodied. Cullen was next to me, shaking me back and forth. 

I heard him whisper my name. 

‘Saeris.’ He hushed, like I had hushed Sybil’s name when she had died, ‘Do not leave us.’

I closed my eyes, hoping that I would just wake up if I opened them again—if I willed it. After a century of longing for death, it still had come too soon. Too sudden. 

And I couldn’t believe this was the end. 

It can’t. 

I cannot die unless I fulfil my promise, whatever that is… Did saving Maxwell, closing the Breach,… truly free me? Am I free to go? Why am I then not free to stay? Perhaps death doesn’t work that way. 

Another person screamed my name. 

Maxwell. 

I turned around and saw him struggling in Cassandra’s arms. His face was pale but red, his lips cold, his eyes wet. Tears were streaming down his cheek as he clawed into the ground. Cassandra held Max back, rocking him back and forth. Her eyes flickered towards my corpse and back as if she’d look for too long, she’d be unable to remain strong. For Maxwell. 

‘Please… Saeris… Please.’ Cullen’s voice trickled inside my head. 

I looked down at him once more. 

‘I’m sorry,’ I answered, though knowing he wouldn’t hear. The wind was howling, going right through me. I couldn’t even feel it anymore. The sky became brighter, bigger and closer as I moved away further and further into what I thought was the beyond. I put my hand on the Commander’s steel shoulder and saw my skin becoming translucent. ‘Take care of Max for me.’

Cullen swallowed deeply and stared at his shoulder. And then back to my body. He cried my name again. 

But I wouldn’t answer anymore. 

Instead, I let the wind take me into the sky to join the stars. 

***

I woke up. 

And I was back where I once started. A meadow, one I had conjured up inside my mind ever since I came here, to Thedas. 

I stretched out my limbs, and they felt somewhat sore like I had been taking a too-long nap. Flowers of all colours curled against my arms, hugging me. Through the dense leaves of the willow tree I lay under, the sun cast dancing rays across my body. There was a nice wind gliding across the meadow, making the vibrant leaves of grass dance violently.

I smiled to myself. 

And then I wiggled my toes.

A cool summer day. 

Is this what my heaven looks like? 

I don’t mind. 

Suddenly, behind the curtains of trees that bordered the meadow, a bush started to move and shudder. I sat straight, heart thumping.

And there, toddling out of the bush, came my favourite fuzzy cat. I almost cried as Pickles lifted her head towards me, blinking her bright yellow eyes sleepily. She sauntered towards me, her paws burying themselves between the pillows of flora.  

‘Oh… Pickles baby…’ I whispered. 

Pickles purred contentedly and continued to stroll towards me. When she reached me, she placed herself on my lap. As if nothing had happened, as if she had seen me just the day before…  Of course, she would be in my heaven. I laughed as I pulled my fingers through her long fur. The cat cocked her head as I scratched her behind her droopy ears. She squinted her feline, golden eyes. 

For a moment, I thought her eyes glowed. 

Had they always been so incredibly yellow? 

Pickles closed her eyes and rested her chin on my leg, dozing back off. 

I must’ve imagined it. 

I continued to look around the meadow. Everlasting happiness… but why is this place so empty? Why am I still alone? 

Where is… everyone? 

If Pickles is here… where’s mum and dad? My brother and Sybil? Nenhara, Elgadira and Daniel? Do they have a place of their own? 

Where am I exactly… Is this an image my mind has created to comprehend death? Am I in the Fade? Or is this truly… a Beyond of some sort? Past the machinations of the soul, past the Fade, past the universe?  

I pushed myself from the ground. Pickles meowed slightly, complaining that her cushion was moving. She stretched her legs and moved further along the bed of grass, lying down on top of the flowers.

My feet were planted on the ground, and the sensation felt… off. The grass beyond the shade cast by the willow tree was cold, too cold. It shouldn’t be this cold during the summer. It felt like ice. I tiptoed towards the treeline and tried to peek beyond it. Yet I couldn’t. There wasn’t anything beyond but more trees and grass and bushes… too dense for me to move through. 

I stepped back, confused. 

What is this place?

‘Hello!’ I called, my voice was clear and loud. It surprised me. ‘Can anybody hear me?’ 

No answer. 

I turned around and saw Pickles looking at me confused.

Isn’t this what you want? Her gaze seemed to say. 

Panic started to climb its way through my throat. I need to get out of here. This was a mistake… I… I want to live… I’m not ready yet. I walked around the meadow, searching for a way out. After wandering for what felt like hours—perhaps days, who knows—I returned back to Pickles underneath the willow tree.

As I neared her, Pickles purred and stood up, stretching her limbs again. 

‘Pickles, come!’ I tutted. 

But the golden-eyed cat blinked at me curiously and jumped away before I could reach her. 

I paused and stepped inside the shadows of the tree again. Strange how the ground felt warmer here, my heart more at ease. Pickles sauntered towards the broad and—unnaturally—large tree trunk. And it was then that I noticed, as my eyes followed the length of the tree, that the branches were seemingly reaching to the sky above, which was so bright, I had to squint my eyes against the light. The air wasn’t even blue. It was…

The leaves of the willow tree suddenly turned bright white instead of green. They lit up everything.

I breathed, my heart pumping. The tree was shining… wailing?

Pickles climbed onto the trunk and then jumped onto one of the lower branches of the tree. Her grey and brown fur was stark against the bright lights coming from the leaves. The cat cocked her head, and her golden eyes stared at me intensely.

Come . They seemed to say. Come here, to the tree, towards the light.

I took a step forward. But then I stopped. 

If I go to that tree… is that then fully the end?

My curse… I felt it now, deep down, rumbling inside of me, humming with the beat of my heart. I hadn’t fulfilled my promise yet. Whatever it was, it wasn’t over. 

And yet, here I was, in a sort of in-between, a limbo that was this meadow. I felt the panic and stress within me ebb away… And that light… It feels so soothing. 

I felt hypnotised. I felt that I needed to let go… let go and move on… climb into that tree and let myself dissolve into its light. 

My head screamed as I took another step, and I swear my eye started to twist like before… like with the Breach… 

But my feet wouldn’t stop moving, and as I neared the tree, I noticed Pickles’ eyes getting bigger and bigger, more golden, more yellow… 

Almost there.

I stopped again, my mind and body returning to be my own. 

That voice coming from Pickles… It sounds like…

Pickles hissed suddenly and then… the grass! The ground! Everything started to turn into water, I screamed and tried to run towards the tree, but my feet were drowning in the dirt. I sank deeper and deeper until I could only see the top of the tree, its bright lights turning to darkness… Heaven was slipping away. And I was falling deeper. 

And then the earth swallowed me again. 

I saw flashes of light, of mountains and snow and fire,… I heard people call out to me, the rummaging of the ground—like an earthquake was raging above my head—and I was turned upside down. 

I opened my eyes, sweat dripping from my face. My body shook, limbs trembling, bones shaking. There was darkness all around me. Not that kind of darkness that lights up after a while, as your eyes get used to it. No, it was that kind of darkness that was pitch black, the colour of the night sky without stars. It was the colour of sleep, when you close your eyes. It is the colour of the dark you’re afraid of as a child.

‘Calm down…’ I heaved to myself, hoping my own voice would talk some sense into me. But instead, I sounded coarse, panicked, and it made me feel more lost. I was absolutely alone in this dark place, and there wasn’t even an echo to keep me company. 

Where did the light go?

Why had I fallen through the ground?

How did that tree call out to me?

Who was that voice from, that voice that had come from my cat’s bright yellow eyes? 

‘Breathe –Breathe.’ I continued, and I felt the darkness coming nearer, sticking to my arms and body like the web of a spider clinging to its prey. ‘Please…’ I cried. 

And then, like the waves of the ocean, the darkness retreated, perhaps to somewhere or someone else calling out to it. 

I turned around as the dark room got brighter and brighter until it was so bright I couldn’t keep my eyes open.

And then… wet… 

Rain dripped down onto my head, slowly at first, and then the cloud above me broke and I was showered with water. 

I blinked, my heart still raging. 

‘Unbelievable,’ I mouthed as I noticed the tall, modern buildings reaching to the skies around me… as I felt the hard, cold and wet cobblestones underneath me… as I saw the people crossing the street, rainbows of umbrellas in the grey autumn air. I could hear the rushing cars not far away, people smiling and talking and cursing at the rain.

‘You wouldn’t believe what she said!’

I whisked my head around, eyes big. 

‘No—Mum, I know. Yes, yes I’m almost home. Perhaps twenty minutes? Yes.’ My human self crossed the road opposite where I sat. This can’t be real…

‘Uhuh,’ She—or I?—continued. My blonde hair was already short, my frame sickly… I pulled my scarf tighter around my neck, rolling my eyes as my mother continued her nagging. ‘ Yeah, got it.’  

I pushed myself straight, eyes focusing. ‘Saeris!’ I screamed. 

The old me smiled, flashing her teeth that weren’t perfectly straight, or purely white. I looked perfect though. I wished I knew then how lucky I was. She didn’t hear me and continued to strut towards the Underground, where she—I—would catch her—my—train back home. The human me was wearing my favourite yellow boots, and held a transparent umbrella tightly in her hands. She was like a flicker of light within the dull city centre. Yet, I was still sitting on the ground, like a shadow, unreal. People passed me, but no one stopped. No one could see me sitting here. 

I was a ghost. 

‘Hey!’ Damnit, look around! ‘Saeris!’

‘Mum, wait.’ She stopped and then turned around. Her dulled blue eyes flashed along the dreary square, scanning the people hiding under their umbrellas. ‘I swear, Mum, I thought I heard…’ She took a step back and swallowed. ‘Never mind, I’ll see you at home.’

‘No! Sae –’ But my old self was already stepping away and she disappeared down the flight of stairs that led to the subway station. 

I pushed myself from the ground and ran. People cursed as a rush of wind seemed to sweep past them, they couldn’t see me. I ran, hands reaching forward. 'Wait!' I called. 

But I forgot how dangerous this world was as well. And as I crossed the street, I hadn’t seen the car coming towards me. 

The ground shook again. 

Darkness flashed by. 

Moving me. 

And then I was standing somewhere dark and crowded. Bodies of people were squirming against each other. Flashes of red and pink and yellow lights were flickering across the room, lighting up a face here and there. I didn’t recognize anyone. 

The smell of sex hung in the air, damp and arousing. People moved against each other as if they were possessed by the music. 

'Dance! Dance ‘cause this night ain’t over yet!' A robotic voice that resembled a woman’s sounded through the bass of the music. At least I still vaguely recognized that song… 

And then the lights flashed again, focussing on another stranger within the swaying ground. 

There I was again, and I looked healthier. My hair, although flat because of the sweat, was still long and voluminous, my body still muscular instead of sickly, my skin tan and full of freckles. The short sequin dress I wore was bright red and stood out from the black mass around me. A man was standing behind me… I couldn’t see his face that well, but I knew him. Death.

I know this memory… 

The drunk me twirled, moving wilder and wilder as the music swelled. The man behind me slid his hands along my thighs, and it seemed I didn’t mind it either. 

‘Saeris!’ I cried, hoping she would hear me now. But she didn’t, even though this time my voice sounded as loud as the music itself. 

She ignored it and turned to the man, lips pressing on his. He returned by grabbing her tightly. The man cocked his hand and opened his mouth. I saw his tongue slithering to her mouth, she moaned and he grunted. 

But then… what was he breathing into her?  

She looked up, dazed. Her eyes turned big as she looked into his eyes… and then she ran away to the bathroom, blood dripping down her chin already.

The man stared after her, unmoving. And then he turned his face—beautiful and deadly—to me. Never had I seen a man as unearthly as him. Tall and pale, his long pitch-black hair framed his unnervingly perfect face and his cold, glowing emerald eyes. 

A beam of light roamed through the room, passing by him. 

He had pointed ears.

His eyes claimed mine. And then… he smiled at me widely, with perfect, white, fanged teeth.

The lights flashed again, and the dark overpowered me once more.

The music sounded like it was inside a tunnel, and I was carried further and further away… 

It kept happening… I woke up somewhere, saw my old self, and she always almost saw me… saw my eyes, or heard my voice… A ghost was haunting me, and that ghost was myself. It was me. 

I saw myself on a hospital bed… I saw myself waiting for my train. Flashes of my old life… I wondered how many times I would see myself… For how long was this ordeal going to last? This hell of seeing but not being able to reach out… 

I was falling back through time, through my past life on Earth, and I saw myself getting younger and younger, healthier and healthier… Until I was a teenager, then a child, then a baby and then… 

The darkness swallowed me again. I had just seen myself in a cradle, my little chubby hands playing with the rays of light above me. And then those white rays turned into white locks of hair, and the little chubby hands grabbed the soft strings that looked like silver… And I’m sure my old self had finally, truly seen me. 

The baby me had smiled with a toothless grin, eyes squinting. Not scared, not curious, just… happy. 

And then, as the darkness carried me away again, I was expecting to see my own birth. 

But instead, I ended up inside a stranger’s bedroom. 

The moon was creeping through the blinders of the window, and there was a warm wind howling inside the room, making the white, transparent curtains billow. My eyes got used to this kind of darkness, the darkness of the night… And I followed the trails made by the moonlight. I was standing in a doorway that led towards a small bedroom. The walls were painted blue. There was a fluffy white rug on the floor, and a wardrobe next to the door. In the centre of the room, stood a bed. King size. 

I took a step forward, and the wooden floor underneath me creaked. 

I held my breath. 

My surroundings hadn’t reacted to me before, not like that. 

There were people sleeping inside, and someone pushed themselves straight, in shock, and stared right at me. 

At first, I thought it was my brother. 

But it was my father. 

He was still young, no grey hairs, no wrinkles,… His eyes squinted against the darkness, trying to see who had entered their room. The air here was dense and smelled of sweat and fresh cotton. 

'Who’s there?' My dad said, almost whispering, not sure if he was dreaming or not. 

My heart sank, and I stopped breathing. Could he see me?

'Hello?' Dad said again, more cautious this time. 

I took a step forward, into the light of the moon trickling down the window… 'It’s me…' My voice sounded clear, yet frightened as well, unsure. 'Saeris.’ 

My dad swallowed, unmoving, and stared right at me, into my eyes. ‘Who?’

I bit my lip but felt no pain. Of course… I am dead. 

‘Saeris,’ I said again. Louder this time. 

My dad blinked and kept staring into my eyes, the eyes of his future daughter. ‘Saeris.’ He repeated, the syllables strange in his mouth.

And then, suddenly, the person next to my father inhaled sharply. 

My father turned to his side, his face full of concern. My mother sat straight, clutching her stomach, which was huge and swollen… ‘Shit!’ Mum cursed, her gorgeous hair curling along her fresh face, ‘She’s here!’ And then she started to huff, and I saw something move within her. 

Myself. 

This time, I stepped inside the darkness voluntarily. 

This moment wasn’t for me to remember. But I’m glad I saw it. I’m glad I know now how my parents came up with my name… It wasn’t anything grand, or special… Not a long-lost family member, or a friend, who I was named after. 

I named myself. 

I did it. 

The darkness felt warm this time, yet also thicker, stranger. 

Next was my last stop. I knew that now. What will I see? Who will I see? Will I go back to that meadow, will I be able to reach that tree of light? 

The darkness around me started to lighten up, and it felt so familiar now… So…

Old. 

***

The sky was a bright mixture of blue and purple, and although it was daytime, I could see the stars clearly among the white clouds. The trees before me were huge, their trunks thick and old, their branches glistening with dew, almost as high up as the stars. Twisting along the branches were clear spires of crystal, lights dancing within.

The sweet taste of magic hung in the air… it didn’t taste of anyone, it just tastes like magic itself. Pure. Untethered. 

I took a step forward, away from the darkness behind me, and gaped at the wondrous place I had wandered into. 

There was a long road in front of me, and I could see small runes along the side of the road, glowing gently, showing me the way. Along the path, the earth was littered with grass and flowers and brightly coloured stones. The ground also split up, leading away to air below, as if we were floating. I understood then that on top of the clouds above me, there were buildings and other places… just like this one. 

Where in the world was I? 

I followed the meanders slowly, taking in the magic around me. 

It was everywhere. 

It was everything. 

Magic wasn’t just a tool here, it was a source… it was the flowers and the grass, the road, the tree and its branches,… magic was the sky, and the clouds floating in it, and the stars shining down on me. I was magic. It was the air I breathed, the sounds I heard,… 

The meandering road was like a river, taking turns in unexpected places. I passed the crystal woods and the palaces above my head until I saw a flicker of light in the distance. On the horizon stood a bright city of white and gold, so far away, yet I could hear its gates opening to me…

‘Saeris?’

A foreign voice whispered in my ear, and my whole body froze. I could feel the breath as cold as ice trickling down the brim of my ear, dry lips smiling against my lobe, a hand, cold as well, pressing down on my shoulders. 

‘Saeris, ny silaimem. Ny silaimem shala em’an.’ 

‘What?’ I heaved and turned around. 

The darkness consumed me again, just for a brief moment, until it ebbed away.

I was standing inside a courtyard, filled with exotic flowers that couldn’t be found on Earth or Thedas. The walls surrounding me were old, yet seemed brand new, built with shimmering stones and decorated with colourful murals and tiles depicting strange creatures. 

I swallowed. Whose voice was that? 

I stared at the sky, and it was still the same, brightly coloured, the sun and the stars intertwining… I’m in the same world but in another place… Am I in the city I saw near the horizon? I looked around this courtyard, and noticed in the centre, not far from me, a little garden… filled with statues of… creatures I had definitely seen before… Perhaps in books? On images? Memories? Or… in an ancient ruin, somewhere hidden. I could see nine statues, though their faces were blurry… As if their artist hadn’t finished his masterwork yet… the details still missing… the last one of the nine statues was almost missing completely. The head of this last creature was gone, seemingly ripped off by someone… I think somebody really didn’t like this statue, or the creature, man or woman, representing it. 

The magic tasted more vibrant here, deeper and older. 

And as I crossed that ninth statue, I swear the taste was… familiar. 

Suddenly, as if a hand was sliding along my back, I heard that same voice cry in the distance, behind the walls of the courtyard. My heart started to beat rapidly, and I was surprised that a dead heart could be so vivid. Screams and alarm bells were ringing in my head, and everything around me, all the perfect and beautiful gardens, buildings and monuments felt wrong… distorted.

Everything felt dazed… Vile. 

Tears glided down my cheeks, blurring my vision, and choking me out of breath. 

That cry—the echo still lingering—that was mine. 

‘Saeris!’

It was my voice, and I felt sorrow so deeply, I couldn’t even comprehend it. My arms and legs started to shake from anger and defeat. 

I moved, no—ran, sprinted, forwards… I couldn’t even see what was around me anymore. I just followed the voice, its eerie hands pushing me, its breaths of ice guiding me…

I had to find myself. 

I am here. I was here. I don’t remember it but now I’m so sure… This is a place from before. It’s from before I was born, before I existed… this was the home of my ancestor… And she is here now. 

I need to find her. 

‘Ghi’la me! Sathan!’ The voice, my voice, cried again. She begged. 

And then, I closed my eyes and when I opened them again… there she was, sitting on the ground, eyes focused on the marble floor. 

I blinked rapidly, but everything was blurry, like peeping through a misty mirror… I couldn’t see anything but her sitting in front of me.

Her back was turned to me, her long, slick black hair hanging loosely around her frail shoulders. Her hair was as black as the darkness that had swallowed me. Not even the Veilfire on the torches hanging from the stone walls, or the runes on the floor, could brighten it… Her pale, greyish ears stuck between the strands of night, twitching as she hiccupped. 

I took a step closer.

The Elven girl in front of me shivered and looked over her shoulder. 

I held my breath. Her face was almost like mine, but sharper, paler and… she looked so tired, so stricken with sadness and desperation. Her blue eyes were deep-set into her face, dark circles underneath them. And along her cheeks, nose, forehead and chin, twisted thick inked lines, their colour a dark grey. The Vallaslin was so stark against her porcelain skin, it almost seemed she wanted them to be seen so vividly. I followed the tattoo and furrowed my brows as they went on below her chin, along her neck and… her whole body was covered… She was wearing a loose, pale green gown that exposed most of her chest, shoulders and back. She shivered so badly, I wanted to cover her up. But covering up meant hiding those Vallaslin that twisted along her collarbones, her shoulders, along her visible spine. The black lines disappeared in her cleavage, curling around her breasts underneath. 

She lifted up her hands, tucking away a strand of hair behind her ears. Even her earlobes and her fingers and knuckles were inked. 

Her eyes, red from crying, were big and curious, though she couldn’t see me, she felt me. 

‘Ghi’la me…’ She sighed, her voice breaking mid-sentence, tears streaming down her face. 

And then, someone else entered the space, which felt empty—purely empty except for us. The light coming from its sole window was so bright, I couldn’t even see how big the room was, and who else was there. 

My eyes squinted as they stared past my ancestor… and on the floor, I could clearly see… seven shadows. They moved and mumbled amongst each other. 

My ancestor looked back to her front, her eyes unwavering this time. She stopped shaking, stopped crying and heaving. 

The seven shadows came closer—if only I could see them. 

I bit my lip, and slowly felt a strange heat rising along my toes to my knees.

My ancestor opened her mouth, though her voice sounded small, almost too silent to hear. A whisper. 

I could only hear her utter ‘ ma halani’, help me, to the shadows in front of her.

The shadows whispered amongst themselves, hushing and arguing. My ancestor bowed her head, almost in shame. Or in fear? 

Sweat started to drip from my forehead as the minutes ticked away… My cheeks started to flush, and I could feel warmth underneath my feet—as if I was standing on hot coals.

I wiped the sweat from my face, ignoring the heat, focusing on the murmuring shadows in front of me… but they were getting more blurry, their voices unintelligible.

And then… they became quiet.

My ancestor lifted her face, her slick hair sliding from her shoulders with the movements of a snake. 

The shadows said something again. The shaking girl in front of me, she—she smiled? Baring her white teeth, she nodded her head a final time. ‘Vin.’ She said. Yes. 

And then she screamed. 

And then I screamed with her. 

‘Ra nuisen! RA NUISEN!’ She screamed and clawed at her own skin. 

I followed her screams, I felt her nails scraping along my arms… And it burns! IT BURNS!

I coughed, my hands flailing at my throat! I can’t breathe! I can’t—I can’t see! Everything was burning, my body felt like it was turning to ashes. 

And my ancestor in front of me fell to the ground, pushing her face against the cold marble floor as she hurled in agony and despair. The shadows in front of us didn’t do anything but stare down at our crying figures, twisting in pain… burning from the inside out.

And through the sea of tears, I could see the Vallaslin on the bare back of the girl before me, slowly retreating, being burned away pigment by pigment. Blood seeped from her pores until she was nothing more but a mass of blood and bones and tears… The roots of her deep black hair started to wither, but instead of falling out, it turned to white—pure white—like the light coming from the window, like the blinding light of the wailing willow tree… 

She screamed louder, and I felt my own scalp burning, follicle by follicle, and I wanted to rip the skin off of my head until I too was nothing more but burning and seething bones. 

‘MAKE IT STOP!’ I roared. ‘IT’S BURNING!’ 

But it didn’t stop, and the white started to turn red and orange and black… to flames.

And, and, and… And then the Elven girl stopped screaming. She became like the clouds, drifting calmly as she raised herself slowly. Dark red blood dripped from her whole body as if she had bathed in it. And as the blood dripped onto the marble floor, I noticed her bare skin underneath, which was now pure, fair, with no sign of scars or the black Vallaslin…

She breathed in deeply, almost jaggedly… as if a great burden had been lifted off her shoulders. 

The seven shadows murmured amongst themselves proudly… and then their voices were as clear as day… And they weren’t directed towards my ancestor, but to me. 

‘Tel’enara bellana bana’vhenadahl, sethen’a ir san’shiral, mala tel’halani. Ir sa’vir te’suledin var bana’vallaslin, vora’nadas san banal’him emma abel revas. Ir tela’ena glandival, vir amin tel’hanin. Ir tela las ir Fen halam, vir am’tela’elvahen.’ They sang, the notes ringing inside of my head, filling my own thoughts. Their shadowy mouths… moved differently. As if the words they were truly saying didn't match the song. 

The song was loud as if it was masking something I was not meant to hear. Yet.

I cried, and I felt that burning sensation creeping on my skin again… Why didn’t it stop? 

My ancestor laughed out loud, incredibly deeply, and now her voice didn’t resemble mine anymore… She turned around very slowly, her face raising towards me. 

She opened her eyes. 

‘Saeris.’ She howled. ‘Saeris, ny salaimem.’ You have forgotten.

Tears streamed down my face again, yet now, they were red as well. The same blood as hers. 

Her eyes stared deep into mine. 

One blue. 

And now… One emerald green. 

‘Ny salaimem mar dirtha’vhen’an.’ She whispered, and her green eye twisted and turned. 

She wasn’t my ancestor anymore. She was my reflection. She was me. 

I screamed, the burning sensation taking control, flames filling the entire room. They ate the shadows, they ate away the reflection in front of me until everything turned into ash and flame and pain and blood. 

Ny salaimem mar dirtha’vhen’an.

I was burning away, the darkness skulking from the window and the shadows and my ancestor’s soulless eyes.

Mar dirtha’vhen’an.

It hurts! It burns! STOP!

The flames were all around me now, and I screamed, my lungs literally on fire, and I ran forwards… I pushed against the flames as if they were a howling wind…

But this time…

The night is long
And the path is dark

I stepped outside the flames and I was so happy the cold darkness greeted me… But this time… I could see the stars as well.

Look to the sky
For one day soon

‘STOP! SHE IS ALIVE!’

This time… Instead of the darkness… The dawn came…

Notes:

Here are some translations to the Elven:
*“Saeris, ny silaimem. Ny silaimem shala em’an.” = Saeris, you have forgotten. You have forgotten to protect us.
*“Ghi’la me! Sathan!” = Guide me! Please!
*"Ra nuisen!" = It burns!
“Tel’enara bellana bana’vhenadahl, sethen’a ir san’shiral...” = the words of lullaby "Where Willows Wail"

This chapter is supposed to be quite strange and confusing... and it raised more questions than it answers... but everything will eventually become clear. Is this chapter, and the last part of it, confusing you? Good, Saeris is confused as well!

Next chapter we will see what happens after Saeris wakes up.... and we'll finally go to a very pretty castle called Skyhold.

Chapter 45: Cursed

‘Has she awakened yet?’ 

‘No… She hasn’t…’

‘She isn’t –?’

‘She still sleeps. She will wake soon. I hope.’

‘Tell me when something happens, Solas.’

‘I will, Seeker.’  

There was scuffling outside, people wandering around the tent. 

My eyes moved against my lids, and for a second I wondered if that darkness would be forever. I curled my toes, stretched my fingers, twitched my ears… And I realised I was alive. 

I’m back. 

And I can open my eyes.

So I did. Slowly, trying to get used to the light that trickled inside the makeshift tent… Outside the sun was shining lazily… it was morning, I guessed. 

I bit my lip. It hurts. I’m so happy it hurts…

I blinked, and it felt like there was a plug inside my throat… making it dry and coarse and hard to breathe… I think I’m thirsty… How long have I been laying here?

How long had I been dead? 

And… how did I wake up? 

I don’t remember… or do I? I saw —I saw my old self! I saw Pickles and, and dad! Was it all a dream? What about… I don’t know… There’s something strange I can’t seem to remember… No, shadows, I didn’t forget. Seven shadows… And my ancestor… a promise…

I pushed myself straight, and whimpered as the muscles in my arms protested, sour from doing nothing… from being reborn… 

It’s true then, I cannot die unless I fulfil my promise… 

That promise to those seven shadows, whatever they were.

I turned to my side, swaying my legs off the bed. I noticed then the thick fur mantle that covered my shoulders. I touched it carefully, pushing against the soft, dark reddish brown fabric. 

That’s Cullen’s.

Suddenly, the flap of the tent slid aside, and a bright light entered the damp tent. I hissed and held my hand before my eyes as a cover.

A familiar voice cursed, surprised. ‘Saeris!’ 

Solas rushed to the bed. I don’t remember ever seeing such an expression on that Elf’s face.

I smiled lazily. ‘Good morning, Solas.’ My voice sounded strange.

Solas walked over to my bed with two long, rushed strides. His face was pulled in a grimace mixed with concern and… and reassurance. There were extremely dark circles under his deep grey eyes, which now almost looked feral as he stared at me intensely. The woollen tunic he wore was dirty… so were his pants… he hadn’t changed for long. The jawbone necklace hung loosely around his neck, and I noticed him swallowing deeply as he stopped in front of me. 

I furrowed my brows, ‘I—’

And then Solas grabbed my shoulders, his fingers burying into the mantle, and he pulled me against his chest. He rested his cheek on top of my head, his face planted in my unruly hair. He breathed shakily, and swallowed again, as if in tears. He smelled of Elfroot and dirt… and blood… and fire. 

A flash of dancing flames rushed inside my mind… the feeling of being burned alive. 

‘Saeris, I… I have been so worried.’ Solas hushed against my skin.

‘I’m sorry.’ I mumbled, ‘I’m okay.’

‘You were dead.’ He bit, and pushed himself slightly away, just so he could see my face. His hands were still holding onto my shoulders as he held me at arm’s length. ‘I… I had tried everything imaginable, yet I was so sure…’ 

‘I know.’ I shook my head, my hair dancing in curls around my face. ‘I know, Solas.’ 

‘It matters not.’ Solas stared into my eyes, holding me there. ‘You are here. That is what is important. For now.’

I hummed slightly. 

‘Is there anything you need?’ He hadn’t stopped staring at me, his face close to mine. 

How could I forget that kiss we had shared before… before Haven…

‘Some water…’ I smiled faintly. ‘My throat feels like it’s filled with dust.’

There was a flash of pain in Solas’ eyes. ‘Of course.’ He mumbled absent-mindedly. ‘I will get you some…’ He let go of my shoulders reluctantly, finger by finger, and then took another step back. ‘Stay here.’

‘I will.’

Solas’ mouth twitched an unsure expression. And then he turned around quickly and rushed out of the tent. I tried to stare past him as he opened the entrance of the tent, hoping to see what was going on outside. But the light was too strong, and I could only see shadows rushing by before the tent was closed off again. 

I rolled back my shoulders, my muscles protesting slightly.

I had been wounded before. Now, I feel fine.

Again, there was a rush of footsteps and voices outside. My head jolted straight.

‘Solas! Is she…’

The flap of the tent slid aside again, and I squinted my eyes. Solas rushed back inside, a bowl of water in his ever so slightly trembling, large hands. And right behind him followed Cassandra. She was in full gear, her steel armour dirty, her hair wild. She had smears of dirt on her face, and her brown eyes large and deep-set. 

‘You are awake!’ She gasped, her lips were blue. 

‘Cass…’ I started, my voice still hoarse.

Solas interrupted, standing before the Seeker to cut her off too. He held a large bowl of fresh water in his hands and slowly shoved it towards me. I looked up to him and nodded gratefully. He stared at me as if I was still but a ghost that was going to disappear at any given moment.

As I took the bowl from his hands, my fingers slightly touched his. He was colder than I was. 

I held the bowl in front of me and swallowed. Damn, I was so thirsty. But as I cupped the bowl and brought it closer to my face, I noticed my reflection in the water.

I cried out and dropped the bowl, and it fell onto the ground into little pieces.

‘Maker’s grace! Are you—‘ Cassandra rushed towards me at the same moment Solas did, and they both grabbed my upper arms, shaking me slightly.

‘I’m…’ I mumbled. 

I… I looked like before… nothing had changed. No scars. Not even a hint there had been bruising before…  I reached for my ears. One of them had been cut in half by… and it was whole again. Like my body had melted and created anew.

There was no sign of the battle I had fought.

I stared back at Solas, eyes big and confused. He nodded slowly. He understood. 

And Cassandra got the cue of my surprise and pulled my sleeve so I turned towards her instead. ‘Who,’ she started, her voice stern and somewhat cold, ‘what are you?’

I swallowed again and stared at my trembling hands.

‘I don’t know.’ I hiccupped. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘You have to tell us everything.’ Leliana suddenly appeared from behind the Seeker. I hadn’t even seen her come in. ‘What happened? You died.’

‘And then you came back.’ Cassandra continued, not even looking behind her.

Leliana peered at me from underneath her hood, her arms crossed before her. There was a caution to her voice, to her whole stance… as if she didn’t know to be afraid or to be in awe, and it made her angry. It made me angry too.

What do I tell them? 

‘What did you see?’ Cassandra’s eyes were big, demanding even. ‘Where did you go?’

‘I…’

‘Stop this!’ Solas pushed himself back to his feet, his voice thundering. ‘She has just awakened. Give her time.’

‘We do not have time, Solas.’ Cassandra bit back.

‘No. He is right. She needs to come to her senses first. An hour.’ Leliana’s voice sounded soft and calm, even though she didn’t move or breathe for all that matter. 

My head was pounding, my throat stinging…

‘But—‘ Cassandra tutted.

‘An hour.’ Leliana stated coldly.

I have an hour… an hour to understand what has happened… and an hour to figure out what to tell them. 

Leliana turned away and left the tent. Cassandra took a step back, still gaping at me. But then she followed Leliana outside, her shoulders trembling impatiently. 

I blinked. This is all too much. 

What in Mythal’s… Maker’s… What in fuck’s name happened. 

‘Can you stand?’ Solas was the only one who remained calm and patient, his eyes sweet and concerned. He stretched his hand towards me, his palm turned towards the ceiling. There was no rushing here, no questions. He only smiled faintly, and it made my stomach twist a little bit. 

‘I’ll try.’ I sighed and grabbed his hand, his fingers softly caressing mine. 

I almost fell as I stood up, but Solas held me up steadily. ‘You need fresh air. And I will get someone to bring you water.’ He said as his other arm slid underneath my shoulder and supported my lower back. I noticed how he pushed himself slightly against me. No space left untouched, no way for me to fall back down again. 

Solas guided me outside. Into the light. It rushed against me like a storm. And even though it was cold outside, the wind howling and the snow pushing against us, the sun surrounded me with warmth. And for a second, I was so incredibly happy to be alive… to be able to feel that warmth again, to squint against the light. 

But as my eyes adjusted, I noticed the group of people that had started to gather around my tent. 

Solas hissed, his fingers burying into the fabric of my shirt at my back. 

‘Our Lady has awakened!’ Someone called. 

What? 

‘Our Lady!’ People started to clap. ‘The Miracle!’ Some whispered. There were around a hundred of them, humans and Elves alike, and they all stood in front of us. Their faces were blue and red, clothes tattered and dirty. And they fell to their knees in unison, into the icy snow below. Some cried and some prayed, and others screamed my name. 

‘What is happening?’ I heaved. 

‘They think you have been saved by Andraste herself. Or perhaps you are Her.’ Mother Giselle appeared from between the curtains of people. ‘Are you?’

People cheered at my confused silence.

‘N –No! I don’t…’ I sighed, my throat still as dry as the desert. 

‘Saeris!’ Someone called. That voice… ‘Move aside! Maker’s ass, man, move! Let me through!’ Maxwell ran through the crowd, his eyes searching… for me. His soft brown curls were wet and dirty, and his eyes were like the others, deep-set and large. I noticed new scars on his tanned face that now looked quite pale. A long, deep cut from his eyebrow to his chin was set into his face, and it had healed already and turned white. He also looked older. Tired. But all of that couldn’t wipe away the huge smile that curled along his dark lips as he found me. ‘Saeris.’ He whispered my name, and it made me warm inside.

He was worth dying for. My friend.

He sprinted towards me, and almost somersaulted over the kneeling and praying people before my feet. And then he was in front of me.

‘Hi, Max.’ I grinned.

And he couldn’t say anything, his eyes tearing up. ‘Damnit Saeris.’ He cursed, and then his strong arms were around me. Solas protested silently as he had to let go of me, but Maxwell was there to lift me up. He was everywhere. His arms around my waist, his chest against mine, his cheek against my forehead, and his breath along my ears. And that smell—it was the smell of life itself. Sweat and dirt and everything that was Maxwell. If I’d bottled it, the perfume would be called happiness. It made me happy, and it made me forget the crowd, the prayers, the questions… It made me forget everything that had happened. Because now I’m back again. I’m here. I’m alive and … Max’s alive. He’s here. He’s fine. That alone was worth everything. 

‘I swear to the Maker, Saeris. If you do that again…’ He couldn’t finish his sentence but instead hugged me even harder.

‘I’m sorry.’ I mumbled against his shoulder, so only he could hear. ‘I didn’t want you to…’ 

‘I know.’ Maxwell breathed. He was so warm. ‘But never do anything like that. Never again. I can’t… I can’t deal with that again. I won’t.’

‘But if I didn’t you’d…’

‘No. I would’ve taken care of it. It wasn’t your duty. It was mine. And if I had to die for it, then so be it. But… Don’t you dare ever do that again… I wanted to protect you, everyone, and I was ready for it. So don’t… please promise me you’ll never…’

‘I can’t promise that, Max.’ I pushed my face from his shoulder to look at him. ‘You are my friend.’

‘And you are mine. Let me protect you.’ Maxwell furrowed his brows and sighed. ‘Maker, Saeris, I’m so angry… but I’m so happy you’re here… I thought you were gone forever.’

‘We all did.’ Solas interrupted. I forgot he was there. I even forgot the people around us.

‘Please, disperse!’ Commander Cullen stepped from between the people. They moved aside immediately. 

My heart skipped a beat… And the fur cape on my shoulders felt as heavy as lead. Cullen stopped in front of us, and Maxwell let go of me and nodded at his Commander. Solas immediately took Max’s place at my side, supporting me again. But I only stared at Cullen.

He had been the last one I’d seen. The last one I’d heard… I remember his words, his tears on my face… his arms shaking me… and for a moment it all came back to me, rushing in a thousand images. Dying. The stars. 

‘Lady Saeris.’ Cullen broke the silence. There was a mixture of emotions on his face. Sadness, confusion… anger. Boy, he was really angry. I understood. I’d be angry too if he secretly went out, alone, into enemy lines, died and then came back… just like that. I’m angry too. Maybe I should’ve stayed dead? Maybe they would’ve learned to cope with my death, and it wouldn’t all be so damn confusing. 

Cullen kept staring at me, his golden brown eyes almost too afraid to stop… as if I’d be gone after he blinked. I wish I was… The praying crowd around us was only growing larger and larger, their voices louder and louder.

‘You cannot be here.’ His voice was cold and distant. He sounded like he was in pain. Not physical. I knew that pain. And I hated myself for letting him feel that. ‘Follow me.’

‘Alright, let’s go.’ Maxwell exhaled and supported my other side together with Solas.

‘The Lady!’ The kneeling people still applauded as we passed them. ‘She has returned to us!’

But with every prayer, I could hear silent threats. ‘Demon…’ I heard them whisper, their eyes piercing. ‘Witch… foul demon… should’ve stayed dead… perhaps we burn her again…’

I closed my eyes shut. 

Am I a demon? 

I could be. 

***

‘How are you feeling?’ Solas hushed. I gulped down the water in one go. It wasn’t enough. I could drink gallons, but the taste and feel of fire and dust in my throat wouldn’t ebb away. Perhaps I’m still burning inside. 

I coughed. And Solas’ hands were on my shoulders. ‘I’m fine, I’m fine.’ I pushed him back gently. 

‘Guards, leave us.’ Leliana ordered as she strutted back and forth behind the wobbly, makeshift table. A map was spread out on it. Parts of it were ripped off or burned. ‘Solas, you too.’

Solas sneered at the Spymaster.

‘I’m alright, falon .’ I nodded assuredly at the Elf.

He cocked his head. ‘As you wish.’ He said and left, slowly, still looking at me.

‘He is concerned.’ I smiled at Maxwell, who stood next to me.

‘I can see that.’ Max winked. 

‘Alright. Let us begin.’ Leliana stopped in front of the table. Her eyes were glistening as she stared at me again. Ambassador Josephine was standing next to her, and she looked down at the table nervously. And next to her stood the Commander. The fact that he stared at me, yet still couldn’t look me directly in the eyes, made me even more nervous. I need to give him his mantle back. 

‘What happened?’ Cassandra asked first. She was leaning against the wooden beam that supported the tent. Her face was clear and curious, cautious, but filled with wonder.

‘I…’ I started, ‘I followed Max.’ I told them everything. I told them how I was attacked by Simon, who had turned into a Red-Lyrium Templar. Cullen shifted on his feet visibly at that. I left out how he had stabbed me. There’s no need for those details. And then I told them about how I saw the Elder One, Corypheus, and heard parts of what he said to Maxwell.

‘He was one ugly bastard, wasn’t he?’ Maxwell joked, but I could see him getting nervous with the memory of that scene. 

I nodded. And then continued. I told them how I pushed Maxwell and got buried underneath the avalanche, and fell to the cavern below. I recalled following Maxwell’s bloodied footsteps, his moaning in the distance… and from the corner of my eyes, I saw Max and Cassandra sharing a pained look… ‘I couldn’t catch up to Max… I was too slow, wounded… so I gave him the last I had, so he could survive.’ 

‘And then you died.’ Leliana confirmed.

Swallowing, I answered, ‘I think so.’

Cullen shook his head. ‘No, I know you did. I held you. I felt…’ He stopped and grunted. Josephine put her hand on his steel shoulder and looked at him sympathetically.

‘And then what happened?’ Cassandra interrupted, her voice loud and high. ‘Did you see the Maker? Where did you go? What…’

‘Cassandra.’ Leliana held up her hand to silence the Seeker. But I saw the interest sparking in Leliana’s eyes. I knew she was as devout as Cassandra was. And I knew they both wanted me to answer their religious questions. Had I seen the Maker? Did Andraste join Him at his side? Did I see Her there? Is there truly an afterlife?

‘There was darkness first.’ I answered. And it surprised them. They turned to me, and Maxwell had gone silent at my side. Shall I tell them everything? Or… ‘And then… I…’ Shall I tell them of the glowing willow tree? ‘I saw my life flashing before me.’ 

‘And?’ Leliana spread her hands on the table, her nails ticking against the wood impatiently. 

‘And then I…’ I bit the inside of my lip. ‘I felt I was burning.’

‘Stop. I cannot hear this.’ Josephine covered her mouth with her hand. 

But I continued anyway. ‘And then I saw flames and… and then I was back again.’ Perhaps that’s not entirely how it went. But some things were personal. And I don’t understand much yet… they didn’t need to know of the shadows I saw… my ancestor…

‘You did not see anything more?’ Cassandra asked, her voice filled with disappointment.

‘No.’ 

‘Then… how did you return? Why?’ Leliana sighed, her eyes moving from one side to another as she thought deeply. 

‘Did Andraste return you to us? For saving the Herald?’ Cassandra thought aloud.

‘As I said, I’m not Andraste’s Herald.’ Maxwell bit.

‘We don’t know that.’ Leliana clapped back.

‘I do.’ Max shook his head. 

‘Then what are you?’ Josephine tapped her foot on the ground, and I just noticed then how her curls were escaping her hairdo, and how dirty her dress was. 

‘Yes, if you were not blessed by Andraste… How did you return? Solas did not detect any magic used…’ Leliana mumbled. ‘Then are you…?’

‘She is not a demon!’ Maxwell suddenly commanded, stomping his feet on the ground. ‘I know you’re all thinking it! And stop! She isn’t!’

I scraped my throat. ‘Not that I know of.’

‘Then how did you come back?’

‘This couldn’t be anything but a divine intervention. Our cause…’

‘Can we verify if she is possessed? Cullen can you…’

‘NO!’ Culled smacked his fist on the table, and everyone went silent. The Commander’s fist trembled as he slowly retreated.

‘I’m cursed.’ There. I said it. It might not be wholly true. But in a way I am cursed. I cursed myself by promising something I don’t even recall. They should know, or they will continue to argue.

‘What?’ Maxwell blinked rapidly, furrowing his brows. He took a step away from me. 

‘I’m cursed,’ I said again. ‘I… I promised something… and I don’t remember. I’ve been looking for answers for a while now.’ A hundred years, but do I have to tell them that? ‘In the Fade, I had heard whispers. Though they could not tell me a lot… They told me I can’t die unless I fulfil it.’ My head felt heavy. I hadn’t told anyone this before. ‘I… didn’t know if I could believe them. But now …’

‘How can you be…’ Cassandra breathed…

‘I don’t know… I thought closing the Breach would have… freed me… but it didn’t.’

‘Obviously…’ Josephine mumbled. 

‘Why did you not tell us any of this sooner?’ Leliana skulked around the table towards me, still not satisfied. ‘We could have helped, perhaps, or –‘

‘I was scared.’ I intercepted. ‘I thought it didn’t matter… I thought I’d just… help out and… and it would all… get solved.’

‘But it didn’t.’ Leliana cocked her head. ‘Does Solas…’

‘No, I wanted to tell him but then… everything happened.’

‘This needs to be studied… We need to—‘ Josephine gaped at me.

‘Indeed. But we do not have the resources.’ Commander Cullen finally stopped staring at me and instead looked over the map before him. ‘Perhaps when we reach the stronghold.’

‘The stronghold?’ I stared at the map, and saw a new, golden pin sticking on a location in the Frostback Mountains… what stronghold could be hidden here? Shouldn’t we flee from the mountains? From Corypheus? 

‘I’ll tell you later.’ Maxwell pinched my knee and winked at me again. 

‘What will we tell the people? Word of this occurrence will spread.’ Josephine continued against Leliana and Cassandra. 

Leliana stopped in front of me, her hands bound behind her back. ‘I propose we use this to our advantage. We do not yet know the details of this… this curse, you say … Perhaps this could boost our already infamous reputation…’

‘Possibly…’ Josephine clasped her hands. ‘We are in dire need of this after Haven.’

Maxwell sighed deeply, ‘Is telling the people I’m Andraste’s Herald not good enough anymore? I’m hurt. That was my favourite lie of the month.’ 

‘It could very well not be a lie.’ Cassandra hissed. ‘We do not know the Maker’s way… We do not know what has happened to Saeris…’

‘What? No!’ I protested and tried to stand up. I almost fell, and Cullen twitched. But Maxwell was already supporting me. ‘This has nothing to do with the Maker!’

‘Does it?’ Leliana hushed, almost like Mother Giselle does all the time. 

I ground my teeth against each other, my blood boiling. I don’t want to be mistaken for another Herald… I saw the pressure it put on Maxwell… And I’m not… I don’t believe in that sort of thing. ‘I’m not a Herald.’

‘But you saved one. And were rewarded for it. This is what people will believe, what they will hear. And this is what will attract them to the Inquisition, together with the Herald’s reputation.’ Josephine’s face was becoming brighter, her eyes filled with hope. If they used my “fake” story… it will rouse people and instigate them to join us…

But was I ready to be in the spotlight after decades in the shadows?

I liked the shadows… they were safe and cool. There were no expectations, no demands. Only the few that mattered would see me.

But then Maxwell grabbed my hand and pinched it. 

I looked over to him and saw the understanding on his face. He knew the responsibility… But if I had been ready to die for him, I was ready for this too.

If I can truly help the Inquisition… And perhaps they can help me too…

‘We can work together.’ Josephine smiled faintly, encouraging. 

‘I… alright.’ I exhaled as if I had been holding my breath all this time. I will inspire and galvanise… and I will help. Is that not what I wanted? Maxwell sighed, almost disappointedly… He had hoped for an easier life for me. And I saw Cullen almost curse under his breath, not in anger or disappointment, but in concern. Leliana, Josephine and Cassandra nodded assuredly, though I feared they would never treat me as an equal again. Please don’t believe in this lie. 

I am cursed. Not blessed. 

***

‘Holy crap! Look who’s up!’ Varric grinned and walked up towards us as we stepped out of the large tent, which was supposed to be a war room…

I smiled, and Maxwell finally did too. 

‘Enjoyed your little nap, Twinkle? Or should I say Firefly now?’ Varric laughed.

‘Not funny, Dwarf.’ Maxwell tutted. 

‘I like Twinkle more.’ I winked. 

‘Well, well.’ Dorian joined us too, and he looked me up and down slowly… and interested. ‘You caused quite the stir, my Lady.’

‘And it was awesome.’ The Iron Bull stood next to Dorian, butting him with his elbow. ‘Can you do that again? Are you fireproof, or somethin’?’ Bull joked. There were fresh scratches on his dark horns. 

‘There you are, my dear.’ And Vivienne turned around the corner, her face, although pale and dirty, was still filled with disdain and pride. ‘I was hoping to have a moment with you…’

‘Oh, don’t be interested now, Madame.’ Dorian scoffed mockingly.

Vivienne lifted her nose. I was sure she still thought of me as a demon. Perhaps even more now. Though I saw another flicker of interest in her eyes. She could use me for something now, I saw her think. Perhaps for her own reputation. 

‘Oi, what’s… blegh!’ Sera peeped over Dorian’s shoulder curiously. But as soon as the quirky Elf saw me, she rolled her eyes and twisted her nose. As if I smelled. Perhaps I do. Blackwall was behind her. He didn’t say anything. He looked at me with suspicion though. I guess this will be people’s reaction to me now. Either awe or suspicion and disgust. 

‘Well, since everyone’s here…’ Maxwell started, a smile on his face still, ‘Where’s Cole?’

‘That demon boy ,’ Vivienne bit, and glanced my way for a second, ‘has been popping up everywhere around the encampment. Perhaps a binding spell…’

‘Viv.’ Dorian sighed. ‘Could you not be so dreadful?’

‘Confused. Scared. What are you? Hope. Yet fear. You are cursed, my blessing.’ Cole appeared out of nowhere behind Maxwell, who jolted up and cussed heavily under his breath. Cole mumbled, his eyes masked underneath his large hat. Though I still felt his eyes on me. Large, and knowing. He knew. I felt it. Almost like Solas does sometimes. 

‘Kid’s here.’ Varric laughed again. Bianca was still strapped to his back. His clothes were torn, I noticed. 

‘Fuck, man. Can you stop?’ Maxwell was still swearing. ‘I peed a little.’ He grinned. 

The group laughed. I even saw Vivienne chuckle. 

I’m glad to be alive. I’m glad to see them again, even if some of them aren’t happy to see me. 

‘Alright. Saeris’s up, and this is the plan. We’re –‘ Max continued.

But then Solas showed up. He walked over to stand next to me, his hand caressing my arm, his eyes demanding my gaze. 

Maxwell scraped his throat. ‘Well, uh… Let’s discuss this inside… shall we…’ His eyes flickered from Solas to me and then back to the group. ‘Saeris… I’ll bring them up to date. You, uh, you go rest .’ Maxwell winked at me, and my cheeks flushed red. 

‘I understand, Herald, but I still need to speak—‘ Vivienne continued anyway.

‘Ah for the Maker’s sake, let them have their moment.’ Dorian jeered. 

‘See ‘ya later, Firefly!’ Varric giggled and smacked my back as he passed me. 

Maxwell winked at us and walked over to another tent nearby. Other people and Inquisition soldiers were hanging around. I felt their eyes on me. I wanted to hide.

The others followed Maxwell. Vivienne glared at me again but was pulled away by Dorian. Bull followed them eagerly, together with Blackwall and Sera, who turned around and stuck out her tongue towards me for some unknown reason. Cole tiptoed on his feet, his big eyes boring into my soul. 

I’m alright, Cole. I thought, hoping he’d hear me. 

Cole then mumbled something and disappeared. I heard someone cry out in surprise somewhere in the camp. What a strange boy… 

Solas remained quiet, his hand touching my arm and sliding down towards my hand. He grabbed it softly. And it made my heart flutter for a moment. And then my eye twisted for the first time again since I’d awakened. ‘You need rest.’ He said. His voice was deep. 

‘I’ve rested enough.’

Solas dipped his head. ‘Let us walk, then.’

I followed Solas, holding his hand, and we passed through the encampment. The tents were makeshift, old and some even ripped. It was all the people had been able to bring or salvage at the last moment… when Haven was attacked. They had nothing but the clothes on their bodies, and the small backpacks on their backs, filled with some food and little memories from their previous home. They had lost everything.

What was the Inquisition now? 

People stopped what they were doing as we neared them. Some froze in place, others bowed or even kneeled. I used to be happy when they ignored me. Even feared me.

‘What happened after I…’ I mumbled to Solas, who had remained silent during our walk at first. 

‘We thought you had died.’ Solas said while still staring forward. He couldn’t look at me as he spoke. ‘We had no way to bury you, or the others. So we opted for—‘ 

‘Cremation.’ I sighed. I was burned. Like Haven. 

‘But then you reappeared within the flames.’ Solas continued. We passed the healer’s hut. There were more dead than alive laying on the beds. I wondered for how long we were here… how many had died already. I bet some wished for others to have come back, instead of myself. ‘The humans have not raised one of our People so high for ages beyond counting. Some argued you were but Andraste herself. Or a demon, perchance.’ Solas glanced at me.

I stopped in my tracks. The people around us gasped and made way. I tried to ignore them. ‘What did… do you think, Solas?’ His name felt warm in my mouth. 

Solas stopped a few steps after me and slowly turned around. ‘Come.’ He said and stretched his hand. I grabbed it again, and he led me around the corner of one of the tents, a few feet outside the encampment. 

Even though it was still morning, I could see nothing but snow and mountains. Where were we? I didn’t recognize this part of the mountains.

Solas pinched my hand and made me stop and turn towards him. ‘I think of you as Saeris. ’ He said, slowly, savouring my name in his mouth. ‘I think of you as you are. More than what you make others believe, or believe yourself to be.’ Solas took a step closer to me until his chest almost touched mine.

‘Solas… I…’ I swallowed, but couldn’t look away from his eyes. 

Solas rested his forehead against mine, his breath against my skin. His lips… so close, slowly opened and…

I moved my head away, and let go of his hands. ‘We can’t Solas. I… You know I’m…’ I’m cursed. I can’t die. I’m immortal. 

‘You are perfect.’ He whispered. 

I looked down at my feet. ‘I’m not… We can’t…’

Solas grabbed my hands again. ‘We shouldn’t.’ Solas smiled faintly. ‘You are correct. And yet…’ He smiled faintly. 

And yet, here we are. And I can’t deny it. Not for much longer.

I heard people laughing loudly from the encampment. It shook me awake. I blinked rapidly and took a step back. Solas dropped his hands. Perhaps that kiss at Haven was a mistake. I’m only hurting him. 

‘Not… now. Not here, Solas.’ I mumbled.

Solas chuckled ever so slightly. Confident even. ‘We have time.’

That’s an understatement. For me at least.

I smiled back faintly. And then changed the subject. I still have many questions and rather ask them before he asks his. ‘Are there still… things I need to know.’ 

Solas cocked his head in thought. And then he sighed. ‘You have seen the threat Corypheus wields, have you not?’ How does he… Did he eavesdrop when I told the Advisors everything?

I grinned slightly. ‘Yes. The orb.’

Solas dipped his head, and then stared beyond me, in the distance. ‘It is ours.’

I furrowed my brows. ‘Ours?’

‘Elven. Corypheus used the orb to open the Breach.’ Solas explained. And I remembered how the orb had reminded me of the Breach, that feeling that had frozen me in place… I remember I wanted to take it for myself. I shook that thought away very quickly. Solas didn’t notice and continued: ‘Unlocking it must have caused the explosion that destroyed the Conclave. We must find out how he survived… perhaps he is like you on that matter…’ He whispered that last part, more in thought than to me. ‘And we must prepare for their reaction… when they learn the orb is of our people.’

‘How do you know of this?’

Solas chuckled again. ‘Such things were foci, said to channel power from our gods. Some were dedicated to specific members of our pantheon.’ My eye started to flare a little as if the information was of great importance… as if I was to remember something. ‘All that remains are references in ruins, and…’ Solas was doubting to say something, and I felt like he decided not to. ‘…faint visions of memory in the Fade, echoes of a dead empire.’ He looked back at me now. ‘But however Corypheus came to it, the orb is Elven, and with it, he threatens the heart of human faith. As do you.’

I bit my lip and stared at the ground. ‘What do we do now?’

Solas took my chin in his hand, lifting my face up. His eyes were glistening.

‘Pack up! We leave!’ I heard the Commander's order, his voice ringing through the camp, all the way to Solas and me outside. 

I wrung my head from his grasp gently. ‘We’re leaving? Where to?’

Solas took a step back and clasped his hands behind his back. Again, he looked at me as if I was a puzzle to solve. I hated that look. 

‘You have been asleep for more than a week if I counted correctly.’ Solas said, and that surprised me.

‘What?’

‘We are scouting to the North.’ He ignored my surprise and walked past me towards the camp. He stopped a few steps away from me and turned around. ‘There’s a place that waits for a force to hold it. A place where the Inquisition can build…’ He dipped his head. ‘…and grow.’ He held out his hand again. How many times does he have to do it for me to take it and not let go? ‘Come,’ Solas chuckled. ‘It is not far now.’

And I took his hand again.

We packed things up at the camp. They had planned to leave earlier this day, but then I woke up and the journey was delayed for some hours. Everyone had been waiting for me to wake up… and they had carried me for more than a week during the travels in one of the only carriages they’d had… every night as they made up camp, they had hoped to see me wake up… and today I finally did. Just in time. The last day of their journey to the North. 

They only had a few more hours to walk.

I sat on a horse, Maxwell in front of me, leading the animal. Others followed by foot. Solas used his staff as a way to slog through the heavy snow to keep by my side.

People stayed in a safe radius away from us. Two saints on a horse. 

‘I’m happy you’re here, Saeris.’ Maxwell said. We had left came some hours ago. Now, I could see only snow and mountains on the horizon… And perhaps a valley? In the distance?

‘Me too.’ I smiled. ‘But Max, no one has yet told me about this stronghold we're going to…’

‘Ah.’ Maxwell chuckled and looked down to Solas walking next to us. ‘It was his idea.’

‘And we have arrived.’ Solas exclaimed.

Maxwell stopped his horse and put his hand in the sky. A sign.

The people and soldiers of the Inquisition stopped and cheered. Their long journey had come to an end. And a new beginning was in front of them. A new home. It wouldn’t be taken away from them this time. Not if it’s up to us. 

Solas helped me from the horse. Maxwell jumped off too. His advisors and friends were around him, and they walked closer to the cliff in front of us that gave way to another valley, and stared at what was beyond them. 

Solas and I followed. He helped me walk as I failed to easily plough through the thick snow as he did. Commander Cullen was walking in front of us, and I saw him glance behind him every so often.

‘There!’ Maxwell pointed towards the valley. Cassandra stood next to him. I saw her reach for his hand and pinch it.

‘Oh my!’ Josephine cried out gleefully. Leliana sighed assuredly and threw her arm across the shoulders of her Ambassador friend. 

And then, as Solas and I neared the others, the mist in the valley ebbed away, showing us the great castle built against the cliffs of the valley.

A new home.

Solas pulled me closer to his side, his voice whispering in my healed ears.

‘Skyhold.’ 

Notes:

*Plays Journey to Skyhold theme and screams* YASSSS!!! WERE HERE!

Hey, if you guys want to ask me stuff you can't ask here, or fangirl with me... or scream about -I don't know uh,- cats, you can follow me on Tumblr under hannehier (no caps!). I reblog Dragon Age stuff, memes and felines ;-)

Did you like it? Thank you for reading!

Chapter 46: Crowned

Skyhold. Tarasyl'an Te'las. The place where the sky is kept. 

The ancient stone walls seem like they have grown from the Frostback rocks naturally. As if the castle had always been here. Since the beginning of time. Every crack whispers long-forgotten stories. And no one has been here for centuries to reclaim the lost tales that roam the chambers, the gardens, the battlements… 

Who knows who else stepped foot near this place, in their own time of need? Who even built this stronghold? Did they know it’d stand for so long? And why? Was it built as a home? A prison? A fortress to withstand siege? And why was it once abandoned? Not even the stones can tell. For this, they remain silent. In some way, Skyhold is like me. Forgotten by history for all but those who’ve been there. Old, but at first glance incredibly new. The ones who’ve lived here before must’ve taken care of it well because these stones do not only feel ancient, they feel loved. And now we’ve arrived to take care of it, to love it, and to call it our home. 

The Inquisition has come. 

Magic is permeating the stones, the song calling for us to come, and for evil to stay away. And I felt it when I stepped through the gates… I could smell the magic, feeling it caress my skin. The Veil was thin here, so thin, I could almost truly grab it. My green eye flared silently, humming with the beat of the wind dancing between these walls. 

And something happened here. 

Something important… neither truly good nor bad.

I closed my eyes and inhaled the crisp air. I let it fill me until my whole body felt refreshed. 

I was standing in the courtyard. Even though it was cold and storming outside, inside these walls, it felt like a never-ending spring. The grass had grown long, plants were climbing along the walls. The fortress was in disrepair. There were collapses—rubble making rooms inaccessible. There was clutter and dust everywhere. Even the roof of the main castle, above the throne room, had collapsed. But with enough imagination, you could still see the potential. Some tweaks here and there, renovations, structural work, some tending to the garden and the stables… Perhaps the building over there could be made into a tavern… And after all is cleaned up… This place could become a mighty fortress once more. 

‘Lady Saeris? There you are!’

I exhaled… I didn’t know I wasn’t breathing… I turned around and saw Lady Josephine hurrying down the broken, stone stairs that led up towards the entrance of the main castle. We had arrived two days ago, and it was still too dangerous to sleep inside the buildings. So, the inner circle and the advisors made camp in the courtyard, along with Haven’s surviving villagers and some soldiers. The other soldiers, recruits, mages and ex-Templars, and the small but growing army of pilgrims, made camp down in the valley. I could see their fires burning from the battlements. There was a whole new village being made down there… 

‘Milady?’ Josephine stopped in front of me, the heel of her frilly boots tapping on the ground. She looked better, her skin glowing, her eyes big, her dress… big as well. ‘We have been assigning the chambers… are there any you wish to claim? There is a big suite next to the Herald’s, above the Throne room… the view is…’

‘Good morning, Josephine.’ I smiled calmly. The Ambassador looked enthusiastic. She had a new goal, a new place to document… people to write, connections to secure… She was on a roll. ‘Please, just call me Saeris…’ Like you used to. ‘And I’d rather like a smaller room… perhaps outside the main building…’

‘That cannot do!’ Josephine gasped. ‘You are of importance, your accommodation should reflect that...’

I hummed, somewhat disappointed. ‘Then… there is a room above the garden, the one with the balcony?’

‘Ah yes! I’ll make arrangements immediately!’ Josephine smiled brightly. She seemed somewhat nervous around me, more than before. Everyone does. 

‘Is there anything I can help you with?’ I asked, cocking my head.

‘Not at this very moment, Milady, uhm, Saeris.’ Josephine dipped her head, took out a scroll of paper from one of the hundreds of folds in her golden dress, and scribbled something on it with a quill. She then nodded and took off for the stairs again. Soldiers were running up and about, villagers carrying wood and rubble… Everyone was busy working on the repairs. Every time I wanted to help or pick something up, people gasped and hushed, or prayed, me away. I couldn’t even help the healers, the surgeon, or Adan… every time I tried to heal a person, they would faint again at the sight of me. I felt useless.

My eyes followed the Ambassador rush up the stairs. The Commander greeted her, raising his hand in a friendly gesture, and then went back to work at the foot of the stone staircase. Soldiers were passing his make-shift desk, putting down reports, checking in… Cullen mumbled orders, put his autograph on a report, and signalled the next soldier to come closer. The sun was shining on Cullen’s golden hair, his armour polished and clean. I still had his fur mantle. I should return it. 

I quickly turned around to my tent that was placed near the stables and grabbed the mantle from my stuff. I had tried to clean it, and asked the other Elven servants for help… They averted their eyes as I spoke to them and didn’t dare to speak even when I encouraged them to. But they had helped me clean the mantle, and washed it with fresh mountain water and herbs. And as I held it in my hands now, it looked and smelled completely new. I hope the Commander won’t mind. My hands were sweaty, trembling as I tucked the mantle against my chest while nearing Cullen’s desk.

‘Send men to scout the area. We need to know what’s out there.’ Cullen ordered.

Two Inquisition scouts shifted in front of the wobbly table, but they pumped their chests and nodded, ‘Yes, Ser!’ and then moved away immediately. 

‘Commander. Soldiers have been assigned temporary quarters.’ Another soldier took the other’s spot in front of the Commander. The young man held a document in his hand and pushed it towards Cullen, who took it and signed it.

‘Very good.’ He mumbled. ‘I’ll need an update on the armoury as well.’

The soldier, who had hay-like blonde hair sticking from underneath his helmet, nodded slowly. I noticed the boy nearly pissed his trousers as the Commander snarled impatiently, ‘Now!’ The boy swallowed and quickly bowed his head and pumped his chest. As he whisked around, he almost bumped head first into me… or my chest. I was nearly two heads taller than him.

‘Oops.’ I smiled. ‘Tall Elf alert.’ Be witty and funny, that works for Maxwell… they all seem comfortable around him.

But the young soldier boy almost cried out, his knees wobbly. ‘Forgive me! Milady!’ His voice squeaked a little higher than before. 

‘Oh don’t—‘ I hushed but the soldier already hurried away, barely breathing. That went well.

Meanwhile, Commander Cullen had already turned around. His stare was trying to be distant, but there was a spark of warmth in them. ‘Lady Saeris.’ He dipped his head.

‘I thought we were past the Lady thing.’ I tried to grin, but it probably looked as if I was in pain… at least if I read Cullen’s response well. His eyes connected with mine for a small moment, but he averted them almost immediately. 

Cullen scraped his throat. ‘I shall try.’ He won’t, not after what happened. Cullen looked down to the reports on his desk again… and I felt awkward.

‘So… How’s Skyhold for you.’ I tried to keep up the conversation. We still hadn’t truly spoken ever since…

The Commander straightened his back, and his voice was monotone as if he was speaking to his superior, not a friend. Was I not a friend anymore? ‘Work on Skyhold is underway, and guards’ rotations are established. We should have everything on course within the week.’ Cullen glanced back at me. ‘We are safe here.’ He said that under his breath, almost in thought.

‘What happened at Haven… You did everything you could’ve…’ I mumbled…

‘It was not enough.’ He interrupted, his voice suddenly deeper. The soldiers waiting at his desk dispersed, sensing the heavy conversation. ‘Most of our people made it out of Haven… yet you … You stayed behind, and I let you. Because of that you…’

‘I had to make sure Maxwell was…’ I swallowed.

Cullen suddenly hissed, and took three strides forward, until he was up close to my face. His golden eyes turned cold. ‘And what if… Did you know? Did you know you’d… come back?’

‘No.’ I answered truthfully. ‘I didn’t.’

Cullen looked down to my feet, and then back into my eyes. ‘You would have died for him?’

‘For all of you.’ My voice broke at the end of my sentence. Finally, I held out the mantle in front of me. I had been clinging to it the entire time. 

Cullen took a step back, his eyes staring at his cape. ‘You…’

‘It’s yours. I cleaned it…’ I swallowed again. Damnit. I pushed the mantle to Cullen’s steel-plated chest. He grabbed it in response, though he held it like it was a strange, otherworldly object. ‘I’m sorry.’ I quickly turned back and speed-walked away.

The Commander was left behind at his makeshift tent. I saw him scratch the back of his neck with one hand. With the other hand, he clutched the fur fabric against his heart and sighed.

***

I climbed towards the battlements, atop the great stone walls, away from prying eyes and haunting whispers. The stairs were broken here and there, debris obscuring the path. I twisted my hands until green sprouts grew from between the stone cracks. The green sprouts crawled over the heavy blocks of stone, pushing them away slowly until the path was clear. I peeked around, but no one saw me. I continued, climbing higher and higher until the people below were but little dots. I don’t think anyone had climbed this path before… 

I finally reached one of the towers atop Skyhold’s battlements. I inhaled sharply. Not out of breath, but out of words. The horizon, adorned with snowy mountain peaks, clear-grey clouds, and a bright, shimmering sun was before me, reaching what seemed like eternity. And below us, below the fortress, I saw the hundreds of growing lights. Soldiers, pilgrims, and villagers were settling again in the valley. There were mountains all around us, pure white from the ever-lasting snow atop them. I closed my eyes and felt the sharp wind rush against my still body. I was like the mountains. Unmoving. Unchanging.

‘It seems this spot is already taken.’ 

Gasping, I turned around. Cassandra was leaning against one of the stone bulwarks across from me. She tried to smile, albeit awkwardly. I had tried to avoid the Seeker and the thousands of questions drowning inside of her. Questions I couldn’t answer, not like she wanted. 

I turned back towards the view. The sun was already sinking to the earth. I bit my lips and remained silent, hoping she’d understand that this wasn’t the moment, and leave. 

Yet, Cassandra hummed, and I heard the tapping of her steel boots as she neared me. ‘You told Leliana you had seen nothing but darkness.’ She said, a tremble in her voice, ‘Yet I cannot believe so.’ She said that last sentence as if it were a question. A cry. 

I swallowed. It had been a lie. I had seen more than that. 

‘Milady I—‘ Cassandra tried again. ‘There must have been a reason for this to happen!’ I heard her behind me, walking back and forth, the gears in her head turning. ‘The Maker’s help takes many forms. Sometimes it is difficult to truly understand what He expects from us. But was this not a sign? Was this not a telling of His plans?’ Cassandra heaved, the words coming out like vomit. She was my friend. But now, she couldn’t see me past my curse, past her own religion. What am I now, to Cassandra? To all of the people I’ve started to befriend? Have I lost them? Because of what I am? 

I groaned and pulled my hands into fists, pinching the inside of my palms until my nails punctured the skin. The wounds healed immediately.

I cannot even feel my own pain. 

Cassandra sighed. ‘You knew. You knew about your situation, yet failed to tell us. Why? Do you truly not trust us?’ The Seeker stopped, took a deep breath, and then continued her tirade. She’d been keeping this in.

I whimpered, unable to answer the questions that spilled from the Seeker’s lips. She truly was a Seeker of Truth, of Faith… If only she’d stop searching around me. What I am, what happened to me, has nothing to do with faith. 

Cassandra sighed, ignoring my silence. Perhaps for her, it was a sign to continue. ‘You have risen from death, through the fire as Andraste failed to… The blessings you have…’

I could tell her that I was afraid, afraid of her worship, the faith… I wasn’t like Maxwell, who could shake it off with a joke. All my life, I strived for normality. For a life that could fulfil my dreams. I wished to grow, to feel pain, and release… I could’ve lived my life as a human, and when that was taken from me, I had been given the chance to live my life as an Elf… I found a new world, I had found a new purpose… And every time it was taken from me. Daniel… Sybil… and I was left alone. I kept on living if this is what is truly called living… And when I found the Inquisition, I found a new purpose… The people here became my friends, some even more than that… And finally, my curse was a blessing. Not only could I stop it, but I could also help others. My life, even if I’d throw it away, had a meaning. Close the Breach. Save the world. Save my friends. And then… die like everybody else. No one had to know my past. It was a fresh start.

And now that was taken from me again.

Now, even my friends have forgotten my name again. Call me Lady. Call me holy. They fear or worship me. That’s why I didn’t tell them. If they hadn’t known…

I let out the air inside of me. I can’t tell her that. 

But I have time. 

I turned around and looked back at the Seeker. I can’t tell her everything. It’s my curse. It’s mine to bear, to carry. But perhaps I could tell her another truth. ‘I saw a tree.’

‘What?’ Cassandra squinted her eyes, and took a step back, and then a step closer.

‘When I died, I saw a tree. It was shining ever so brightly. I heard voices, calling out to me.’ I continued. ‘And those voices were behind that light. I knew, just felt , it was right. And I wanted to go beyond that light.’

‘Did you hear her? Andraste? Or the Maker?’ Cassandra mouthed, and I could barely hear her. 

‘No.’

Cassandra exhaled all of the air she had been holding. 

‘I couldn’t go beyond that light. I wasn’t allowed to.’ Death didn’t want me. Not yet. ‘But I don’t know what was beyond that light, Cassandra. I’m not supposed to know. Perhaps it is your Maker, perhaps it’s something else, or perhaps… there isn’t anything at all. Just light.’ 

Cassandra blinked, her hands dangling at her sides. Perhaps what I had told her just now was a diversion of what I wanted to say… that I was afraid… of losing everyone and everything over and over again. But saying that I was afraid, wasn’t going to help Cassandra solve her questions… and I was so sick of answering them.

‘Thank you.’ Cassandra whispered—tears in her eyes.

I dipped my head and slowly walked past the Seeker. Now she knows. Maybe I should’ve told her sooner, what I had seen. I can tell her of the light… but the darkness that had followed… the darkness I still felt… She isn’t ready for that. She will have to find out for herself.

***

I hurried down the stairs again. Where can I hide? You’d think there’d be enough places, enough cracks, enough shadows… yet, all eyes were on me, and I couldn’t hide myself from them any longer. I knew Vivienne had been looking for me these last few days… I knew she’d find me if she tried. But she expected me to come to her, who wouldn’t? And then Solas… his concern was most… disconcerting of all. His eyes pried the deepest, the hardest… He hadn’t stopped hovering over me, and it made the air around us stuffy and heavy with all the things unsaid between us. As of now, Solas was busy with helping Maxwell figure out the Anchor. After things happened with Corypheus, and after we found out the Orb is Elven, there was far more to be studied about Max’ mark… But when I saw Maxwell and Cole talking near the makeshift infirmary in the courtyard, I knew Solas was already looking for me. 

Better to go to him. Get it over with. He had tried to act normal, after what happened. Concerned, but normal. But I knew that if there was someone with questions, it would be him. The scholar, the arcane expert… He had come closer to me than any other had dared to… I knew I had to give him an explanation, a deeper one…

And so, I climbed the stairs towards the main castle. Its giant wooden doors were already hauled open. A group of Dwarfs, employed for the renovations, were hard at work in the main hall, or throne room. They had spread plans across the walls and had started to build gantries to get to the holes in the roofs. And there was much more to fix… Orlesian artists had been hired to paint the re-plastered walls and to design new glass-stained windows… This place was to be grand. A home to the Inquisition. To a Herald of Andraste and his followers. This place was to become a beacon of hope, alliance, and faith. But also strength and power… Lady Josephine and Leliana were speaking to the Dwarfs, checking the plans they had made and the designs they had come up with. I clung to the walls, the shadows covering me whole, and slid by them. Leliana stopped talking for a moment, her murderous eyes glancing my way, piercing right through me. A small smile curled along her thin, red lips. And then she continued talking as if she hadn’t even noticed me.

I didn’t dare to breathe. 

For once, the Spymaster had shown mercy. I thanked her quietly inside my head and continued to skulk the shadows, past the fireplace, that I had controlled so the flames’ light danced around me, instead of onto me. Next to the fireplace was a door that led towards another room formed like a rotunda. Above the rotunda, there were balconies and other rooms that spiralled upwards. They were building a library upstairs, collecting books from all over. I heard Dorian was in charge of it. And above that library was a rookery, which would probably become a home for Leliana’s ravens. But the ground floor of the rotunda had been claimed by Solas. I don’t really understand why. There were no windows, the walls were barren, and because it was a circle, the place felt very claustrophobic. The only light that entered this room came from the windows of the roof above, from the rookery and the library. 

I eyed the room. It was silent. I could hear the ravens already nesting above me, and some surviving mages scurrying the library, turning pages, and whispering amongst each other. 

Candles were placed along the curved walls, and some Fereldan carpets were thrown on the cold stone floor. An old sofa was placed against the wall on my left. Its fabric, off-red like burgundy, seemed rich but had been patched up in several places. In the centre of the room stood a large desk. Books were already scattered on top of it, along with some scrolls, and a quill and ink. Behind it stood an armchair, made from the same luxurious, but old red fabric as the sofa against the wall. There was little to no other furniture in the room. Perhaps another chair, or a table, but they were still covered with dusty blankets and covers. I walked towards the desk and slid my fingers across its surface. The wood was quite rough, rough enough to get splinters from it. My eyes followed the intricate swirls of the material until they landed on a pile of papers.

The handwriting is Solas’. 

I furrowed my brows as I tried to comprehend what was written, but the alphabet was strange to me… or perhaps I’d seen it before, at the Circle… this was an arcane alphabet, used to describe magic. There were many such alphabets, all different and complicated. I knew a few, but not this one. This one was old. And dead. 

‘Ancient writings about long-forgotten magic. Interesting, is it not?’

I gave a tiny scream, and turned around quickly, my back pushing against the table, making it move with a harsh creaking sound. 

Solas’ hand was already on my bicep, holding me in place, a hint of concern on his face, next to the chuckle he gave me. ‘Apologies, I did not intend to surprise you.’

‘You did.’ I swallowed while straightening myself. The paper was scrunched up underneath my hand, which I removed quickly. ‘I’m sorry, I wasn’t…’ 

Solas gave me a warm smile, his hand slowly moving upwards to my shoulder. He squeezed it a little. ‘I have been looking for you.’ He was getting better at asking questions without asking one. He meant, where have you been all day? 

‘I was… just walking around… perhaps hiding.’ I said honestly. I could feel more at ease around him. Perhaps because he was one of the few saying my name instead of Milady. Solas had become my friend, perhaps even more—I don’t know. I remember how I had avoided the man, how he’d made me sick to my stomach whenever he was around… but ever since we closed the Breach, that feeling was gone. Why? 

‘Ah, yes.’ Solas sighed. ‘Away from the admiring gazes thrown at you. You ought to be the next Herald.’

‘Stop joking.’

Solas dipped his head, the grin fading from his face. ‘Does it make you uncomfortable?’

‘Incredibly.’ I smiled awkwardly, remembering the questions he too must have. I shook his hand from my shoulder, and walked around the desk, putting the paper I had scrunched back on the pile. Solas had taken a step back, observing me quietly, his eyes darting across my body—not in a weird way. He was looking at my fingers, I noticed, and how I slid my hand across the arcane writings before retreating my hand. ‘I do not want their worship.’ 

‘What do you wish to have, then?’ 

I smiled faintly again. ‘I don’t know anymore.’ My throat felt sore, my fingers numb. ‘What are you studying?’

Solas pursed his lips for a moment, perhaps in hesitation, and then he slowly walked around his desk and stopped right next to me. His shoulder brushed against mine, and I could feel his breath as he leaned forward and grabbed the piece of paper in front of me. ‘The Nightingale has connections that reach beyond my expectations. How her agents have acquired these documents, I do not know—perchance I do not wish to—but these tell of many magical inquiries.’

I cocked my head. ‘You can read those? They’re ancient.’ 

Solas smirked. ‘I have seen such writings before in…’ He stopped for a moment, and swallowed. Solas then straightened his back and let go of the paper, looking straight at me. 

‘In the Fade?’ I continued his sentence.

Solas frowned for a moment. 

Somebody upstairs dropped something, and I could hear a dull knock. I could hear Dorian curse. ‘You clumsy twat! Do you know how old that book is? It’ll be dust if you drop it any harder!’ 

‘Let us continue this… preferably somewhere … in private.’ Solas glanced to the balconies above, his eyes darting from one corner to another.

I’m not going to invite Solas to my room just yet, I thought to myself. ‘I will meet you in the Fade.’ I coughed to regain Solas’ attention. 

Solas snapped his head back to me, and a smile curled along his lips again. ‘It has been a while since we met there. Yes, we can meet there.’ He was right, I hadn’t visited the Fade in quite a while… Not since, well… And ever since I woke up again, the Fade was too hard to get to, I had been too tired. But perhaps I could do so again now. 

I nodded and took a step back without turning away from him. ‘I’ll go then.’

‘Until soon, Saeris.’

***

It took a while for me to get to sleep. My chambers weren’t ready yet, and I was tired of sleeping in this tent in the courtyard. I could hear people walking around outside, shushing as they passed my tent. It was hard concentrating to sleep with so much noise around.

The guards standing in front of my tent were changing shifts. I could hear them whisper about me, their armour clanking as they moved.

‘Milady is inside.’ One said.

I could hear the other one hum in response.

Josephine had told me these guards were here for my safety. Now that I’m considered “special” I need special protection. Now I know how Maxwell feels.

 I was trying to sleep for perhaps an hour when it finally happened. The sounds of Skyhold became white noise, and the singing air and the rustling leaves of the trees moved from the background, lulling me deeper and deeper until my consciousness travelled further. 

***

The Fade felt more distant now that the Breach was closed. It was like before, I could still sense it when I was awake, and when I entered it, I could still sense the waking world. They were connected, deeply rooted in one another. Now I felt the attachment was gone, cut. The only string connecting me to the waking world was my body.

If only I could cut that off too. Then I could float away. 

The background of the Fade was my standard place. I always come here. The meadow. But now, as I looked across it, I felt an eerie shiver climb up my spine. Was this the same meadow I saw when I died? No. The tree was missing.

I walked towards the treeline, where the meadow stopped and the forest began. I touched the invisible wall, the ward I had conjured in place and pushed against it until it gave way. As I passed that border, I could feel the ward break like a gust of wind. But the moment I stepped past the treeline, the forest, the meadow, all turned into a thick, grey fog.

I breathed calmly, controlled. After witnessing the darkness, this fog was nothing. In my mind, I formed the thought of Solas. His long, pointed ears, his head, shaved meticulously, and the freckles on his cheeks and nose. I thought of his eyes, clear grey with sparks of blue and… hints of violet? Like the fog, but not thick enough so the sky could get through. His lips, full, chuckling… The fog ebbed away. Slowly, but steadily. When it all cleared up, I stood at the entrance of Solas’ ward. Behind it, his controlled dream, his own space. The fog was still behind me, but in front of me, there stood a large door, made out of marble and gold and glass. 

And all I had to do was knock. 

I felt the ward shift around me. The door opened.

‘You have found me.’ Solas greeted me.

I dipped my head. ‘Of course.’ I said and stepped inside. Slowly, the space started to come together. ‘Where are we?’ I asked.

Solas closed the door behind me. But I was smart enough to will it and to leave a crack open. Always have a way out. He taught me that. Though, I doubt it will be necessary. Solas walked behind me, his hands bound behind his back.

‘This is a place long lost.’ He answered vaguely and then stopped next to me. ‘We can talk freely here.’

My brows knitted together. ‘Is there something you want to talk about, then?’ I can be vague too. I knew when he asked me to meet him here, that he needed to ask me “those” questions. They were long overdue. He could pretend everything was normal and wear the mask of a concerned friend, but not here. Here, in the Fade, Solas was real. 

‘Undoubtedly.’ Solas chuckled and walked past me.

I followed him through the hall in silence. It was a chance to look around. We were inside what seemed to be an Elven temple. But this one was… brand new it seemed. The walls, made out of white marble with dark swirls in them, were high and decorated with mosaic and stained-glass windows. The tiles of the mosaic stones were bordered with golden frames. The patterns on the walls continued on in the floor, which was mosaic only. Though the swirls beneath our feet formed stars, and further on, the sun and the moon. It was beautiful.

Solas stopped when we entered a room less extravagant. There was a desk in the corner and some chairs. The remainder of the room was filled with books, kept in glass cases. There was a large window across the door we entered from, and it was opened wide. The gold-threaded curtains billowed against the soft, spring wind blowing inside. I walked further inside, towards that window. But I couldn’t see anything. I couldn’t see if we were high up, inside a city, or perhaps in the woods. I could only see blue sky. Nothing beyond it. 

Again, Solas closed the marble door behind him and chuckled as he noticed that I willed it open again, just a little. ‘You have improved. You continue to surprise me.’ 

‘You’re a very good teacher.’ I looked over my shoulder at him and smiled faintly. 

I turned around and saw that Solas had conjured two additional armchairs in the middle of the room. They were perfect replicas of the ones in the rotunda and seemed out of place. The burgundy was too dark, the fabric too tattered. ‘Please, have a seat.’ Solas hummed and signalled to the armchairs.

I nodded and sat in the one closest to the door. I couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable in someone else’s “bubble” in the Fade.

But I’m with Solas. I’m fine. I can trust him. 

Solas sat across from me and rested his arms on the armrests. His eyes were large, willing me to look up too. And so I did. My green eye flared, but it didn’t hurt. Instead, it was soothing and kept me focussed. The eye was always brighter in the Fade, more active. Perhaps, just like Solas.

‘Ask away.’ I sighed and folded my legs uncomfortably as I looked Solas up and down. I noted his clean, white linen shirt, unbuttoned at the top. His pants were of the same material, but more structured. The fabric seemed soft and new, it was like nothing he ever wore in the waking world. He didn’t look… homeless. Well, he was at home here.

Solas folded his hands on his lap and cocked his head. ‘The Herald has told me… you presume yourself to be cursed.’ Maxwell, the gossip queen. ‘The curse you have spoken of. How did you come of it?’ 

‘One day, I woke up. And I had it.’ My stomach felt like lead as I thought of telling him I was human once, in a different world. But that world is gone. It doesn’t matter, right? Some things were better kept to myself. 

‘When?’

I blinked a couple of times. ‘Long ago… perhaps almost two centuries… In the Blessed Age.’ 

Solas hummed, his eyes squinting. He didn’t seem too surprised. ‘Do you remember anything from… before?’ The tone in his voice had gone low, suspicious almost. I shifted on the chair.

‘No… I don’t.’ 

I saw Solas breathe as if he had been holding it.

I continued. ‘As I told the advisors before, I was…’

Solas lifted up his hands. ‘The curse, is that what has affected your eye?’

‘I think so. I remember it was strange at first. Too strong. I learned to control it, and my magic, throughout the decades. It took me longer than most.’

‘Most do not acquire such strength in one day.’ Solas cocked his head to the other side. ‘Have you never searched for answers?’

‘Not in the beginning… I was afraid of it.’ I said honestly. ‘After a while, I discovered that I couldn’t… age. I searched and listened in the Fade, though I was not as proficient at it as I am now. Once, I heard whispers—something about a promise… And I don’t remember what I promised. But… if I don’t fulfil my end of whatever bargain I’ve made, I won’t be able to die.’ Solas swallowed visibly at that word, but I continued. ‘And that this immortality was because of my curse.’ I did not tell him of the dream I had at Yavana’s… The dream where I left my room, where voices told me of my “promise”. It doesn’t matter what they said. They were clearly wrong and had put me on a path that led me astray for decades. They said to search for the one who holds my eye in their hand. Clearly Maxwell. They said to look for my eye in the sky. Clearly the Breach. But none have helped me comprehend my curse, nor help me break it. 

‘You see immortality as a curse? Many would claim otherwise.’ Solas leaned forwards in his chair.

‘Immortality is a curse when everything… and everyone… is mortal.’ Everyone dies. Everything changes. But I am like stone. Unchanging, and alone. 

Solas leaned back in his chair, a look on his face that could be only understanding. As if he knew. But he couldn’t, could he? ‘How do you know immortality is your curse? How do you know you were not immortal before?’

Good one. ‘You saw Solas, that I cannot die. What else could it be but my curse?’

‘Do you remember what I told you about the ancient Elves during one of our training sessions? During ancient times, immortality was simply part of being Elven.’ Solas smiled faintly as if in remembrance. 

I, on the other hand, scoffed. ‘So you’re saying that perhaps I’m an ancient Elf? That my curse is not the cause of my immortality? Yet, the Ancient Elves have all died. There’s none left? How could you explain my being here? How come I can’t die when I clearly did.’

‘Perhaps, though if your memories are lost, there is no way of truly discovering your nature. And it is true,’ Solas swallowed visibly, ‘Elvhenan was lost centuries ago, yet perchance some of its inhabitants may still linger, undiscovered as you always have been… Though that is but pure speculation.’ And then, Solas came closer again, sitting on the edge of his seat. ‘But what I do know, is what happened to you after Haven was nothing short of a miracle. The magic used to bring back a person, heal their wounds… the magic that flares within your eye… is from a source so ancient, it cannot be from anywhere but Elvhenan.’

‘How do you know for sure?’

‘Many spells used by the Ancient Elves took years to cast. Echoes can linger for centuries, harmonising with new magic in an unending symphony. A spell, or curse you say, this grant, echoes like a waterfall in the ocean. I heard those echoes, even before I had met you. None are this loud, louder now you are here. ’

‘You heard… why didn’t you tell me this?’

‘Because I had no way of knowing these echoes were about you. I cannot understand them, for they are too far away, too silent to comprehend.’

‘Can we find a way to understand them? To hear them?’

‘I do not know… It will require time to study… And I will need your help. We must go deeper into the Fade than ever before.’

‘Maybe if we go there… physically… we could…’ I hummed, brows furrowing in thought. My head hurt.

Solas shook his head. ‘It is nearly impossible to accomplish such a feat. Corypheus had tried, and dare I say that did not turn out too well as I suspect the blast that destroyed the Conclave was more an accident than anything.’ Solas looked at his hands, thoughts clearly on his face, thoughts he didn’t want me to see. ‘Perhaps after understanding the Anchor… or the Orb…’ Solas looked back up to me, eyes sparkling. ‘Perhaps if we could study the Orb used by Corypheus, we could understand your situation? He managed to survive the explosion caused by the Orb and its powers, perhaps these powers are similar to the ones keeping you from death.’

‘Could be…’ I mumbled. ‘You said the Orb is Elven… and if my curse is indeed of ancient Elven origin… that could make sense… But it’s clearly too dangerous.’ I lifted my hands up and sighed. ‘I do not want another Breach.’ My curse is Elven… when I died, the seven shadows clearly spoke to me in Elven… Should I tell him what I saw? 

‘Perhaps you are right.’ Solas blinked his eyes, the sparkles within gone. ‘This is all speculation. We can look into this together if you would want.’

‘I’d…’ I stared out the window, a slight blush glowing across my face. ‘I’d like that.’ 

‘Good.’

I scratched my throat. ‘You haven’t yet told me where we are?’

Solas smiled again, baring his teeth a little. ‘Come.’ He said, stood up from the armchair and reached out his hand. ‘I will show you.’

I took his hand, my palms sweaty but he didn’t seem to mind, and led me out of the room, back into the hall. We walked through many corridors and passed many rooms that were too foggy for me to see. He was warding them off. Though I respect his privacy, I shouldn’t pry. 

‘Close your eyes for me.’ He said as we stopped in front of another large door.

‘Why are we—‘ I protested, but Solas chuckled and I complied anyway.

I heard the door creak open, and then I felt the sun glow upon me. Solas’ hand guided me outside. He walked slowly, somewhat hesitant. When he let go of my hand, I felt him go stand behind me, his chest pressing against my back, his hands pressing down on my shoulders gently. His lips almost touched my ears as he spoke. ‘Open your eyes.’ 

And I did. I gasped, wanting to take a step back but couldn’t with Solas being there. I think I even cried. I don’t know. All I know is that it was beautiful. In front of me was a large city, spreading out from underneath the balcony we were standing on. Thousands of palaces, all marble, glowing softly with the hum of magic that blew through the sky simultaneously with the wind. There were waterfalls in the skies, springing from floating rocks that looked like clouds, and coming down to fountains in courtyards on the ground. I could see people, all Elven, lithe and ethereal, walking on the meandering paths between the palaces. The sky was of a blue hue, mixed with splashes of pink and purple and orange. I could see the stars even. But it was clearly still daytime. It was… magnificent. And… I recognized it from somewhere. A city of white and gold… the sky, the sun and the stars together…

‘Arlathan…’ I whispered. That’s where we are… crafted by Solas… It cannot be anything but Elvhenan’s greatest city… 

Slowly, I started to realise what power this must’ve taken… this was… building this in your mind, brick by brick within the Fade… it must’ve taken a lifetime. I can nearly craft a small dream or a vague memory… But a whole city… a city that he could only have seen in dreams… But it was so… so real? 

‘Very good.’ Solas chuckled. ‘Beautiful, is it not?’

‘How did you do this!’ I gasped.

‘The same way you do.’ He hummed. Guess he doesn’t want me to know all of his tricks just yet.

Solas stepped from behind me, his hand sliding from my shoulder to my hand. He pinched it softly, his eyes boring into mine. ‘You do not remember what you were like before your curse?’

My eyes felt heavy, the left one glowing and spitting and turning. It hurt a little.

‘Has it affected you? Changed you in any way? Your mind, your morals, your… spirit?’

‘I don’t think so. I do not remember my past… But I am myself. I don’t think the curse changed any of that. And if it had, do you really think I’d have noticed?’ I laughed quietly, my eyes darting from him to the city below, going on beyond the horizon.

‘No. That’s an excellent point.’ He smirked.

I turned away from him and leaned against the marble and gold balcony. 

Solas took a step closer to me, and I noticed his fingers trembling slightly as if he was nervous about something. ‘You are… not what I expected.’

I scoffed. ‘You thought that when you would meet an “Ancient Elf”—if that’s what I am—I’d be wiser? More aware of my past and traditions? Sorry to disappoint.’ I’m a cursed woman. A woman that can’t grow, can’t change, can’t remember and can’t die. 

‘It is not a disappointment, it is…’ He sighed, his words jumbled. 

‘I do not remember most of my life.’ I interrupted. 

Though I’ve lived many the past one and a half century. I have tried to hide my curse. Fight it. I gave up on it too. Perhaps I should embrace it again, now that everyone knows… Perhaps, the woman I saw when I died, who resembled me but wasn’t me… was just my ancestor, like the voices at Yavana’s had told me… or perhaps it was me… and Earth was just a dream as I slept? Perhaps Solas is right? Was I ever human?

‘And yet you have shown subtlety in your actions, a wisdom that goes against everything I expected, what you have gone through. You may have forgotten, but you are always yearning to understand. To comprehend. Even when most would go bitter. You are here. You…’ Solas swallowed, and came a little closer again, bending slightly so his voice could reach me as he whispered… ‘Even when the world shunned you, you would have given it your life.’ 

The memory of our kiss at Haven crawled through my mind. What I had felt then… did then… I thought I had broken my curse by sealing the Breach… now, everything has changed.

I swallowed. ‘Solas.’ He closed his eyes as I said his name. ‘…we shouldn’t.’

He opened his eyes again, but there was a determination I hadn’t seen before. ‘I know. It would be kinder in the long run…’ But despite what he said, he took another step closer. I straightened my back as his chest brushed against mine, his trembling fingers found their way to my back and stopped trembling and… ‘But losing you… again… would…’

I pushed myself from the balcony, my mind empty. Solas enclosed his arms around me, his lips finding mine. The Fade had gone silent. All I could hear were our heartbeats, our breaths entwining with one another until we breathed as one. Solas held back, his kiss slow and steady. I pushed myself flush against him, and Solas grabbed my waist in response. He kissed me deeper then, his tongue searching for mine and I let him. He explored me, ravaged me. And I him. Fully, without holding back. Nothing held us back here. I was alive. Everything was a mess, but I was alive and with him and he was here to hold me. I’m not alone.

Am I?

I broke off our kiss abruptly, putting my hands on Solas’ chest and pushing him two steps back. I heaved, he did too, completely out of our breath now that we weren’t sharing them anymore. 

‘Saeris?’ He asked, concerned, and breathing heavily. His hands reached for me again.

‘Solas… I’m… we can’t.’ My voice felt coarse, unsteady. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘No, I—‘ He interrupted.

But I shook my head. ‘No, this kiss was… like the one back in Haven… It was impulsive of me. I shouldn’t have encouraged it. This isn’t a good idea… there are so many… considerations.’ I knew what I had felt was true. I wanted him. I needed him… but… ‘You know Solas, for quite some time, that I am incapable of ageing, of growing… I can’t do this to both of us. I do not want to lose…’

‘You are afraid of your immortality? That we…’

‘If what you said is true, and my immortality isn’t… a curse… then I will always be like this. Perhaps I can when… but I will never age, Solas… I cannot give you what you want.’

Solas took another step, a big one, with haste. ‘You do not understand, Saeris, I am…’

‘—Stop it, Solas!’ I stepped aside and walked past him towards the door. I need to wake up. 

‘No!’ He grabbed my arm again, willing me to stop. ‘You are exactly…’ He sighed and shook his head, desperation on his face. 

‘Solas—’ 

‘You asked me how I created this, this city, in the Fade. If it is not a memory of my own, if I have created this out of shards of memories from the Fade, it would have taken an immense amount of work. The details, the… reality that you feel here… could not be solely imagined.’

‘What are you trying to say!’ I cried. I was exhausted. This is too difficult, I shouldn’t have let him kiss me! We both know better!

‘I am trying to say that…’ Solas furrowed his brows, and his fingers trembled again against my skin. The words he said seemed painful to say as if he wasn’t yet prepared to say them. ‘These memories were not scattered across the Fade. These were… these were mine.’

I stopped pulling away. ‘What?’ All air escaped from my being.

‘I was here. These memories are my own.’ Solas shook his head. He looked as if he was hurting, every ounce of his body, the pain seeping from his pores. ‘I kept it a secret, to…’

‘What? What… you are… I don’t… how can these be your memories? You're not… you are…’ 

Solas is…

Solas is an Ancient?

He is immortal?

He is…

Am I not alone?

‘I wanted to tell you before, but I never got the chance, did not know if it mattered…’ Solas tried to catch my gaze, but my eyes darted from his face to his hands, to the balcony and the city and…

‘You…’

‘Saeris.’

‘Don’t!’ I ripped my arm away from his grasp. ‘Don’t, Solas.’

All this time, he knew. He knew! And he didn’t say anything. He let me waddle in my fears, in the pain that I was all alone… He knew what I was, what he was, and he… he left me in the dark.

I have seen enough darkness. 

‘I’m sorry Solas… I… This… I need some time.’

‘Wait!’ He called after me.

But I already disappeared between the little cracks of the dream, far away into the fog. 

Because the fog was better than the darkness.

***

‘Milady! Milady!’ Someone called my name through the tent.

I sat up, sweat and tears dripping from my face.

Mythal preserve me. 

Solas is an immortal?

‘Milady!’ The guard in front of my tent called again impatiently. ‘You have been summoned to the castle! Shit I should’ve awoken her sooner, crap man the Commander is gonna quarter me! Milady!’

‘Yes! I… I’m coming.’ My voice was hoarse, like an old man’s. I scratched my throat and coughed quietly. ‘Just a second!’

‘Shit, it’s too late, shit.’ The guard mumbled again. 

I dressed quickly and brushed through my hair, no time to put it up. When I went outside, I saw everyone gathering further along the courtyard. And I mean everyone. The Dwarven builders, the scouts and soldiers, the ex-Templars and the mages, the servants, the villagers and the pilgrims… ‘What’s going on?’

‘They are going to make an announcement!’ The guard, who was sweating profusely, looked me up and down, ‘This will do! Now go! Please, uhm, Lady.’ 

‘Alright, alright.’ I shook my head.

I followed the crowd of people. They were so preoccupied with what was going on that they didn’t even notice me standing among them.

Everyone gathered in front of the castle, below the stairs, under the bridge that led to the battlements. High up, above us, in front of Skyhold’s castle doors, stood Maxwell. His eyes flashed across the crowd. Our eyes finally met from afar. I couldn’t get closer. But I saw his gaze softening as he stared at me. We nodded at each other. Maxwell smiled. Next to him stood Cassandra, she followed his gaze and stared at me for a second, before averting her eyes again.

‘Ah, they’re finally doing it.’ Varric appeared next to me.

‘You also overslept?’ I smiled faintly. I haven’t really spoken to anyone from the Inner Circle.

Varric scoffed. ‘Got into a drinking game with Tiny, bad idea.’ The Dwarf looked up at me and winked. Good, he’s acting normal.

‘What’s going on?’ 

‘You’ll see…’

And exactly at that cue, Leliana, Cullen and Josephine walked with a steady trot out of the castle’s gates towards Maxwell, who shifted on his feet. 

I noticed Solas follow behind them, out of breath as well, his gaze searching and worried. He didn’t look too good. I suppose I didn’t either. I felt his stare finally land on me, but I focused on Maxwell, trying to ignore the pain igniting within me.

Solas… Solas is immortal as well.

The thought repeated inside my head over and over again. Should I be happy? Angry? Afraid…? 

The crowd suddenly went quiet, everyone fixating on the giant sword Leliana held in front of her. And the Herald, Maxwell, looked at it quietly, hesitant, maybe even somewhat scared. Cassandra whispered something in his ears. He looked at her, and they shared a long, but understanding look. Then, Maxwell looked back to the sword laying in the Spymaster’s gloved hands and took the hilt. From afar, the sword seemed old, too big to be really used, unless held by a giant like the Iron Bull. But it was a symbol nonetheless, only held by the most powerful people in Thedas.

This is what this is.

Maxwell is getting crowned.

As he spoke, it was too soft to hear it completely… for once I was happy with my Elven ears, as I heard him call determined. 

‘I am not “chosen.” I have chosen, and I will lead us to victory. We will stop Corypheus. You have my word on it.’ 

Cassandra stared at him and smiled faintly, the love in her eyes for all of us to see. Then, the Seeker turned towards the crowd and the Commander and the Ambassador stepped to her side. ‘Have our people been told!’ Cassandra called.

‘They have. And soon the world!’ Lady Josephine answered with pride, not to Cassandra, but to the crowd. To all of us. I noticed Sera and Blackwall among the people, cheering. Dorian and Vivienne stood near the stairs. They too smiled. I couldn’t see Cole anywhere though, but I knew he was watching from somewhere. But I did see Bull, close to Dorian as well, staring at the leaders intensely.

Everybody was here.

‘Commander, will they follow!’ Cassandra called again.

Now, Cullen stepped forward, his armour shining brightly, his fur mantle attached across his shoulders. He raised his chin, his golden hair glowing in the midday sun. ‘Inquisition, will you follow!’

The crowd cheered.

‘Will you fight?’

The crowd cheered louder.

‘Will we triumph?’

The people screamed, Varric too, and Sera, Blackwall, Bull and Dorian… Vivienne even clapped her hands, smiling. 

I raised my chin and dipped my head, pride smeared across my face. Maxwell winked at me from above, and lifted his sword up, the point towards the healed sky.

Culled raised his sword as well, his eyes sparkling… like Solas’ in the Fade… 

‘Your leader!’ Cullen ordered. ‘Your Herald!’

The sun beckoned behind Maxwell. He was the sun. In the shadows stood Solas, his stare unreadable. But as I said, enough shadows. Enough darkness.

We go towards the sun.

‘Your Inquisitor!’ 

Notes:

Hi! Sorry to have kept you waiting! Unfortunately, something happened last month, before the holidays, that made me unable to do anything, really. I've lost someone very dear to me, who was too young, still a kid, and it's been a hard time not only for me, but my entire family. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I wish everyone a great and happy 2019!

P.s. sorry for not answering any of your comments, please know I read every single one at least five times. A day. There have just been a lot of things clogging my mind lately, but I promise I will answer your comments from now on (because I appreaciate all of them!) Thanks you!

Chapter 47: Undoubted

Notes:

Yay! Update!
I want to thank everyone for their understanding and patience! I've been taking some time for myself and my family, but I'm finally having some space for other things as well... like writing ;-) Enjoy!

I always thought I was alone. Inherently, we are all alone. Nobody can hear our thoughts, or feel our pain, but ourselves. It’s ours to bear. When I came into this strange world, I hadn’t yet realised what was to come. And when I did realise it, it was already too late. The feeling of loneliness would never go away.

Life is fleeting. It comes and goes, it starts and ends… and that’s alright. We aren’t meant for eternity. Death is what keeps us from laying low. We need to live because every day could be our last. When I found out I was an exception, honestly, I was relieved. Death scared me. Numbed me. And now, I don’t have to be afraid of it anymore.

But then I became envious. 

Because what is life when you can’t share it? What is eternity when you’re alone?

I understood my greatest fear wasn’t death anymore. It was eternity.

Alone for eternity. 

‘Twinkle, hey! Hey!’ Varric grabbed the fabric of my sleeve and pulled it. ‘It’s your turn.’ He hiccupped, pointing to the deck of cards in front of me.

‘Ah yes…’ I smiled faintly. I took a card and put it between my stack. I’m going to lose this round.

‘Aaaand?’ Varric wiggled his eyebrows.

Out of the five cards in my hand, I had only one matching set. Two Serpents of Deceit. I pursed my lips and stared at the other cards. One Knight of Sacrifice… A Song of Mercy… and my new card is…

‘Don’t tell me!’ Varric started to laugh. 

I cursed loudly and smacked the last card on the table. ‘Dammit, the Angel of Death.’ When she appears, the game ends, and you have to show all of your cards. The one with the most matching sets wins. 

Varric threw his cards on the table. A meddling hand, not too bad. Two Songs of Twilight and Two Angels of Truth… I threw my cards on the table as well and sighed.

‘Ohh that’s a bad hand.’ Varric grinned and hauled the coins in the centre over to his side. ‘Want a rematch?’ He smiled and drank from his cup of ale. I stared at my cup, which was still full, the ale lukewarm. 

Today isn’t my day.

Well, today should be glorious. Maxwell was crowned Inquisitor. And I’m so proud of him. 

But then… today… Last night… I realised I wasn’t alone anymore, and everything came tumbling down. 

I was used to that, but this realisation had come at a much greater cost. 

‘Twinkle? Andraste’s ass. Hey! Firefly!’ Varric yelled.

I almost fell off my seat. ‘Damnit Varric, don’t call me that!’

‘At least you answered.’ Varric snickered. ‘What were ‘ya dreaming about? Oh don’t tell me it’s…’ Varric pursed his lips, his cheeks flustered. ‘Well speaking of… Chuckles!’

I looked over my shoulder, sighing. Solas walked towards us slowly. His gaze shot to mine, his eyes careful, as if he was in dangerous territory right now, like a minefield. I had tried to avoid him all day… After Maxwell’s coronation, Varric and Bull had dragged me to the tavern. Flissa was running it together with a Dwarf now. Bull was already too drunk for Wicked Grace. He left for the library not too long ago… and I don’t think it was for reading.

Perhaps Solas had heard from Bull where I was… or he was chased away by the, uhm, noise. Or perhaps he had given me some space to think, as I had asked him to. But it seemed he was done waiting now. 

I groaned and turned back to the table, grabbed the cup of warm ale and gulped it down in one go. 

‘One more round.’ I mumbled. 

‘Master Tethras.’ Solas dipped his head towards Varric, who grinned back at the Elf. ‘Saeris.’ He said my name almost whispering, his eyes burning through my back. I refused to turn around. Instead, I just hummed a greeting under my breath. 

‘How’s our new Inquisitor?’ Varric smiled.

‘Overwhelmed.’ Solas answered. Had he been with Maxwell the whole day? ‘The burden of the Leader of the Inquisition is one heavier than the Herald’s.’

‘And the kid hasn’t even started yet.’ Varric sighed, sobering up just a little bit.

‘It will be difficult.’ Solas nodded. ‘Yet I think he is fit for the role.’ 

I took the deck of cards and shuffled through it, ignoring the conversation behind me. I had hoped the ale would affect me, but it didn’t.

‘I have heard that you have sent a message to an old friend for help, is it true?’ Solas walked past my seat and sat down next to Varric, across from me. I clicked my tongue and focussed on shuffling the deck.

‘Ah yes.’ Varric hummed. ‘He’s crossed paths with Corypheus before and may know more about what he’s doing. He can help, I think.’ Varric put his hand in the air, signalling Flissa over. The Dwarf ordered another round of ale. ‘You want anything?’ He nudged Solas, but the Elf politely refused. ‘Two ales, then.’ 

Varric doesn’t ask if I want anything anymore. He presumes I need it. I do. 

‘And is your friend here already?’ Solas continued.

‘Not yet… well he could be, but we wouldn’t know it.’ Varric laughed loudly. 

‘Who is it?’ I asked, my voice coarse.

‘You’ll see when he gets here.’ Varric sighed and leaned back in his chair. ‘It’s complicated, trust me…’ Flissa arrived at our table and put the cups of ale in front of us. She glanced at me quickly, and smiled faintly, somewhat scared. 

I yanked the cup from the table and took a large swig from it. Then I grabbed the shuffled deck of cards and placed it in the centre of the table. ‘Winner starts.’ 

‘Going right at it, Firefly.’ Varric winked.

I growled slightly.

‘Chuckles! Play with us!’ Varric smiled towards Solas, whose eyes were focussing on my fingers tapping on the wooden table nervously. 

‘I do not want to intrude.’ He said politely, though his eyes begged me to look up. 

I remained silent and took five cards from the deck, inspecting them. Two Songs of Mercy. Two Daggers. One Knight of Wisdom. Not bad. 

‘Ahhh, Chuckles, you’d never!’ Varric kicked my shin under the table. 

My head jolted up towards him, a curse on my lips. 

‘Excuse me, Milady,’ Varric grinned, ‘my foot slipped.’

‘Didn’t think your legs were that long.’ I bit back. Varric laughed louder. 

‘Then, I could do with a distraction.’ Solas smiled as if he wasn’t onto us.

‘Great!’ Varric clapped his hands enthusiastically. ‘You can start!’

I took another swig from my cup of ale. It was empty already. ‘Here.’ I threw my cards towards Solas. ‘You can have mine. I need some air.’ The chair screeched over the floor as I pushed it back. People behind us hushed as they saw me move, the tavern going silent for a second before people started talking and laughing again. ‘Thanks for the ale, Varric. I’ll pay you back later.’

Before the Dwarf could say anything, I turned around and walked off. 

I heard Solas’ chair move as well. Varric’s hushed voice followed; ‘I’d wait if I were you.’ 

Solas sat back down, staring after me as I pushed through the crowd. 

‘Angry Elf comin’ through!’ Sera giggled as I passed. I ignored her. 

I stormed out of the tavern, the cold air smacking me in the face. It was already past midnight, the sky dark and filled with thousands of stars. There were bonfires all over the courtyard. People were celebrating; soldiers, nobles, villagers and pilgrims alike. More and more of them were joining the Inquisition every day. Now that we have an Inquisitor, I bet more people will make the journey to Skyhold.

I didn’t blame them for coming. The rumours about us made us famous, and infamous, all over Thedas. The Breach… the Herald of Andraste who closed it, willed it, fought against a would-be god and survived… I don’t know what they say about me. Perhaps I don’t want to know.

Josephine had sent a scout earlier with a message that my chambers were ready… well, almost ready. But I’d rather sleep in a dusty room than in a tent amid people who either worship me or want me dead. 

I walked across the numerous bonfires, between the shadows cast by their light. The flames scared me and reminded me of my own funeral. My fiery grave. I pulled my robe tighter around my body. I missed my cape, I had lost it during the siege on Haven… I missed the hood that could hide me, the dark colours that made me blend in the shadows. Now, my white hair was too visible, reflecting the flames and pushing the shadows away. People stopped dancing when I passed them. Stopped talking, and then resumed talking when I was at a safe distance. 

I walked across the courtyard, towards the entrance of the garden, which was empty. When we arrived here a few days ago, the garden was overgrown with weeds. Now, the grass was cut short, the weeds pulled out, and they had started to lay a stone, meandering path across the garden. Some ancient statues were discovered between the weeds and overgrown shrubs. The garden was cornered with battlements and castle walls. The halls bordering the garden were adorned with cut-out pointed arches, creating a roof where you could hide under if it rained. Those halls gave way to the castle itself, or to other rooms. My room was upstairs, the one with the balcony overseeing the garden itself. 

And although people were celebrating, the garden was silent. It was too dark here, still too overgrown with nature. The laughter and music ebbed into the background, and the sounds of birds nesting in the trees, and the wind rustling through the grass, became ever-noticeable. 

In the centre of the garden, they had placed a couple of wooden benches. I stopped before one.

‘Hello there, stranger.’ I whispered. 

Maxwell lifted up his head slowly. He sat hunched over, the moon shining on his brown hair. It had grown even longer since Haven, curling softly onto his shoulders, framing his sun-kissed face. At the sound of my voice, Max lifted his head, his eyes so tired. The deep scar he got at Haven, the one from his eyebrow to his chin, was too white against his tanned skin that looked darker in the moonlight. He looked so much older than when I had first met him. 

The Inquisitor. 

That’s what he is now.

A man, a leader… not the holy boy from Haven. 

‘Saeris.’ His voice was warm and soft. 

‘Maxwell,’ I smiled and sat down next to him, ‘or should I say Inquisitor now?’ 

‘Please don’t.’ Max grinned. ‘Your Highness will do.’ 

I poked him with my elbow, rolling my eyes. Maxwell laughed quietly, before turning silent again, staring at his hands folded in his lap. 

‘Do you think I… Am I enough?’

‘Of course, you are.’ I hushed as Maxwell sighed and shifted his weight a little. ‘I can’t think of anyone better than you for this role.’

‘They should’ve asked Cullen… or Cassandra.’ Maxwell mumbled and combed his hand through his hair. ‘I know nothing about leading such an organisation. I don’t think I can do this…’

‘You have already been leading us, Max.’ I put my hand on his, stroking his fingers. Max lifted his head a little, his eyes doubtful. ‘People follow you, fight for you, believe in you! They’d die for you and—‘

‘I don’t want them to die for me!’ Maxwell interrupted, his voice louder. ‘I don’t want to lose you or anyone else again…’

‘I know,’ I hushed, ‘I’m sorry for Haven.’ I said after a while of silence.

Maxwell groaned slightly. ‘I’d ask you never to do that again, but I doubt you’d listen.’

‘I doubt that too.’

Maxwell laughed again quietly, his voice slightly louder than the night. ‘How are you faring, by the way?’

Huffing, I mumbled, ‘Cassandra thinks I’m Andraste, people piss themselves when I pass them, Cullen is still angry at me and I fought with Solas. I’m fine.’ 

Maxwell laughed louder, slapping his knee. ‘Well, the Inquisition is a hotspot for saints.’ He chuckled. ‘Or for very unlucky people, you choose.’ He lifted his face and looked at me. ‘I’ll help you figure this all out, Saeris.’ He said that more seriously. 

‘And I’ll help you.’ I smiled. ‘First Corypheus, then we’ll deal with the Anchor, and then… Well, I have time. Lots of it, Max. I mean your Highness.’

Maxwell grinned, ‘We’ll do this together. Cassandra will need time, but I’m working on it… and Cullen will come around. You haven’t seen how he was, Saeris… when you were… away.’ He swallowed. ‘He had lost all hope one night and then regained it all the next…’

‘I wish I hadn’t…’

‘But you have. What’s done is done. You’re here now, Saeris. That’s what counts. I don’t care what happened, what secrets you have—everyone has ‘em—and I don’t care what you are. As long as you’re here. You’re my friend, and I can’t do this without you, I can’t be the Inquisitor without you.’ 

I couldn’t help but smile softly. ‘I’m here.’ I whispered. ‘I will always be here.’

‘Good.’ Maxwell nodded. ‘Good…’ He scraped his throat. ‘So, you had a fight with Solas?’

I rolled my eyes and looked down at my feet. ‘Yeah.’ 

‘And… what happened?’ He wiggled his eyebrows. ‘Was it a lovers’ quarrel? Hmmm?’ 

‘Gods no!’ I spat, laughing. Was it?

‘Come on, Saeris!’ Maxwell turned his torso to me, leaning forward and gleaming like a teenager. ‘I’ve seen how he looks at you. There’s even a bet that—’ 

‘No, no I don’t want to hear it.’ I grinned.

Maxwell straightened his shoulders, still smiling. ‘Then what happened?’

‘He… I…’ I mumbled. Solas is immortal. He’s been lying this whole time… like I have, but… 

But Solas had known… what I was… that I was immortal and I struggled with it and…

‘He lied about something… and… well, it doesn’t matter.’ I coughed.

‘If it doesn’t matter, why be mad about it?’ Maxwell shook his head. 

‘Perhaps you’re right…’ I’m not angry that Solas is immortal… I’m happy… I’m not alone. There’s someone who will not wither as all do… someone who is like me, knows what it’s like. ‘I’ve been alone for so long, Maxwell.’ I said out of the blue. ‘I’m afraid of being alone… but I think that I’ve been alone for so long that being together with others is even more scary.’

‘Well…’ Maxwell said in thought. ‘We are afraid of the unknown. Of the future. I’m afraid of it as well, Saeris.’ He grabbed my hands, folded them in his, and held them to his heart. ‘I was always the youngest, the untalented one… I was a follower, and I always wanted to be a leader for once. But now I am, and I am afraid of it.’ He took my hands to his lips and kissed my knuckles. ‘But what doesn’t kill us, makes us stronger.’ He grinned and put my hands down. ‘And you’re so damn strong.’

‘So are you.’ I smiled.

‘I don’t know what happened between you two. But… I don’t think Solas is a bad guy. I mean, I don’t really understand what he’s talking about most of the time… if I’m even listening…’ Maxwell winked.

‘I know that… Perhaps I will talk to him…’ Perhaps I have to. I need to.

‘Good.’ Maxwell sighed and took a scrap of paper from his pocket, and unfolded it. I eyed the paper suspiciously, thinking it was a letter… or a speech… or…. ‘It’s a poem.’ Maxwell answered my greedy eyes with a playful wink.

‘A poem?’ I gasped. ‘I didn’t know you wrote!’

Maxwell grimaced and tugged on the folded paper. ‘I don’t…’ He scraped his throat nervously. ‘Leliana told me that Cassandra likes these sorts of… things…’

‘Oh.’ I tried to keep my face straight, but I couldn’t help the creepy smile that gleamed on my face. ‘It’s a love letter…’

‘It’s. A. Poem.’ 

‘I didn’t know you were into poetry.’ 

‘I’m not… It’s just… I don’t know.’ Maxwell sighed and then turned his head to me, his eyes pleading. ‘Could you read it for me? See if it’s any good?’

‘You should ask Varric that, he’s the writer.’ I huffed but took the piece of paper anyway.

‘He’ll never stop pestering me about this if he ever finds out. You know the Dwarf.’ Maxwell snickered. ‘Besides, you were a minstrel, right?’

‘That was a very long time ago.’ I muttered, glancing at the words written in front of me in thick, inky letters. There were smudges everywhere, words scratched out and rewritten with another colour of ink. But it was adorable. 

‘What do you think?’ 

‘I think Cassandra is a very lucky woman.’ I looked back up at Maxwell and handed him his poem back. ‘I think the poem is good, but the intention behind it is even better. Cassandra will love it.’ I think… The words he had written down didn’t matter, it was the way he had written them, the time and feelings he had perfumed them with.

‘Really? Maker’s balls, thank you. I don’t want to rewrite it again!’ Maxwell smiled and folded the paper back to put it in his pocket. I laughed, he did too. 

I leaned back into the bench, my shoulders grazing Maxwell’s. I lifted my eyes towards the skies splattered with stars. The moon disappeared behind a set of clouds for a moment and then reappeared again. Next to me, Max did the same, his head falling off of the back of the bench, so he could look straight to the sky. The sound of the night took over again, our breaths intermingling with the wind, the faint laughter of people, the hushing of leaves… I don’t know how long we stayed there in silence. But it was a good silence. A silence that wasn’t filled with unanswered questions, fleeting doubts or gnawing fear and anger. It was a silence that you’d feel during the summer. A soft silence. A silence that doesn’t want or need anything. Maxwell and I could say so much to each other, and we also couldn’t say anything at all. And that would be fine too. We didn’t need anything from each other, but our presence. We, alone, were good enough. And that’s what friendship is. Needing nothing more but each other. 

And it was then that I realised I was thinking of Solas. The whole time. His presence filled me, his words calmed me. And I realised that I wanted him here, not to fill the silence, but to enjoy it with me. I always felt like there was something unanswered between us. Something lingering. And now I understood that we both wanted each other, but couldn’t in fear of… in fear of time. But we had all the time in the world. Yes, I still had doubts, I still had so many questions… but the biggest one, the one that had filled our lingering silence, was answered already. 

We were not alone.

Not anymore. 

And that… that was liberating. 

‘I need to go.’ I whispered, my voice too sudden.

Maxwell straightened his back, his eyes slowly breaking free from the stars above us. And as he looked at me, I could still see those glistering stars in his eyes, as if they were lingering there as well. ‘Me too.’ He whispered back.

We smiled brightly at one another and then simultaneously stood up from the bench. I put my hand on his shoulder and squeezed it. Maxwell did the same. ‘Sleep tight.’ He winked at me.

I grinned. ‘I will.’

***

I laid myself on the king-sized bed. It was one of the only pieces of furniture in the room. Josephine hadn’t lied: these chambers were meant for nobility. They were large, with different rooms attached to the largest one, the one with the bed. There was a dressing room—still empty, though—and an office area with a desk. There was a private bathroom, one with a large, stone tub embedded into the floor, and my very own latrine. But the bedroom was my favourite room, even though it only had a bed in it, which was too large, and too comfy for my own good. The bed was covered in red velvet bedlinen and a dozen pillows. Yet, it wasn’t the bed that was my favourite part. It was the windows… and their view. On one side of the room was one large window, giving way to the Frostback Mountains that continued on beyond Skyhold. And on the other side of the room, were two tall windows that could be opened onto a balcony that overlooked the garden. I had opened them slightly, so the sound of the night could creep in, the wind billowing against the white and gold curtains. 

Josephine had said my chambers hadn’t been entirely ready. But this was truly enough. More than I had ever needed. Still, I enjoyed the lavishness… but even more the privacy.

I buried myself between the soft pillows stuffed with hundreds of feathers. I hadn’t even bothered to take off my foot wraps, or my shirt and pants. I had only pulled the braids from my hair before I had fallen into the bed. And sleep came so fast, all the rest was for later.

My heart pumped as my body grew weary. 

And as the Fade crept closer, I thought of only him. And I wasn’t alone anymore.

***

It had only been a day since I’d been here, in front of Solas’ warded dream, a closed-off door. And yet, everything seemed different, felt different. 

What I presumed had been memories he had found in the Fade, could very well have been his own memories. This space he had created… it had felt so ancient, so real… And I knew now it once had been… perhaps he had been there when it was built. 

I placed my hand on the door in front of me. The ward placed around it seemingly recognized me, and rippled underneath my fingers as if I was touching a body of water. The ward around me sizzled, and the door opened again. 

I stepped inside, the space around me changing like it had done so yesterday. The fog turned into a big, marble hall. Just like before. Only this time, I was alone. Solas wasn’t here to welcome me, to guide me through his maze of a dream. I breathed in harshly, feeling like an intruder. But I knew Solas wouldn’t have let me in if he hadn’t wanted to. He controlled the Fade too well for that. Perhaps he was angry with me. He should be. He trusted in me and told me—what could be—his biggest secret. And what had I done? I had ignored him, sneered at him, thinking of him as… as if he had tricked me while he had tried to confide in me as I had in him.

And I had left him all alone.

The one thing I had hated. Being all alone again.

He should be angry with me. I am angry with myself. 

I pushed my hair behind my ears, my bare feet shuffling across the cold, stone floor. Even my breath had an echo, that’s how quiet it was. I looked around, from the mosaic tiles on the floor to the white marble walls with dark swirls of stone within it, and the beautiful stained-glass windows, the sun gleaming through them and making the colours and patterns even more vibrant. Yesterday, it had all just been pretty. But now, everything had a meaning. This dream wasn’t built… These were his own memories.

I walked to the other side of the giant hall and opened a door that I remembered going through yesterday. I pushed it open gently and peeped inside. It was the same room as yesterday, nothing had changed. There was a desk in the corner together with some chairs, glass cases filled with books stacked against the walls, and one large window in front of me, opened wide, framed with gold-threaded curtains. I stepped inside, leaving the marble door open behind me.

No one’s here.

The two tattered armchairs Solas had conjured up yesterday were still placed in the centre of the room. As I walked past them, I rested my hand on the back of one of the chairs, the one he sat in yesterday, and followed the burgundy fabric with my fingers.

I continued on towards the window that opened onto the balcony we had… kissed on yesterday.

I hadn’t forgotten that kiss. 

And how I’d felt during it. His mouth against mine, his chest heaving, his arms around me, his fingers trembling… I could taste the memory of his tongue and feel his lashes brushing against my cheeks… a shiver crawled across my spine, and I wrapped my arms around my torso and walked onto the balcony. Before me, I could see the great city of Arlathan, buzzing with people and spirits alike. Castles and fountains were levitating across the skies, meandering paths of gold and marble cobblestones connecting them to the earth like bridges. Magic swirled across the skies like the wind, rocks floating through them like clouds… 

I leaned against the balcony frame, arms still wrapped around me and stared towards the city. Had he lived here? Did he have a family? Friends? Where were they? Was he the only ancient still alive? Did he live in this palace? Or had he been a servant? 

Had he known the Elvhen Gods? The Evanuris? Were they real? 

The lively city below was intoxicating to stare at, and it was difficult to look away. If only I could get closer, walk among those people… 

I straightened and took a step back, beckoning away from the balcony slowly, without turning around, unable to as the city called to me.

Had I once been here? 

‘Saeris.’ 

The spell was suddenly broken, and I turned around. Back inside stood Solas, leaning against the marble door he had closed behind him. For a second, I panicked. A closed door. I can’t get away.

Solas blinked, as if he noticed, and leaned away from the door, opening it just a little. 

I swallowed as Solas stepped aside, walking slowly towards one of the glass cases against the wall. He opened it and grabbed a book from inside and browsed through it. He closed the book again, so sudden that I jumped a little, and placed it back into its container. The ancient sighed, as if bored, his face folded in a neutral mask that betrayed no emotion.

‘Solas.’ I whispered and dared to take a step forward. 

Solas stopped breathing for a split second when I said his name. I could see the muscles of his back tense beneath the thin fabric of his white long-sleeved linen tunic. 

I scraped my throat. He’s angry. Like I was. 

‘I…’ I mumbled, daring to take another step closer. Solas’ back was still turned to me, but I saw him glance over his shoulder towards me. ‘I’m sorry about… about yesterday… and today.’ I mumbled. ‘You… surprised me.’

Solas dipped his head and looked back to the glass case, eyeing yet another book. The silent treatment. 

I took another step forward. ‘I’m… I have so many questions… since you’re… well you’re like me and…’

Solas sighed and grabbed some kind of tome, his fingers caressing the thick leather cover.

I bit my lower lip, not too hard to wake up, but hard enough.

Solas turned back and walked around me, the tome still in his hands, and sat in the armchair across the room. With a monotone voice, he started talking. ‘I suspected you may have some.’ He said, like a scholar to a student, bored already. And it hurt. It hurt that he refused to look up at me… just like I had refused back at the tavern.

I kind of deserved this. 

But I can’t back down… I need to fix this. I want to. I want him. I’m done being alone. I’m ready for it. I’m ready for him. I’m ready for us. I am indeed done with the darkness. I was ready to go towards the sun. Undoubtedly. 

‘Solas.’ I said again. He didn’t look up from the tome. ‘Fenedhis, Solas! Look at me!’ 

The sudden anger in my voice made him jerk his face upright towards me. I balled my fists and stared at him fiercely, into his stormy grey eyes.

‘You knew what I was, and when you told me that you were the same, it angered me. You left me in the dark and it angered me. I’m so angry.’ I blurted. Solas’ eyes betrayed his emotions, finally. I could see them glance at my balled fists, then at my piercing eyes and trembling lips. ‘And I’m afraid.’

Solas closed his tome slowly as I continued.

‘I’m afraid that it isn’t true. And that I am truly alone. But I’m also afraid that it is true, and that everything I know is false… that everything I presumed wasn’t real. That I’m not alone… That I can share it with someone… It scared me. And… and for once I’m afraid that my curse is my immortality… and that by breaking it… I’ll lose everything all over again… I’m afraid that breaking it will kill me… and… and… I do not want… to lose you. Yet, I’m afraid of being with you.’ I heaved, the words coming out all jumbled. ‘You confuse me, Solas.’

‘As you do me.’ He finally answered. ‘You do not even realise how much you do.’

‘Does it scare you, ever?’ I tried to hold back my tears. I don’t know why I wanted to cry anyway. ‘Eternity?’

‘It does. Always.’

Solas slowly stood up from his armchair. With two long strides, he stood in front of me and smiled ever so faintly, the mask slipping from his face. He softly grabbed my hands, and I relaxed them in his. But his touch was still doubtful.

‘I don’t know what the future holds… no one does… but I want to live. I want to try.’ I whispered under my breath.

Solas inhaled, his lips parting slightly. ‘You always run away.’

‘I can’t promise I will never do so again. It has become a habit.’ I sighed. 

Solas said something in response, but I wasn’t listening anymore. I stared at his lips, his eyes and… and he was real. So real. I’m not alone. I’m not alone. I’m not alone. I’m not alone. I’m…

I cocked my head, slowly moving towards his face. I closed my eyes as I neared him, feeling his breath fluttering as I did so. His hands grabbed mine harder, his fingers trembling just like mine… and his lips parted even more, almost grazing mine and…

‘Your questions…’ He swallowed and moved his head away. It felt like rejection. But as I opened my eyes, I saw the fire in his. Solas’ eyes were large, and strong, a fire burning within them. He stared at my lips as he spoke, regretting he had said something. ‘Ask them… first.’ He swallowed.

‘I won’t turn away again, whatever your answers are.’ I dipped my head, taking another step towards him.

Solas took another step back again. Lifting up his hands in defence, a chuckle hidden in his sultry, hoarse voice as he said; ‘Yes… but I do not know if I will be able to answer them… to let you even ask them once I hold you.’

Ah. 

I grinned. ‘I don’t care.’ I took his defensive hands again into my own. ‘We have all the time in the world to ask questions, and to answer them.’

‘Yes, but…’

‘But this can’t wait anymore.’ I pulled his hands so his chest bumped into mine. Solas swallowed again, his breath staggering.

I pressed my lips against his. It was a quick kiss, just a peck, really. Too hard, too sudden, too small. And yet, it was all I had wanted. All day, I had been suppressing it by being angry for no reason, for being scared of nothing. And nothing of that mattered anymore. We all have our secrets… but this one, we shared. We were not alone. Not me. Not Solas. I tilted my head back a little, so I could look into his eyes. Solas’ body froze up for a second, not being able to react as I let go way too fast, my cheeks reddening. 

There was a little part of me that thought he wouldn’t want me anymore. That I had ruined it.

But his eyes—oh, his eyes—were wild.

Solas pulled me back in, his kiss deeper, hotter, than ever before. His lips trembled at first, but then the trembling gave way to passion as his kiss deepened, his brows furrowing because of the intensity. His arm curled along my back while his other hand slid behind my neck, grabbing the back of my hair as he pushed my face even closer to his, our foreheads touching. My left hand rested on his chest, feeling his heartbeat quickening underneath my fingers, as my right hand caressed his cheek. He leaned into my touch, his lashes fluttering against my own.

I parted my lips and let him inside. His tongue explored my own, slow at first, then passionate.

Solas’ hand raked through my hair, his other hand slowly exploring my back, going lower to my backside. I smiled against his lips as he became conscious of his touch, and chastely moved his hand up again.

We have time to move slowly.

I let go of his cheek and lightly ran my fingers along the lines of his jaw and neck, where I stopped, my thumb caressing the veins that were popping up because of the restraint I felt he was holding.

I moved my head back a little, gulping up some essential air.

But Solas shook his head and pulled me close again, his kiss so hard it made me stagger back until my back bumped against the wall. 

Solas placed one hand against the wall, leaning into me. The other hand moved to my face and held up my chin. He broke off our kiss, and then gave in again, giving me one small kiss after another, savouring me with every touch. As he held back one moment, he slipped a wild strand of hair behind my pointed ear, his cold fingers running along the brim of them.

‘You are beautiful.’ He whispered against my mouth, refusing to move away.

I smiled.

That made him move on me again, his hand gliding down from my ear to my shoulder, pressing me against the wall as his body pushed against me again as his kiss grew from easy to devout. 

‘Solas.’ I grinned as I noticed the hoarseness of my voice.

He moved his head away, staring into my eyes, heaving as I was. He swallowed and stared at me in silence. There were so many thoughts crossing his mind. I could see it as his expression changed ever so slightly. I wondered what he was thinking… he too must have doubts, considerations… 

But then he shook his head, as if to shake the doubts away, and stared back at me clearly.

‘Saeris.’ He savoured my name and took a deep breath. ‘I—’

***

Someone knocked on my door intensely. 

I pushed myself up, eyes squinting against the incoming sun.

Fuck, I woke up. Solas was going to say something… well, never mind… We… I smiled as I touched my lips with my fingertips. I partly expected them to still be wet from his kiss, swollen by his touch… but nothing. It was a dream… but not entirely. 

I grinned. Why had I been afraid again? Why had I been angry? This was… this was perfect. It had been so long since I had felt so free to kiss someone again… to feel again. I do not know if this is love or just a want… but I know that this is real and good, and I wanted to kiss him again. And this time… I don’t need to be afraid of time.

Solas is immortal.

But he can die.

‘Milady!’ Another hasty knock on my door. ‘Lady Saeris!’ 

I combed through my wild hair with my hands, and flattened my shirt before I crawled out of the bed towards the door. I opened it slightly and peered through the crack.

Damn it, it’s but morning! I could’ve… slept … longer. 

‘Yes?’ I asked, my voice indeed still hoarse. 

The scout in front of my door shifted on her feet. She had red braided hair and freckles ran down the bridge of her small, pixy nose. ‘We, uhm, we have been appointed to continue the furnishing of your chambers… Oh Maker, you were still sleeping—of course you were, it’s morning… cursed Sam! Did I disturb you?’

Squinting, I glanced at the scouts standing behind the girl, and at the chests next to them.

‘Ah.’ was all I said.

‘We… we can come back later…’ the scout mumbled. 

‘No, that won’t be necessary. I’m up, so…’ I pushed a strand behind my ear, lingering with the thought of Solas’s long fingers against the brim… sliding across my neck… I shook my head. ‘Just give me a couple of minutes to freshen up, okay?’ 

‘Of course, Milady.’ The scout dipped her head. 

I closed the door again and leaned against it for just a moment to recollect myself. My heart was still beating as if he was still there, right in front of me. I felt like a teenager again. Just like I had felt with… Daniel.

I felt a jab of pain in my chest. 

Somehow, it felt a little like I was… cheating? I hadn’t been with anyone, not like this, since his death… I know it’s been decades… I know that I was being ridiculous. Nothing could ever replace him, or take away his place in my heart. There’ll always be a spot just for him.

But I moved on.

And Solas… I… It means something. That kiss meant something. Something that I hadn’t felt for a long, long time. 

‘Come on.’ I hummed and pushed myself straight again. I ran to the bag I had thrown to the floor in front of my bed and grabbed a pair of trousers and a grey shirt, which I tucked into the pants. Nothing fancy. I bound my leather foot wraps whilst simultaneously hopping to the dressing room, where a large mirror stood—Orlesian style. I tutted but knew Josephine had meant well. I combed through my hair and put it up with a simple ponytail, with braids at the side of my head, showing off my pointed ears. As my eyes met with my reflection in the mirror, I blushed for a moment. My lips were tainted red as if I had been biting on them. I dangled my hands at my side. I looked…

Another knock. ‘Milady?’

‘Coming!’ I called. 

***

I walked down towards the garden. I had seen the scouts bring one piece of lavish furniture into the room after another. An Orlesian-styled dresser, two big Fereldan armchairs, a mahogany bookcase, and so on… even a couple of chests stuffed with clothes and —sweet Maker help me—dresses. I hoped they had made a mistake and that these clothes were meant for Vivienne or Josephine. I wondered why I even needed those to begin with. I am a mage and a healer. I need armour to protect myself during battle, or clothes that can be thrown away easily when stained with blood and Maker-knows-what. 

I brushed the thought aside as I remembered I still needed to meet up with Vivienne. I was surprised she had waited for me so patiently.

I walked towards the castle, intending to go straight to Vivienne, but slightly hoping to bump into a certain someone. I felt all giddy today.

But as I turned around the corner, wanting to take the stairs down from the battlements to the courtyard, I noticed Varric standing at the edge of one of the battlement walls. I stopped as I noticed Maxwell as well, in full armour that is not his fighting armour, but his diplomatic one. I stopped and stared, squinting against the morning sun.

There was a third person.

Varric noticed me and waved, nudging me to come closer. 

Well, Vivienne can wait ten minutes more.

I turned back and strolled towards them.

‘Mornin’ Firefly!’ Varric grinned. 

‘You’re… active.’ I mumbled.

‘Of course!’ Varric grinned, his hair washed and his face clean-shaven. ‘My friend’s here.’ He smiled.

‘Your friend?’

‘Saeris!’ Maxwell smiled as he walked my way. He had combed his hair and bound it in a tight, low ponytail at the back of his head. His armour, steel and gold plated, with the Inquisition emblem engraved on the chest, gleamed. ‘Good to see you! I want you to meet someone.’

I hummed as Maxwell turned around, waving for that unknown third person to step out of the shadows.

‘This is her. Saeris. The one I was talking about.’ Maxwell smiled.

A man—tall and rough—stepped towards us. He had short, straight black hair, and a trimmed black beard. He had soft, brown eyes, and a smear of red Fereldan war paint crossing the bridge of his nose. 

‘This is Garrett Hawke.’ Maxwell smiled. ‘The Champion of Kirkwall.’

Notes:

Lol... Fade tongue *ahem*
The Solaeris ship has finally sailed. All aboard :D

With Hawke coming to town, the ball finally starts rolling again. I have lots of adventure and drama planned for the chapters to come! And thank you all for reading!

Chapter 48: Arranged

9:36 Dragon

‘Garrett Hawke. That’s the Champion’s name!’

‘Oh Maker! And Kirkwall is so close… Can’t he come by? I’d love to see the Champion!’

‘Me too!’

‘Ah, Jess told me he has like really good looks, you know? Thick black hair, full beard, so damn rugged and manly!’

‘Damn, why aren’t we at Kirkwall’s Circle?’ 

The three apprentices giggled, filling up the silent library with squealing noises. The giggling squad of young girls annoyed me more than normally. I pushed myself from the shadows, placing back another book I had read five times already. For how much longer do I need to stay in this Circle? It’s been six years already. Today was one of those days I’d rather stay in my room, dreaming of the Fade, of the sun. But I shouldn’t mope around like that, better to go to the Fade sparsely, just so I could enjoy it even more.  

‘You know mages get tortured in the Gallows?’ I bit.

The girls gasped as they noticed me, foul expressions on their faces. 

One girl tutted and threw her muddy brown hair over her shoulder. ‘What do you know, demon!’

Ah, demon. She probably spoke with Ruth. She liked that nickname. I took a step forward, my green eye coiling. ‘You speak of rumours, yet have not heard those about Kirkwall’s Circle?’ I purred, trying to be as scary as possible. It’s the only thing I can do here, read and piss people off. ‘You have not heard of what the Templars do to young, impressionable girls like you? You have not heard of the humans jumping off from the highest room of the tower, just to be met with the cold hard ground and death, rather than to live another day inside that same tower? Do you really envy them? Would you swap places with them to meet your rugged Champion? Would you?’

Another girl stepped forward, trying to be brave but clearly shaking. ‘W… We were just joking! Why do you need to take things so seriously!’

‘Yeah, piss off!’ The third girl muttered. 

I scoffed, and stared at the three of them silently, taking my sweet time before speaking again, pronouncing my words carefully. It wasn’t just to scare them, but to warn them. There might be a day when these girls might be freed, thrown into the big, scary world. There will be no one to protect them as their dreams become their greatest nightmares. ‘It might not be serious to you, little girl. You’ve been here longer than you remember. You can joke around. The girls your age at Kirkwall, aren’t as lucky. So don’t wish to meet your Champion. It would probably mean that you’re in some deep, deep shit.’

***

9:41 Dragon

‘Saeris,’ Maxwell smiled politely, this is Garrett Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall!’ 

‘Though, I don’t use that title much anymore.’ Hawke smiled politely, dipping his head. ‘I’ve heard a lot about you.’

I swallowed and straightened my back. ‘So have I. I’m honoured to be finally meeting you.’ I lifted my chin and smiled faintly. So this is the Champion I had heard so much about. The rugged hero, Kirkwall’s saviour,… I hadn’t needed to read Varric’s book to know who this man was and what he had done. 

I looked over to Maxwell, who gleamed proudly. He was meeting one of his great examples. A childhood hero. And now, Max is a hero himself. And it was quite the sight to see him standing next to Hawke. All of Thedas’ heroes were gathering at Skyhold, it seemed.

I couldn’t feel more out of place among these bright humans. 

‘Varric,’ I sighed, ‘so this is the friend you were speaking of?’ 

‘That’s right!’ Varric winked.

‘Aww, you’ve been talking about me? I missed you too, Varric.’ Hawke grinned, smacking the Dwarf on his shoulder. 

‘How could I not have been talking about you, Hawke! You’re my special snowflake!’ Varric grinned back, his voice filled with warmth and memories. 

‘And it’s good you’ve decided to join us.’ Maxwell intervened. ‘We could use your expertise, especially with Corypheus.’

‘You’ve already dropped half a mountain on the bastard.’ Hawke smiled, crossing his arms across his body while leaning against the balustrade of the battlement wall. ‘I’m sure anything I can tell you pales in comparison.’

Maxwell glanced my way apologetically. No one needs to know that I was there too. I’d rather have Maxwell get all the credit. He was the one to pull the trebuchet. He faced Corypheus on his own. ‘Oh, I don’t know.’ Maxwell changed the subject away from Haven quickly. ‘You did save a city from a horde of rampaging Qunari.’

Hawke wiggled his eyebrows—he reminded me very much of Varric, I understood why they had become such good friends—‘I don’t see how that really applies… Or is there a horde of rampaging Qunari I don’t know about?’

Max cocked his head, ‘There’s a Qunari. He almost qualifies as a horde all by himself. Fortunately, he’s on our side.’

‘Yet, you should never really mess with him, either way.’ I grinned as Varric nudged me. ‘I’ll leave you gentlemen to discuss.’ I’d rather not talk about Corypheus. ‘But I would love to hear some of your stories, perhaps later, Ser Hawke.’ I said politely.

‘Hawke’s fine.’ He said in reply. ‘It was wonderful meeting you.’ The Champion winked at me playfully. 

‘Hold it in your knickers, Casanova.’ Varric laughed. ‘I’ll leave you guys to it, too.’

‘I’ll talk to you later then, Saeris?’ Maxwell called after me, cocking his head like a puppy who was about to be abandoned. 

‘Sure.’ I waved back, glancing at Hawke one more time, whose face had turned serious in thought. 

‘See you at the tavern!’ Varric called to the two heroes.

‘Of course…’ Hawke chuckled.

I continued my walk down the stairs of the battlement, Varric right behind me. A nauseating feeling was bubbling inside my stomach. Another storm was about to settle again. And another one was on its way. I knew why Hawke was here. I had heard the stories. We could use his help. But I knew this would start the ball to roll once more. Will we be battling Corypheus again soon? Or are there other things amiss I haven’t yet heard about? Maxwell would enlighten me soon, I guessed. But the iffy feeling I had, told me there was something more going on. 

Don’t settle too soon. We might be leaving for Maker-knows-what again.

Varric called my name behind me. ‘Wanna come with me? Revenge for yesterday? You know, after you left, Chuckles beat me. Hard. Twice.’

I laughed. ‘No, I have somewhere to go, maybe later.’

‘You should play against Hawke too. He sucks even more at it than our Inquisitor does.’ Varric giggled at his own joke and continued his walk to the tavern.

I waved him goodbye and turned to Skyhold’s main castle. I climbed another flight of stairs and entered the main hall. Again, a lot of soldiers and workers alike were passing through these halls filing reports, moving furniture, fixing and painting walls,… I noticed a few Dwarven workers placing a large armchair—or throne—at the back of the great hall, in front of the large stained-glass windows. The back of the red velvet chair was broad and high, with edges of steel swords protruding from the side like sunbeams. I blinked a couple of times, dismissing the thought of how Maxwell would think about this. He’s going to hate it. 

I stopped and turned to my right, going through the door that led to either the rotunda or the upstairs. I admit, I was thinking of going to the rotunda first… just to see him. It felt so strange, what had happened between us, what was established in the Fade. I knew there was an immortal man behind these doors. A man I had kissed. A man who had kissed me. And I wanted him to do it again. 

But, first I had to meet someone else. I turned towards the stairs that lead to the first floor of the large balcony that encircled the whole throne room. On one side of that balustrade, the spot above the main entrance, Madame de Fer had nested. Just underneath a pair of huge, glass-stained windows. As I turned around the corner, I eyed the Orlesian armoires, mirror and tapestries with a smear of disgust on my face.

‘There you are, darling.’ Vivienne stood up from her white and gold leather armchair. She wore a gold-threaded tunic, the flowy materials resembling silk. The corset she wore had iridescent boning, pushing up her voluptuous breasts. Her pants were tight and made of some luxury fabric I’d never seen before, and had patterns of gold swirls that continued on in her kitten heels. ‘Had a rough night? You look dreadful.’ She said and clicked her tongue, her eyes sneering at my wrapped feet.

‘Thank you, Vivienne. Always a pleasure.’ I bit away a sneer and smiled politely. ‘You requested my presence?’ Be quick about it.

Vivienne slowly walked around me and ignored my last question as she continued. ‘You need to keep up appearances, my dear. The Inquisitor saved many lives, lives that are now indebted to him . Eyes are going our way, and staying there, darling. We all need to look the part.’

I cocked an eyebrow. ‘We are at war, people are dying. I don’t think fashion is going to save lives.’

‘Ah, but there you are wrong. It is not but blood and muscle that wins war. Coin wins war. Power wins war. If not through alliances, we would be but blood and muscle under the snow already—or at least, some of us—’ she added that last part quietly, but I heard it nevertheless. ‘But enough of that, my dear. Please, take a seat, make yourself comfortable.’ She pointed to one of the armchairs across the balcony doors, which were opened to let in the fresh mountain breeze. 

I dipped my head and sat down, crossing my legs and trying to look as poised as possible. I didn’t really like Madame de Fer, but she did demand a certain presence in the room.

Vivienne walked towards the armchair across from me, sat down whilst crossing her legs, and leaned back comfortably, with no real emotion on her face but a polite smile. I know he wouldn’t like me saying it—but she seemed like she was channelling Solas. ‘To be honest, my dear, I do not trust you.’ She said outright, although it was nothing I didn’t already know. ‘Though your years in a proper Circle, you refuse to see yourself as anything but an enchanter and present yourself as an apostate. As an Enchanter at the Imperial Court of Orlais, I simply cannot condone such a mindset, I hope you understand, darling.’

‘S –Sure…’

‘But that does not mean you do not have my respect, dear. You have shown great talents and loyalty, and that I can condone.’ Vivienne leaned forward. ‘I do not think you are a demon. Yet, the magic that kept you alive at Haven could very well be, that is demonic. It should be studied, my dear. I, nor the Inquisition, should leave it be like that.’

I nodded silently, pursing my lips. ‘I understand your concerns, Madame, but you do not need to worry. Solas is’ already doing research on the matter.’

‘Research, is it?’ Vivienne grinned as if she knew something. ‘Solas is indeed… well versed in such obscure matters. Yet, I think it does not hurt if this is studied by more than one person, don’t you think?’

‘Yes, but –‘ 

‘Indeed, darling. After what happened—after you re-joined us—I came to realise that perhaps this is a divine matter. I think it is necessary for us, as an organisation, to take a public stand on this.’

‘So, what are you proposing exactly?’ I cocked an eyebrow and crossed my arms. What is she aiming at? 

‘Aside from researching your “curse”, I would suggest I could help with your public image, as I do with the Inquisitor.’

Ah. Power. She not only wants to “research” me, and keep my “demonic” powers in check, but she also wants to be linked with me. Publicity is publicity. She wants power and recognition. I am a great magical mystery, who would better be suited to study and guide me but the Empress’s own Enchanter herself? If she’d prance me around like a talking donkey, she’d surely be in a position to get a promotion of some sort, like become the Grand Enchanter… or maybe even the new Divine. 

I’m sure she has enough puppets. 

‘I am sure Solas is open to discussing his findings with you, Madame. And I agree that more than one person should research my case. Perhaps Dorian is a suitable candidate, you can surely work together with him.’ I trust Dorian more than Vivienne. If she is to study me, I’d rather have her do it with someone who can keep her in check. ‘And as for, uhm, public appearances… I appreciate your offer, Madame, yet I think Lady Josephine is already taking care of that.’ 

Vivienne’s confident sneer faltered a little. I can play this game too. 

‘But of course.’ Vivienne recollected herself. She’d underestimated me. ‘I shall be inquiring Solas, then.’ She smiled politely. ‘As I will do Lady Montilyet. As ambassador, she will surely have enough to worry about.’

‘She didn’t mind it, though.’ I countered. ‘But I assure you, Madame, if I ever require any help, or if Lady Josephine has too big of a schedule, I will surely ask for your expertise.’

Vivienne dipped her head. I’d won this round. But this isn’t over just yet.

‘Ah, I would appreciate that greatly, Saeris darling. I would not want you to be thrown in front of the wolves. Though we may not agree with one another, I am sure we could help each other… on certain matters.’ She fluttered her lashes, almost sarcastically.

‘I will remember that.’ I smiled. ‘Now, if you excuse me, Madame, I have to attend to the Inquisitor.’ I lied, but I wanted to sound important just to jest her a little more.

‘Do come by often, my dear.’ She tutted, also lying. 

I stood up from my chair and half-heartedly curtsied, before taking off.

Maker! That woman… Of course, that’s why she asked to speak to me directly after what happened at the camp between Haven and Skyhold! She wanted to jump on the bandwagon, as soon as possible. But she didn’t want to look too eager, she knew I’d notice, and others would too. But I will not be used by her, not if I have a say in it! But she won’t give up so easily. She didn’t make it in the Orlesian Court just by complying and taking a step back. I hope Josephine is truly intending on managing my public image, as she does with Maxwell… I hadn’t even asked her, just presumed.

I slowly walked down the stairs, knowing that Vivienne was still watching me, and strolled across the throne room towards the war room. After I closed the door behind me, I sighed, taking a moment to recollect myself, before entering the Ambassador’s office. 

‘Lady Montilyet, do you have a moment?’ I asked as I entered the room.

Josephine sat behind her desk, her body obscured by piles upon piles of letters and reports. ‘Oh my, is that you, Lady Saeris? Please, do come in!’ She said eagerly from behind the towers of paper, which she pushed aside so she could actually see me, and I her. 

‘I’m not disturbing you, am I?’

‘Of course not! Things have become busy after… Haven…’ She swallowed. Max had told me she had difficulty forgetting Corypheus’ attack. ‘After the Herald’s appointment as Inquisitor, things are going fast. Nobles are inquiring, alliances are questioned and proposed,… I even have five marriage proposals already…’ Josephine sighed and stared at a small stack of papers at her side.

I smiled and shifted on my feet. ‘I don’t think Maxwell, uhm the Inquisitor, has any need for marriage just yet.’ And not with anyone but Cassandra.

‘Oh, they’re not all for the Inquisitor, Milady.’ Josephine winked and dipped her head towards the chair in front of her desk. ‘Please, take a seat.’

‘They’re not for me, are they?’ There was a hint of panic in my voice.

‘I will refuse them, politely.’ The Ambassador smiled. ‘Do not worry.’ 

I heaved a sigh of relief and sat down. ‘Thank you.’ I grinned. 

‘With what can I help you, Milady? Is it your chambers? Are they not to your liking?’ Josephine put down her quill and looked at me straight on. 

‘Oh, no, they’re perfect… I wouldn’t have minded it if they were smaller even.’ I waved my hands. ‘No, it’s something else…’

‘I can guess.’ Josephine almost snorted—which was quite unlikely for her. ‘Was it Madame de Fer? She has been inquiring about… advising you and your public… position. I understand you do not wish for her guidance?’

‘I do not… I fear that Madame has her own agenda—which is fine, really—but I don’t wish to be a part of it.’ I smiled sheepishly. ‘I was wondering… if you’d be willing to… help me address my…’

‘I’m more than happy to help you with any situations that arise. Including the Inquisition’s position on your current… situation.’ Josephine continued on my part, smiling warmly. ‘Speaking of the matter, I was wondering how you’d like for us to address the rumours regarding yourself. Madame de Fer has a point in proposing to take an official, and public position about all of this, as we did with the Inquisitor.’

I rolled back my shoulders uncomfortably. Let’s get on with it, then. ‘What are these… rumours that need addressing?’

‘Well…’ Josephine stared at a blank piece of paper in front of her, thinking. ‘There are many contradicting, yet consistent rumours about what happened to you after Haven. With the Inquisitor being hailed as the Herald of Andraste, sent by the Maker to close the Breach, you are linked to the divine as well. Some say you were blessed by Andraste herself as well, and that you were brought back to the Herald as a sign of gratitude… from the Maker. Some say you were returned to us because you saved the Herald’s life… others are… proposing that the both of you are in a rather… intimate relationship and Andraste has blessed your… joining.’

‘Oh… oh. ’ I mumbled, blushing. ‘Max… the Inquisitor and I are merely friends… nothing… too intimate like that.’

‘I… understand.’ Josephine coughed and continued with the list of rumours she had practically learned by heart already. ‘There are rumours saying you are the incarnation of Andraste… though the Chantry would never stand behind such a stance. It would be blasphemous to call an… Elven mage such as yourself… the reincarnation of the Maker’s Bride.’

‘Of course.’ I rolled my eyes. Because only humans can be divine, right?

‘Those are the rather positive rumours.’ Josephine leaned forward, her eyes darkening. ‘There are many guessing that your return was of a demonic origin. Rumours have it that you are an evil apostate, using blood magic to either gain power or use the Inquisition for much worse. Others are implying that you are a spy from Corypheus. And last but not least, there are those who are certain you are a demon or an abomination.’ Josephine took a deep breath after saying all of that in one go. 

‘And what do you believe?’ 

The Ambassador seemed taken aback a little, blinking rapidly. ‘I, uhm, I do not presume anything of the latter.’ She answered. ‘To be honest, my Lady, I do not know. I do not know if the Inquisitor was truly sent by the Maker. But I do know he’s here to help, as are you. And I tend to believe in the goodness of people.’  

‘Thank you…’ I mumbled. 

‘And how would you like me to address these inconsistent rumours?’ Josephine took up her quill again, ready to note down anything I’d say on the piece of parchment in front of her.

‘I… How did the Inquisitor address his?’ 

Josephine looked back up at me, the quill loosening between her fingers. ‘He ordered—fervently that is—that we shall not endorse or favour rumours regarding him being sent by the Maker, for he does not believe that, he told me. He does, though, not object to the idea of using these rumours for… diplomatic matters.’

‘So… like for propaganda?’  

‘Publicity.’ Josephine corrected. ‘Rumours and the attention of nobles and commoners alike is a powerful tool. It makes the Inquisition known to the world, known to our allies as well as our enemies. The Inquisitor can inspire hope for those who wish to join us, and fear for those who are against us. The inquisitor understands this very well.’

I pursed my lips. I didn’t want to be used for anyone’s agenda, not for Vivienne’s and neither for Inquisition diplomats… but perhaps this is the only way I can help Maxwell? At least I have a hand in these rumours, control them as I’d like. ‘Alright…’ I sighed, and Josephine’s grip on her quill tightened again. ‘I… don’t like the rumours… but you may use them as you use Maxwell’s, the Inquisitor’s, rumours. But… not the ones about me and him being together,’ that won’t be fair to Cassandra, ‘and neither the ones about me being an evil apostate, a demon or a spy… I have enough enemies as it is.’

‘I understand, excellent decision! And you need to worry not, I will oversee this personally. I shall keep our position about your case vague, perhaps the mystery regarding you will do you, and the Inquisition, better than the other options… We will not endorse or feed into any rumours. It is noted.’ She smiled and scribbled an autograph onto the parchment, the letters thin and elegant.

‘Thank you, Lady Montilyet… again. I really appreciate it.’

‘You may call me Josephine… and there is no need, really. It is why I am here for.’ She smiled warmly like a sister or a mother would.

I dipped my head. ‘And if there’s anything I can help you with, just tell me.’ I said awkwardly. ‘Though I’m not well-versed in diplomacy.’

‘I appreciate the offer nonetheless.’ Josephine dipped her head back at me politely.

I stood up from the chair, smiling as I took a step back. But before I could fully turn around and walk off, the Ambassador quietly called after me again. ‘Did it hurt, death?’ 

I turned around slowly, taking up Josephine. Her voice was small when she asked, a worried, but curious look on her face. I could see she regretted asking, but she was too curious not to. I smiled faintly and swallowed. ‘It doesn’t. One moment you’re there, the next, you’re not. That’s it.’ I didn’t tell her about the cold, the darkness that swallows you up… the feeling of losing grip on your body, and slipping away until you’re not there anymore. Like Cassandra, the truth wouldn’t help Josephine either.

‘That’s it, huh.’ She mumbled to herself, her eyes vacant. ‘Thank you.’

I smiled back and then strutted off to the door. Before I closed it behind me, I threw one more glance towards the Ambassador, her quill almost falling from her fingers as she was lost in deep, deep thought.

And then I closed the door.

***

I tiptoed inside, eyeing the seemingly empty rotunda. It felt awkward, seeing Solas again, realising the feelings I had wouldn’t just go away like that. I wanted to see him, to see if he was still real, or if I had been dreaming. Yet, I also didn’t want to see him. If I could just ignore what happened, focus on the tasks at hand… saving Thedas, the Inquisition, helping Maxwell defeat Corypheus, finding out my truth, freeing myself and…

And I couldn’t think about any of that or he would come to mind. It was everything I did not expect. I hadn’t calculated for this, hadn’t fathomed it was even possible. But there was someone, someone who wanted me as I wanted him, someone who was unchangeable like me, stuck, and willing to share that… with me. I’m not alone. I’m still afraid, but I'm so relieved I’m not alone.

I straightened my back, my face neutral, and I walked inside casually. I tried not to gawk at the unfinished mural in front of me. It was but a sketch, with markings that still needed to be coloured in, but I could see the potential. Abstract figures I couldn’t make sense of yet were drawn onto the curved wall… a scene unfolding before me, one that wasn’t yet clear. Buckets of paint were set on the ground before the wall, underneath was a faded blanket to protect the floor. On the left of the room stood a scaffold, built so that even the top of the wall could be painted. I could see this was the beginning of a grand work of art. I slowly walked towards it, passing along the desk in the centre of the room, past the sofa, and stopped right in front of the wall, reaching out to touch it and…

‘Sleep well?’

His voice came out too suddenly, and I swallowed in a gasp, pulling back my hand to my body. I turned around swiftly, only to meet his eyes.

‘I did.’ I smiled, wanting to take a step back, but didn’t dare to, as I could smudge the sketches on the wall. Solas stood right in front of me, his eyes glittering, though his face set in a scholarly gaze. Still, the corners of his mouth turned upwards, a small chuckle escaping his lips. ‘And… you as well?’ Of course he did, Saeris. 

‘I did, too.’ Solas bound his hands on his back, his head cocking, eyes still big and gentle. ‘Though it has been… a long time. Things have always been easier for me in the Fade.’

‘It has been a long time for me as well.’ I smiled faintly, knowing what a long time meant for the both of us. ‘Yet… I do not… regret it.’ I bit my lip. Maker, how old am I?

‘Good.’ Solas leaned back, his eyes gleaming as they took me in.

I slipped past him, and strolled to his desk, staring at the scrolls spread out on it. ‘You seem busy, I didn’t want to disturb you or anything.’

I heard Solas walk behind me, and when he stopped, I didn’t know where he stood until his arm appeared along my shoulder, his chest pressing against my back as he grabbed a book from his desk. My breath staggered, but Solas continued to walk alongside the desk until he stood behind it, across from me. He stared at the book’s cover and then put it back down again. ‘You are not disturbing.’ He said quietly. ‘If you wish to discuss anything, I would enjoy talking.’

There was so much I wanted to ask… who he truly was, where he came from, and how he, an ancient Elvhen, had found the Inquisition… Has he been wandering since the ages of Elvhenan? I think Solas noticed the questions burning in my throat. Yet, I knew I couldn’t ask them, not here. ‘What are you painting? I didn’t know you had such talent.’

Solas chuckled, his laugh warming my ears. ‘It is but to immortalise the Inquisition’s story, very much like Master Tethras does with his writings, I do with… these.’ He pointed his chin to the wall. ‘And perhaps these barren walls could do with some colour.’ He stared back at me. ‘They are but sketches still.’

‘Well, you have time.’ I joked half-heartedly. ‘When it’s done, I imagine it will be beautiful.’

Solas gave me a knowing look. His hand was still on the table, his fingertips tensing as his stare connected with mine.

Someone coughed upstairs.

I broke contact again, staring down at my feet. ‘So… Varric’s friend has arrived, did you know?’

Solas bound his hands behind his back, cocking an eyebrow. ‘Ah, I presumed as much when I heard the ruckus outside. The Inquisitor seemed quite taken aback.’ 

‘Yes,’ I smiled to myself, ‘I was surprised as well to see the Champion of Kirkwall standing there.’

‘And what did you think of this champion?’ Solas said—his face still that neutral mask I was starting to really hate. 

‘Well, aside from being quite handsome,’ I grinned, ‘he is… nicer than I thought he would be.’ I recalled the friendly look on Hawke’s face, the warmth in his eyes when he spoke to Varric… ‘I always thought… well considering the stories… he was a ruthless, dangerous man.’ I mused, ‘But he was… different.’ 

Solas shifted on his legs as I whispered, ‘Where were you… during the events at Kirkwall?’ 

He shook his head in response. ‘Not here.’ He answered back, his voice hushed but not as quiet as mine was, perhaps not to raise suspicion. Whispering is always suspicious. 

I dipped my head, cheeks slightly turning red. There were so many questions I wanted to ask… and I wanted to know the answers right now, beg him for it even… Was he in Ferelden fighting the Blight? Was he far away, not even knowing where Kirkwall even was? 

Solas walked around the desk until he was beside me once again, and he took my hand, his long fingers entangling around my palm, his warmth spreading. He made me look up, and at that moment, I felt as if we were still in the Fade, nothing mattered… His eyes were encouraging, strong and… 

A book fell from the balcony upstairs, plopping down to the ground next to me. I yelped and pulled my hand from Solas,’ who looked somewhat disappointed at the loss of touch.

‘Kaffas!’ Dorian swore under his breath as he looked down the railing, towards us. ‘Oh my… Did it hit one of you?’

Solas didn’t answer, or do anything at all, as I looked up and smiled at the Tevinter mage, ‘No! We’re fine!’

‘Ah, Saeris!’ Dorian didn’t bother calling me lady like so many did. He was too prideful for that, and I appreciated it. ‘I’ve been looking for our Maxwell, have you seen him, my dear?’

‘I saw him this morning… he’s with Varric… and his friend .’ I called back, my voice echoing. Solas stayed quiet next to me, his face almost bored. 

‘Ahhh… his friend … Cassandra’s going to have a fit. Maker, do I want to see that.’ Dorian laughed loudly, coughed and then continued, ‘Could you tell him I’ve been asking for him when you… have the time of course.’ He winked down to us, well to me as Solas was already shuffling through another tome on his desk. 

‘I…’ I glanced back to Solas, who seemed too busy to notice. ‘I was going to look for him anyway, I’ll tell him.’ I smiled back sheepishly.

‘Thank you!’ Dorian grinned, his face pulled into a mischievous glare before he disappeared back behind the balcony. 

I looked back to Solas apologetically, and he answered me with a sigh, still staring at the tome in his hands. I walked towards him, and when he didn’t look up, I rested my hand on his shoulder. The sudden touch made him straighten his back and stagger back a little, his eyes softening as they met mine. I realised that what we had was something new, something strange and unknown to both of us. We weren’t anything at all, yet we were already so much more than before. And it didn’t only scare me, it was ill at ease for both of us. I smiled kindly at the man in front of me, my voice not a whisper anymore. ‘I need to talk to you. Later .’ I stressed the last word, not only implying the time but the place as well. 

Solas understood. A small grin curled on his face, his mask slipping once again. Only for me. ‘Later.’ He mused. 

I let go of his shoulder and walked away. He needs time. I need time. Luckily, we both have plenty. 

Leaving the rotunda, I turned to the courtyard, taking the stairs down to the tavern. If I would look for Maxwell and Varric, the first place would always be the tavern. In Haven, and now in Skyhold. And nine out of ten times, I’d find him here. But it seemed this one was the one time I didn’t. I furrowed my brows, scanning the crowded area. Bull was sitting in the corner with a bunch of his Chargers. He nodded at me, head inclining politely. I smiled back faintly before turning back around and leaving. Bull was a nice man… Qunari… but he had this dissecting stare, the same Leliana had, and Solas too sometimes. 

I went back up the stairs, to the main castle. Perhaps Max was in his room, taking a nap? I walked across the hall, trying to ignore the hushed whispers coming my way. I stopped and turned around, planning to scowl at them, because I felt like it today, but then I noticed it wasn’t me the people were gossiping about. It was Commander Cullen. He strutted out of the main door, in full armour. Steel and gold and red. His fur mantle hung loosely around his shoulders, and it made my stomach turn awkwardly. His eyes were set on the Ambassador’s door. It was only when he passed some people, that he noticed me. He stopped for a second, a couple of paces away. His eyes searched for mine. I looked back and smiled faintly, dipping my head. Cullen’s mouth twitched, almost smiling, but then turned all serious again. He walked towards me, head raised high.

‘Commander.’ I dipped my head. Was he looking for Maxwell as well? Why was he dressed in full armour, so official? Cullen walked forwards, his steps large and confident. He stopped in front of me at a distance too far for us to talk casually. People in the hall stopped what they were doing and glanced at us, before continuing, yet still slightly peeking. I tried not to hiss at the attention, and instead focused on the man in front of me, taking in his face. His lips were pulled in a stern line and his jaw tightened. Yet I saw some kindness behind his serious eyes. There was emotion in them, many feelings I could very well see. Concern. Anger. Trust. Everything in one simple stare. 

‘Milady.’ Cullen answered back, his voice cracking to reveal a soft hum when he addressed me. He was still so angry at me, for what had happened. I had lied to him. And he had seen me die. 

‘Have you seen Maxwell?’ I scraped my throat, feeling so small as he stood in front of me. I don’t know why, but the man had that effect on me. Not that I was scared of him… on the contrary, I wanted to do good for him. I wanted him to smile and laugh, just so I could hear his voice—Daniel’s voice—one more time. It was wrong of me. Cullen isn’t Daniel. Daniel is dead. 

‘The Inquisitor has summoned his advisors to the war room.’ Cullen answered politely.

‘Oh?’ I curled up an eyebrow. ‘What for? Or is this about…’ I lowered my voice, ‘Varric’s friend?’

‘I expect as much.’ Cullen answered, his eyes troubled. Cullen had been at Kirkwall before. He knew Hawke. The troubled look made me uncomfortable. 

‘It will take a while then… probably.’ I mumbled to myself. I knew they wouldn’t allow me to join the meeting—not that I wanted to. I didn’t want to be there when Cassandra realised who she’d meet at that table if she didn’t know already. She was a bomb ready to explode. And I didn’t want it to be in my face.

The Commander shifted on his feet.

‘Oh, you should go… then. I don’t want to detain you.’ It had become so awkward between us. So strained. 

Cullen cocked his head, blinking a couple of times. ‘You are not.’ That, he whispered, his eyes softening.

‘Could you tell Maxwell that I asked for him? Oh, and Dorian as well?’ I jabbered. Smiling nervously as I stepped aside. 

‘I will.’ Cullen took the cue and dipped his head. He walked forward towards Josephine’s office.

Before he passed me, I heaved and spoke up without thinking first. ‘I’m happy you’re wearing the cape again.’ What am I saying? Ugh. 

Cullen stopped again and turned towards me, eyes lowering. ‘Thank you… For giving it back to me.’ He raised his hand to his shoulder to touch the soft fur. I saw the memories flash behind his eyes. How he had draped the fur over my freezing body as I grew colder and colder. How my blood had seeped through the fabric and tinted it even more red. Deep burgundy. ‘I do not intend to lose it ever again.’ He said that in such a serious tone. Intending so much.

I dragged my eyes to his and nodded. ‘You won’t.’ 

Cullen turned around before I could see the answer in his eyes and face, and walked through the door. I stared after him. 

***

I wanted to know what was going on. I knew Hawke’s arrival would stir things up, get the wheels rolling again. I bet he was inside the war room now, discussing with Maxwell what the Inquisition should do next. Do we even have any leads? Any way to know what Corypheus will do next, and how we can stop him?

I considered going in. But then I decided to turn around, perhaps head outside and go to the infirmary to help. What gives if the patients faint when they see me? At least they won’t struggle as I heal them. But I’m done feeling bad about what happened at Haven. I need to do something, help out… I can’t wander around Skyhold while everyone is busy working, researching, whatever. I need to put my mind onto something. I need to lose myself, even for a while. 

As I walked to the door and noticed Varric standing by the fireplace. I hadn’t seen him when I entered. Was he waiting for Hawke to finish?

I walked towards him. ‘Varric!’ I called.

The Dwarf almost jumped. He sighed when he turned around and saw it was me.

‘Waiting for your friend?’ I smiled calmly. The man looked nervous.

‘I am.’ He grinned.

‘When did you enter? I didn’t see you when I walked in.’ I cocked my head.

‘That was the intention.’ Varric laughed. ‘I’m hiding from… Oh, shit!’ He suddenly cursed and ducked underneath the table behind me as Cassandra literally stormed in. Her eyes were set large, her mouth almost open as she heaved. She scanned the room, and as her eyes landed on me, I bet she didn’t even really see me. She continued to storm off towards the end of the hall. People jumped away as she passed. She was like a raging bull running towards a red, fluttering blanket. The Seeker disappeared inside Josephine’s office, hurrying to the war room.

‘Is the coast clear?’ Varric groaned from underneath the table. 

‘You can come out now.’ I laughed.

‘It would be funny if my life wouldn’t be on the line here, Firefly.’ Varric cursed, stretching his back. I heard something crack and Varric sighed.

‘I suppose she knows of your friend?’

‘Or she’s about to find out.’ Varric rolled his eyes. ‘Oh, she’s going to murder me, isn’t she?’

‘Oh, I don’t think she’d go that far.’ I rested my hand on the Dwarf’s shoulder. 

‘I need to hide, don’t I?’ Varric grumbled.

‘Yes, you probably do.’ I tried not to laugh. I failed.

‘Alright, if I suddenly disappear within the next few hours,… my will is in my drawer. Tell Hawke I will haunt his hairy ass if he tells anyone what happened at… well he knows.’ Varric chuckled, though it was a nervous chuckle.

‘Best of luck.’ I grinned back.

The Dwarf sighed and took off.

I pursed my lips, and waited a minute or two, staring into the fire of the fireplace. It didn’t take long for Cassandra to storm out of Josephine’s office again, steam coming out of her ears. ‘I knew it!’ I heard her heave. I hope Varric has hidden himself well.

Again, the Seeker didn’t notice me as she passed. She must be really angry. I’ll keep an eye on those two… intervene when it’s necessary… or Maxwell will. Cassandra won’t kill Varric… perhaps severely wound him… 

And as if on cue, Maxwell ran out of the office, he was scanning the room, his face pulled in a concerned… yet an amused grin. He was a drama queen after all. Loved seeing it, but hated when it happened between his friends, though. Maxwell spotted me and ran my way.

‘Did you see…’

‘Varric and Cassandra?’ I sighed knowingly. ‘They went that way. I’d be quick if I were you, or we need to find a new Dwarf.’ 

‘Aah, Andraste’s ass.’ He cursed and ran outside as well.

I don’t think the meeting at the war room went that well. I smiled softly to myself, rolled back my shoulders, and followed Maxwell outside. They will need a healer if things get out of hand.

***

Eventually, everything came out to be alright. Cassandra didn’t murder Varric, though she was really angry at him. But Maxwell had handled the situation. And I knew he knew how to calm Cassandra down. Varric had meant well… he hadn’t told the Inquisition about Hawke’s whereabouts because he had been worried for his friend and had tried to protect him. I knew I would have done the same. Perhaps Hawke could’ve helped at the Conclave, perhaps not. We don’t know and we don’t need to know because we cannot turn back time. Well, Varric did apologise after everything. And I know Cassandra will forgive him eventually.

And when the skies darkened, Varric, Maxwell and Hawke gathered at the tavern and I knew Maxwell was gloating about how he had protected the Dwarf. People would be gossiping about the confrontation for days. Yet, all I could think about was what they had discussed at the war table. What did Hawke know about Corypheus? What were the next steps we were going to take?

In the evening, after attending to some injured scouts at the infirmary—yes, I went to help. Yes, the healers and surgeons had tried to shoo me away. Yes, of course, I stayed. Though I didn’t do much, I was happy I helped a man or two. And nobody fainted. 

I stepped outside the infirmary, staring up at the sky. Today needed to be over. I was so busy that I forgot the time, and now that I saw the moon raised high, my heart started to beat harder and harder.

I walked towards my room, and when I entered, I didn’t even bother to look around and gawk at the new furniture. I could do that tomorrow. No, I undressed and plopped into bed, waiting for the Fade to catch up to me.

I knew that the night would be as busy as the day.

Notes:

Thank you for reading! This chapter was an "inbetweenie", arranging some stuff.
Next up: Solas will be giving us *some* "answers" about himself.... and we're going to travel again as Hawke (who we will get to know even better) joins the party! Whoop!

Chapter 49: Trusted

Notes:

To all of my readers,
I'm sorry it took me this long to update again. I had some personal issues to deal with. Along with those issues, I had to do an internship, finish my dissertation, get my Master's degree, get my driver's license and get a job. I've done it all (yay me). It was a lot, and I had to focus on myself first.

Because I'm now stuck in quarantine and working from home, I FINALLY found the time and power to start writing again. I don't want to give up on this story, I've got so much planned for it still!

I hope you enjoy & please be gentle, it's been a while ;-)

I remember how dreaming used to be, albeit vaguely. I remember how it felt to fall deeper and deeper into the unknown subconsciousness. There could be a nightmare waiting for you that will devour your mind and will prey on your worst fears. Or, if you’re lucky, you could dream—one about floating or flying away towards an unknown horizon. A dream could be about anything but nothing. A dream could end in a nightmare. A dream could feel like a vision. In short, it could be everything. And yet, when you wake up, you remember nothing of it. You can feel the sparks of tension in the air, the goosebumps on your skin, the sweat dripping down your back… the memory of the dream or nightmare still lingering. Sometimes you remember specks of images, like droplets. However, they can fade throughout the day, until the next night, when you dream again. 

There was something… comforting about forgetting and the possibility of creating or seeing something new the next night. It could be scary, but for me, it was exhilarating. Why? Because those dreams were not real. They did not have any real implications. Sometimes I miss that. 

***

I knew exactly where the Fade would take me. It would take me where I needed to be, where I was expected to be, where I was supposed to be. The air around me stuck against my skin, feeling me as if alive, touching chastely and recognising me. The air, misty and opaque, suddenly twisted and turned see-through, showing the giant door in front of me. I held my breath, expecting the marble hallway I saw before to appear before me once more. However, that was not the case this time.

The room before me warped and shaped itself. The marble ceiling of white and gold had turned dark blue and silver dots splattered across it. An orb of milky white light floated in the centre of the dark sky. It took me a moment to realise it was the moon, bigger and brighter than ever before. The silver dots were stars, scattered across the midnight sky, accompanied by swirls of galaxies behind them. A breeze passed by me and filled my nose with the smell of fresh grass, spices and wine and… fire. My eyes travelled from the sky to the ground below. I was standing in a field, the city of Arlathan shining beyond the horizon. Fire pits were placed randomly, all too far away for me to feel the heat. I could, however, see figures sitting around the fire, their forms were blurry, almost like shades. The breeze carried music within it, and I noticed some figures dancing around the various pits, drinking and laughing. The grass beneath my feet was slightly wet with dew. 

It felt like I was a spy, peeping at the figures in the dark. An uninvited guest. 

I was invited, however, as the host suddenly appeared behind me, caressing my shoulder with his cold, large hand.

‘I have been waiting for you.’ He hummed.

I yelped and turned around. A tall Elven man was standing behind me, his face covered in darkness. It took me a moment to recognize him. Just like it took me a moment to recognize the moon in the skies. His features were covered in shadows cast by the fires in the background. I took a precautionary step back and looked the man up and down. I reminded myself of the door which I had come through, invisible but still there, and the crack that I had left open for me to escape through. I hadn’t forgotten my lessons…

The man cocked his head as I stared at him. He was dressed in robes that I couldn’t recognize as Fereldan or Orlesian or of any Thedosian fashion. I could say the patterns on his long-sleeved quilted tunic resembled Dalish ones, but not quite. The pants he wore were loose-fitting and stopped just above his bare feet. I squinted and could just see the jawbone necklace that hung loosely around his neck.

‘Solas?’ 

The man stepped forward and I took another step back. Finally, the light caught up to him, making his grey-blue eyes glitter, his skin almost translucent. His freckles nearly resembled the stars in the sky above us.

‘Were you not expecting me?’ He chuckled because of course I was. 

‘You…’ I sighed and shook my head. ‘I just did not expect… Where are we?’ 

Solas’ smirk remained on his face as he slowly walked around me, taking me in as I was doing with him some moments ago. 

I smiled faintly as I looked up to him, standing before me as he closed the mental door behind me. And for once, I let him close it, no little crack for me to escape through. I had to trust him. The gesture made Solas lift up a brow, his eyes glittering.

‘I’m sorry… I had lost track of time.’ I hummed back.

‘You are a busy woman.’ He answered, his hands bound behind his back. He lifted his chin slightly, nodding at me to follow him as he turned around.

I blinked a couple of times before I understood, and then I quickly followed behind him, trying to mimic his slow, yet steady pace. ‘So… where are we?’ I asked, not wanting to wait any longer. I heard Solas chuckle, but he didn’t slow down.

‘You are eager, da’len. Come.’ There was a warm tone in his voice, I could hear the smile behind it. 

‘I’m not…’ I wanted to interject… But I am indeed a da’len in his eyes. ‘Of course, hahren.’ I joked back, knowing full well how ridiculous we both sounded… Look at these two immortals, bickering about who’s the oldest. My eyes focussed on his back, his shoulders, broad but narrow. As I stared at him, I felt the soft music in the background ebbing away, like the ocean retreating. 

You could sometimes forget how much control Solas had over his surroundings. In comparison to myself, he never lost his grip. Although… I think… he felt comfortable around me, I could feel, almost nervously, how he tightly held the ropes over his own space in the Fade. It felt so real I could forget where we were… 

We neared one of the fire pits, the shadows that were once dancing around it disappearing like smoke. The crackling fire, too red and orange and yellow, made me stop in my tracks. Not even the Fade could make me forget my own burial, how I could feel my skin peeling off and growing on top of those wounds again. The fire, dancing like the shadows before, was drowning me. 

‘Do not be afraid.’ Solas’ voice broke my trance.

I looked up to him, failing to hide the fear of memory in my eyes. 

Solas swallowed, like he wanted to forget too, but couldn’t. He turned back to the fire, and with a swift wave of his hand, the fire turned blue and green… and almost still. 

‘Veilfire,' I breathed. 

I could hear him chuckle. It resonated through my bones. And I liked it. 

‘Very good.’ He hummed. ‘Please, sit.’ Solas lowered himself on top of the grass and sat in front of the Veilfire, almost like he was meditating. 

I stepped nearer and sat down, maybe a little too far. It felt awkward. My eyes focussed on the Veilfire. It wasn’t as hot as real fire. It was almost… cold, like crackling ice. So cold, it felt warm. It’s hard to describe. 

I turned my face as I felt his eyes on me, warm and glowing. Like fire. That thought shouldn’t scare me. It doesn’t. I turned back to the Veilfire, trying, so much, to not think about that kiss… and then those kisses last time, the feeling in my stomach, my own core… I had to focus. Solas knew that I was unsure about my past, that I couldn’t remember anything, only the last few centuries… I threw another quick look at him, at his clothes, which I hadn’t seen up close yet, not in the light. His tunic, resembling the one he wore in the waking world, was made out of a more luxurious material, leaves and branches embroidered into his long sleeves with gold and silver thread, the white linen soft and clean… his pants underneath were made of the same, soft material that hung loosely around his legs, cuffed at the end to give way to his bare feet. The jawbone necklace was loosely draped around his neck, the bone touching his sharp collarbones. He probably hadn’t, but it felt like he had dressed up just for me.

I jerked my eyes away. Staring isn’t polite. I shook my head, slipped a strand of hair behind my ear and bit my lip before looking back up to him. I saw his eyes glancing over at me, to my grey and brown pants and shirt, to the loose braids in my hair. I hadn’t paid any attention to how I looked. And still, I heard Solas mumble, ‘You are beautiful.’

He had said that last time too.

I scoffed. ‘Don’t try to distract me.’

‘It is not you who is distracted.’ He breathed. 

I smiled softly. ‘Now, tell me.’

‘What do you want me to tell you?’ His eyes glittered, and it was not because of the Veilfire.

‘Everything.’ I smiled. ‘How old are you? Did you live here? Where have you been? Is…’

‘One at a time.’ Solas hushed while laughing under his breath. ‘This… This used to be a place I visited often when I was young.’ It was too dark to see how far this field reached. Were we in a garden… a patch of grass in the forest… So many questions, my mind couldn’t follow. 

‘When you were young? When was that?’ I asked without thinking. This could be a very rude question out of context. Vivienne would kill me if I asked her this.

But Solas pursed his lips, thinking. ‘A very long time ago.’

I rolled my eyes. ‘Did you… you lived in Arlathan?’

‘For a while, yes.’

‘You’re being very vague.’ I pouted… Though I wasn’t going to push it, I wasn’t telling him everything about my past either. ‘Well…’ I continued before he could say anything. I don’t want him to say things he isn’t ready to say yet. It would be unfair. I haven’t told him… everything. ‘If you lived in Arlathan… could you tell me what it was like? Did you live with many others?’ 

Solas stared at me nostalgically. ‘Arlathan was… indescribable. Not even my memories could ever do it justice, for what you see now are but shadows of what once was. The Fade tries to mimic it as a reflection into water… yet, it will always be a reflection, imperfect and incomplete.’ His eyes turned a little sad as he stared at the city in the distance, glowing blue and purple and green and... like the northern lights of another world. ‘We will never be able to recover what was lost. Never realise what could have been.’

‘I’m sorry…’ I whispered.

‘Do not be sorry.’ Solas lifted his face towards mine, the shadows cast by the Veilfire hiding his eyes. I could see his mouth twitch a little, though. ‘The Fade and the Waking World were one and the same, flowing together like time itself. And in whole Elvhenan, no greater city existed. It lived. Spirits were as common as grass and were welcomed within its walls as Our own.’

I leaned forward and rested my chin on my hands, eyes closing. Solas’ voice was so soothing, whisking me away to Arlathan as if in a dream. A real one, where anything could happen with no real consequences. A soft dream like before I knew what dreaming could be. ‘I wish I could’ve seen it.’ 

‘As do I. If only I would have met you then…’ He mumbled.

‘Then what?’ I smiled, eyes opening and staring into his.

Solas swallowed and then he smiled cheekily, eyes sparkling. He didn’t say anything, however, leaving me in blissful curiosity. 

A blush was creeping up, from my neck towards my cheeks. I wished I could will it away. ‘Were you different, before?’ 

‘Cockier, perhaps. Naïve, as all da’len once were.’ He sighed.

‘How… how come you’re here?’ I straightened my back. ‘Where are all the others? How did you survive? I thought the Elvhen all died when… when the Veil was created. You had said some might have survived… How?’

Solas straightened his back. I think I’ve never seen so much discomfort in his face before. 

‘If you do not want to tell me… that is fine.’ I interjected. Solas stared at me. ‘We have time.’ Enough. I bit my lips again.

‘Don’t… do that.’ He sighed. 

‘What?’

‘Biting your lips.’ His eyes pierced through mine. This time, the Veilfire didn’t hide his eyes but made them spark and lighten up… like he wanted them to. There was something predatory in there… It made me forget what I had asked. 

I immediately let go of my lips and stared back at the fire. I hoped the blue tones of the flames would hide the redness of my cheeks. I coughed up another question… before we would… get distracted. 

‘You… you lived in Elvhenan, among the ancient…’ This question felt like I had to spit it out. ‘The Evanuris…’ that word did something to me. My green eye flared as I said it. I remembered my time with the Dalish, their stories, their beliefs, and I never believed in them, like I never believed in the Maker, or God way back when, but what if they were real? Perhaps… Solas had seen them? Had met them? Perhaps the Evanuris… were still… alive? ‘The Evanuris, were they real?’ 

The question struck Solas. Like he knew I was going to ask about them, but not so soon. ‘Yes. They existed.’ He said that like they had never “lived”. 

‘Okay…’ I hummed. ‘So the Dalish were right after all…’

He laughed. It was so sudden, so deep, but not in a good way. It was an angry laugh, like scoffing or mocking. ‘No.’ He articulated his words well. ‘The Dalish are wrong to…’ He shook his head again. Then, he stood up, brushed off his pants and turned around. I could hear him say, ‘Follow me,' as he strutted away. 

I jumped straight up and ran behind him. Perhaps I was asking too much. He had lost everything, like me, and I would hate it if he were asking me such questions. 

When I had almost caught up with him, trying to touch his back to tell him to slow down, the space around us suddenly warped and changed. The moon above us expanded, taking over the dark skies and covering it like a white blanket. It stilled and turned to marble. The stars turned from silver to specks of gold embedded in stone. The grass turned from soft and wet to hard cold tiles of stone. 

We were back in the hallway. My heart pumped, I had never seen him change the Fade so drastically, so suddenly. From night it turned to day, outside to inside, cold to warm. ‘What are you…’

‘Come,' his voice echoed through the hallway. We passed the hall and the room with the balcony. We walked in silence until we reached the end of another hallway. Solas stopped in front of a large, double glass door that seemed to be transparent but wasn’t. Only until Solas pressed his palm against the archway did the glass become see-through, showing the room behind it. A library.

Solas pushed open the doors, and we stepped inside. Never had I seen such a large library before. The one at Ostwick’s Circle was a crawlspace in comparison to this one. There were so many rows of bookcases that I couldn’t see the end.

‘Where…’ I mumbled, but Solas cut in.

‘This place existed but has altered throughout the years. All of the books I once read, all of them can be found in this place.’ 

I stared at him with an open mouth. ‘All of them?’

He nodded. Walking forward, he immediately grabbed a book from one of the shelves. ‘Once, a library as large as this one had existed. Vir Dirthara. It held the living knowledge of all Elvhenan, connecting libraries from every single city, and collecting wisdom from every single court. It was intrinsically tied to the Fade. The Veil destroyed it. I created this place to resemble it… yet it is but a mangled reflection. My memories have failed me and will never do it justice.’

I furrowed my brows in confusion, but Solas wasn’t done yet.

He walked towards yet another row of books. I followed him and stopped when he stopped. A large mirror had been gathering dust. Yet, underneath everything, you could still see the treasure it once had been. Its framework was made out of pure gold, with designs carved into it leading towards its pointed arch. 

‘There were countless other marvels, all dependent on the presence of the Fade, all destroyed.’ Solas’ head drooped, his voice breaking.

‘The Veil…’

‘It took everything from the Elves. Even themselves.’

‘How did you survive?’ I asked again, couldn’t help myself. 

‘The Veil changed everything. Those unprepared… perished in the chaos. I… I escaped.’ He caressed the mirror, though the dust couldn’t be removed. ‘I theorise I was not the only one.’ He looked back up at me, and there was so much to read in his stare. Anger. Doubt. Fear. Sadness… so much sadness.

‘What is that mirror? I think I’ve seen it before…’

‘This is an Eluvian. No roads existed in Elvhenan. With these, all we needed was to step through one side and step out at another.’

‘That is… I have never heard of them before.’

‘The Veil destroyed many Eluvians. Those that remained, were either destroyed or corrupted. One of the many things the Veil has taken.’ Solas swallowed. ‘I fled… Through one of the remaining Eluvians…’ He furrowed his eyes, thinking of what to say. I wondered if what he told me was the truth. He swallowed his words as if… perhaps he is not ready to tell me everything yet. ‘I lay in dark and dreaming sleep while countless wars and ages passed. I woke… a year before I… joined Haven and the Inquisition.’

‘Solas,' I stepped closer towards him. ‘I cannot imagine… I’m sorry I asked.’

‘No need to apologise. The deep sleep is called Uthenera. It does not hurt.’ He swallowed again. Were my dreams that had lasted years Uthenera as well? There was still so much I wanted to ask. Where did he go to, where did he sleep? Was he in Uthenera for thousands of years? Is that even possible? 

He turned away from the mirror again. He was so worked up as if my questions had stirred something in him. A droplet into a lake. I anticipated his moves and stepped right in front of him, laying my hand on his cheek, and he leaned into my touch. He closed his eyes and sighed, suddenly so tired again. I sighed as well, completely out of breath because I had run behind him, trying to catch up. I felt bad for bringing it up. He lost everything, everyone he once knew. I knew how that felt, in one way. I shuffled closer to him and cupped his face with my other hand. I felt my green eye twisting, it almost hurt. ‘I’m still here.’ I whispered. ‘You’re not alone.’

Solas opened his eyes and stared into mine deeply. ‘Say that again.’ He huffed.

‘You are not alone.’ How I had longed to hear those words myself. To say them out loud. We were so different. Yet we were the same. Imperfect reflections of what we once were or could have been. We can never recover what was lost. But we can try to pick ourselves up and establish something for the future. ‘I’m glad… I’m glad that I’ve met you.’

‘You could not fathom what…’ Solas mumbled, almost leaning in to kiss me, but instead, he shook his head. Then he moved his head away, his shoulders slumping. ‘Your questions… I understand you have so many. This library holds many answers and perhaps even more questions. I want to answer all of them… But I cannot.’

I smiled, albeit a little sad. ‘I understand.’ More than you know. I wish I had a library of my own.

Solas grabbed my shoulders and turned me around, my back pressing against his chest. I stared at the rows upon rows upon rows of books in front of me. ‘These books,' Solas continues, ‘will tell you.’ 

I nodded. I should find out for myself. Learn for myself. Perhaps, it is not all his to answer. Who were the Evanuris, were they real gods or not? He knew, but I needed to see for myself. Learn. Learn of my past and learn of his. When he tells me his story, I’ll understand it. 

‘Thank you.’ I nodded. I stepped out of his grasp and took the first book I saw. The cover was nothing fancy, just brown leather. But it felt new. Like it had just been written and never read. I knew in the back of my head that this was Solas’ space, that he would only let me read what he wanted me to read. But I didn’t care. I was so thirsty for his knowledge. 

Perhaps, I would not only find him but myself too. 

I opened the book. The Elven words within almost moved around. But I could read it… ‘I can read it.’ I heaved, eyes big. 

Solas walked towards me and laid his hand on my shoulder. ‘Of course, you can.’ He chuckled.

Because we were the same. 

***

I read the rest of the time, curled up in an old armchair, my nose buried in the pages of the book I was reading. The first book was about ancient history, and I had only read a few pages before another book caught my eye, about ancient magic and then another, about ancient species of birds and then… I felt like none of the books I had read were relevant, but I felt so powerful reading them. They were a window to the past. 

Solas had been walking through the library, rearranging books, staring at me through the cracks of the bookcases. I could hear him chuckle as I would take another book. Perhaps too enthusiastic. 

And before I realised it, the sun was coming up in the Waking World.

‘Saeris.’ Solas whispered. 

‘No, not yet… I never knew that there was a whole network of Eluvians all over Thedas… How come I’ve never come across one of ‘em?’ 

‘Saeris.’ I yelped from the seat as Solas was standing right in front of me. ‘I am pleased you like my library.’ He said, hands bound behind his back again. ‘But I fear it is time to…’

‘I know…’ I could feel the sun on my skin, creeping through the window, trying to take me back to reality. I closed the book in my hands gently and placed it on the broad armrest of the chair. ‘Can I… come back tomorrow?’ 

Solas bent over so his face was level with mine. ‘I would very much like that.’ 

‘Okay,' I tried not to smile like a creep but I definitely did. Looking back up and drowning in his eyes again, I wanted to lean forward and…

***

‘Rise and shine, pretty face!’ Maxwell pushed the door open so hard, it smacked against the wall and cracked open the newly painted surface. ‘Oops.’ He giggled, knowing Josephine was cursing somewhere. 

I growled and pushed myself straight, wiping away the drool on the side of my mouth and holding the blanket in front of me. 

‘Ew!’ Maxwell snorted as he jauntily walked into my bedroom. ‘Dreaming about Solas were you? Or perhaps a topless Cullen?’ He wiggled his eyebrows. 

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t hide the guilty smile. How’d he know? I mean about Solas… ‘You know, you can’t just barge into a lady’s chambers like that.’ 

‘Sure,’ he snickered and came in anyway. ‘But you need to wakey-wakey, we’re leaving.’ 

‘Huh?’ I sat up straighter. ‘Where to?’ 

‘Somewhere where it’s rainy, so pack some boots.’ He was energetic. So much so that he was jumping up and down my room, opening drawers and throwing clothes and gear on my bed. He opened another drawer and shrieked.

‘What!’ I gasped. 

Maxwell took his dagger slowly from his leg strap and tilted it carefully into the drawer. ‘My Lady,' he gasped, outraged, ‘I didn’t know you fancied such…’ He wiggled his eyebrows, ‘indecent fashion. I have to tell Dorian about this.’ 

I groaned, annoyed as Maxwell lifted up his dagger. Hanging from the tip was a frilly, laced dress, completely see-through and too short to cover up anything. ‘Andraste’s tits, Josie…’ I cursed under my breath. Why did she put such a thing in there?

‘You mean Andraste’s tits and ass and everything.’ Max giggled again like a little girl. ‘Don’t worry, your secret is definitely safe with me.’

‘There’s no secret!’ I pushed the blankets off of me, jumped out of bed and jerked the dress, or whatever it was, from his hands. ‘Josephine or Vivienne must’ve put it in there. It seems I do not even get a say over my own wardrobe.’ 

Max smiled. ‘They did that to me too. I now suddenly have such silky undergarments… I quite like them.’ His smile fainted and he rested his hand on my shoulder as I frantically pushed the dress back in the drawer. ‘They’re just trying to be nice. It’s not like you had many clothes anyway.’ 

‘I had enough.’ I pouted. I do not need dresses or fancy undergarments. I needed travel gear, weapons, sturdy boots and protective clothes. Even white linen cloth and pants would have sufficed…

Maxwell coughed and turned to the dresser again, pulling open another drawer. ‘Here!’ He yelled, ‘Is this better?’

‘Yes.’ I sighed and grabbed the quilted tunic from his hands. As I gathered the travel gear (it was hard to find, but Josie had given me at least new sturdy pants, a jacket and a coat), Maxwell plopped on top of the bed and sighed. ‘What’s wrong.’

‘Nothing.’ Max lied. He’s a terrible liar. ‘Okay, I’m excited but also scared. First mission as Inquisitor, you know.’

‘It’s going to be fine.’ I turned and sat down next to him. ‘You’ve got me,’ I winked, ‘and Varric and Bull, Cassandra and Solas and all the others.’

‘I know.’ Maxwell sighed, relieved.

‘Now, tell me what’s going on.’

***  

During that one particular rowdy meeting at the war table, Hawke had revealed that he had met Corypheus before… and it hadn’t been a pleasant introduction. 

Corypheus was once a Tevinter Magister, ages ago. However, not just some random Magister, but one of the legendary ones the Chantry now curse during their prayers to their Maker. One who had entered the Golden City, or so he claimed. He became corrupted by the Blight, tainted, rotten, but powerful too. The first of the Darkspawn who brought the Blight into the world.

Decades ago, Hawke’s father, Malcolm Hawke, had sealed away Corypheus in a Grey Warden prison deep down in the Vimmark Mountains, somewhere in the Free Marches. He had been so close the whole time… I shudder if I think about it too much. Hawke’s father, an apostate who had fled the Gallows, used blood magic to seal the prison shut. And in order to break free decades later, Garret Hawke was lured to the prison that only his blood could unlock. 

Hawke and his companions managed to defeat Corypheus. But it seems like he has survived in some way. Hawke thinks that Corypheus managed to hide in another’s body. But that is mere speculation.

So now, Corypheus is free once more; powerful, undying, unchecked. We do not know what he wants exactly, perhaps to obtain some kind of godhood—if his ramblings to Maxwell during the events at Haven are to be believed. We do know, however, that if he succeeds, the world will burn.

Now, unchained Corypheus, being an ancient Darkspawn, has the ability to influence the minds of Grey Wardens through the Blight. And if he brings them under his sway, he’ll command a legion of highly skilled warriors. 

Our mission was to hunt down Hawke’s Grey Warden ally hiding in Crestwood to learn about the other Warden’s plans. Since the Breach, no one had travelled to and from Crestwood. Leliana has sent her fastest agents to discover what disaster had rendered it silent. Agent Harding was already in the area. She had sent a hastily scrawled note, received by messenger bird, to Maxwell, stating that Hawke’s friend had been seen around the town of Crestwood, but that he had disappeared before they could talk to him. He seemed alright… but Harding specifically warned us to be careful on the road. 

The undead were roaming about. 

And people needed our help. 

She’d explain more once we’re there. And it seemed there was no time to waste. 

I heard stories before of the undead coming back to life. Strange magic was at large. Some of the pilgrims at Haven and Skyhold had told stories about them. Lifeless carcasses standing about, jaws hanging loose, brown and grey jagged teeth protruding from rotting flesh… And the taste of magic, so vile your teeth would start to rot if you breathed it in.  

And we were going there. Now. 

The road to Crestwood was paved and cleared by Inquisition soldiers. We only needed to ride as fast as possible and rest as little as possible. As soon as it started raining and smelling like death, we would know we were there. 

Not all of the Inner Circle would join. Sera wasn’t too keen on the undead. She would probably be just a nuisance, too. Vivienne refused to travel in the mud and rain. Cole… was too unreliable. He was sweet and one hell of a fighter, but we didn’t know what he was just yet. Maxwell didn’t want him to come, perhaps he also wanted to protect the seemingly innocent boy. 

Bull was coming, of course, and so was Blackwall. Bull was strong and sturdy. Maxwell wanted Blackwall to join because he was a Warden, after all, we would need his expertise. Naturally, Cassandra would join the party as well. Our Inquisitor couldn’t survive without her. I wondered if he had read her his poem already. 

Varric, being Max’s best friend, was coming along, too. So was Dorian, who was an expert in necromancy. That would come in handy when dealing with the magically undead. 

Finally, I would join. And so would Solas. We were the rift experts. I could point out, using my green eye, where rifts were situated. There was a big one in the centre of that lake. A really big one. 

I hoisted my travel backpack on my shoulders and threw one more glance at my chambers. I hadn’t looked at the new furniture in detail and didn’t want to. But now I stared at it, because who knows when we’ll be back again? Could be next month, or could be next year. Who knows, right? I stared at the grand, king-size bed with Fereldan linen and crushed velvet covers. The duvet and cushions, filled with Orlesian dove feathers, were so soft, it was like sleeping in the clouds. On the stone walls hung Fereldan tapestries and on the ceiling, an Orlesian glass chandelier. Too over the top. I would have it taken down.

The bed frame was covered with gold leaf, its edges spiralling like a throne. Across the bed, next to the entryway of the walk-in closet, stood a large dresser with a mirror on top of it. The mirror was old as dark patches covered some of the reflection. I had already thrown my grey, long-sleeved nightgown over it. I wouldn’t need it during the mission. I would sleep in my day clothes anyway.  

The closet, I hadn’t dared to fully venture into. There was a section, somewhere at the back, with travel gear, weapons and sturdy armour. The sections with dresses and such, I hadn’t looked at. Maker knows why I needed those. Not like we were going to get invited to a ball anytime soon. I hope. 

***

The others were waiting outside in the courtyard, down the stairs, in front of the gates. Skyhold Castle looked down on them, like an overbearing mother. 

Leliana, Josephine and Cullen stood in front of the group, Sera and Vivienne behind them. Cole was nowhere to be seen, although we all knew he was watching from somewhere… perhaps the roof. Dorian, Bull, Varric, Blackwall, Solas and Maxwell were all grouped together, horses at hand. The horsemaster, Master Dennet, was strapping on the saddles, pulling the straps and belts on tightly. 

‘There you are, Twinkle!’ Varric smiled as I hurried down the stairs, my ponytail swaying left to right. Maxwell waved at me, his armour gleaming. He was wearing his official armour, the polished one, with the bright golden emblem on the chest. Large, so everyone could see it from miles away. I knew he’d switch his armour when we’re far enough, perhaps when we set up camp. It was just for show. His real, leather and iron armour, was way more flexible and protective. He’d need it against the undead. 

Dorian was still talking to Blackwall. They were discussing something… something about the undead and the Wardens. Blackwall seemed nervous, his Warden armour was even more polished than before. I think he even combed his beard. That wouldn’t last in the rain. Dorian wore a more flexible outfit made of soft leather. A colourful tweed scarf was tucked under his jacket. His pants, also from leather and tight-fitted, were stuffed into his boots, which were, I think, the most basic shoes he got. Perhaps he didn’t want the fancy ones to get dirty. Bull wore his normal pants and large leather belt. His chest piece, also made out of leather and iron studs, covered most of his upper chest, but not his abdomen. Not very protective, but very impressive. His abs alone would scare away the demons. 

Varric was in his normal getup; brown leather jacket, red and gold shirt—which was open so far you could almost see his belly button—gloves and golden necklace. His hair was tied back in a loose bun at the back of his head, showing off his pierced ears. Cassandra, in her usual black and red Seeker armour, was standing as far away from Varric and as close to Maxwell as she could. Even if that meant she stood closer to Sera, who was snorting and giggling about something no one really knew… or wanted to know. 

Hawke, who was travelling with us to Crestwood, wore a black quilted wool and leather getup, chainmail covering his upper arms and a fur cowl around his metal chest piece. The shoulder piece with three protruding spikes of steel made his outfit complete. Ready for war. 

And finally, Solas. His blue-grey eyes followed my every move as I walked towards the group. He had his wooden staff planted into the ground below, leaning onto it like an old man would. He wore that same grey woollen tunic with a green vest with brown stitches. The collar of the vest had some grey fur on it, which had probably seen better days. His dark grey pants, loose-fitting, were bound at his ankles. Bare feet were the cherry on top of his whole shabby apostate outfit. There seemed nothing left of the proud Elvhen man I’d met in the Fade. Except for that collarbone necklace, those magnificent eyes and that cheeky little, almost unnoticeable, smile on his lips.

I walked over towards them. Maxwell spotted me, smiled brightly and opened his arms as if I was coming over for a hug. ‘There’s the missing piece to our puzzle.’ He laughed. 

Cullen coughed. He failed to give me any eye contact. ‘Alright, everyone set? You have all been briefed on your mission?’

‘Ay-ay ser!’ Dorian winked playfully. 

‘Good.’ Cullen nodded in full-on Commander mode. ‘Agent Harding has already set up camp at the edge of the Crestwood region.’ He eyed Maxwell. ‘Take the pass through the North-East side of the mountains—Cassandra you’ve got the map, don’t you?—and take the road to the Hinterlands and up to Lake Calenhad. Our agents have cleared the way. Follow the river North to the Storm Coast. Crestwood is marked with red ink.’

Cassandra, who had taken the map from her backpack, followed the Commander’s route precisely. ‘Understood, Commander.’ She stated. 

‘And first and foremost, be careful.’ Cullen dipped his head towards Maxwell and then towards the whole group. His eyes seemed to stop at me for just a second. 

Leliana and Josephine gave speeches of their own, briefing us again about the situation at Crestwood.

Then, the group moved to the horses. As I climbed on top of mine, I suddenly felt a hand on my lower arm. I looked down and saw the Commander standing next to my horse. ‘Be careful.’ He mumbled. ‘Please.’

My heart sank to my feet for a moment. The way he said that… ‘Of course, Cullen.’ I whispered. Why was I whispering?

‘Good… good.’ He whispered back. I noticed the fur mantle on his shoulders, bound tightly. I looked back up to smile at him, but he looked so tired. His blonde hair was messy like he had been tossing and turning in bed all night.

‘Let’s go, people!’ Bull’s voice was like thunder, louder than any voice or any conversation. 

People had been gathering around the court. Pilgrims, soldiers, nobles, peasants, everyone applauded for their Inquisitor. Out to save another village. Another day.

And so the gates opened and we led our horses towards the mountains.

Notes:

Thank you for reading!

I hope you are all safe and healthy! Let's stay inside and wash our hands ;-)

Chapter 50: Warded

Notes:

Dear readers,
To those who are new here, welcome! To those who are not new here, welcome back!
First of all, my deepest apologies for my long hiatus! Life happened and for a long time, I didn’t feel like writing at all. However, this summer I finally took the time to reread my entire story and I got the writing-tickles again. I have updated all chapters. Some chapters have been changed story-wise, while other chapters needed some grammar and spelling revision. Special thanks to my awesome and incredibly patient beta, nerdsaretotallyawesome! I have also written several new chapters and am still doing so. I will try to update regularly. There are many plot points I still want the characters to go through, so this story is far from finished. Please know that I can’t promise I’ll finish this story in one go or without any more hiatuses. But I’ll try my best!
Lots of love,
Hannehier

Hear the rain upon the leaves, above the sky lies grey.
A shred of blue would be denied. Alas, he could not stay.

There was a stir within his blood
And the dreams lay thick upon him.
A call did beat within his heart.
One road was left before him.

"See how the rain has washed away
The tears that you were crying?
Though the darkness calls me down
You know we all are dying."

Hear the rain upon the leaves, above the sky lies grey.
A shred of blue would be denied. Alas, he could not stay.

And so he came upon the place
Where so many tread before.
One last look upon the world
Before he crossed that final door.

Birds reel across the endless sky, above a house upon the plain.
In memory she sings to him of a time before the rain.

Sweet Andraste, hear our song
For his road will be ours too.
Before darkness claims our souls
Let us see that shred of blue.

Hear the rain upon the leaves, above the sky lies grey.
A shred of blue would be denied. Alas, he could not stay.

 

— Codex Entry; Shred of Blue, Dragon Age Inquisition

 

 

***

– Maxwell – 

The note which I had poured my heart in felt heavier than my daggers, my leather travel gear and everything on me combined. It even felt heavier than the Inquisitor armour I had worn when departing Skyhold.

The note felt heavier than the weight on my shoulders. 

Why, you’d ask? This note could… mean everything. I have never felt so strongly about someone. I’ve flirted. A woman to warm my bed. But the feelings were never there. I’d thought I was incapable of even having them. A rich boy with no responsibilities, a moron with no balls, a son without a future. Who wants to be with someone like that? 

But now look at me. I am the Inquisitor. The Herald of Andraste—or whatever. I am the leader of a powerful organisation. I survived the Conclave. I survived Haven. I closed the Breach. And I will defeat Corypheus.

But Maker, I am scared of courting Cassandra. I am scared of loving her. 

I’ve never felt so powerful and so weak at the same time.

Maybe I should read her something out of a book—something from a famous poet. What I’ve written can never suffice. No! Man up! I should read it to her tonight. I… No, don't be a scared nug. You can do this, man. Tonight will be perfect. After travelling for five days, we’re finally nearing Crestwood. We’ve been riding up the Imperial road on the left bank of Lake Calenhad. We were nearing Gherlen’s Pass, which is the safest route to cross the Frostback Mountains. We’d normally take Sulcher's Pass, however. That one was much faster, but so damn slippery. 

Anyhow, we were close to Gherlen’s Pass, close to Orzammar. We’re but a couple of miles from the town of Aberbeck, at the border of Skywept and White River—a nice little fishing town with a seemingly decent tavern. Still, the town was surrounded by lush forests and fertile grounds due to Lake Calenhad’s clear waters. It would be almost sundown when we arrived at Aberbeck. We were following the Imperial Highway so that we could ride fast and efficiently. A couple of days more, perhaps a week, and we’d be at Crestwood. 

Aberbeck can be… romantic? That's what the ladies like, right? I know for sure Cassandra does. I’ve caught her red-handed with one of Varric’s smutty novels. I even convinced Varric to finish his latest chapter for her… But I don’t think it’s the right time to give it to her now…

I had wanted to talk to her two days ago too—tried to at least. 

Alas, Hawke. 

I mean, the Champion is a formidable man. Tall, brave,... But he was so damn loud. I get why Varric likes him. The guy’s even louder than I am, and that’s a talent. Just when I wanted to ask Cassandra to follow me for a second, Hawke started joking around. And something about Hawke makes Cassandra boil. Perhaps it’s not the man himself, but the idea of him and what happened. I know she wanted him to be the Inquisitor. But Varric had lied and hidden him from her. Cassandra hated Varric for it. She cannot stand liars… and I know Cass and Varric never liked each other, but lately, they had grown closer. Let’s call it a love-hate relationship. 

But seeing Hawke… broke something. It broke the trust she had in one of our closest companions. And knowing Cassandra, it would take time to repair that trust. 

And so, the mood was gone. 

At least for me. Saeris and Solas, however... You’d be blind to not see what was going on there. I knew Saeris—I think—enough to see the sparks in her eyes when she looked at him. She smiled when he returned her stare. She tried not to. She failed miserably. And so did Solas. Although the man wore a steel mask of neutrality on his face, you’d see it slip off sometimes. 

When he looks at her as she chuckles at Varric’s jokes. When he sees her concentrating when performing her magic. When he hears her speculate with Dorian about history. That’s when he smiles ever so slightly. 

But what really betrays him are his eyes. They’ve been following her like a wolf would follow its prey. It should be weird—and it is—but I’m kind of used to it. He’s been staring at her like that ever since Haven. Saeris just seemed less uncomfortable with it.

Yeah, something definitely happened there. Something’s changed. 

‘Max, my man, you okay in there?’ Varric pulled up his horse right next to mine. His auburn hair was greasy and pulled back in a tight ponytail. 

‘Huh?’ I was zoning out. ‘Yeah, I’m A-okay.’

‘Right.’ Varric wiggled his eyebrows. ‘Thinking about our Seeker, weren’t you.’

How’d he know? ‘No…’ I suck at lying. Really bad. ‘I’m thinking of the bed I’m going to sleep in tonight.’

Varric hadn’t stopped wiggling his brows. That dwarf must have some really strong muscles in there. 

‘Honestly.’ I sighed. False again. 

Varric hummed. ‘You sure you’re only just thinking of a bed… or someone in that bed…’

‘No,' I gasped, ‘Maker, Varric, no!’ Now I definitely am. I don’t think I can look Cass in the eyes. ‘W—Where’s Hawke?’ He seems to dissolve any conversation when he’s near. I kind of need that right now. 

‘Aha, you call, I appear.’ Hawke cantered his horse next to mine, a smug smile on his face. He grinned over my shoulder to Varric, like he knew exactly why he was called over. 

Luckily, it worked, and Varric let go of that incredibly embarrassing topic. Instead, the Dwarf and the Champion started joking about past adventures again. At the beginning of our journey, I loved listening to their stories; of how they had made every barmaid in Kirkwall swoon, protected the mages, defeated Meredith and the Arishok etcetera, etcetera. I mean, that’s cool and all, but I think I’ve heard it all now. 

‘Hey, Varric,’ Dorian drove his horse past us. ‘You know, I went to Kirkwall once.’

‘Yeah?’ Varric and Hawke turned their heads surprisedly. 

‘Bit of a shithole,’ Dorian mused.

Hawke grunted a laugh as Varric answered, deadpan, ‘Yeah…’

Their bantering and laughter made the time pass more quickly. And my troubling thoughts on how to make Cassandra swoon ebbed away… until we reached Aberbeck. Then the thoughts all crashed into the back of my mind again. And there she was, dismounting her horse, brushing off her steel and leather chest piece…  Her dark, short hair was messy, and the braid on top of her head, which resembled a crown, was looser than it was at the beginning of the day. Her skin shone due to sweat. She licked her lips and Andraste I’m fucked. 

We’d arrived at the inn we were planning to stay the night at. A shy stable boy took our horses one by one and led them to the stables behind the tavern. At that moment, the front door of the shabby wooden inn—it resembled a shed, but looking at the other houses in this town, it was definitely large in comparison—opened and the innkeeper stepped outside with open arms. The man, whose belly was larger than his other limbs and head combined, smiled widely. 

‘Inquisitor!’ The man almost stumbled as he ran down the stairs. Luckily, we met him halfway. He’d die if he had to climb them all again. ‘I welcome you to my humble abode. It is such an honour to be in your presence! You are an utmost respectable and holy man, I am but a humble servant… I cannot express the gratitude of you and your,' the man paused and stared at the party, his eyes resting on Saeris for just a second longer, ‘capable company staying at our humble village and my humble inn.’ I lost count of how many times he said humble.

The man, now already on his knees and sweating profoundly, hadn’t stopped talking yet. ‘Thank you, kind Ser,’ I interrupted. Please stop talking. ‘It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.’

‘You may call me Herbert.’ The man choked. ‘Your Excellency!’ he added quickly. 

I swallowed uncomfortably. 

‘Ah, thank the Heavens!’ Dorian butted in, wading to the inside of the inn. ‘I swear, Ferelden is just a compilation of fields and mud.’

‘It is a beautiful country,’ Blackwall mumbled, nodding politely at the innkeeper as he, too, wormed his way past us inside. 

‘Oh yes, very quaint .’ Dorian rolled his eyes. 

‘Oh no, can’t our pampered Tevinter handle a little mud?’ Varric laughed, also pushing himself inside. Herbert stuttered as Varric stomped his mud-covered boots against the wall to get the dirt off. 

‘You can’t call me “pampered.” Nobody's peeled a grape for me in weeks,’ Dorian said a little too seriously. 

‘Ah, maybe Herbert here can arrange something.’ Varric laughed. And finally, the party turned back to face the innkeeper, who was turning redder by the second. When Dorian winked at him, I thought he might explode.

‘Don’t mind them.’ I patted the innkeeper on the shoulder. ‘Please, could you show us to our rooms?’

‘And the tavern!’ Bull pushed himself through the inn’s door. The door frame flew from the wall and toppled over. ‘Oops.’

***

I paced through my quarters. The sun wasn’t setting yet… I still have time. 

Maker, fuck me. I need to read Cassandra that poem… I want to. I can’t stop thinking about it, about our talk … the night we sealed the Breach before everything turned to shit… 

The bonfires were colouring the sky. Healed, as it should be. Cassandra and I were standing at a smaller bonfire atop the hill, overlooking the village. The others were below near the tavern, laughing and drinking and dancing. I had asked Cassandra to dance as well… and…

‘Are you flirting with me, Herald?’ she had asked. 

I had been flirting with her for months now. But perhaps I’m… just really bad at it. 

‘I… uhm… am.’ I had swallowed.

‘You cannot court me if that’s your intention. It is impossible.’ Her cheeks had turned red.

‘I can’t… court you?’ 

‘That’s correct.’

‘You don’t want to be courted? Or just not by me?’ The disappointment was clearly audible.

‘No,’ she had said sternly and turned back to the fire. 

What did she say no to? A thousand one-liners had swirled inside my head. Some to try to convince her, others to cope with the rejection… But before I had come up with a retort, Cassandra had turned back to me, sighing. 

‘I take it back. That is what I want,’ she had said, walking a few steps closer to me. ‘I want a man who… sweeps me off my feet, who gives me flowers and reads me poetry by candlelight. I want the ideal.’ She had furrowed her brows. ‘You are the Herald of Andraste. You cannot be that man.’

I can be that man, I had wanted to say, but I swallowed spit instead, and Cassandra had continued her word-vomit. 

‘The world hinges on our actions. We face death at every turn. And I want to be properly courted and if you want to…’ And before I could say that I would try, move heaven and earth for her… just then as she had said that—death literally showed up behind the corner. 

And then The Elder One attacked and Haven was destroyed and Saeris had died and—poof—walked out of her own funeral pyre and we walked all the way to Skyhold and I was named Inquisitor and now I have this poem and it sucks and the flowers I picked this morning have gone flat and fuck me. 

Fuck. 

I pulled on my leather coat, grabbed the stupid poem and stormed down the hall. 

‘Don’t think too much about it, Maxwell,’ I mumbled to myself. Let’s just court her. It’s not that difficult. 

I knocked on Cassandra’s door and she opened it. There was a look of surprise on her face. She had already taken off her armour. My eyes couldn’t help themselves as they glanced down at her casual attire. 

‘Inquisitor,’ she said politely—with that damned exotic accent. ‘Is there anything you need?’

‘I—uhm,’ I scraped my throat, ‘I like to speak with you—in private.’

She quirked a perfect eyebrow. ‘Oh? How private?’

‘There’s a meadow with a small pond just beyond the treeline, behind the inn. Could you meet me there?’ I coughed, my throat closing up. Yes, very appealing, am I? ‘Please.’

‘If…’ she shifted nervously, ‘you’re certain.’

‘I am.’ Not. ‘Trust me.’

Cassandra nodded sternly then. ‘I will meet you there in half an hour.’ As if she had accepted a request for a war room meeting.

‘Great!’ I said a little too enthusiastically. 

When she closed the door, I almost skipped back to my room. I was happy Varric and the crew were at the tavern already. He would have a field day if he saw me. Back in my room, I washed my face, chewed on some mint—got to be prepared for anything—and combed through my hair. I had never used a comb before but for Cassandra, anything! 

I almost forgot my bouquet of flat wildflowers and the bag of candles (yes, I had brought candles on my journey here) and ran out of the room and to our meeting point. I was there exactly twenty-five minutes too early. Perfect. I lined up some of the candles, from the treeline to the riverbed, where I would wait for her. I was done lighting them just in time before I heard Cassandra walk the path towards me. 

‘What is…’ she started when she had neared me.

I cleared my throat and took the heavy note from my pocket. Dorian had given me a Tevinter poem… but Saeris advised me to use my own. 

‘In fields of battle, fierce and grand, there stands a warrior, sword in hand, Cassandra, fair and bold of heart, a flame that kindles from the start.’

She shook her head, an amusing smile on her lips, and a deep red blush blooming on her cheeks from beneath her collar. ‘You can’t be serious.’ She grinned. 

I continued, ‘With armour gleaming, radiant might, she charges forth, a daring sight, her laughter dances in the air, a melody beyond compare.’ I wavered a little, but stood my ground, clearing my throat again. ‘A valiant heart, a steadfast soul, in battles fought, she takes her toll, yet in her eyes, a spark so bright, that sets my heart aflame with light.’

‘Did you write this?’ she stepped around me then, her unwavering eyes pinned on me. 

I looked up at her from my note and back. I think I was as red as Herbert the Innkeeper. ‘Y—yes,’ I mumbled. 

She took the note from my hands gently, her eyes glittering like the stars in the sky, and read the rest of my poem. ‘Seeker of courage, strong and true, I pen this verse, a love that grew?’ She looked up at me and then back to the note, ‘For in your presence, I am weak, but in your love, my spirit speaks.’ Her voice broke a little at the end, her eyes fluttering to me. She walked around, pacing with my note still in hand, and leaned against a tree. ‘Oh, Cassandra, fair and free, a warrior's heart and love's decree, though battles rage and skies may fall, in your embrace, I'd give my all.’

I walked around the tree as she spoke. I knew the poem by heart now. I stopped before Cassandra, my eyes piercing hers. ‘So let me be your steadfast knight, to stand beside you in the fight, with humour bright and love sincere, I'll cherish you, my heart held dear.’ I finished the poem.

She dropped the note on the ground and flung her arms around my neck, the warmth of her body flush against mine. I hugged her tightly, my fingers stroking her back as we kissed deeply. Hungrily. 

I wanted to pin her against that tree, move my hands up and devour her. But instead, I lost my footing and tumbled to the ground, Cassandra in my arms and all. With a thump, she landed right on top of me. The sun had gone down completely now. 

Cassandra smiled brilliantly, bent over and kissed me again and again. Gone was the reserved Seeker, a mask she removed so rarely. I had seen glimpses of it now and then. My tongue searched for hers and they estrangled like lovers. We kissed until we were out of breath. 

Cassandra plopped to the ground next to me. And there we lay, staring at the deepening sky above us. After a moment of heavy breathing and silence, she spoke. 

‘They will say one or two things about us.’ She moved closer to me then, her head resting on my arm, near my chest. ‘That I stood at the Inquisitor’s side, his protector and his lover. That it was meant to be.’ 

I pushed myself a little straighter, perching on my unoccupied elbow. 

Cassandra continued, her voice deep and sultry now. But all I could think was how her lips had moved when she said “lover” and how I wanted her to say it again. ‘Or they will say I was led from the path of faith by the wiles of a madman.’

‘They will probably call me a madman in either case,’ I hummed, looking down at her, at her lips. ‘What do you believe?’

‘I believe you are part of the Maker’s plan.’ She smiled. ‘Beyond that, I believe only that you are capable of anything, and it frightens me.’ Her voice cracked again ever so slightly. ‘I have never known anything like it.’ She sat up straight then, her hand on my chest and her face inches from mine. Her breath smelled like citrus and roses. ‘I’ve been with only one other man in my life. A mage, with whom I adventured when I was still very young.’ Stupid mage. ‘He died at the Conclave.’ But I forgive him. ‘I will not let Corypheus win. I will not let him take you from me.’

I stared back up at her. Cassandra was my light in the darkness, even when she was interrogating me in the cellar below Haven’s Chantry and when the sky was going to eat us whole… My eyes were always on her. 

‘I love you,’ I said. I didn’t think. I didn’t breathe.

‘Here, tonight,’ she smiled, ‘I believe you.’ She pushed me back down to the ground and kissed me again, deeper than before. She moved on top of me then, her breathing intensifying. 

‘Wait.’ Wait? 

Cassandra pushed herself straight and shook her head. ‘You… do you not want this after all?’

‘You have no idea how much…’ I breathe, ‘I want this. I want you.’ I cupped her face, my thumbs caressing her high cheekbones. ‘But I want it to be right . I want to have you where you’re comfortable, where no one can hear us. Where we can be free.’ I felt how my body hardened and betrayed me. But seeing her sit on top of me… 

Cassandra noticed and grinned, flashing her teeth. I hardened some more. 

We kissed again and stayed in that meadow until the sun came back out again. 

I had forgotten to give her the flowers.

***

The rest of our journey went by smoothly. Or at least for Cassandra and I. She rode alongside me, telling me stories of her past and I of mine. Perhaps it was a bit too on the nose of what had happened, and the rest of the crew had noticed, though they didn’t say much of it. Except for Varric. 

The closer we got to Crestwood, however, the more sour the mood became. Call it the constant rain, I don’t know. 

Solas and Dorian weren’t seeing eye to eye, either. They had a deep discussion yesterday morning on Elves, Magic, Spirits and Tevinter. 

And then last evening, at the campfire we had set up, Dorian had asked, ‘Solas, tell me, I heard you lived alone in the woods for years, studying spirits. Is that correct?’ 

Solas had straightened his back, cocking his head. Saeris had turned to him in interest too, and I noticed how Solas glanced at her through his lashes. ‘Is that a problem for you?’

Dorian grinned, flashing his teeth in victory as he sassily remarked, ‘No, no. You're a special and unique snowflake. Live the dream.’ Without waiting for Solas’ response, Dorian had turned around and casually strolled back to the fireplace, where Varric and Hawke were practically rolling on the ground with laughter. 

Solas had been angry all night. 

Today, it hadn’t stopped raining. We were hours away from the Crestwood camp, but morale couldn’t be lower. Bull was grumbling about wet leather, Blackwall had grown awfully quiet and skittish, Saeris was deep in thought as always and Dorian had made one remark too many on Solas’ wardrobe. 

‘Solas, what's this whole look of yours about?’

‘I'm sorry?’

‘No, that outfit is sorry. What are you supposed to be? Some kind of woodsman?’

Varric almost fell off his horse at that comment. I think I even heard Cassandra and Saeris snicker.

‘Is this a Dalish thing? Don't you dislike the Dalish? Or is it some kind of statement?’

‘No.’ A vein had appeared above Solas’ brow. 

‘Well, it says "apostate hobo" to me.’

Solas halted his horse abruptly and turned it to Dorian, who batted his wet lashes innocently. I noted there was a teeny tiny small grin on Solas’ lips. And I realised he saw this bantering as a challenge of wit. And oh, Solas accepted. ‘Vishante Kaffas,’ he said as if the Tevene tongue had been his mother language. He continued a long sentence in Tevene, probably not a nice one. 

Dorian gasped loudly. ‘You speak Tevene?!’ Everyone halted to spectate the show, forgetting the rain completely. ‘I would have never thought you could speak my cultured language.’ There was sarcasm mixed with surprise. 

‘Oh, Solas’s levelling the playing field.’ Bull smacked his knee, eyeing the both of them. Then, he jerked his chin at Dorian. ‘Better hike up your skirt, mage boy. This will get dirty.’ 

Dorian turned his back to Solas and tutted at Bull. We all knew they were sleeping together, making this whole ordeal even funnier. ‘First of all, I’m not wearing a skirt. And second, we were not commenting on my fabulous sense of fashion.’ Dorian straightened his back. 

‘Lest we forgot,’ Solas butted in again.

Dorian turned back around and faked a surprised gasp. ‘Gosh, Solas. You startled me. You’re so… nondescript.’

‘Please speak up!’ Solas laughed broadly now. ‘I cannot hear you over your outfit.’ 

Bull fell off his horse laughing. 

‘Oh, please wait.’ Varric heaved, laughing loudly as well. ‘I need to write this down.’

Cassandra scoffed at that. 

‘Alright children,’ I chuckled. ‘Everyone here is pretty. Let’s continue to the camp.’

It wasn’t that far anymore, thank the Maker. 

***

‘Good to see you safe, Inquisitor,’ Scout Harding greeted us, a hand to her chest. ‘We’ve got trouble ahead.’

I raised an eyebrow at her. ‘I’m sure it’s nothing the Inquisition can’t handle,’ I answered. After Haven, I’ve seen everything. 

‘Careful, Your Worship,’ Harding smiled, albeit concerned. ‘That optimism might be catching.’

‘Are things that bad?’ Worse than this weather and my crew’s bickering?’

Harding nodded to the lake and signed for me to follow her up the path.

‘Oh,’ is all I could say. 

Saeris walked towards me. She had warned us there was a big Rift here, had sensed it through my mark back at Skyhold. Three days ago, however, she warned us she felt it was even larger than she had anticipated. She had looked sickly ever since. And now, her eyes were big. Her green pupil seemed to light up at the sight of the emerald smoke that lit up the lake on the horizon. Almost hungrily.

‘Crestwood was the site of a flood ten years ago during The Blight,’ Harding continued. ‘It’s not the only Rift in the area, but after it appeared, corpses started walking out of the lake.’

‘Oh sure, the Undead was all that was missing,’ Dorian mused to Bull. 

Harding ignored the comment. ‘You’ll have to fight through to get to the cave where Ser Hawke’s Grey Warden friend is hiding.’

‘Awesome.’ I sighed. ‘And I forgot to bring my swimming trunks.’

***

Crestwood Village was truly down on its luck. Rain, the Undead, demons and a big-ass Rift.

And then there were these other Grey Wardens hunting for our contact, Warden Stroud. Could the Wardens help fight the Undead? Yes. Were they planning to? No. Crestwood was only a detour for them. We didn’t have that luxury.

I could see the Wardens wanted to help… but their orders from Warden-Commander Clarel forbade them to interfere. Something was off. And that counted for Blackwall as well. He hadn’t greeted the other Wardens… and they had ignored him. I had thought most Wardens knew each other. But maybe I was wrong. Something in me told me that Blackwall was hiding something big as well. I made a mental note to ask Leliana to investigate him further. 

That off-feeling didn’t leave us when we entered Crestwood Village and met its mayor, Dedrick. He seemed… glad we were there to help battle the Undead, and even gave us a map to Old Crestwood, where the Rift was situated. But when I offered to free the dam at Caer Bronach and drain the lake… the man had seemed… upset. But I’m not swimming to the Rift. 

So, the next day, we went to the stronghold of Caer Bronach, whooped the bandits’ arses and opened the floodgates of the dam. It took us a while, the bandits were tough and the smelly Undead that popped up everywhere were annoying. But we drained that stupid lake.

After draining the lake, we had a “free” path to the caves under Old Crestwood, where the huge Rift was located. 

‘Can you hear it humming below us?’ Saeris whispered as we neared it. Her eye was flaring up so much, it was brighter than our torches, lighting up the caverns… 

‘Are these… Dwarven Ruins?’ Varric stopped and gawked at the wall. There were sturdy pillars against it, decorated with iron markings. Making these would’ve required great skill. 

‘They are,’ Hawke confirmed, looking at Varric. 

‘Remarkable,’ both Dorian and Solas mused, finally agreeing on something.

When we arrived at the Rift, demons unsurprisingly greeted us. Saeris moved to the background, warding me as my hand connected to the Rift. It exploded loudly, black ichor splashing everywhere. For a second, I feared the caves would collapse, but the Dwarven ruins were sturdy enough. 

‘Ugh,’ Bull groaned as he smeared some ichor from his face.

Dorian laughed but then scraped his throat. ‘The Undead should be… well, dead again now that they are no longer controlled by whatever’s in that Rift.’ And he had been right. When we reappeared back outside, the sun was shining, as if the Rift had been controlling the weather, too. 

I had expected the mayor would rejoice when we returned to the Village. Maybe a banquet in our honour would’ve been nice? But what gives - the mayor had vanished, leaving us with just a note confessing he had been the one who had flooded Old Crestwoord—and all of its inhabitants—ten years ago to stop the Blight from spreading. 

The villagers, albeit a bit disgruntled by the news of their mayor, were incredibly happy that their undead demon ordeal was concluded. We were invited to an all-you-can-drink at the tavern, to which we didn’t say no. 

Except for Saeris. She excused herself to her room, eyes tired. 

‘She is still suffering from what has happened.’ Cassandra rested her hand on my shoulder as I stared after Saeris while she slumped up the stairs. 

‘How can we help her?’ I had been so happy she was alive. Just the fact that she was still here. With me. I hadn’t realised how tired she looked. She concealed it well, especially around Solas… but her eyes… 

I wondered what it had been like, dying. How it felt knowing she couldn’t… But I hadn’t dared to really ask. And I think Saeris was grateful I hadn’t. 

***

With a massive hangover—I had lost a few rounds of Wicked Grace, again, last night—we departed to Warden Stroud’s hideaway. 

He had hidden himself quite expertly in one of the many caves, a couple of hours away from Crestwood Village. Luckily, we had Hawke with us to guide our way in. 

I opened the barricaded wooden door at the entrance of the cave, a skull painted on it. Aha, an artist. 

‘Hello?’ I called. 

‘Inquisitor, please be cautious,’ Cassandra hushed. 

Just then, I heard a sword being unsheathed. Cassandra cursed as the man before me, armed to the teeth with steel and facial hair, pointed his weapon at my face. 

‘Who are you?’ he said. 

‘Wow, there,’ Hawke raised his hands. ‘It’s just us. I brought the Inquisitor.’ 

The man sighed, visibly more at ease at the sight of his friend, and—slowly—lowered his sword from my face. ‘My name is Stroud, and I am at your service, Inquisitor.’ He had an Orlesian accent, and I saw Saeris scrunch her nose at that.

‘Thanks…’ Eyeing the sword, now pointed at the ground. ‘Tell me, before I accept your help, why are you hiding from the Wardens?’

‘Yes,’ Cassandra took a step forward. ‘They seemed troubled… I wonder, does it have anything to do with Corypheus?’ She said that more to me than to Stroud.

Stroud nodded. ‘I fear it is so. When my friend Hawke here slew Corypheus, Weisshaupt was happy to put the matters to rest.’ He paced back and forth from his makeshift desk to the thin bedroll on the ground. How long had he been hiding up here? ‘But an Archdemon can survive wounds that seem fatal, and I feared Corypheus might possess the same power. My investigation uncovered clues but no proof. Then, not long after, every Warden in Orlais began to hear the Calling.’

‘Maker, why didn’t you tell me?’ Hawke looked distraught to his friend. 

‘It was a Grey Warden matter. I was bound by an oath of secrecy.’ 

‘What is the Calling? Some sort of Ritual?’ I asked, confused. Stroud explained to me then, how it tells a Warden his time is near, how it starts with dreams and whispers in the head. Then, the Warden travels to the Deep Roads, where he dies in combat. 

I’m happy I’m not a Warden.

‘I do not fear the Calling, and worrying about it only gives it power.’ Blackwall finally said something. So… he can’t hear it?

Stroud nodded at him, a kind reflection in his eyes like he was greeting a friend.

‘And every Warden in Orlais is hearing this right now? They think they’re dying?’ Hawke looked at Blackwall and then back to Stroud.

‘Yes,’ Stroud sighed, ‘Likely because of Corypheus.’

‘So… the Wardens all think a Blight is nearing… and now they are making some last desperate attack on the Darkspawn?’ I concluded.

‘We are the only ones who can slay an Archdemon. Without us, the next Blight will consume the world. Warden-Commander Clarel spoke of a blood magic ritual to prevent future Blights before we all perished.’

‘Blood Magic?’ Solas stepped forward. ‘I do not think that will help your cause.’

‘Indeed.’ Stroud inclined his head at the elf. ‘When I protested the plan as madness, my own comrades turned on me.’ Stroud let out a deep, sad sigh. Then, he pointed at the map on his desk. ‘Grey Wardens are gathering here, in the Western Approach.’

I looked over at the map. From rain to the desert… 

‘Fuck.’

Chapter 51: Asked

‘The Forgotten Ones.’

I held my index finger to the words inscribed in the old book. That book, nestled between the others in this library, had stood out to me. I caressed the thick words, my mind twirling. I had never come across them before—in any book. Though stories of The Forgotten Ones were plenty. Especially amongst Elves.

In Dalish religion, there was, of course, the benevolent Elven Pantheon. The Evanuris. Creators. What were their names again? Mythal, Elgar’nan, Falon’Din… 

I pursed my lips in thought. It had been a while.

Dirthamen, Andruil, Sylaise… June and Ghilan’nain… and Fen’Harel. I think that’s it. 

And these Forgotten Ones… I didn’t know their names. Must be why they are called the Forgotten Ones. Had they all been malevolent? Were they of Elven nature? What was that story the Dalish told…

I shifted, pulling up my legs and twisting my head a little as if the movement would jog my memory. 

‘What are you reading?’ his smooth voice sounded near my ear, which twitched. 

‘Fenedhis!’ I cursed and dropped the book on the ground. The thud felt louder than it was. 

‘I am sorry,’ Solas chuckled, ‘did I frighten you?’ He picked the book from the ground, eyes scanning the cover.

I looked up at him. Here, he looked so at ease. His grey eyes were calm and serene, his voice warm as he spoke, ‘Ah, this one is interesting indeed.’ 

I sighed, ‘Yeah… I’m stuck on something, however.’

‘Tell me.’ 

I stood up from the sofa, taking a step toward him. Solas stood his ground, unmoving, and chuckled as I tried grabbing the book from his hands. He whirled around me, his hands—and the book—behind his back. Like he was stealing candy from a baby. He plopped down on the sofa I had claimed just a second ago, his brows raised at me. Crossing his legs, he opened the book again and browsed it until he found the page I had been staring at. 

‘Ah, the Forgotten Ones.’ He looked at me intrigued. 

‘Yes…’ I conjured a chair in front of the sofa and sat on it. ‘I recall hearing of them before. The Dalish tell tales of a betrayal… But my memory fails me.’ 

‘Do you perchance mean… The Great Betrayal?’ He quirked a brow, his eyes glazed with scholarly intrigue. 

‘Yes, that’s it!’ I jumped up. ‘The Dalish told me… that Fen’Harel tricked the gods, locking the Evanuris in the Eternal City in the heavens… and the Forgotten Ones deep in the Void. Is it… true?’

Solas chuckled, leaning back on the sofa casually. He stroked his chin then, thinking. After a pause, he said, ‘If the Dalish are to be believed, the Dread Wolf still roams Thedas looking for innocent maidens to eat.’ A gleam in his eyes. 

‘You’ve got a point.’ I grinned. ‘But that’s not an answer. Were they gods as the Evanuris were?’

‘What are gods? Are they but immortal beings struggling for control, for power?’ Solas sat straighter. ‘They were no more gods than rulers. Powerful and talented, yes.’ He cocked his head. ‘It is easy to believe there are evil gods and benevolent gods. Forgotten ones versus the Evanuris. The Void against the Heavens. In life, nothing is as simple.’ 

‘Have you ever… met one of them? The Evanuris? The Forgotten Ones?’ I scurried a little closer, sitting on the edge of the chair. ‘The Dread Wolf?’

I couldn’t tell what I saw in Solas’ eyes. Something old. Something sad. Melancholy? Or anger? 

Solas leaned forward, closing the book with one hand. He handed it back to me in silence. ‘I cannot tell you more than my truth. As the Dalish can only retell the stories they have been told themselves.’

He won’t tell me. ‘Alright, I get it. Guess I have to discover it on my own,’ I confirmed. What was it that he could not tell me? Refused to? 

‘Through knowledge, one can gain power.’ He smiled at me, eyes a little less clouded. 

‘Alright, hahren,’ I scoffed, yanking the book from his hand playfully.

Solas bent forward and moved closer, a grin curling on his lips. ‘Say that again, da’len?’ A challenge.

I swallowed. He was different here in the Fade. The longer we spent time together here, the more I saw him change and open up. The Solas in the Waking World was truly someone else entirely. 

‘You can’t call me da’len.’ I smiled back. ‘I might be older than you.’

Solas’ grin broadened. ‘Perhaps, yes,’ he mused, his voice deep. 

‘How old are you anyway?’ Can I ask him that? 

Solas chuckled, his deep voice resonating through the Fade library. 

I realised then that he must be more than thousands of years old… he had slept for millennia, he had said—when the Veil had been created… How long ago was that? In the times of the Ancient… three thousand years ago? Maybe more? 

I looked back up again, at the man sitting in front of me on that old tattered sofa, lounging so normally, legs apart, elbows on the armrests… 

‘Do you want to know?’ 

***

We arrived back at Skyhold after an agitating and long journey to and from Crestwood. Varric’s jokes had become more frequent and louder around Hawke. A man I hadn’t spoken to much. Perhaps because he himself did most of the talking. Dorian and Solas had been at it, bickering and jousting to see who was whittier and more magically talented than the other. If Dorian knew… 

Bull had been observant, especially towards Dorian. They were sleeping with each other, that was evident. They shared a tent. And unless they both snored strangely, I would guess they hadn’t had much sleep on this trip. Neither did we, unfortunately. 

Blackwall had been as quiet as I was. Seeing the Grey Wardens in action must be strange. Though perhaps, something deeper was going on there. 

And Maxwell… I had seen him sneaking out of the inn that night while I was on my way to join the others at the tavern. I had shared a room with Cassandra. And I hadn’t seen her all night. The gloating, flirty whispering and longing looks that followed the rest of the journey, well… said enough. They both seemed so happy. My friends. 

Skyhold looked better than when we had departed. The battlements and ramparts had been fixed and cleaned up, the hole in the roof of the throne room—if that is what it is—had been fixed and the Inquisitorial throne had been prepared for its occupant. It looked a little grotesque in the centre of the stage. Meant to show influence, and the burden of it.

Men and women cheered when the gates opened for our party. Maxwell’s smile had faltered a little. 

After the welcoming, the crew went on their way to rest or drink or whatever they did to unwind. Blackwall to the stables, Bull to the tavern and his Chargers, Hawke and Varric to the fireplace in the throne room, Solas to his rotunda, Cassandra to the chapel and… Maxwell to his advisors. 

Magister Alexius had been transferred to Skyhold’s cells below from the prison at Denerim. Ready to be judged. While Maxwell had gone to Josephine, Cullen and Leliana to discuss what to do with him, I sneaked into the dark halls below. 

‘You?’ the old man said, confused as I neared the bars where he was sulking behind. Gone was the evil Magister, the mastermind of Corypheus—if that is what he was. His hair had gone greyer, bald patches on his head peeking through. His skin had turned dreary. There were dark circles under his hopeless, dull eyes. 

He was done with life. As I once had been. 

I hated this man, of course. What he had done? Wanted to do? Maxwell still had nightmares about the ordeal. I couldn’t imagine what it must’ve been like.

But if it had been Sybil who had been on the brink of death… Wouldn’t I have done the same? Poor Felix. I understood the feeling of wanting to protect those you love. I, too, would burn the world.

‘Magister,’ I greeted solemnly, my voice stuck in my throat. 

‘Why are you here?’ he barked, though I noted the fatigue in his voice. 

I asked myself the same thing. Why was I here? 

It had been on my mind lately. Solas and I had been discussing ancients and time and age… and I had wondered… 

‘I… have a question.’

Alexius scoffed, leaning his back against the cold and wet stone walls in his cell. ‘And you think I would answer?’ he spat. ‘I am awaiting my death. There is nothing I have not told you people. You may request all you want, I have nothing to give.’ Hatred dripped from his tongue as he spoke, eyes glaring deeply.

‘I understand,’ I said. Alexius furrowed his brows. ‘But I will ask anyway. Answer or not. That is up to you.’ I scraped my throat. ‘And my condolences.’ 

Felix had died even before Haven had fallen. I had seen it on one of Leliana’s notes to Maxwell.

‘Do not pretend to pity me!’ he yelled. 

‘I don’t.’ I tried to stay calm and collected. ‘I merely understand loss.’ I looked into his dark eyes. 

Alexius scoffed and said no more. After a moment of silence, I spoke again. ‘Time travel. How did you achieve it?’

Alexius looked up at me from the ground. ‘As I said, stupid girl, I have already told you people everything!’

I ignored him and continued. ‘The magic you used… it was to erase one from time. Yet, you send someone to the future.’ I walked back and forth in front of Alexius’ cell. 

‘Failure,’ he grumbled.

‘Your spell.’ I stopped in front of the cell. ‘Could it… in theory… send someone back in time… too?’

Alexius pushed himself from the wall then, striding to the bars, the chains on his hands clanking as he grabbed them, his face inches from mine. I didn’t flinch. That is what he wanted. 

‘Do you think,’ he growled, ‘I would not have tried? Of course, it is not possible, you twat! I would have killed the Inquisitor in his mother's womb… I would have saved my Felix!’ he screamed now, anger deepening and deepening.

‘That’s enough,’ a soft voice said. 

Leliana stepped out of the shadows. Her cold eyes were sternly focused on me.

Shit. 

‘Magister Alexius,’ Leliana looked back at the cell to her prisoner, ‘It is time for your judgement. The Inquisitor awaits.’ 

Like clockwork, two guards came down the stairs and ordered Alexius to step back. He did so, grudgingly. As the guards almost dragged the old man out, pushing him politely but sternly up the stairs, Alexius did not protest. He shot another glare my way and stopped a second as he passed me. ‘Death will come for all of you. Mark my words,’ he whispered. 

Then, as if he hadn’t said anything at all, the Magister continued his way up the stairs again. 

‘What were you thinking?’ Leliana spoke again when we were alone once more, her angelic voice clinging to the prison walls. 

‘I was just…’ I couldn’t speak the words, was ashamed of them. Of course, I knew asking Alexius for anything was stupid. But I couldn’t shake the idea… ‘I wanted to know if… I know it’s stupid.’

‘Try me.’ Leliana crossed her arms in front of her.

I swallowed again. ‘I wanted to know if… if one could be sent forwards in time… one could be sent backwards as well.’ I looked at her gleaning eyes beneath her hood. ‘If I can… travel back and… hear what I promised… I could come back and…’

If I were an ancient elf… if I could travel time back to when I made that promise and hear what it actually was… I could finally fix it. Finally live without constant doubt. Without that eye… I would not do anything to change the past. That would be stupid on a whole other level… but if I could just discover what those seven shadows from my death-dream had actually asked of me… I could be free. 

‘You wanted to know if you could find out your curse?’ Leliana cocked her head.

I stepped towards her, throwing caution to the wind and all. ‘I want to be free from it.’ I couldn’t mask the sadness and longing in my voice. ‘When I heard the Magister was here… I had to know. I wasn’t going to… you must believe I did not intend to do anything that would harm the Inquisition.’ 

‘I believe you.’ Leliana relaxed her arms, a gentleness in her voice I hadn’t heard before. ‘It is something I have thought of as well.’ 

‘You have?’

‘Of course,’ she almost laughed, ‘If we could warn the Divine of the coming attack… or not organise the Conclave at all. Or if I could’ve warned myself not to call back my agents… and save Haven.’ 

‘But…’ 

‘Why haven’t I said anything? Investigated further?’ Leliana finished my sentence coyly and scoffed. ‘Because it is foolish. Meddling with time is dangerous, as Alexius has so masterfully illustrated to us.’

I sighed then, ‘You are right.’ 

‘Indeed.’ She took a step toward me and rested a hand on my shoulder. Silence. I could hear my breathing echoing from the cell walls. 

‘We will find a way,’ she said then—so unexpectedly warm.

Another silence. But it was a welcome one. Warm and understanding, like the look the Spymaster and I shared. 

‘What will happen to the Magister?’ I said after a while.

‘I advised the Inquisitor to either imprison or execute him,’ Leliana said. ‘But he still sees a purpose in the fool… Alexius will aid the mages in an Inquisition stronghold—the Grand Forest Villa in the Hinterlands. He shall share his knowledge but remain in highly guarded captivity.’

‘A kind fate,’ I mused. ‘For what he has done.’

Leliana scoffed. ‘I do not think the Magister will see it like that. Execution would have been kinder, in his eyes.’

True. Sometimes, death is the easy way out. 

***

Later that night, I sank down in a chair in the tavern. Varric was playing Wicked Grace with Hawke and Sera. It was quite the spectacle. Bets were going around that Sera would beat the both of them thrice. 

‘Shite this game!’ Sera smacked down her cards on the table. A bad hand. 

‘Ow, that must hurt.’ Varric grinned. ‘Care for another round?’

‘Yeah—and I will own your arses.’

I smiled and drank from my tankard of ale. ‘Do you want me to count you in?’ Hawke smiled at me. 

‘Not if you want to keep your coin.’ I smiled back.

‘That’s what Sera said as well.’ He grinned. 

‘Hush, Birdman.’ Sera stuck out her tongue to the Champion.

‘Cheer up, Buttercup.’ Varric beamed as he stared at his cards. ‘You can still win it back.’

‘I’ll just watch, thanks though.’ I winked back at Hawke.

The second round, Sera won. She had a surprisingly good poker face for someone who couldn’t keep her mouth shut.

During the third round, Maxwell slumped towards us, ordered another round of ale and plopped down on the chair next to me. 

‘What’s up.’ I poked his arm. ‘You look tired.’

‘Thanks.’ He yawned. ‘It’s ‘cuz I am.’ He took a swing from his drink and sighed. ‘Being an Inquisitor is hard.’

‘Looks like it.’ I cocked my head. ‘Heard you have judged Alexius today.’ I hoped Leliana hadn’t told him… though something inside of me told me she wouldn’t. 

‘Yep. Another one of my bazillion tasks.’ 

‘And are you resting enough?’ A concerned flinch in my voice. 

‘You sound like Cassandra.’ He laughed, though with a sigh. ‘Thanks for your concern, but I’m fine, really.’ He looked at me, a curl dangling in front of his eyes. So tired, almost as tired as Alexius. ‘It’s just a lot. I wish there were two Inquisitors… or at least someone I could share my job with, you know? I mean, we just got back from Crestwood this morning, and I already had to deny three requests for my hand, judge a magister, fix a quarrel…’

‘A quarrel?’

‘You haven’t heard?’ Maxwell quirked an eyebrow. ‘Well, Solas and Cassandra were at it today… because of Cole.’

‘What? Why?’

‘Well, Solas thinks Cole is a Spirit of Compassion. Cassandra… well she’s—and rightfully so—concerned he might be an abomination.’

‘A Spirit of Compassion…’ I mused back. Of course, that would make sense… how he accessed the Fade so easily, heard our thoughts, felt them … ‘And what do you think, Max?’

Maxwell rolled back his shoulders, eyes on the game before us. ‘I don’t know… I like the kid. He saved my life. And I don’t think he poses a threat… or has any bad bone inside of him whatsoever.’ 

‘He is a little off.’ I smiled. Look who’s talking. ‘But he is kind, uses his power for good.’ To help. To make whole. Like I once did. ‘That’s rare.’

‘Yeah, he’s a good kid.’ Maxwell nodded in thought. ‘And I think perhaps a little extra compassion… wouldn’t hurt our cause. If that’s what he is.’

‘Yes, that is true.’ We all needed that.

‘So yeah, I asked Solas to study Cole a little bit. Find out if he actually is a Spirit… and why he is corporal.’

I smiled. ‘Solas will find an answer, I’m sure of it.’

‘He has to.’ He sighed again. ‘We’ll need all the help we can get.’

I scooted a little closer to him. The others laughed loudly as Hawke cursed because of his bad hand. No one noticed our whispering. ‘Why?’

Maxwell drained his tankard and ordered another one. ‘You know at Crestwood? Warden Stroud told us of some kind of blood ritual happening in the Western Approach… And I feel there’s something wrong there. Corypheus is on the move.’

He’s scared. 

‘We will stop him.’

‘Or die trying.’ He finished my sentence and looked into my eyes. I swallowed. 

***

‘So… Cole is a Spirit, I’ve heard.’

Solas looked up from behind his desk and softly smiled as I entered his dream. ‘There you are.’

‘Here I am.’ I smiled back and walked to his desk, eyeing the scrolls he was studying. ‘What are you reading?’

Solas leaned back in his chair. ‘Recollections of fully corporal Spirits. They are rare.’

‘Is that what Cole is?’

‘I am thinking so.’ Solas stared back at the scroll. ‘His abilities resemble those of a Spirit. He can cause people to forget him, or even fail to entirely notice him. It is a form of magic, though very different from the one wielded by you, me or any mage.’

‘Could he be possessed with a Spirit? Like the seers in Rivain?’

Solas smiled at me approvingly. ‘A good guess, though I think the truth is somewhat more complex. You see, Cole has possessed nothing and no one. And yet he appears human in all respects.’

‘Interesting indeed.’ I cocked my head. ‘Have you met others like him… before…’

Solas shifted in his seat, eyes piercing mine. ‘There are many things I have not yet come across. Even… at my age.’ He stood up from his chair and walked around his desk slowly, to me. ‘The Inquisition has a knack for attracting many unique and interesting beings.’

‘So it does,’ I purred back. 

Solas stopped in front of me, staring into my eyes. The dream became foggy around the edges. Solas was stirring in his sleep. Not waking up… something else. 

‘What's wrong?’ I asked.

‘Nothing.’ He chuckled. ‘Just thinking.’

‘When you sleep?’ I laughed. ‘You never stop, do you?’ 

Solas smiled back, flashing his teeth and—for a second—I thought about our kiss and his lips and how I wanted to feel those teeth on my… I bit my lip. 

Solas hummed deeply and took my chin in his hand. With his thumb, he caressed my bottom lip, stopping me from biting it. I inched my head closer until our lips stroked one another softly. He kissed me back, mouth slightly opening. His breath warmed my body.

I pulled my hands around his waist, clasping them on his back and pulling myself flush against him. My mouth opened more to him and I slid my tongue past his lips.

A grunt. And then I was pushed against the desk. A quill and ink fell to the ground, splashing on the ancient white tiles like black ichor. I braced my hand on the desk so as to not push it over. Solas released my lips, giving me just a second to breathe and then his mouth was on mine again, deeper… with more purpose. His hands grabbed my waist, lifting me up with one clean swoop—as if I were a feather›—and set me down on his desk. 

I laughed against his lips, my hips buckling and my legs cradling around his waist. 

Solas pushed me closer to his desk, his arms bracing himself next to my shoulders. I pushed myself a little closer, my hands cupping his head, kissing him even deeper. More. 

‘Fenedhis…’ Solas cursed as I pressed my chest to his, my left hand circling his neck. I could feel his heart pounding. His hand slid to my hips, then higher and higher. 

‘Solas.’ I whispered—no, moaned. 

More. I want more.

***

A hard knock broke my deep sleep. ‘Milady?’ A voice was heard. 

I growled against my pillow. Can’t they leave me alone? Just for once let me sleep in? 

We had been so close to…

I dragged myself out of bed, wobbled to the door and popped my head outside. ‘Yes?’

‘Uhm…’ The scout trembled at my sight. ‘Milady, you are requested at the war table.’ 

I glared at the poor man. ‘Now?’ 

‘Y-yes.’ The scout swallowed and then quickly added, ‘Milady.’ 

‘Fine. Tell them I’ll be there shortly.’ I sighed and closed the door. I pushed myself against it then, hearing the scout skitter away. The cold wood of the door permeated my hot, sweaty skin. 

I hope Solas had a better morning… 

Fifteen minutes later, after washing my face and dressing for the day, I was on my way to the war room. There, Maxwell and his advisors had already started their meeting, deep in conversation. 

‘You will journey to the camp here,’ Cullen’s voice echoed throughout the room, ‘where Warden Stroud will await further instructions.’ 

‘It is a tedious region.’ Josephine added. ‘Not many live there. Though the journey towards this area is littered with many important Orlesian Holdings. You will travel to Jader, where diplomatic talks are held about the Orlesian Civil War. Inquisitor, I shall accompany you there.’

Maxwell nodded. ‘Yes, I’ve read it all in your thorough report… I’m glad I’ll have your diplomatic mind with me.’

Josephine smiled warmly. 

‘After the talks, you will travel by boat to the Heartlands, where you will continue on towards the Western Approach.’ Cullen took over again, voice steady. ‘You must find out what is happening with the Wardens… and what’s going on at that tower.’

‘We will.’ Maxwell nodded and poked my arm. 

‘It is obviously a trap,’ the Commander spoke. 

‘Probably.’ Maxwell shrugged.

‘Do you not remember the last you…’ Leliana began but stopped immediately when she spotted me entering silently—or at least trying to.

‘Milady.’ Leliana curtsied.

‘Good morning.’ I curtsied back. The others turned to me.

‘Morning, Sunshine.’ Maxwell winked. ‘You’re right on time.’ He lifted an eyebrow at Cullen, who inclined his head. Discussion over… for now. 

I strolled towards the giant wooden table, which had once been a door. On it were several large maps: some of the Thedosean continent as a whole, some of certain areas of Orlais and Ferelden. There were pawns on the maps as well. Horses and soldiers, ravens and eyes. Like a deadly board game. I stared at the pawn resembling a tower, right on top of a yellow blotch in western Orlais. 

Cullen followed my stare to the map. ‘Maxwell has told you… about the Western Approach?’

‘Yes, he has.’ I shot a quick look at him. 

Leliana interceded, ‘We want you to see if there are any Rifts on our path and point them out on the map, so we might be prepared.’ 

I nodded. ‘Yes…’ If that’s it, I could’ve slept for way longer…

‘And we wanted to… personally discuss something with you.’ Maxwell swallowed nervously. Cullen and Josephine visibly took a cautionary step back as if the table was going to explode… or I was. The Spymaster stood her ground next to Maxwell.

I raised my eyebrows in anticipation. 

‘I… I require you here.’ He sighed then.

‘What do you mean?’ I shook my head.

‘I… You cannot go on this journey with me.’

‘W—No! Why?’ I took a step forward, eyes foggy with questions. ‘I will not let you go alone - I can be useful. I…’

‘You can.’ Leliana took a step towards me, eyes gleaning underneath her hood. ‘This is not something we decided without thought. You see, the Inquisitor is the main figure of our operations. He is not someone we can be without for a long period of time. Even if it is for an important mission in Western Orlais.’ 

‘So… why are you sending him and not me then?’ 

Maxwell sucked in air through his lips, like an inward sigh, ‘This is too important of a threat for me not to join the team. I need them, or whoever is causing this mess, to see my face and know what they’re up against. Maybe even hold them off before this goes truly awry… I also have to be in Jader for negotiations, and show my face in Val Foret to appease the nobles, amongst others. And who else would close Rifts along the way?’ Maxwell scraped his throat, eyeing his advisors. ‘But the journey there will take at least a couple of weeks… if not more… and the work here continues. I have many important representatives to meet, invitations and letters to answer…’ A deep sigh followed. ‘It’s like people expect me to just appear out of thin air in western Orlais the next day, and be in Denerim the other. But… and I’ve checked… I unfortunately can’t fly.’

‘That’s where you come in,’ Josephine said—though a little nervously. ‘You have become an important key figure since the… fall of Haven…’ She was silent for a second. ‘We… discussed that perhaps we could placate the Inquisitor’s absence and have you resume his duties… for a short while.’ 

‘What?’ I said aghast, ‘You want me to play Inquisitor? I don’t know anything!’ They can’t be serious.

‘Neither do I.’ Maxwell winked at me, but then turned back serious as he saw my face. ‘Saeris… please, you would be helping me out big time.’ He rested his hand on my shoulder. ‘It’s not… too difficult. Just smile and pretend like you’re confident. That’s what I do, and it works. See?’ He waved his hands over his face and chest like he was a painting to present. ‘Everybody thinks I got my shit together.’

‘Mostly everybody.’ Leliana grinned slyly. Was that a joke?

Maxwell grinned back at her playfully and turned back to me. ‘What do you think?’

‘That I’d rather fight demons,’ I pruned.

‘I know…’ Maxwell pruned back to me. 

‘And I’ll be so worried…’

‘I’ll write letters every day to tell you of our progress.’ Maxwell sighed and looked at me all puppy-eyed. ‘You’re one of the few who I can ask to do this… Josephine has to join me for a while, but she’ll return shortly to help you out. And Cullen and Leliana are here as well to support you.’

I looked at the advisors, panic in my throat. ‘And none of you can…’

‘Our positions within the Inquisition hold great power, yes.’ Leliana cocked her head. ‘But we have to present a united front. You have become a symbol since Haven. Besides, what you will be doing are mainly ceremonial tasks. We will take care of the rest.’

‘... and what about Cassandra…’

‘No,’ Maxwell said a little too quickly; ‘I—uh—have need of her.’

I rolled my eyes at that and noted Cullen did so as well, slightly.

‘And when it comes to ceremonial tasks… I—we think you’ll have more sway.’ Cullen took a step forward, his face kind but serious.

I took a step back then, sighing deeply. Eyeing all of the people in the room separately as I thought in silence for a moment. If I can truly help Max like this… But I hate being in the forefront… Everyone will be staring… will be afraid… 

‘You’ll have to write to me every single day. Or I’ll send one of Leliana’s ravens to peck out your eyes.’ I crossed my arms in front of me. 

‘That’s a promise.’ Leliana cooed. 

Maxwell let out a huge sigh of relief, as did the rest of the advisors. 

Seems like I’ll be doing a job no one really wants to do… 

‘You’re helping me big time.’ Maxwell smiled then, eyes locked on mine. ‘And I’ll promise I’ll write… and as soon as I’m back, I’ll take over again.’

‘If there’s still something left to take over,’ I joked half-heartedly. 

‘Nah, you’ll do great.’ Maxwell smiled encouragingly, as did his advisors. ‘And besides… you’ll also have time… err… to prepare.’ 

Now it was Cullen who looked more faint and uncomfortable than I was. 

I looked at the Commander and then at Maxwell. 

‘For what…’ I asked suspiciously. 

Maxwell looked at Josephine, who was almost jumping with glee—which looked funny as she was standing next to the Commander, who looked terrified. 

‘It is in a few months, at the end of summer… but we have received an important invitation.’

‘What now?’ I almost didn’t want to ask the question. 

Josephine clasped her hands, eyes twinkling with diplomatic excitement, ‘We have been invited to the Winter Palace.’

Notes:

Thank you for reading!

Chapter 52: Obliged

My dearest Saeris, 

How have you been? Hope you don’t hate me by now. I would if someone set me up greeting nobles for two months. But I promise it’ll be over before you know it. And hey, maybe you even like it? 

We reached Jader yesterday. It’s a weird place—a mixture of Ferelden and Orlais. We visited the city today. Did some tavern hopping. And we’ll be beginning negotiations in a couple of hours. I’ll send Josie back after we’ve finished up. She told me she has ordered some fabrics for you to choose from… Have fun with that. 

Tomorrow, we’ll be leaving by boat to the Heartlands. It shouldn’t take that long for us to reach shore, and I’ll only be in Val Foret for a day. After that, it’s off to the desert. Thanks, by the way, for jotting down where the Rifts are on our way. I feel more at ease. A little.

Ah, I need to say hi from all the others! Dorian and Bull are scaring the Orlesians and it’s really funny. Trust me. Varric is going to write a book with just their reactions to Bull’s horns. Sera is weird, as usual. She’s not allowed to leave the tavern until after the negotiations are done. Orders from Madame Viv. But Blackwall is keeping Sera company. Who knows what she’d be up to otherwise? 

Solas is really grumpy at me for leaving you behind… and especially not him as well. Do visit his dreams and… you know, cheer him up a bit. He seems happier in the mornings then. 

Okay, Cass just told me to wrap it up. I’ll write again soon! 

P.S. I read in Leliana’s report that you’ve made a baron from Montfort shit his pants by glaring at him. Good one. 

You can do this! 

Thinking of you,

Your Maxwell

***

It felt like not being invited to some kind of party while everybody else was. Only Cole remained at Skyhold. Cassandra did not yet feel comfortable with him around. I was pissed at Maxwell for leaving me behind… even though I had consented to it. It just felt like I was being punished… Though I knew giving me this job was a sign of trust. A sign towards me and the rest of Thedas. I just didn’t know if that trust was… justified. 

I had read the letter three times by now. Over and over again. I wished I was there. Not in Jader, per se, but just on the road. I realized how much I loved sleeping underneath the stars, laughing at the campfire with the others, and dreaming in forgotten ruins along the way.

Sighing, I folded the letter neatly and placed it in the drawer of my desk, among the other letters I had received so far. Max hadn’t lied. He had written every other day or so. I stared at the letter one last time, imagining Maxwell’s inky fingers holding the quill, Cassandra pacing behind him and nagging to hurry up. I closed the drawer and took another letter from the huge stack on the desk. The moon stood high in the night sky. The oil lamp flickered dancing shadows on my room’s walls. I took my letter opener shaped like a miniature sword and sliced open the red wax stamp. 

‘Yuck…’ I grimaced. 

✥

To La Dame Saeris of the Holy Inquisition, to She who resembles Andraste’s ambition.

Oh purest elven maiden fair, with radiant grace and silken hair, I offer you mon cœur and hand, to journey through love's wondrous land. 

Let's dance through glades in moonlit night, in love's embrace, our hearts take flight. Une union blessed by the Maker above, une fantastique tale of endless love. 

So let your heart, like mine, take flight, in this romantic, starry night. Say 'oui' and make my dream come true and be forever mine, just you. 

Your Amour,
Baron troisième du nom Henri Jacques Guillaume Paul-Pierres Moulin-Garnier de Val Chevin

✥

The letter had been written with cursive glittery black ink on thick and heavily perfumed cream paper. The smell of lavender stung my eyes and I sneezed thrice while reading the sad excuse for a poem.

I wanted to throw the letter into the scalding fireplace. But Leliana had scolded me in Josephine’s stead when I had done so with some Duke’s letter yesterday. I was to write a dignified answer to every noble’s request for courtship or marriage. 

I had burned five letters already before she had told me that… 

So, like a good little lady, I took a blank piece of paper. The Inquisition crest was printed along the top and bottom of the letter. It was slightly scented with lilies. Josephine had ordered these to be made especially for my correspondence. 

‘It will make them think highly of you, even if you break their hearts,’ Josephine had said. 

Sighing again, I wrote my usual response.

✵

Dearest Baron Henri Etcetera Moulin-Garnier de Val Chevin, The Third, 

I hope this letter finds you well. I am honoured and grateful for the interest you have shown in me and for your proposal of marriage. Your kindness and consideration are truly appreciated.

However, after long and careful reflection and consideration, I have come to the difficult decision that I must respectfully decline your proposal. Please understand that my decision is not a reflection of your character or station, but rather a result of my own personal feelings and aspirations.

I wish you all the best in your future endeavours, and I hope that we may part as friends. 

With warm regards,
Lady Saeris

✵

I folded the letter neatly, melted some dark maroon wax and dripped a little on the close. Then I took the official Inquisition stamp and pressed it against the hot wax, leaving behind a flaming sword with a glaring eye in its centre. 

‘Gods, I need some air,’ I mumbled to myself when I was finished. I took the letter and dropped it in the basket near my door, where a scout would take it in the morning to deliver it to Leliana. I bound letters for marriage and courtship together with a red ribbon so that the Spymaster knew which letters had to be sent by her most violent ravens. The addressees never dared to respond back after that, in fear of being visited by the pecking beasts again.

Outside, the breeze of Spring greeted me kindly. Still cold, but a hint of warmth curled inside. It was a clear sky, the stars fully on display. I knew Solas would be dreaming now… perhaps waiting for me. 

We hadn’t kissed since the… desk thing. I had just been so occupied reading about Elvhenan and he had been busy researching about Cole, the Warden’s blood magic, and Max’s Anchor. But I didn’t mind that at all. Our dreams together were cosy and warm and perfect just the way they were… deep in the ancient library, where we could just be ourselves. 

It became harder and harder, however, to find Solas in the Fade. It shouldn’t matter that he wasn’t near me, but still, I hadn’t trained to enter one’s dreams at a distance. It was more difficult… More foggy.

I walked down the stairs from the gardens and towards the battlements. At night, the view was truly excellent there. The lights of the torches and tents in the valley resembled the stars in the sky… or fireflies in the Brecilian Forest. Crossing the courtyard, I heard singing and jousting from the tavern.

‘Oooh! The best of us ran when the dreadnought was sighted! Nuggins, Nuggins! For he heard the call. Tripped nine Qunari, and that's why he's knighted! Nuggins, Nuggins! As brave as he's small!’ The happy voices rang out, laughing and giggling. Tankards clanked against each other. ‘Oooh! A shore full of pirates, the worst set to happen. Nuggins, Nuggins! His heart pure and true. Tripped him an admiral, now he's our captain! Nuggins, Nuggins! For me and for you!’

The tavern wasn’t the same without the others there. Now, people moved aside and dipped their heads respectfully. But the setting was cold. Is that what it was always like for Maxwell? 

‘Oooh! The blight was upon us, and we found no pardon. Nuggins, Nuggins! Now he'll make a stand! Tripped up the darkspawn, and now he's a Warden! Nuggins, Nuggins! For all in the land!’ The voices continued. I crossed the door and a warm light greeted me from inside. Scouts and soldiers, mages and ex-templars, healers and fighters were singing at a table. Flissa carried another plateau of beef stew and ale. ‘Oooh! Paraded through Kirkwall as hero and winner! Nuggins, Nuggins! Stubborn and vicious! Tripped up a viscount, now he's for dinner! Nuggins, Nuggins! Of course, he's delicious!’

I continued walking, thinking of song and warmth. Where was Cole hanging out, I wondered. I hadn’t seen him in quite a while. Perhaps he is at the Healer’s tower, helping Aiden with potions and guiding those too far gone into death. Cole popped up now and again, speaking my mind out loud. Then he was gone in a second and no one would quite remember where he went. 

 When I reached the top of the battlements, I turned to the edge and stared at the dark horizon. Hundreds upon hundreds of torches lit up the sky in the valley below. They were indeed like fireflies. I hummed the tavern song softly to myself, my elbows perched on the stone walls, and rested my forehead against the cold bannister. A sharp wind rolled across Skyhold and it felt great. I hadn’t noticed how the heat from my fireplace had been burning my cheeks. Now, my hair twirled wildly around, the skirt of my dress lifting with the wind—which nipped at my ankles playfully. 

All day in suffocating formal wear. But at night, here up high, it was refreshing. 

Finally alone, I thought to myself. 

‘Ahem,’ A sudden voice coughed. 

‘Fuck.’ I gasped and pushed myself straight, feeling how the stone’s carvings were imprinted on my forehead and elbows. 

‘My apologies, I didn’t think anyone would be up here.’ Cullen apologised honestly. 

‘Oh, no it’s okay.’ I sighed back with a small smile. 

‘Are you not cold?’ Cullen’s eyes flickered to my thin a-line gown. Great for meeting nobles, not so great for climbing castles. 

‘I’m alright.’ I grinned and tried wiping away the wrinkles the wind had made on the skirt and bodice. ‘I welcome the breeze.’

Cullen noticed my inky fingers. ‘Ah, taking a break from writing letters as well?’ Cullen stepped to where I stood and leaned against the battlement’s bannister with his arms. 

‘Oh, gods, yes.’ I turned and leaned against the wall next to him. ‘Is it always like that?’

‘Unfortunately, yes.’ He pursed his lips. ‘Though now the nobles know you are taking over for a short while, I presume you get the bulk of it.’

‘Ugh,’ I rolled my eyes. ‘That could be right. Just answered a couple of dozen love letters, requests for petty aid on squabbles and neighbour fights.’

‘Love letters?’ Cullen chuckled. The lights in the valley sparkled in his pupils.

‘A baron with a gazillion names just wrote to me asking if I could say “oui” to his hand in marriage.’ I faked a gag. 

Cullen’s deep laugh rolled over the balustrades, deep into the dale. ‘I presume you’re not taking up his offer.’

I curled up an eyebrow at him and laughed, ‘Of course not.’ I noticed then how deep-set the Commander’s eyes were—how tired he looked. There was a moment of silence before I asked, ‘How have you been sleeping?’

Cullen leaned deeper against the stone battlement and sighed, ‘I fear the concoction the Alchemist makes… does not suffice any longer.’

I cocked my head, hair slipping from behind my ear. I pushed it back. ‘How so?’

‘I—ah…’ Cullen exhaled and scratched his neck awkwardly. ‘After what happened at Haven…’ The words seemed stuck in his throat. ‘It haunts me still. I… will not allow the events at Haven to happen again. But…’

I turned away from Cullen to the view of the valley, staring into the darkness beyond the mountains. The events at Haven… All that had happened… in blood and snow. 

‘You have my word on that.’ His eyes searched mine, but I stayed silent, staring towards the dimming lights below. I understood what he meant. He would protect Skyhold, all of us, with his life. But who knows what the future holds? I would die again in a heartbeat to save them all again. No one could stop me, not even him. 

‘Is that why you cannot sleep?’ That was all I could ask. Fix one issue at a time. 

‘Amongst others.’ Cullen mused. Another silence, full of thoughts and questions. ‘You know, I grew up in Ferelden, near Honnleath.’ Cullen hummed, his eyes following my stare into the dark. ‘I was transferred to Kirkwall shortly after the Blight. Before that, I was stationed at Ferelden’s Circle Tower, Kinloch Hold.’

I turned back to him then, eyes scanning his face curiously, but Cullen did not look back.

‘Back then… that Circle had troubles of its own. I… remained there during the Blight. Though I prefer not to speak of it…’

‘Then you do not have to.’ I interceded.

Cullen shook his head. ‘But I want to tell you .’ He finally looked at me now, eyes piercing into mine. ‘Back then… Ferelden’s Circle had been taken over by… abominations. The Templars— my friends —were slaughtered.’ Cullen pushed himself from the wall, his breath coming out jaggedly as he continued, ‘I was tortured. They tried to break my mind, and I… How can you be the same person after that?’ He sighed, a hand covering his forehead as he frowned. I, like no other, knew what he meant. ‘Still, I wanted to serve. They sent me to Kirkwall. I trusted my Knight-Commander, and for what? Her fear of mages ended in madness. So, Kirkwall’s Circle fell. Innocent people died in the streets. And… I… I just didn’t want to have anything to do with that life anymore…’

‘Cullen…’ Now my voice was stuck in my throat. But the Commander shook his head.

‘You know how Lyrium grants Templars our abilities? But it controls us as well.’ His eyes pierced mine. ‘Those cut off suffer—some go mad, others die. We have secured a reliable source of Lyrium for the ex-Templars here. But I…’ He swallowed and moved his stare from my face to the cold stone floor. ‘I no longer take it.’

‘You stopped?’ I whispered. 

‘It’s been a few months now.’ He said and a silence fell between us for a second, the wind howling by.

‘But… It can kill you.’

‘I will not be bound to the Order—or that life—any longer. Not after what happened at Kirkwall and that Circle… not after I know what had happened to you. Whatever the suffering. I accept it.’

I pushed myself even straighter, forgetting the cold wind pushing against us. ‘Does Maxwell know?’

‘Yes, I have asked the Inquisitor and Cassandra to watch me. If my ability to lead is compromised, I will be relieved from duty.’ Cullen didn’t move as I stopped right in front of him like he was holding his breath. ‘I will not put the Inquisition at risk.’

‘Are you in pain?’ My voice broke a little as I said that. What this man was enduring… is enduring … Though my respect for Templars was hard to find sometimes… this I could respect. 

‘I will endure it.’ Cullen’s voice was softer now, confident. ‘For the Inquisition.’ He said and then added very softly. ‘For all of you.’

I remembered the conversation we had after Haven. How he had questioned if I had died for the Inquisition. For Maxwell. For all of them. I understood. 

‘The… nightmares.’ I looked up at him, trying to mimic his soft breathing. ‘Are they due to your withdrawal?’ 

He inclined his head somewhat shyly. ‘It has become… worse since… Haven.’ He shook his head again, trying to push the memories away. I didn’t want to know which memories… but… 

‘If you want… I can help you.’ I took a step back to have a good look at his face. ‘If Aidan’s potion is no longer working, I can come into your dream and—’

‘Come into my dream?’ Cullen furrowed his eyebrows. 

‘Yes.’ Please let me help you. ‘I have trained and can enter your mind when you’re sleeping. It… I can discover whatever creature is causing your dreams and perhaps… ward you from it.’

‘Does it… hurt?’ Cullen cocked his head, he looked so incredibly tired in the dim moonlight. 

‘No, it does not. It is no possession… Just a visit across borders in the Fade. From my mind to yours.’ I smiled gently at him. I can help him. ‘And I will not do so if you do not consent to it.’

‘And you will see… what I am dreaming about?’ A glint of discomfort in his eyes. 

‘I will… Though I shall not pry, just shield you.’ I rolled back my shoulders, the wind was finally creeping through the fabric of my dress. I hadn’t warded it against the cold… 

‘Then, I would like that.’ He smiled back ever so gently, his voice warm. If I closed my eyes now, I would be back at Daniel’s cottage once more. I shrugged the thought away. 

‘Go to sleep tonight, and if I can find you… I will help.’

‘Thank you.’ Cullen sighed, but this time it was a sigh of relief. The trust this man had, someone who had been hurt so badly by magic, had been warned against it all his life… to let me in like that. 

‘Okay.’ I grinned then, crossing my arms to hold back the cold. ‘I’m off to bed myself now. I’ll freeze otherwise.’

Cullen laughed loudly, his voice filling the dark air around us, echoing off from the battlements into the valley. ‘And I thought you welcomed the breeze.’ He shook off the fur mantle he wore…. that mantle. ‘Here.’ He held it out to me. 

‘Yeah, that was then and this is now.’ I laughed back. ‘And, thanks, but keep it.’ I eyed the cape and pushed back the bile that was creeping up my throat. 

Cullen realised why I had refused—had almost forgotten it in the spur of the moment. He smiled back a little sadly and pulled the cape back on. 

I wasn’t ready to take it yet. 

***

I waded through the fog between dreams, concentrating deeply. In the far distance, dark and whispering lights flickered in the sky. The Black City, ever-present, always too far away. Solas had warned me once, albeit briefly, to ignore its looming presence. Its call. And it wasn’t that hard. A gnawing and stomach-turning feeling in the pit of my stomach warned me to stay away, keep my eyes forward on the dreams or memories I was guiding myself towards. And so I focused on the task at hand.

It shouldn’t be too difficult. I was able to find Solas when he was far away. Cullen is physically nearby and should be unwarded. 

I tried to focus harder. 

A warm and deep voice. Like Daniel. The Commander. Strong but gentle. Ex-Templar. Righteous. Soft scent of Lyrium, fading from his pores. 

I felt another, strange pull behind my navel, like someone else was hauling me in. And I could smell him. Elfroot and grass. Campfire and smoke. Books and magic and ancient. Solas was searching for me, waiting for me.

No. Not tonight. 

I pushed myself deeper into the Fade, hoping Solas could sense that I was okay, but that I was needed elsewhere. 

The fog became a little denser again, the Black City fading.

Blonde hair and golden brown eyes. A deep sense of Ferelden. Of a place like home. A fur mantle like a lion’s mane. An awkward smile. The smell of sweat and ink. The smell of flowers and horses. The smell of a Spring breeze in the night. Commander of the Inquisition. Cullen Rutherford.

The fog started to clear away, speck by speck as if someone was sucking the air out of the room. 

Then, suddenly, I stood at the threshold of Cullen’s barrier. Behind it was his dream, blurry like I was looking through a fogged-up window. 

I pushed against it gently. He was warded, albeit mentally and not magically. Perhaps a relic from his training as a Templar. A great skill to have. Again, I traced my fingers along the invisible border of his dream, my breath adding to the fog within. ‘It’s me,’ I whispered carefully, ‘Saeris.’ I heard my name echoing in whispers along the border. Closing my eyes, I tried to mentally scope the nature of his mental shield. Strong and glistening rock, but brittle and… vulnerable. Once I noticed how friable it was, I could see the many cracks along the stone. Focussing on those increasingly enlarging cracks, I slipped inside the border.

The fog was lifted slowly and Cullen’s dream appeared before me.

It was the first time I entered another living being’s dream, aside from Solas’. But Solas was a Dreamer, could sense me and interact. Cullen was not sensible here. To him, the events were unchangeable and untouchable.

My eyes unfocused and focused again, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. Thick snow covered the small cabins across the centre of what looked like a village. The campfire in its centre was extinguished. However, fresh smoke curled along the scorched lumps of wood. I walked around it, sniffing. No smell, though. 

My ears twitched to pick up any sound around the place. But it was dead silent. Where was Cullen? 

I walked past several cabins, some seemed normal, almost peaceful, and others were mere rubble or burned down violently. But still, no smells, no sounds. Like that had just been an afterthought. I hurried up the stone stairs towards the Chantry on top of the hill. I tried opening its doors, but it wasn’t budging. 

I hadn’t really comprehended where exactly I was. It seemed so unmistakable and recognisable, but also so nondescript. 

However, as I turned back around, something finally clicked. Of course. 

Before me, beyond the little village’s walls, lay a long and white valley, its frozen lake reaching towards the high mountains at the horizon. 

Haven. 

And there, past the wooden gates, I could spot blotches of red and silver. They were like moving droplets of watercolour on a wet canvas. A small bubble in a badly constructed dream. A lazy demon playing with easy prey. 

I ran back down and towards the ramparts of pointed logs. And once I pushed open the gates, a waft of smells and sounds came crashing down on me. This was the centre of the nightmare, a place carefully crafted for one purpose: to feed on the energy of another. 

I tried not to focus on the details, as I had promised Cullen not to pry, but it was near impossible. 

The odour of fire and blood and smoke and death nearly stunned me. And then, I could hear the cries. A thousand of them, unbelievably loud and almost painful. A thousand voices begging for help. But not for my help… for his. Cullen. 

There he stood, pushed back between the snow and blood-covered tents where once recruits had trained. He wore nothing but his linen shirt and pants he slept in. Sweat was gleaning through the fabric, which was sticking to the muscles underneath. His face was an amalgamation of fear, despair, hatred and dismay. I knew then exactly what creature was feeding off of him.

Cullen screamed and cried as he waved the steel sword in front of him tiredly, trying to beckon the hordes of Red Templars away from the village. But in vain. They crept towards him, the next more vile than the other. Blighted and corrupted and… 

Cullen was able to draw his sword through a Red Templar’s chest. The creature fell down to the ground with a loud thud, but another Red Templar from the horde immediately took its place, leaving Cullen with no moment of rest. I eyed the dead Red Templar on the ground and noticed the puffs of blonde hair sprouting from its mangled head. One golden eye opened wide, staring at the sky. 

All of the Red Templars, the entire horde, were blighted versions of the proud Commander of the Inquisition. He was fighting nightmare versions of himself. An eternal and losing battle.

Cullen roared as he killed another Red Templar version of himself. As the next one limped towards him, Cullen turned around and desperately eyed the pile of armour behind him. It was his cape with the lion’s mane along with his usual armour. It laid there for the taking, would protect him in this fight… But it was covered in a glowing and putrid blue liquid.

Lyrium.

Deep anger bubbled in my throat. I was ready to fight the demon doing this to Cullen, but then the dream kept getting worse.

More cries and moans rang through Haven’s valley. And there, towards the trebuchets, was a pile of clothes… moving clothes… No. Corpses. A mass grave. But they were Undead, moaning with agony and clawing toward Cullen.

‘Help us!’ They wailed. ‘Why aren’t you saving us? What have you done? We trusted you!’

They were voices I recognized. Cassandra, Josephine, Leliana, the Iron Bull and Dorian. No… more… Sera and Solas, Vivienne, Cole, Varric… Maxwell. All of the Inquisition, Undead and crying out in pure terror. There were other pools of dead: recruits, healers and soldiers were littered across the battlefield, their eyes milky white. Some looked like Cullen, some female and some children. His family. 

And a little beyond the trebuchet, I saw a woman. Her screams echoed through the valley all the way to where I stood. Too far away to protect, too close to ignore. A group of Red Templars surrounded her. They killed her again and again. But she kept getting up. Her white dress was covered in crimson blood, and one of her pointed ears was cut off. Her pure white hair was plastered on her face, her eyes pleading for death. One soft blue… and one vibrant emerald. 

I turned away my head. I shouldn’t see this. I mustn’t. 

‘Despair!’ I screamed. The creature would know its name. ‘Stop this!’

Cullen ignored my call and continued fighting like he hadn’t heard me at all. However, one of the Red Templars raised its ugly head. The golden eyes so hateful. 

‘There you are.’ I mumbled. 

‘Do not intervene, Dreamer.’ The demon spat. It crept towards me slowly, large and powerful and blighted. But I could see through its disguise. 

‘I will warn you only once more.’ I called back. 

Hope. That is what it had once been before it had been defiled and corrupted into Despair. The absence of hope. The opposite. That was exactly what Cullen feared the most. And the demon had crafted something that worked so well. But it had been Hope once. A pure and kind spirit. What had turned it into this? And could it be turned back?

The demon laughed. ‘Fool. Perhaps you shall be my next meal.’ 

‘You were Hope once. You can be so again.’ I ignored its retort and tried one more time.

The demon cocked its mangled head. ‘Perhaps,’ it mused. A flicker of hope. But then, that’s what it wanted, just to take it away again. ‘Or… you may join me, Dreamer, and you can free me!’

I sighed. I had tried. But this nightmare had gone on too long. Cullen had suffered enough. Closing my eyes, I sensed the fabric of the demon’s grasp on this dream, its place in the Fade, and its weaknesses. 

‘Stop it!’ the demon realised what I was doing and growled.

But I stayed calm, focusing on Cullen’s wall and the fog behind it. Brick by brick, I built a wall of my own, protecting his brittle one. But my wall was one of black adamant and scorching wind, of stone and ice and fire. This place was mine as well now. 

‘No!’ The demon lunged towards me.

I opened my eyes and raised my hands. ‘This place is not yours. You are no longer welcome.’ My voice sounded like a deep hum, echoing over the valley and the mountains beyond. With a wave of my hand, I ordered my wall to establish itself. I ordered it to remove any unwanted creatures. And with a hard crack, the demon was pushed away, deep into the unforgiving fog beyond—back into the abyss from where it came. 

The blood disappeared along with the smells and the screams. No more Red Templars, no more Lyrium-covered armour, no more wailing corpses and undying friends. No more snow. No more Haven. Just Cullen. 

Cullen dropped his sword, eyes blank, body solid. He could wake up now, but I didn’t let him yet. This dream was ours. My wall and his. And I would protect it. Carefully, I imagined where Cullen would be at rest. And I remembered Honnleath and lush Fereldan fields. I thought of kind hounds playing in the grass, children laughing, people singing. It was beautiful. And I saw how his eyes reflected the beauty again. Calm and golden like the sun. Here, he would be peaceful. 

And maybe once, I would’ve been too. 

I took a step back again and again, softly melting my wall with his. This dream is now Cullen’s again. Not ours. Not mine. 

Walking back beyond the border, into the fog, I looked back once more. Cullen sat himself underneath the shades of a large tree and looked at the horizon.

I left his mind then. No more a nightmare of despair. But a dream of hope.

Notes:

Happy holidays everyone! Again a mega thanks to nerdsaretotallyawesome for being an awesome beta!

Chapter 53: Relayed

I woke up in my large, velvet-covered bed. The morning sun shone through the crack of my shudders, along the slit of the curtains and across my bare feet as I pushed the covers off of me.

Legs and arms spread open like a starfish, I lay in bed, feeling how the rays of sun glowed through my nightgown. After a couple of seconds, I took a deep breath and pushed myself out of bed.

I tiptoed to the other room of my quarters, where my desk stood along with the short hallway that led outside. A scout had already taken the basket with letters to Leliana. Soon, a new and empty one would be presented there again. 

Two servants, one male elf and one female human, were opening the curtains of the room. The male elf placed a tray with food on my desk, carefully avoiding the pile of letters—which had become even higher since last night. Thanks, Leliana. 

‘Good morning,’ I said politely as I entered the room.

The human girl, merely eighteen, I guessed, gasped and bowed deeply. The male elf, who looked roughly the same age as the girl, bowed even deeper and said: ‘Andaran atish’an, Milady.’ 

‘It’s okay, relax.’ I laughed and signed for them to straighten up. 

The human girl did so awkwardly and said, without looking at me directly, ‘I shall prepare your morning bath.’ 

‘Ah, thank you.’ I tried to smile as nonchalantly as possible, but I was immensely uncomfortable every time there were servants in my room. ‘You may fill the tub with cold water.’

The human girl looked confused but nodded and stalked off towards the bathroom.

The male elf also resumed his normal posture and arranged the platter of food neatly, pouring me a hot cup of herbal tea. ‘Your breakfast, Milady,’ he said. 

‘Thank you!’ Act normal and kind. Not scary . The last two servants had left my quarters crying because I had glared at them, I think. I was just cranky—not particularly a morning person. ‘You may just call me Saeris.’ I walked towards the desk, but the male elf shuffled a little further away as I neared. ‘What’s your name?’ If I kept up the small talk, maybe they wouldn’t feel so awkward. 

‘Sorris,’ the elf said quietly. 

‘No, it’s okay. I just want to know your name so I can address you as I should,’ I tried to explain and took a sip from my tea. 

The elf turned bright red. ‘N… No, Milady… Lady Saeris… My name is Sorris .’

‘Ah,’ I nearly spat. ‘I’m sorry, Sorris. I thought you said sorry, not Sorris—ugh, you know what I mean.’

‘Yes, Milady,’ the elf said. I raised an eyebrow and took another sip of tea. 

‘Lady Saeris,’ Sorris added hastily. 

‘You… may resume your duties. I don’t want to keep you from them,’ I said after a moment of silence and seeing how red the man was becoming. I glanced at him, his lanky figure, deep olive skin, chocolate-coloured hair and dark brown eyes. No Vallaslin. Perhaps once a city elf. Sorris perked up as I released him, immediately grabbing some things.

At that moment, the human servant came back into the room. ‘Your bath is ready, Milady.’ She bowed deeply. 

‘Thank you.’ I nodded at her. 

She bowed back and beckoned Sorris to follow her. ‘We shall leave you be, Milady.’

‘Okay.’ I cocked my head as the servants shuffled to the doors. 

‘Again, thanks for your help,’ I called after them and added; ‘You too, Sorris!’ 

The male elf almost ran out the door. 

Sighing, I took another sip of tea and tore a piece of dark bread from the big loaf. Why did they bring me so much? I am not Qunari, I don’t eat like a dragon. 

Still munching on the bread, I strolled to the cold stone bath, which was embedded into the floor. The coldness was the only thing that could truly wake me up. I undressed and cursed loudly as I lowered myself in. After a second or ten, I summoned fire to my hands and lowered them underwater. After another second, the water turned hot.

I resumed the normal tasks of the day then: I dressed in a simple green linen dress with a Ferelden-style bodice and answered some more letters. By midday, I strolled towards Leliana’s rookery. Sometimes, she had updates on Maxwell and I liked to check regularly. 

To reach the rookery, I crossed the throne room and slipped into the rotunda. I didn’t want any nobles to see me walking by, or I would be stuck there for hours. The rotunda was awfully quiet without Solas here. No shuffling of papers, or the scratching of pens or pencils on parchment… or on the walls. There was no deep chuckle as I entered either. 

I realised that I missed him. 

I stared around the circular room. The drawings on the wall didn’t make any sense yet. But they were a promise of something great. I was curious to see what Solas would paint over time. Besides the painting supplies and the parchment and the books on the desk, there was no real sign of him here. I knew he didn’t sleep here. He had his own quarters in the main building. But I had never been there. 

Do I want to be there? 

Trying not to think about Solas’ room and… his bed , I walked up the spiralling stairs, passing by Dorian’s library and towards the rookery. There, covered in the lingering darkness of the morning, feeding her crows like a gentle mother, stood the Spymaster. 

Leliana told me she had received a large report from Maxwell this morning on the results of the negotiation at Jader. 

‘Looks like that ball at the Winter Palace is going to be… exciting,’ she said after she had summarised the report to me. The civil war in Orlais had not been resolved. Moreover, the relationship between Empress Celene and Grand Duke Gaspard de Chalons was under severe stress. We knew from what Maxwell had seen in the future, that Empress Celene would be assassinated. And we had to stop it. But is Gaspard the one to do it? Well, Maxwell doubted it—as he said in his report: ‘Gaspard is a renowned Chevalier and holds his traditions in great esteem. Though insufferable, I don’t think he wants to take the throne by assassination. But still, he might try something else.’ 

Leliana folded the report and put it back on her desk. 

The rookery was dark, ravens flying in and out of the tiny windows in the wall. 

‘The Inquisitor is on his way by boat to the Heartlands by now. It should take him about a week,’ Leliana answered my silent question. The last time I travelled by boat, it was on Vivienne’s ship. It took us two weeks then to travel a similar distance. But Maxwell was taking a military vessel this time, thrice as fast and efficient as any noble’s pleasure yacht. 

‘And, lest I forget, I have sent out your letters. You are becoming quite proficient at answering them.’ Leliana grinned at me from underneath her hood. 

‘Yeah,’ I grinned back, ‘but don’t think I’ll make this my full-time job!’

‘You would excel in it, though,’ she answered. 

I shrugged. ‘Maybe, but I prefer… the other action.’ 

‘Ah, I can understand.’ Leliana smiled with a hint of melancholy. I knew she had been a bard and a rogue once… travelled with the Hero of Ferelden and went on great adventures. ‘There is action here, but it is different. Though one I appreciate the longer I do it.’ Her voice was soft and gentle. I wished I could hear her sing one day.

In the afternoon, I met several Fereldan nobles hailing from Denerim. We spoke of the Inquisition's aid in the area, as well as requisitions needed to continue this aid. Finally, after the meetings, I was able to take some time to check up on Cullen in his office across the main building, up on the battlements. 

The Commander, however, seemed busy as I entered through the open door. 

‘I said to get the official seal on that order!’ he yelled as I entered, perhaps thinking I was a scout. 

‘I’ll make sure of that,’ I joked. 

‘Oh, it’s you.’ Cullen looked up, his stern face relaxing as he eyed me. 

‘I see you’re busy. I won’t keep you for long.’ I strolled to his desk, littered with letters and orders and maps of huge areas. ‘I just wanted to see how you are… feeling.’ 

Cullen straightened his back and bound his hands behind his back, as Solas often did. A gentle smile curled on the Commander’s lips. ‘I’m doing fine today, thanks to you.’

‘That’s good to hear.’ I leaned against the bookcase next to Cullen’s desk. 

‘Indeed.’ Cullen scratched his neck. ‘Though, I must say, it was a strange experience.’

‘Do you remember any of it?’

‘Not entirely. I had this nightmare, a recurring one since… Haven. And then I think I heard you say something, but I don’t know what. After that, the dream turned… good.’ He cocked his head at me, unsure of how to describe it. 

‘A Despair demon was causing it, your nightmares,’ I said. ‘I banished it and warded your dream from the inside. You should be fine for a while. Though you should tell me if it or something else returns.’

‘You make it sound so easy,’ he sighed, eyes piercing mine curiously. ‘What does it feel like? To walk the Fade?’

I took a second to think. ‘It’s hard to describe. It’s like here, but… different. When I walk between dreams, there’s a fog. And then a wall I have to cross and…’ Cullen’s face looked utterly confused. I laughed loudly at that. ‘Just think of it like daydreaming. You have a say in what you’re thinking of because you’re conscious.’

‘Curious.’ Cullen smiled back. I’m sure I was talking pure gibberish to him. After a moment of laughter, his face turned somewhat serious again. ‘Did you… see what I was dreaming of?’

‘A little. I knew you were in Haven. But I focused mainly on the demon,’ I tried to say casually, hoping my eyes didn’t betray me. It didn’t matter what I had seen. Or that I had recreated Honnleath just to give him some peace of mind after his horrible ordeal of a nightmare. 

‘Good,’ Cullen sighed quietly. ‘Thank you, again, for what you have done. I will… not forget it.’

‘That’s… what friends do,’ I said gently. Because that is what we were? Friends? It felt like friendship.

‘That’s true,’ Cullen smiled back. There was a flicker of something I didn’t recognise behind his eyes. 

***

That night, I visited Cullen again, though I didn’t enter his dream. My wall was still intact and the dream behind it was as well. Without prying any further, I walked back to my own space in the Fade.

I looked for Solas after that for what felt like hours. I tried to pick up his presence, but nothing. I even called out his name, but the fog beyond was silent. Perhaps he was too tired to visit the Fade… or perhaps too far away. 

***

Four days went by. I hadn’t heard Solas since he had tried to connect with me when I was helping Cullen. Every night since I searched for him… But then the days became busier, and it became harder and harder to visit the Fade at night. 

I missed him. A feeling I hadn’t thought would come so soon. I missed his voice, his smell, his library… his mouth on mine. I missed my one friend who understood me as I am. As he is .

Maxwell had written me another letter detailing his journey to the Heartlands and the Orlesian cities and villages they had sailed past on their way. I was writing a response, the sun high in the sky already, when a polite but stern knock sounded on my door.

‘Come on in!’ I called back, my neck straining to see who came inside. 

‘Lady Saeris!’ Josephine's face popped up from behind the door. Her rich dark brown curls were braided into a beautiful hairdo on top of her head. She stepped inside, her face as radiant as her yellow ruffled dress. 

‘Josephine!’ I stood up from my chair excitedly and walked towards her. ‘How have you been?’ 

She met me halfway through the room and gave me a polite curtsy. ‘It has been quite the journey,’ she grinned. ‘It was very interesting to travel with the Inquisitor this way,’ she said and tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear. ‘He and Lady Cassandra are… well, different outside of Skyhold.’

I laughed. ‘Yeah, I know.’ I waved my hand to one of the two armchairs in front of my fireplace. ‘Please sit! How was Jader and the negotiations?’

‘Thank you.’ Josephine dipped her head and sat down. ‘The political situation in the Empire is dangerously unstable,’ she sighed deeply. ‘It will complicate matters even more. Let us hope the Inquisitor does not find anything worrying in the Western Approach.’

‘Well, if I know something about the Empire of Orlais, it’s their tendency to complicate things. It’s like their favourite pastime.’ I pursed my lips. ‘So… we’re still going to that Winter Palace?’ 

‘Of course!’ She sat a little straighter then. ‘Empress Celene has announced the Ball officially at Jader, though we were already invited by Gaspard. The Grand Masquerade will be the perfect moment to hold another round of defying peace talks. Every power in Orlais will be there.’

‘A masquerade?’ I failed to hide the disdain in my voice. ‘... with masks?’

‘Of course,’ Josephine grinned but then turned serious. ‘We must be vigilant, though, it will be the perfect occasion for an assassination.’

‘I’m already looking forward to it,’ I grimaced. Murder plots and formal dancing. Great.

‘Speaking of the Winter Palace…’ Josephine wiggled her eyebrows. ‘I have brought some fabrics and motifs for you to try on.’ She pointed to the huge trunk in my hallway. How hadn’t I noticed that before?

‘Ah… Maxwell had mentioned something like that.’ I tried not to sound too against the idea of dressing up. Josephine was just trying to do good. But still, I had to try: ‘Do I have to dress up? Do I even need to really attend…’

‘Of course you do!’ Josephine interceded and clasped her hands together. ‘All figureheads of the Inquisition must attend.’ She shuffled a little forward on her seat, eyes big and excited. ‘Especially you. I have heard of the many letters you have been receiving. You have a sway with the Imperial Court, whether you like it or not.’

‘But the dresses… Will everyone be dressing up?’

‘Yes, though, we must find a unifying element that ties us together as a group. Maybe a certain colour palate or a sash? I’m still thinking about it.’

‘Great,’ I smiled back, albeit forcibly.

Josephine continued talking about ‘The Game’ and the importance of keeping up appearances. Everything meant something, all smiles had implications, all manners of dress had deeper meanings, and every colour had a secret message. At that, Josephine pulled out the fabrics and the motifs for me to try on. Every piece of cloth was more precious than the other.

‘I have considered a deep and vibrant red.’ Josephine pulled out a quilted blood-red cloth. ‘It will stand out amongst the crowd and will send a message of passion to our allies… and a message of violence to our enemies.’ She held the cloth next to my astonished face. ‘Though, it is definitely not your colour.’ 

‘Thanks,’ I grinned at her.

‘My apologies, I did not mean to be rude.’

‘No, you’re right. It’s too much.’ 

‘It is a colour perhaps best suited for the Inquisitor, along with gold,’ Josephine continued, perhaps more to herself than to me. She then took some other pieces of fabric. These ones were jewel-toned. Deep midnight and sky-coloured blues, soft purples, vibrant greens… 

My eyes flickered to the blues… a colour I had always been drawn to. 

Josephine held some of the fabrics next to my face and smiled gently. ‘These are better,’ she sighed. ‘Which colour do you prefer?’

I stared at the options before me. ‘The blue ones,’ I said after a while. I touched the fabrics Josephine had laid on my legs. Soft and silky. 

‘They indeed look stunning on your complexion.’ Josephine cocked her head. ‘And what about the emerald…’

‘No,’ I interrupted her, ‘I… It’s too much with the eye,’ I explained.

Again, Josephine nodded. ‘I will order a few dresses to be made in hues of blue… and perhaps some of other jewel tones, so you have a variety to choose from.’ Her eyes glittered with excitement. 

‘Alright,’ I sighed… I wanted to add that I preferred Fereldan-style dresses… Or even Nevarran. As long as they were not the ludicrous ruffled puffy ones from Orlais. But I didn’t dare say it. Looking at the dresses Josie wore, even today… I might insult her. 

We talked some more after that, about dresses and court intrigues, about dancing—and the ones I would have to learn—and about the civil war. 

I wanted to tell Josephine about the Orlais from a century ago, about the war with Ferelden and the ferocity and brutality of the Orlesian armies. I wanted to tell her of the poison and what it had done to men, women and children. What it had done with my clan. The honour of the Empire of the Sun—the home of the Divine… it was so… fragile. 

I swallowed the words. Perhaps I should leave it in the past. Perhaps. 

Josephine left a while later to meet with the other advisors. She seemed happy. But all I was left with was an inexplicable pit in my stomach. 

***

It was late again that night—the pile of letters neverending. With a sigh, I folded the last letter of the night, pressed the wax seal on it, and placed it in the basket near my door. 

I shuffled to my bedroom, pulled the ribbon that was holding my hair up and let it fall in waves over my face. After undressing, I crawled into the bed. 

So… tired. 

I hoped I would be able to reach the Fade tonight. 

***

I had carefully crafted my dream tonight to resemble anything but my room in Skyhold… No stone walls, no desks with letters, no fabrics or laughing women… No ravens, no guarding soldiers, no windows that opened up to mountaintops with eternal snow. 

The scene before me unravelled: the sun stood high in the sky, its glowing rays glistening against the gentle waves of the deep blue sea. Not the Waking Sea… no, the Amaranthine Sea, the Sea of Rialto Bay bordering Antiva and Rivain. 

I curled my toes and buried them beneath the soft and pearly white sand, each grain an almost perfect crystal. The air—a breeze of a welcoming summer—smelled of salt and citrus. Fresh and soothing.

I inhaled and exhaled as if in meditation, trying to take up as much as possible. I could’ve stayed here all night long.

But then, past the horizon, within the dense fog of the Fade, I felt him. Finally.

A cascading wind picked up along the beach, the sky turning grey with it. The sea groaned—the waves growing as if hungry to reach me. Beckoning me. He’s here. 

I stood up and brushed some of the sand off me that the wind hadn’t taken already, and hurried to the warded border of my dream. My heart seemed to stop as I noted his shadow behind the wall. A hand caressed it wearily. Can’t he sense me? I placed my hand against his, the wall of hardened wind and mind between us slowly dissipating. And then our palms touched. My hand was warm and clammy against his cold fingers, which twitched as he realised my touch. 

‘Solas?’ My voice cracked a little. 

The barrier around my dream buzzed as Solas stepped inside. Behind me, the beach and the Amaranthine Sea slowly whirled away into a scenery known to both of us: Skyhold’s courtyard. 

I looked Solas up and down. His skin appeared already sun-kissed, the soft freckles on his cheekbones more visible than usual. He wore a simple white linen overshirt, his slightly tanned skin peeking from underneath its collar, and brown cotton breeches that were tucked into his usual leather footwraps. Solas’ eyes, as grey as the Amaranthine Sea had become just now, looked tired and worried as they stared into mine.

I took a step back as he walked hurriedly inside. He stopped right in front of me and grabbed my forearms, albeit gently. ‘Saeris?’ Even his voice sounded exhausted.

‘Yes, it’s me… Are you alright?’ 

Solas sighed and released my arms. ‘I… I could not reach you. Then, some nights ago, I heard you. I called you. And then you were gone.’ His lips formed a thin line. ‘Where have you been, da’len?’ He sounded somewhat angry or perhaps frustrated. 

‘I’m okay, I’m sorry—it’s been busy.’ I shrugged and took another step back. Busy and boring… I had looked forward to seeing Solas again. I had missed him. But this was not the reunion I had expected… had yearned for these last couple of days. ‘I heard you too that night, but… I was kind of helping someone.’

‘Helping someone? Who?’ Solas took a step closer. His chest heaved up and down, as if it took so much energy being here. Maybe it was difficult to enter someone’s dream from far away. 

‘The Commander,’ I scratched the back of my neck, pushing aside my long braid. ‘He had trouble sleeping and it was beyond a potion’s aid.’ I kind of felt guilty, as if it was wrong to enter someone else’s dream aside from Solas’… as if it was some form of cheating on something that was once exclusive to us. As if I had ignored him to dream with another. I stared into Solas’ eyes, and saw a flicker of anger. ‘And… well, it was a Despair demon and I took care of it.’ Don’t be angry, be proud —I thought to myself.

‘I ought to tell you how dangerous this is, but I do not doubt you know yourself.’ He bound his hands behind his back again—that damned stand-offish stance I both loved and despised. Solas furrowed his brows as I remained silent. ‘Saeris.’ His voice sounded harsh and tired. ‘Though you have shown an unseen talent of Fade mastery, I assure you that entering another’s dream when that person is in a panicked state is unwise. A Despair demon is powerful. And dangerous. You should know this.’ Solas paced around me, his eyes focusing on my fidgeting hands. ‘You could have been locked in.’

‘I am stronger than you think,’ I raised my voice slightly, my hands now fists beside me. Does he think so little of me? ‘I know Cullen, I fixed his dream quickly and easily.’ I emphasised the last word. ‘I did everything you’ve taught me: I slipped inside his dream, I left a way out for myself, then disguised myself thoroughly, banished the demon—and I even tried to give it a chance to leave willingly, to find its original purpose again—and then I fixed Cullen’s dream and left.’

Solas had stopped pacing, his focus now solely on my face. He contemplated and then answered: ‘A demon finds a way.’

I groaned in desperation. The sky above us turned darker as I started pacing around this time. Why was he like this? Why wasn’t he glad of my accomplishment? Of seeing me? 

‘You do not think I could handle a petty nightmare?’

‘I think you are capable of anything you set your mind to.’ I hadn’t realised I had stopped pacing right in front of him. Solas’ warm breath caressed my cheeks.

‘Then why are you upset?’

Solas took a moment to answer, his voice low. ‘If something were to happen… I cannot reach you. I am too far away.’ His eyes grew softer then, as did mine.

I let my hand graze his’ and sighed. ‘You don’t need to be worried.’

Solas’ fingers twitched as they touched mine. They were more calloused than I remembered. He slowly reached his other hand up to my face, until his palm cupped my cheek. His thumb stroked my cheekbone so gently. At that gesture, the dark sky above the empty courtyard cleared up and I sighed deeply. ‘There are so few meaningful things I can do here, Solas. Write letters, smile prettily, but it is nothing compared to what you’re doing, aiding Maxwell, being there… If I can help any way I can… even if by assuring our Commander is well-rested, then I must do this. Don’t you understand that?’

Solas cursed something in our ancient language, but I didn’t understand what he had said exactly. ‘You are doing more than you will ever realise.’ His hand had warmed against my face. ‘I shall teach you how to safely enter another person’s dreams. However, please, ma falon, wait for my return to do so again.’ His hand slid from my cheek to my chin, and gently pulled my face upward to his. ‘I cannot bear the thought…’

He had been worried, scared even, when he hadn’t been able to reach me. It had been so difficult from afar, and when he finally found me, I disappeared. And he couldn’t reach me. Couldn’t check up on me, not even in the waking world. He cared. I knew he cared. And even though I couldn’t die and he knew that, he still cared, he still worried endlessly. And I had been selfish once again.

And then my lips were on his.

He opened his mouth to mine. A soft but agreeing groan escaped his lips. I would dream of that groan until he returned to me. I threw my hands over his shoulders and pressed my body against his own. Solas grasped his hands behind my lower back and held me against him. Deep scents of forest and grass and ancient magic emanated from him and I could drown in them. I slid my tongue against his—wanting more, wanting anything he could give me. Everything. We broke apart briefly, our heavy breathing mingling in the air between us, before diving back in for another kiss, even deeper and more fervent than before. As if we could disappear into one another. I moved my hands to his chest, feeling his even heartbeat quickening as I dared my hands to go lower.

Solas groaned again, his brows furrowing, but his kiss deepened even more. Our hands roamed freely, caressing and exploring every inch of exposed skin: our necks, our face, a sliver of chest. His touch ignited every nerve in my body, like an electrical current surged between us. Time seemed to stand still as we lost ourselves in the intoxicating sensation of being so close, so connected, forgetting everything else except the taste and feel of each other. His breath could fill my entire body.

I was ready, I realised, to give myself to someone again. To allow those feelings, those vulnerabilities to be laid bare. I could be with Solas. It had been so long ago I had felt this with anyone. Not just longing, but deeper. My hand roamed to his belt and to the growing warmth concealed beneath it.

Solas broke off our kiss, his hand on my wrist. A smile danced around his wet lips, but then he shook his head and brought my hands to his chest again. To his heart. His voice sounded choked, as if with a thirst that could bring me to my knees. ‘Not yet. Not here. Not now.’

‘I’m sorry—‘ I started, disappointment coating my voice.

‘No.’ He swallowed hard, a look in his eyes so predatory… and I wanted him to devour me whole. ‘Do not be.’

He stepped away from me. ‘I will not be asleep for much longer.’ The excuse lingered between us. ‘The sun is rising.’

‘Where are you?’

‘Not far from Val Foret.’ Solas bit his bottom lip and closed his eyes, as if still savouring the taste of me. ‘I will not be able to find you again until my journey… home.’

Home. To me.

I nodded and sighed, trying to hush my trembling hands who still wanted to explore more of him. It will be a hard couple of weeks. ‘Be safe.’ My voice was hoarse.

Solas took a step closer again and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. He looked back down to me, his eyes brighter than before. ‘Promise me to not enter another’s dream again before my return. Sul em, sathan.’

‘I promise. For you.’ I swallowed down the tears I didn’t allow to reach my eyes. It felt childish. He would return. I just felt so… alone. I had been fine with being alone for so long. It hadn’t bothered me. But these last days… the letters, the politics, the whispers,…

The contours of Solas’ shoulders became blurry. I knew we were both waking up. I could already feel the warmth of the sun on my arm, glistening through the curtains. It would be weeks before we would see each other again. Not even in our dreams…

Solas once again cupped my face in his hands. His lips pressed against mine softly. He let go and then moved his lips to my forehead. He again pressed his lips to my skin. He tightened his jaw—as if it took every effort to release me.

‘Be back soon, Solas.’ I stared into his eyes and he into mine—already forgetting we were ever frustrated in the beginning of this dream. Only that kiss lingered.

***

I woke up with my sheets tossed all around the bed, my hair a mess atop my head. And yet, the bed had never felt so soft. I groaned and stroked my hand against my head to my neck, to my stomach, feeling the slick sweat sticking to my skin… between my legs.

I cursed myself for not being able to enter the Fade sooner, to find him sooner. Of course, I didn’t regret helping Cullen that night… But still, Solas had done his job well—I would only dream of him in the coming weeks.

***

Almost two weeks had gone by. The days had been long and the nights even longer. I had continued my correspondence as adjunct-inquisitor, joined war meetings with Cullen, Leliana and Josephine—the latter had taken some of her time to talk me through the Orlesian court, which mask belonged to which family, which manner of dress meant what, which flutter of a fan displayed which emotion. Tomorrow, she would give me some dance lessons—and I was already not looking forward to it.

As Solas had said, I hadn’t seen him in the Fade since our last encounter. Not even a sign of him between the fog of dreams. And yet, every night – whether I was in the Fade or not, I thought of him, of his scent, his breath, his lips on mine, his hands against my back, his body against mine. To not become completely mad at the thought of him, I tried to spend every minute of the day working hard—setting my mind to anything but him. I tried hard to be tired, to sleep dreamlessly at night. I got up early every morning, splashed icy water in my face to wake me up completely and start the day.

Maxwell’s letters had become less frequent as he ventured deeper into the Western Approach. His one-day-trip to Val Foret had been fruitful though: he had strengthened the political bond with a few well-informed and well-endowed Orlesian nobles, whose gold would undoubtedly find its way to the much-needed Inquisitions’ requisitions. After his stay, Maxwell and company continued on to the scalding desert in the west. Once there, there wasn’t much to write home about except for the heat. ‘Solas is so lucky he knows the magic to prevent sunburn on a bald head.’ Maxwell had written in one of his letters. I had not been able to get the idea of Solas with a sunburn out of my head for the rest of the day.

There were, however, worrisome signs of Tevinter and Magisters left behind in the ruins of the Approach. More and more the closer they came to that Ritual Tower. Had they reached it already? What had they learned? What had been happening to the Grey Wardens? What was Corypheus planning?

We would learn soon. I was going through some tasks with Leliana in her room at the top of the tower when one of her favourite ravens flew through one of the many windows. I perked up from the other letter I was reading—one from the horse master and his request for more hay—when Leliana gently eased the raven to her wrist and loosened the letter from the pouch bound around its neck and stomach—like a little travel bag.

‘Is it from Maxwell?’ I stood up—of course I knew it had been his letter, I could see the wax seal on the close… and I could recognise Max’s unrefined but cute handwriting from afar. I furrowed my brows, however, as I noted how hurriedly it had been written.

Leliana’s face turned even more serious than normal, her eyes scanning the words on the paper over and over again. Then, her eyes flickered to mine.

‘Ready the war room and call the Commander as well as the Ambassador immediately,’ she ordered sternly to the soldier at the door. When he didn’t fall into action immediately, the Spymaster raised her voice. ‘Now!’ It echoed through the tower, to the library, all the way down to the rotunda below.

‘What's wrong?’ I couldn’t hide the fear in my voice.

Leliana gave me the letter, her lips a thin line, her eyes becoming darker underneath her hood.

I almost yanked the letter from her pale hands.

✵

Leliana, it is as we feared. Corypheus has managed to create a false Calling to the Grey Wardens. They have been compromised. We must act now. 

The wardens have been manipulated into doing some kind of blood magic by a Venatori magister called Livius Erimond of Vyrantium. He’s working with Corypheus. It’s bad, Leliana. It’s really bad. The wardens are willingly performing blood magic that binds them to demons as well as to Corypheus’s will. They think that by doing so, they can send the demons into the Deep Roads to fight the darkspawn and kill the Old Gods as they sleep. The Wardens do not realise they are creating an army for Corypheus. It’s the demon army I saw in the future. The army that destroys us all. 

Erimond was able to flee after a confrontation with us. 

Gather our forces as quickly as possible. I will be awaiting the troops at our camp near the Adamant Fortress. We have to go to war with the Grey Wardens. And it has to happen now. 

I will relay another report to you as soon as possible,
Maxwell

✵

I read the letter again and again as Leliana called orders all around. Then, my eyes flickered back to hers. Leliana’s eyes gleamed as she stared back at me. ‘Seems like you will be joining the action in the Western Approach after all.’

I swallowed. ‘May your Maker keep us.’

Notes:

WHO'S EXCITED FOR DRAGON AGE: THE VEILGUARD?! *violent screaming*

Chapter 54: Marched

“We pass tales around our campfires of the things we have seen shrouded in the dust storms. My favourites are the ones about relics that could restore the Western Approach once more... but I don't believe them. Truth be told, on nights when the wind is calm, I can stand on a hilltop and see for miles in the moonlight over a stark beauty of which no other Orlesian can claim to know the equal. On those nights, I hope it will never change.”

— From Lands of the Abyss by Magistrate Gilles de Sancriste

 

***

‘Adamant Fortress has stood against the Darkspawn since the time of the Second Blight.’ Leliana was bent over the war table, the Commander and the Ambassador at her side. Their faces were grim. I stood next to Josephine, my eyes fixated on the red pin on Orlais’ map. Adamant Fortress. At least a month away if we took the necessary shortcuts. 

It had been five days since we had received Max’s worrying letter. More had followed, detailing the ritual the Wardens had performed, the nonsense Magister Erimond had spewed… and the clues he had spilled about the Anchor. After an emergency war meeting, Cullen had already ordered the troops to gather for the trip. Skyhold had been abuzz with soldiers and mages packing for war. Leliana had sent her spies to scout the area and find anything there was to find about Adamant and the Magister. Josephine had nearly locked herself in her study, writing letters and declarations to any who could help. Dance lessons would have to wait.

‘Fortunately for us, that means it was built before the age of modern siege equipment.’ Cullen crossed his arms, concentration burning in his eyes. He looked to Leliana, then to me and finally to Josphine. ‘A good trebuchet will do major damage to those ancient walls. And thanks to our Lady Ambassador…’

Josephine nodded at her cue. ‘Lady Seryl of Jader was pleased to lend the Inquisition her sappers. Maxwell had made quite an impression. They’ve already delivered the trebuchets.’ Her eyes flicked to Leliana in concern.

‘That is the good news.’ Leliana tried to give a small smile to Josephine. I bet it made her worry even more. ‘The bad news is that none of this accounts for the Wardens summoning a giant demon army.’

‘The Inquisition forces can breach the gate, but if the Wardens already have their demons…’ Cullen raised an eyebrow at the Spymaster. 

‘I found records of Adamant’s construction. There are choke points we can use to limit the field of battle.’ Leliana pointed to the ancient blueprints on the other side of the table.

'That's good.’ Cullen squinted his eyes at the papers. ‘We may not be able to defeat them outright, but if we cut off reinforcements, we can carve the Inquisitor and his Inner Circle a path to Warden-Commander Clarel.’

‘Is that our only option? There will be many casualties…’ I said. All three looked my way. 

Cullen gave me an understanding smile, his eyes warm. ‘It’ll be hard-fought, no way around it. But we’ll get that gate open.’

‘It’s also possible that some Wardens may be sympathetic to our cause,’ Josephine said matter-of-factly. 

Leliana nodded. ‘The warriors may be willing to listen to reason, though I doubt they will turn against Clarel directly.’ She clasped her hands behind her back, her eyes grim as she turned to me. ‘The mages, however, are slaves to Corypheus. They will fight to the death.’

There was a short pause as they all stared at me. I understood—they wanted or perhaps even needed my blessing as the Inquisitor’s Emissary. After a second, I dipped my head. ‘I will do whatever is necessary. We all will.’

At that, Cullen stepped forward. ‘Alright. We have the siege engines and have readied our forces. Tomorrow, we march on Adamant.’

***

One of the few passes that had been treacherous once had been cleared by Inquisition workers a month or two ago when we had arrived at Skyhold—ensuring that carriages with requisitions, wagons with pilgrims, parades of nobles and now a legion of soldiers could travel safely. It had been this road we had taken to cross into the Dales of Orlais. We travelled north of Emprise du Lion, until the snowy landscape slowly turned greener at Lydes. 

It had been difficult to move fast and efficiently with a legion of soldiers. Though they were mostly well-behaved, the tensions of the oncoming battle at Adamant often resulted in skirmishes amongst the warriors and mages. That and the fact that we all needed to sleep in cramped tents and travel many hours a day took its natural toll. 

I had tried to keep as much of a low profile as possible. I rode mostly with Cullen at the front of the troops, leading the march—and Leliana rode near the end—her all-seeing eyes making sure the unnerved soldiers at the back kept up their pace. Josephine had stayed at Skyhold, holding down the fort as we marched to war. I had seen Cole pop up here and there—motivating the soldiers to calm down during the day and sleep restfully at night. 

There had been moments when I had to cross the camp on my own to go fetch something—I hopped from shadow to shadow to avoid the soldiers’ whispers and following eyes. Some were fearful of me, a few had respect and awe, and some eyes had been purely wandering my body up and down. Luckily, they had all been clever enough not to approach me for now; they had also probably been briefed by their Commander to leave me alone. 

I think we were all happy when we reached the city of Lydes. Not so long ago, Maxwell with the help of his advisors, had reinstated a new ruler of the region. He had chosen Caralina, a cousin of the former Duke of Lydes and wife of the Duke of Val Firmin—a politically favourable alliance. The former Duke’s daughter Monette had been vying for the succession as well, but was too young and too reliant on her Chantry tutor to have any opinion of her own. She had been persuaded to take her vows and entered the Chantry. Lord Jean-Gaspard, the son of the former Duke, was actually a bastard of the former Duke’s late wife and a travelling Grey Warden. He knew his blood wasn’t entirely pure, so when Cullen issued a recruitment, the renowned Chevalier gladly accepted. Loyalists of Jean-Gaspard also decided to join. They were waiting for us at Lydes, along with another dozen Chevaliers and a cohort of foot soldiers on order of the new Duchess. The extra troops made our soldiers visibly more at ease. A lot of Inquisition soldiers had been at Haven when the attack happened and the overwhelming defeat had taken a toll on their self-confidence. The cocky Chevaliers and Orlesian warriors who marched into our camp outside the city’s walls were met with a sigh of relief: the more the merrier, but more importantly: the cockier, the more likely to charge and die first. 

‘Lord Jean-Gaspard,’ Cullen welcomed the new recruits and Chevaliers, ‘I welcome you to our encampment and the Inquisition. We are pleased you have joined our cause.’

The Chevalier at the front took off his steel helmet—which had a moustached face shaped on it—and bowed politely, as did the other Chevaliers behind him. ‘It is an honour to serve the Inquisition and prove the mettle of the Orlesian Chevaliers by doing the Maker's work. And it is my privilege to order the Inquisition's troops into holy battle against those who would threaten the order of the empire.’ The man had a thick Orlesian accent—though his diction was immaculate. The Lord was relatively young, perhaps early forties, and had wavy shoulder length chocolate brown hair that was bound in a ponytail tied with a yellow silk ribbon. His eyes were as brown as his hair, as was his dense but well-kept beard.

‘May I introduce you to Lady Leliana, our spymaster and Seneschal.’ Leliana dipped her head sternly. She had a reputation to uphold in front of the soldiers and Orlesians. She was, of course, Nightingale of the Imperial Court.

‘It is an honour,’ the Chevalier said respectfully. 

‘And Lady Saeris, the Inquisitor’s Emissary and Inquisitorial Healer.’ Cullen waved his hand to me. I took a small step forward and curtsied as Josephine had instructed me to do weeks ago. 

‘I have heard many stories,’ Jean-Gaspard mused as his eyes looked me up and down. A look I was used to by now. I stood tall, my green eye glowing dangerously. The Game was always on with these Chevaliers. They were nobles after all. I hoped I looked like someone not to mess with. I wore my hair up in a tight high ponytail, tied with a metal cuff that matched the Inquisition armour I wore. It was a light armour, made to not restrict my movement. I noted how the Chevalier’s eyes lingered on my pointed ears and my bare feet bound in Elven footwear.

I couldn’t help but raise an annoyed eyebrow. ‘Pleasure.’ I grimaced at him. Being with Leliana so much, I had gotten used to the Orlesian accent and presence. I even sometimes enjoyed her melodic voice, though she often unsettled me as well. But these Chevaliers reminded me of the Orlesians of a century ago. They were the worst kind of humans. Great warriors, yes. They started training as early as thirteen—a rough but legendary training at the Academie des Chevaliers in Val Royeaux. The Chevaliers were said to be fearless and their loyalty to the empire absolute. The penalty for dishonour is death, something a Chevalier should welcome if they failed the order. Something to look up to, you could say. But I knew how ruthless they were to anyone who wasn’t high-class. And I remembered what they thought of my kind. I heard on many occasions how Chevaliers tested each other. As a sort of “graduation” or “final test”, Chevaliers roamed the streets close to Alianages, intoxicated, to test their blades by killing City Elves. Or worse if they came across a female Elf. My eyes narrowed at him, my lips a thin line.

The thought of Sybil crossed my mind—her lifeless body face-first on the muddy ground and a masked Chevalier standing over her proudly. I imagined the man smiling behind his steel, unmoving helmet. 

‘Unmarked. Silent. She lies there still. Was it them?’ Cole’s voice broke my trance—which had luckily not been noticed by the others. My head whipped to where the young boy stood, his hat partially covering his face, his spiky blonde hair plastered to his neck and cheeks. 

‘Ah, yes. And this is Cole,’ Cullen said matter-of-factly. He took a step to stand in front of me, seemingly to present Cole to the others, but there was an edge to his voice as he spoke to the Chevaliers. They seemed to notice how the Commander stood to cover me, almost territorial. 

As the sun was setting, Cullen, Leliana and I packed our stuff and hopped on the carriage to the city, accompanied by Jean-Gaspard. We had been invited to dine with the new Duchess and her family as well as to stay the night at their manor. Something I would’ve looked forward to after the many nights of sleeping on the ground. But I think I would’ve preferred the tent over dinner with these people. 

We had already changed our clothes at camp. Cullen wore a neat burgundy doublet and a crisp shirt embroidered with blackwork underneath. The Inquisition emblem was also embroidered on his chest. His dark pants matched the blackwork on his shirt. His hair was combed for once. Leliana wore a feminine deep purple set that combined a quilted tunic that had delicate silver embroidery on it and tight-fitting breeches. Her knee-high boots had silver accents that matched the tunic. Her short red hair was braided behind her ears. She looked elegant, but not to be messed with.

I had also braided my hair and put it up into a tightly braided bun which highlighted the sharpness of my face and my ears. I hoped I looked stern, like Leliana. I wore a sapphire-blue, high-collared blouse with a corset made out of the darkest leather. There were delicate flowers stitched across it that matched the blouse. I liked the juxtaposition between the blouse’s soft and feminine fabric but masculine cut, and the feminine frame the corset created, mixed with the hard leather. I wore similar pants to Leliana’s, although mine were black and were tucked into leather footwraps that matched my corset. I wore no jewellery aside from a single, silver necklace with a pale blue zircon stone shaped as a droplet. The only piece of accessory I had brought on Josephine’s order. 

‘Who needs jewellery on the battlefield?’ I had asked when I saw her putting it in one of my bags. 

Josephine had smiled slyly. ‘Not all battles are fought on a field.’

The Manor was located near the city centre. And though Lydes was considered a large and dense city, the manor was surrounded by lush green gardens. We had not passed an Alienage, I noted. The city seemed clean and quaint. Seemed.

‘Welcome!’ Duchess Caralina greeted us as we stepped out of the carriage. She was relatively young, like her nephew Jean-Gaspard, although her face looked more sneering—at least what I could see beneath her extravagant ivory mask, which covered up most of her face besides her thin red lips. Her mask matched the hue of her honey-coloured court dress, which had a long gold embroidered bodice and wide neckline, showing off her voluptuous breasts, which were pushed up quite high. The pearly silk skirts of her dress were a play on ruffles and more ruffles. Josephine would’ve liked it. The Duchess’ honey and raspberry hair—which I guessed wasn’t her real hair, but actually a wig—was twisted in a poofy crown atop her masked head.

We cutsied to her in unison. After another round of introductions and glaring at my bare feet, we were led inside by the Duchess. She squawked about the city’s history and her recent succession. She hadn’t even acknowledged Jean-Gaspard, although he interrupted her frequently to show off his knowledge about the estate, as the former Duke’s son. It was interesting to see the Game play out between those two in real time. Though I kept quiet at the back of the group, nodding and smiling as the Duchess tried her hand at smalltalk with us. 

The Duchess reminded me of Vivienne. Cunning and sly. Her questions were always hiding an ulterior motive. Always prying for more. No doubt to gossip about us to her noble friends. 

At dinner, I kept to myself—damned the gossip. I was happy Cullen and Leliana took the lead. I focussed on the food and hoped dinner would pass quickly.

First up was butter soup and a side dish of eggs à la Val Foret, which was made with a bitter lemon sauce that mixed strangely with the sour vinegar. The main course was rare venison meat with a side of honeyed carrots, matched with what Duchess Caralina boasted as “the Dowager Lady Ursula's homemade gooseberry wine.” After that, a vast array of desserts were served: sugar cake topped with strawberries, sugar-drizzled lemon cake, a dish called “The Blessed Apple” (which was just a fancy apple tart) and a large tray filled to the brim with various petit fours. The feast was a stark contrast to the rations we ate during our travels: plain salted breads and dried jerky made from any kind of mystery meat. But I think I preferred the simpler food above this feast. I liked earthy foods that reminded me of the Dalish—they ate whatever they could find in the forest or hunted during the day. Or the savoury and greasy street food in Kirkwall. Even the vegetable soups and meaty stews they served in Fereldan taverns were better than this Orlesian crap. It was appearance over substance. Looks over flavour. The appetisers were too salty and the desserts too sweet—they had been made to look good, not to taste good.

When the last of the uneaten desserts were removed from the table by pale and alarmingly thin-looking Elven servants, the Duchess grinned. 

‘Let us move to the sitting room for some absinthe spectaculaire , oui?’

Of course, Leliana accepted this rare chance; a drunken Orlesian Noble would surely result in some kind of secret insider info in which the Nightingale would delight. The Commander and I declined respectfully. As we stepped out of the room, Jean-Gaspard greeted us midway, an amusing smile on his lips. 

‘It was a pleasure to have dined with you tonight, Mademoiselle.’ He grinned weirdly, leaning against the doorframe of the hall. His eyes flickered to Cullen, who had stopped behind me. His grin broadened. What was he playing at? 

‘Likewise,’ I lied, my voice deep and unyielding. 

‘Shall we…’ Jean-Gaspard licked his lips as he stepped ever slightly closer, close enough for seeming private, far enough for everyone to hear, ‘extend this pleasure en privé ?’ 

The servants who were going to lead us to our quarters turned their faces towards us, clearly having heard the question. Their faces remained blank, but their eyes betrayed their curiosity. 

Before I could react, Cullen put his hand on my shoulder. ‘Could you repeat yourself, Monsieur? I did not completely hear you.’ But he had. I didn’t turn around to look at the Commander, but I felt his tight grip on my shoulder and heard the bite in his voice. I imagined the coldness in his eyes. Of course, Cullen had heard. And I saw in Jean-Gaspard’s eyes that he knew. He wanted to see our reaction. He had done it on purpose. Why?

I despise this Game.

*** 

I slept in a decent room in the manor. Though my stomach had grumbled all night. The grumbling reminded me of the thin servants and the wasted food. The pit in my stomach had groaned deeper, angrier.  We packed our belongings very early in the morning, before sunrise. I wished I had brought some rations with me to leave behind for those pale servants. But would they accept it? Or be offended by my pity? Would they have thrown it away? I tried to shut the thoughts away, but one lingered: perhaps some day I can change their fate? 

By the time I was ready to leave, I had decided I would try to at least speak with one or two of them, and offer them some coin to buy food. But when I walked downstairs, there weren’t any servants to be seen. The halls of the manor were silent.

The thoughts of the servants vanished as Leliana greeted me when I walked outside to the driveway in front of the manor. ‘Morning. Are you ready to go?’ the Spymaster said, her voice crisp as the morning breeze.

‘Yes, more than ready.’ I shivered. ‘How was your evening with the Duchess?’

‘Very interesting.’ Leliana grinned. ‘Absinthe makes the most interesting secrets wander.’ 

‘I bet.’ I tried a small smile.

‘And I heard another secret scurrying the halls this morning,’ she continued. 

I frowned—there hadn’t been a soul awake this morning. ‘What did you hear?’

Leliana crossed her arms in front of her. ‘Seems like the servants think there’s something between you and our Commander. Not that it is any of my business, but I will advise you to be cautious around the Chevaliers. They are masters of the Game. And I think some have been playing around.’

At that, the Commander walked outside and towards us. 

Leliana’s voice lowered as she said. ‘Not to worry, they may master the Game, but so do I.’

***

We continued our journey along the Imperial Highway—the paved roads proved faster and more enjoyable to travel on. There were also many travelling merchants and caravans that voyaged along these roads. Their stocks became a well-needed respite from our long march: exotic foods, new gear and materials, and so on. The soldiers’ mood became lighter. The harsh climate had softened greatly as well after we had travelled past Verchiel. Now, the grand city of Montsimmard greeted us on the horizon. We couldn't move past it, as the Imperial Highway crossed right through it.

South of the city, the frozen landscape turned deep green. The Dales. I remembered the last time I had visited those forests, when we travelled to Val Royeaux… when Solas and I had dreamed together and saw the tale of the Emerald Knights’ demise play out. I thought of Mythal’s statue—and of my eternal flowers blooming across her shrine, caressing her broken and yet beautiful face.

When we arrived at the city border, the high, pearly polished gates flew open with a swooshing grace. The guards at the gates, who wore helmets that closely resembled a Chevalier’s, nodded sternly at our Commander. Of course, they had been expecting us, Josephine had sent word weeks ago. 

‘Soldiers! We continue on with a hastened pace. We have been granted special permission to cross Montsimmard as long as we do it quietly, respectfully and quickly. We rest on the other side of the city’s western border. We will behave in these streets as we are expected to. There are taverns and… other establishments at the settlement beyond the city’s western gates. You will have time to rest there tonight.’ Commander Cullen rode his horse past the soldiers. Some messengers and scouts nodded and passed on his words. 

I grabbed the reins of my steed tighter, the horse slightly tiptoeing as I did so. Another big Orlesian city. I swallowed—I couldn’t wait until we entered the desolate wasteland that was the Approach. 

‘The whores of Montsimmard are légendaires .’ Jean-Gaspard and his fellows rode their horses past me to the front. The other Chevaliers snickered, as only Orlesians truly could. Jean-Gaspard raised an eyebrow at me as he passed, a grin on his lips. ‘I cannot wait to see some… true beauty femelle . These Fereldan “lady-soldiers” are manlier than you, Henri.’ 

‘They grow a better beard than he does, je sais !’ Another Chevalier laughed, I guessed he wasn’t Henri. ‘I don’t understand they allow just anyone in these troops. The Inquisition must be…’ another glance was thrown my way, ‘desperate.’

I glared at the group openly. One swat of my hand and they’re gone. One snap of my fingers even. I turned my horse to the gates and hastened forward before the temptation of killing these stupid Chevaliers would be too much. I was too old for this shit. 

‘Something on your mind?’ Cullen almost whispered to me as I rode my horse next to his. ‘You seem agitated.’

I heard the Chevaliers snicker and whisper again behind me, their eyes on us. I remembered Leliana’s warning.

‘It’s nothing.’ I grimaced. ‘I… Let’s just move.’

Cullen nodded and threw his hand up to the troops behind him—their cue to follow him and his orders. 

Just as the city of Lydes, the city of Montsimmard was awfully quiet—too quiet. The only people alive that were on and about on these artificially clean streets were the city guards, stationed every couple of feet away from each other. As if they were barricading off the city, guarding us along the path to make sure not one step was out of line. 

In some way, of course, I understood: an army as large as this one could devastate a city if unchecked. Hungry soldiers… alone for weeks or even months… tired and restless. I would protect my city too, make sure the troops passed quickly. But still, there wasn’t even a human peeking through their apartment window as we passed. Not even interested. Or perhaps they were too disgusted to give us the time of day. For many, the Inquisition was an unrightful organisation built on the death of the Divine, unlawful by the Chantry—between law and piracy.

The city itself, though, was absolutely beautiful, like a neatly curated museum. The streets were made of white marble stone so clean I doubted it was ever even walked upon. The high townhouses that bordered the mainstreet on both sides resembled those of Val Royeaux: cream and pastel coloured with gold and marble trimmings and grand balconies with silk curtains drawn shut. 

We crossed the city from point A to point B in silence—even the soldiers had been struck by awe. And as the sun was setting and the city lights were lit, we neared the western border and gates. Beyond it was an open field with rows of tribunes. A large jousting field, I presumed. 

On the outside of the city walls, there were townhouses as well that resembled the fancy ones from inside the city, but these houses were not as well-kept. Most were guesthouses, taverns and even brothels. And finally, humans. The city had been so clean and quiet that I had been wondering if it was even occupied. But here people didn’t hide from us. No, they welcomed the clientele. Tavern doors were opened wide, the smell of wine and food welcoming the troops and their coins. Women from all widths and sizes hung around the little shops, their breasts pushed up to their chins and their skirts hiked up to their belts. There were several young men with billowing shirts opened to show their gleaming, cleanly-shaven muscular chests or lean hips, winking at passers-by. Most of them were human, but I noted several male and female Elves waving and blowing kisses.

I rode my horse close to Cullen’s. Even Leliana had joined us at the front, her eyes darting across the houses and taverns.

Cole moved from door to door. But no one seemed to notice him but me. He whispered things at the prostitutes and customers, who in turn seemed more at ease to turn around or move away from the streets. He looked so out of place from the others, so young and thin and yet so swift. Sure and unsure. He stopped suddenly, his eyes appearing from underneath his hood. They found mine. He nodded. Then disappeared again.

We made camp in the middle of the old jousting field. And as quickly as the camp was set, as quickly it was abandoned by the soldiers to visit the taverns and brothels. 

‘Are you not going, Commander?’ I joked and elbowed him in his side as he was setting up his tent.

Leliana laughed. ‘Oh, you don’t have to stay for us.’ 

‘Absolutely not,’ Cullen protested all too seriously, a deep red blush creeping behind his ears. An awkward silence fell.

‘Why don’t we all go for a drink together?’ Leliana asked casually instead. ‘I could do with some good food and drink.’ She nodded towards one of the more quaint taverns across the field. 

‘I think that’s a great idea.’ I smiled back and eyed some soldiers that were already re-entering their tents accompanied by unknown and scarcely dressed women and men.

Cullen looked to his tent and then back to us. ‘You may go.’ He smiled apologetically, but I noted the tiredness in his voice.

Leliana and I made no other tries to get Cullen to drink with us and walked to the tavern together. The tavern was filled to the brim with soldiers and merchants drinking and eating joyfully. They became silent, however, when Leliana and I entered—just for a second—before talking and laughing again. We walked towards the bar and set ourselves on two empty stools. 

‘What do you serve?’ Leliana asked the barman, a human man who looked as old as the tavern—and the tavern looked as if it had been here for a while. 

The barman smiled. ‘Anything for you, Madame.’ 

‘Do you serve dandelion wine, perhaps?’ Leliana smiled coyly. 

‘Yes, naturellement !’ The barman winked back.

‘Two glasses then, for me and my friend.’ Leliana nodded towards me. I smiled politely back.

The barman glanced my way, his upper lip curling up slightly. Orlais was such a nice place for an Elf. 

The wine was served in fine glass cups that were chipped here and there. However, the sweet taste of the dandelion wine warmed my stomach and cheeks delightfully. 

‘Delicious,’ Leliana noted. 

‘Paired best with our in-house Nug-Nug!’ The barman responded. 

‘What?’ I cocked my head. Hadn’t heard of that dish before. 

‘It’s not really nug.’ Leliana smiled. ‘It is plated to look like a nug peeking out of its burrow. Very good. But it is quite a lot. What is your daily platter?’

‘Roast turkey with sauteed vegetables fresh from Montsimmard’s gardens, Madame,’ the barman answered.

‘Perfect, we’ll have that.’ 

‘Très bien, Madame.’ The barman smiled kindly and disappeared into the kitchen to yell at his staff.

‘You’ve never eaten nug?’ Leliana turned back to me. 

‘I have.’ I took another sip of wine. ‘It can be quite good.’

‘I suppose,’ Leliana said. ‘Though I must say I find them… too cute to eat.’

‘Too cute?’ I laughed. ‘I guess so, yes.’

‘You know… I once had a pet nug.’

‘Oh? What was its name?’

Leliana drank from her wine and grinned softly. ‘Schmooples.’

‘Oh my!’ I giggled. ‘What a cute name! Where is he?’

‘Ah, he passed away a few years ago. Nugs don’t grow so old.’ Leliana heaved her shoulders up and down. 

‘Aw, I’m sorry.’ I tutted. ‘I kind of wanted to meet him now.’ I couldn’t imagine the cunning Spymaster cuddling with a wriggling nug called Schmooples. 

‘Perhaps one day you could meet his offspring,’ Leliana said deadpan, though amusement twinkled in her stern eyes. I hadn’t seen her so casual… ever. 

‘And how may I address Schmooples’ noble offspring?’ I tried to match her seriousness.

‘... Boulette and Schmooples II.’

‘Perfect.’ I gasped. ‘Where are they now? If there were nugs walking around Skyhold, I think I would’ve noticed.’ 

‘Oh, they’re staying… with a friend. Maybe one day, though.’

‘Well, I look forward to it!’ I picked up my almost empty glass, and Leliana did the same. We brought the glasses together until they clunked with a high pitch. ‘To Schmooples, may he rest in nug-heaven. And to Boulette and Schmooples II, may I meet and cuddle them one day!’

Leliana smiled again and drank.

After that, our food came. It was better than what we ate at Lydes, but the tavern food in Skyhold was still a tad better. We ate and talked happily about nugs and other cute pets. I talked about the Elk the Dalish herded and how absurdly cute the little ones were. Leliana spoke about Schmooples, which had been a gift from the Hero of Ferelden. This turned into Leliana telling of her adventures with the well-known Warden, of her plan of joining the Chantry as a Lay Sister at Lothering and what happened when that plan didn’t go as she foresaw. 

‘You were also a bard, right?’ I asked.

‘Something we have in common,’ Leliana shot back. 

‘I considered myself more of a minstrel than a bard.’ 

‘It is a noble profession, being a bard, often overlooked—though dare I say, which is its strength. A mage bard, or minstrel, is rare though. How did you come to it?’

I weighed my words before I spoke them: ‘A girl’s got to survive. Singing was the… finer option.’

Leliana nodded. ‘You know, this tavern could do with a fine song.’ She looked around. It was still quite crowded, but the night had grown deeper and so did the tiredness of everyone else. I had a small feeling the Spymaster was testing me. Had tonight been some form of interrogation? Whatever it was, I wasn’t going to give her everything for nothing.

I pursed my lips. ‘Only if I have a companion to join me in that fine song.’ 

A challenge. Or perhaps a dare. Would the Spymaster bite my bait?

‘Monsieur—do you have a fiddle or two?’

The barman smiled and for the first time tonight, at me too. ‘I shall lend you my very own, Madame.’

The barman whisked a fiddle from beneath his bar, as if he had been waiting for the request. The fiddle was old and weathered, but made out of quality wood and string.

I took it, the fiddle creaking in my warm hands. Almost simultaneously, Leliana and I stood up from our stools. And as if the people in the tavern, and mainly the soldiers, had been keeping an eye on us, they became quiet for another second. Their careful eyes followed us as we walked towards an empty corner of the room. 

I strung a few chords to find out how out of tune the fiddle was, but it surprisingly sounded quite clear. The notes made everyone stay silent, a few whispered excitedly. I looked at Leliana. ‘What song would you like?’

Leliana smiled knowingly as if she had anticipated my challenge and had prepared herself, and began: 

Once we were
In our peace
With our lives assured.
Once we were
Not afraid of the dark.

I took the fiddle tightly in my hands, the correct chords moving along with Leliana’s voice. And when she started the second verse, I joined her. 

Once we sat in our kingdom
With hope and pride.
Once we ran through
The fields with great strides.

And as we sang, the soldiers and merchants smiled and some even sang along. I eyed the room and found familiar kind eyes in the doorway. Cullen leaned against the open door, a kind glean in his tired eyes. Behind him a group had formed of soldiers and scouts trying to watch the show. They smiled and talked excitedly to each other. Their Spymaster and Emissary, two scary women of the Inquisition, so powerful and yet our song so sweet. This would keep them excited for days.

We held the Fade
And the demon's flight
So far from our children
And from our lives.
We held together
The fragile sky
To keep our way of life.

Once we raised
Up our chalice
In victory.
Once we sat
In the light of our dreams.

Once we were
In our homeland
With strength and might.
Once we were
Not afraid of the night.

We held the Fade
And the demon's flight
So far from our children
And from our lives.
We held together
The fragile sky
To keep our way of life.

After our song, people applauded loudly. For a moment, we had all nearly forgotten our plight, the long journey ahead, the siege on Adamant… perhaps even the tear in the sky. Cullen had left before the song was over. I wanted to catch up to him, but fearing the gossip it would cause again, I decided otherwise. Leliana and I went for another round of drinks bought by a group of cheering soldiers. We gladly accepted. 

Deep into the night, we walked to our tents together and bid each other goodnight. And for a long while, I snuggled into my bedroll with a lightness in my heart. Perhaps that had been the Spymaster’s plan all along.

***

That night I waded through the Fade with ease and came across an interesting memory that clung to this place. I was sitting on one of the tribunes that looked over the jousting field our camp was on. The tribune was new and shiny, the field well-kept. 

I was looking at what seemed like some kind of tournament. Two men were fighting with each other, and around me were people—or echoes of people—cheering and clapping like the soldiers and merchants in the tavern earlier tonight. 

One of the men, a large and sturdy one, wore a polished silver armour with the crest of an old house on his back I didn’t recognise. I heard people calling a name, and instinctively—as the Fade wanted me to—I recognised it as this knight’s name. ‘Kaleva! Kaleva! Kaleva!’

The other knight, Kaleva’s opponent, was tall and sturdy as well, albeit slightly smaller. His armour, however, was way more interesting. It was crafted from iron and other metals, simple yet sturdy. His shield was green and Orlesian-looking, but had something Dalish in it as well. I was convinced this knight must’ve been a tall and muscular Elf when I saw his sword. Ironbark. Only the Dalish know how to work this material. 

Kaleva struck swiftly and strongly, but the other knight matched each of his blows with a certain ease. With every strike and clash of swords, the crowd owed and awed and cheered. I noticed, however, how Kaleva became harder in his blows, more aggressive, more frustrated. And then it happened—Kaleva made a strange move. But no sword striked the other as Kaleva had aimed for the other knight’s knees. The knight tripped and Kaleva grabbed him quickly and threw him on the ground harshly. The people booed. And by instinct again, I knew this was not okay, this was not the sportsmanship Orlesians required of their knights. 

But then, the crowd went wild. I stood up to see better. There! Kaleva’s blow had knocked the other knight’s helm from his head and… It was a woman! 

Deep red hair flowed from her head. The woman spit some blood on the ground as Kaleva held his sword to her throat, his face furious. ‘What is the meaning of this!’ He exclaimed, his Orlesian accent comically thick.

‘A woman!’ the crowd whispered. ‘A lady knight! How preposterous!’ 

I realised women were not allowed yet to perform at jousts, to become knights. 

‘I am Aveline!’ The woman roared. Though she was on her knees, she still looked unbeaten. ‘I am a knight! I am as capable of swordsmanship as any man!’ More whispers ensued, but the woman continued. ‘I have beaten my opponents fairly and with great honour.’ Another round of whispers. 

‘This cannot be!’ Kavela yelled angrily. And I now saw how weak and small he actually was. ‘Women cannot fight! This competition must be declared invalid! By my honour!’

But the crowds suddenly turned and started booing and jeering towards him. The only knight here was Aveline. And the crowd saw it too now. ‘Aveline!’ they called. ‘Aveline! Aveline!’

I saw Kavela’s eyes turn red with anger. He turned back to Aveline, who still sat on her knees. But her attention wasn’t even on him. It was on us. Hope sprang into her deep green eyes. They called her name. She was going to be a true knight.

And then, with a clear strike, Kavela’s sword slashed across Aveline’s throat. The light in her eyes ebbed away as she fell on the ground, her back clashing in the mud. People started to scream and shout, some even ran to the field in her aid. But it was too late. Aveline, Knight of Orlais, died. Hope, however, stayed reflected in her unblinking eyes.

‘No more,’ a voice suddenly said. I looked next to me and noticed a young man in elegant garb. A prince, the Fade whispered. He looked sadly at the woman’s body on the field. His hands were linked together as if in prayer. ‘I shall remember you.’

***

We continued our journey again, one step at a time—perhaps on a lighter tread than before. Most soldiers, aside from the Chevaliers, smiled kinder at me now. Leliana’s and my song echoing through their ranks day after day.

And before we knew it, the landscape had turned from green to brown. From lush to dust. From gentle to harsh. The Western Approach. Unwaveringly hot during the day and unimaginably cold during the night. 

I wrapped a cotton cowl over my mouth and nose, trying to keep the rising sand from my lungs. As the terrain grew more desolate by the minute, my thoughts did as well. I hadn’t seen any signs of old camps. Nothing. No Inquisition banner, an abandoned campfire or anything. The desert was silent. 

We hadn’t come across any Rift, however, which was a definite sign that Maxwell had been here. I knew there had been Rifts here, I had sensed and drawn them on a map for him before he had left. 

Cole seemed unnerved as well. His appearing and disappearing became more erratic. People seemed to notice the boy more. Perhaps it was the thinness of the Veil that irked him. I could almost feel it like a cloth that stuck to my very skin. Tantalising yet soothing. 

What would this world look like if the Veil did not exist here now? I wished I could’ve talked to Solas to ask his opinion. He had lived before the Veil. Travelling had been so tiresome, I hadn’t been able to visit the Fade. But I felt it, with every step—I felt him . He was close.

At night, the Spymaster and I had started to share a tent, for the wind had become so cold. Even Leliana had become more quiet and stern, perhaps she was also worrying about Maxwell? But I doubted it—if something had happened to him, she would’ve known. But still, the joyful bard from the tavern had vanished. I wondered if I had ever even met her at all.

A couple of days later, after horrendous hours of travel through this dry and life-sucking desert, we were almost at the meeting point. We were crossing a deep ravine—the soldiers angrily mumbling about the terrain—when Cullen suddenly stopped his horse and raised his hand. The troops came to a halt. 

‘What is it?’ I asked him and drove my horse next to him.

‘Something’s—’ 

SNAP! An arrow flew just by a Chevalier’s head. His horse reared on his hind legs, whinnying in fright. ‘Merde!’ he cursed.

‘Oh! They’re wearing breeches. Too bad.’ Sera’s head popped up behind a rock on a ledge above us. 

‘Maker’s Breath,’ Cullen cursed loudly. 

‘Sera!’ I called, trying not to laugh at the Chevalier’s askew helmet. ‘It’s us!’

Sera stared down at Cullen and I—and Leliana who came galloping towards us. ‘Aw, guys!’ she called behind her back. ‘It’s not the giant demon vena-thingy army!’

‘Thank the Maker.’ Maxwell’s head appeared next to Sera’s, his skin as golden as the desert itself and his hair long and curly, bound in a bun at the back of his neck. His eyes found mine and he smiled as happily as a Mabari hound would to its master returning home.

‘I don’t think the arrow would’ve stopped them if they were, Buttercup.’ Varric’s forehead popped up next to Maxwell’s.

‘Move it, my dear. I can’t see.’ Vivienne’s headdress appeared behind the rock before her face did. I heard what sounded like Blackwall, apologising and scuffling away.

‘Ahhh too bad—I was ready for another round of fights!’ The Iron Bull stood up, his head, neck and torso appearing above the rock. He smiled at us. ‘Please tell me you’ve brought drinks!’

Cassandra appeared next to Maxwell’s other side, a disgusted noise thrown in Bull’s direction. She then locked eyes with Leliana and nodded reassuringly. 

From the other side of the ledge, I heard someone running and skidding to a halt. With his staff defensively in hands, Solas looked down at us. Immediately, his stance softened. His eyes found mine and didn’t let me go. His skin had become even more sunkissed. And he had lost weight. A soft smile appeared on his ever stern face. And though he looked so tired, his eyes were alight. 

Maxwell jumped over the rock and down the small slope. Though he had lost weight as well, his frame had become lean and muscular. In a couple of great strides, Maxwell was at my horse and held up his hand to me. I took it and he eased me off the steed. Instead of letting me down on the ground, he heaved me up in his arms and into a tight hug. 

‘It’s been a while, my friend.’ He sighed in deep relief. I felt how he flexed his marked hand on my back and how the Anchor eased in my presence. 

‘I missed you too, buddy.’ I answered his hug. 

At that, the others came down from their hiding place and started to greet us as well.

I was busy fist-bumping Varric when Solas appeared next to me. His hand found my shoulder and I looked up to him. A warm smile curled around my dry lips. He stared at my mouth silently, a hungry look in his eyes.

I put a hand on his chest, across his heart and whispered. ‘I have missed you, ma falon .’ 

Solas dipped his head to me and for a second I thought he would kiss me, right in front of everyone. But instead he whispered with a raspy and deep voice into my ear. ‘Dreams do not do you service, da’len. I have missed you beyond any knowledge.’

I swallowed and stared into his pale eyes.

The others were laughing and already telling Cullen, Leliana—and a hidden Cole—their tales and adventures. I would’ve loved hearing all of them… but right now, I wished the desert would sweep me away with Solas alone. 

We made it. Now, the real battle can begin.

Chapter 55: Sieged

"Here lies the abyss, the well of all souls.
From these emerald waters doth life begin anew.
Come to me, child, and I shall embrace you.
In my arms lies Eternity."

— Andraste 14:11

 

***

‘And then, the helmet fell to the ground with a great “clunk”!’ I paused to heighten the tension. ‘And he turned out to be a she.’

Solas leaned backward in his armchair. ‘Remarkable memory. Tell me, what happened to her?’

‘Kaleva wanted the competition to be declared invalid in his favour. But the crowd completely turned on him… and out of spite, he slid her throat while she was unarmed.’

Solas shook his head. ‘The hubris of humanity.’

I raised an eyebrow at him but decided to ignore his comment. ‘Have you encountered many memories here in the Approach?’

Solas sat back up straighter. His dream was made magnificently, as always. The room felt more real than ever before. And yet, I knew he was tired. The curtains were drawn shut, the doors to the other rooms invisible or obstructed by bookcases. It was like those parts of his dream were not meant to be seen, perhaps not made entirely —and he didn’t want me to see them unfinished. I didn’t know, and I didn’t pry.

‘The Veil is thin in the Approach. Spirits here dwell more at ease. If it had not been for the constant Venatori attacks, this area would have been interesting to investigate in the Fade.’ There was a harshness to his voice. I stared at his face. 

‘What’s on your mind, ma fa’lon?’ I sat a little straighter. Solas sighed at my question. He stood up just a little too irritably and walked to one of the bookcases and back. Of course there were things on his mind. There always were. Tomorrow, the siege on Adamant Fortress will take place. I tried not to think about it, had hoped to set my mind on other things, on him… 

‘Cullen and Leliana’s plan for the siege is good. We’ll make sure to stop Erimond and his plans to—’ 

Solas shook his head in frustration. ‘I cannot believe the Grey Wardens could even conceive of such a plan.’ He had raised his voice, something he almost never did. I furrowed my brows at him. ‘To seek out these Old Gods deliberately in some bizarre attempt to preempt the Blight…’

‘I know…’ I stood up and walked over to where he was pacing, my hand on his chest, across his heart—as I had done two days ago. The troops had made camp and rested, along with the soldiers who had already been camping near Adamant. The tension had been severe. Everyone was stressed and tired. The first night at the main camp, I had slept so deeply, I had skipped the Fade entirely. I had looked forward to spending this dream with Solas tonight. But I guessed he was stressed too. Even the ancients get worn out. ‘We’ll stop them. I… promise.’ 

Solas stopped pacing and sighed once again, but more gently now. He rested his hand on my left cheek, his thumb underneath my green eye. ‘Ma serannas, Saeris,’ he said, calmed down by my touch. ‘Those fools and duty. Responsibility is not expertise. Action is not inherently superior to inaction.’ He let go of my face and stepped away from my touch. Why was he so irked by this? ‘Ir abelas, the entire idea is… unnerving.’

‘It is.’ I leaned against the sturdy bookshelf. ‘But we will win, tomorrow. We have to.’ I walked back to Solas, my eyes not leaving his. ‘And after all of this, when we’re back at Skyhold, together… Perhaps we can focus on us again?’

Solas’ gaze held mine, a deviousness in them appearing, followed by that deep chuckle I had missed so. His agitation ebbed away. ‘Us?’

‘Ye-es.’ I grinned. ‘You and me. Ma i em?’ 

Solas mirrored my grin, the tenseness disappearing from his shoulders. ‘And what would you have in mind for us?’

I bit my lower lip—I knew the gesture would entice him even more. I saw the glean appear in his eyes the moment I did so. ‘You’ll have to see. Iselena, hahren.’

***

The siege on Adamant Fortress had begun early in the afternoon. The skies turned dark, the desert stirring with the howling winds. As if nature knew something was up. 

Commander Cullen had planned the assault on the Fortress immaculately. First, the foot soldiers and archers besieged the outer walls. The trebuchets here were a lifesaver. The machines hauled flaming rocks, lit by Inquisition battlemages, towards the main towers. Large grey stones tumbled to the ground, the earth shaking. People on our side cheered.

I smelled the blood in the air as the missiles found their targets. Screaming ensued. Whilst the trebuchets relaunched, the foot soldiers marched, holding up high banners and shields. The Orlesian Grey Wardens, dressed in steel, silver and blue armour, greeted our soldiers with flaming arrows high up the battlements. However, we came prepared. Armed with long sturdy ladders, the soldiers latched on to the fortress’ walls and climbed up, ready to fight sword on sword. Face to face.

When the path to the fortress had been cleared, a huge battering ram was heaved to its gates. The iron and wooden beam with spikes at its frond was heaved to and fro to gain momentum to break open the gates. However, the Wardens up high fought hard and threw boulders and rocks down towards our soldiers below. I felt their life ebbing away. Life on both sides. People fought and fell down the battlements, their bodies thudding in the sand below. Finally, the battering ram burst through the gates. And our soldiers stormed inside. Followed by us. 

‘For the Wardens!’ A soldier clad in blue and steel screamed beneath his winged helmet. He rampaged towards us. Bull answered with his own weapon and bulldozed the Warden to the ground.

At that, a group of demons and Wardens alike besieged the courtyard. I raised my hands and thick tentacles of rock, sand, thorns and flame burst from the ground, flailing at the demons and swatting them like flies. Dorian, Vivienne and Solas stood at my back, firing spell after spell. Maxwell jumped from one enemy to another, his daggers so fast they swished almost invisibly. Cassandra fought at his side, shielding him from incoming attacks. Blackwall advanced on more demons in a corner, his face grim as he stepped over fallen Wardens’ bodies. He was backed by Sera and Cole. 

Behind me, Cullen, Jean-Gaspard and several Chevaliers entered the yard. 

‘Impressive…’ Jean-Gaspard mumbled and gawked at the tentacles flailing around the place.

I smirked. 

‘Pull back!’ a Warden roared at his comrades. ‘They’re through!’

The main courtyard emptied. 

‘So soon?’ Bull laughed, heaving his warhammer to his shoulder.

‘Gah!’ Dorian jumped aside afrought. ‘Watch where you’re pointing that thing!’

‘Dirty.’ Bull grinned and made kissy-faces at the tutting mage, whose cheeks were already reddening.

‘Vishante Kaffas! I meant your weapon!’

As the two bickered like two lovers—which they were—Cullen ran over to Maxwell.

‘Alright, Inquisitor.’ Cullen heaved out of breath. Both him and Max were dressed in heavy armour, the Inquisition emblems on their chests. ‘You have your way in. Best make use of it.’

Maxwell sheathed his swords and looked at his Commander. 

‘We’ll keep the main host of demons occupied for as long as we can.’ Cullen continued, sweat gleaming on his forehead. 

‘That’s a worrying lack of specificity there, Commander.’ Maxwell grinned, though the worry was visible in his eyes. His tanned skin gleamed by the light of his armour, the deep and whitened scars on his face more visible now. 

‘There are more of them than I was hoping, Inquisitor.’ Cullen grunted. And as if by response, we heard demonic screeching not far from us.

‘You don’t say,’ Max answered, eyebrows raised.

‘Warden Stroud will guard your back,’ Cullen assured. Stroud nodded in response, his face a grim display. He stood right behind Maxwell, along with the rest of us. ‘Hawke is with our soldiers on the battlements. He’s assisting them until you arrive.’

THUNK. A body fell down from an upper ledge. 

‘Ugh!’ Sera jumped aside just in time.

We looked up and saw a sneering demon looking down to us.

Cullen grunted and yelled over the noise of the battle: ‘There’s too much resistance on the walls. Our men on the ladders can’t get a foothold. If you can clear out the enemies on the battlements, we’ll cover your advance.’

‘On it!’ Maxwell confirmed, his swords again unsheathed.

He and Cassandra, Blackwall, Solas, Bull, Dorian, Stroud and I readied ourselves to go to the upper levels. Sera, Varric, Vivienne, Cole, Blackwall and the Chevaliers would join Cullen and our forces in the fight against the Wardens below. Before I walked off with Max, Cullen reached out and grabbed my arm. ‘Saeris,’ he said in as much of a hushed voice as he could. ‘Be safe.’ His golden eyes held mine. ‘Be careful.’

‘I will.’ I smiled softly back at him.

We ran through the castle and up the battlements, fighting any rogue Wardens and demons we met on the way. On the battlements, the situation had worsened. A lesser but still big Pride demon as well as various shades and terrors were clawing at a small group of Inquisition soldiers. We aided them, however for some we had come too late. 

‘I suggest we keep moving!’ Dorian panted as the last demon was slain. ‘Soldiers get tired. Demons, not so much.’

‘He’s right. Let’s move.’ Maxwell raised his hand to us as Cullen would and we followed suit.

Not far further up, we came upon a group of Wardens. ‘Stay back!’ One of them called to two other Wardens with staffs. ‘We will not be sacrificed for some insane ritual!’ Two Warden mages stood in front of the group of Warden warriors, their eyes alight with magic. ‘Brothers, can’t you see this madness?’ That same Warden called again. But the mages didn’t respond. Instead, they summoned two rage demons and unleashed them.

The Warden warriors stepped back in fear.

‘Now!’ Maxwell yelled and we ran towards the mages and demons. The Warden warriors stammered back when we jumped their mage brothers, but didn't attack us. After we had killed the demons and mages, we turned to the other group.

‘Keep your distance!’ the main Warden warrior yelled at us. I could only see his fearful eyes behind his helmet. They were as blue as his armour. 

‘The Inquisition is here to stop Clarel, not to kill Wardens!’ Cassandra ran to the group and pleaded back at them. She heaved terribly. Cardio wasn’t her thing. ‘If you fall back, you won’t be harmed.’

At that, the group of warriors sighed with a certain relief. ‘All right. My men will stay back. We want no part of this. Deal with Clarel as you must.’

The Wardens trailed back.

‘Nicely done,’ Solas said to Cassandra, who looked quite content as well. ‘I’m glad some of them could be reasoned with.’

We continued helping clearing out the battlements, until we came across Hawke. He had already established a front with some soldiers. 

‘Good, you’re here.’ He panted. ‘Clarel is in the main bailey. Let’s hurry!’ 

We ran past the barricades and rubble towards another grand courtyard the Wardens had retreated to. There, up on a landing, stood Warden-Commander Clarel, below her a troop of Wardens. Clarel was older, frailer than I had expected. Behind her stood Erimond, a rat of a man. Clarel had just slid the throat of an elder, wounded Warden, when we ran towards the group.

The crowd turned toward us, weapons at the ready. 

‘Stop them!’ Erimond stepped forward, his voice as ratty as his looks. ‘We must complete the ritual!’

Maxwell held up his hand again, an order to disengage. We remained behind him as he ignored the Magister and roared towards the Warden-Commander: ‘Clarel! If you complete that ritual, you’re doing exactly what Erimond wants!’

‘What? Fighting the Blight? Keeping the world safe from darkspawn?’ Who wouldn’t want that?’ Erimond stepped forward and scoffed. Clarel stared at him quietly, her eyes unsure. Maybe we had a chance at turning her still. ‘And yes, the ritual requires blood sacrifice.’ Erimond continued, his voice sneering. ‘Hate me for that if you must, but do not hate the Wardens for doing their duty.’ 

‘Fake-ass,’ Bull muttered under his breath.

‘We make the sacrifices no one else will.’ Clarel stepped forward. ‘Our warriors die proudly for a world that will never thank them.’

‘And your Tevinter ally binds the mages to Corypheus!’ Stroud yelled, his voice harsh.

At that, Clarel seemed to falter. ‘Corypheus? But he’s dead.’

‘These people will say anything to shake your confidence, Clarel.’ Erimond turned to Clarel, his ratty face close to her, almost pleadingly. 

‘I beseech you, Warden-Commander! Do not act on this!’ Cassandra stepped up next to Maxwell.

Clarel held her hand to her face, her eyes closing for a second.

Maxwell glanced at me over his shoulder, hope in his eyes. But in vain. 

‘Bring it through.’ Clarel opened her eyes and commanded her mages.

At that, the mages before us burst into green magic, their binding opening up a screeching rift. 

‘Please,’ Hawke stepped forward. ‘I have seen more than my share of blood magic. It is never worth the cost!’ 

‘Be ready with the ritual, Clarel,’ Erimond commanded her, his patience waning. ‘This demon is truly worthy of your strength.’

Clarel’s gaze was cloaked in doubt as she stared into the growing Rift. 

And there, I saw it—through the Rift! My green eye twisted as it connected with the Fade beyond that green window. Something huge crawled the emerald plains, waiting, growling. ‘That’s a massive demon,’ I whispered to Maxwell.

Blackwall stepped next to Hawke, his eyes pleading as well. ‘You don’t know me, but you may have heard my name. Like you, I’ve given my life to the Grey Wardens.’ The warriors among the Wardens stilled. ‘The first time I put on this armour, I felt like I belonged, like I was a part of something honourable, something with a purpose. I know how good that feels. How safe. But fighting and dying here today won’t stop the Blight. If you want to stop the Blight, kill that bastard up there. His master is the living embodiment of its corruption.’

The warriors turned their faces to Clarel, brows furrowed with betrayal.

In answer, Clarel once more turned to Erimond. ‘Perhaps we could test the truth of these charges, to avoid more bloodshed?’

‘Or perhaps I should bring in a more reliable ally,’ Erimond bit bitterly and pounded his staff on the ground harshly. He then turned his back to Clarel, who looked utterly dumbfounded, and faced us. ‘My Master thought you might come here, Inquisitor!’ He screamed triumphantly. ‘He sent me this to welcome you!’

Thud. Thud. Thud. 

Erimond pounded his staff again and again on the ground, red sparks glittering on impact… calling out to something.

An immense screech filled the air. A long silence fell. Nobody moved. And then, we heard the flapping of giant wings.

‘Duck!’ Maxwell yelled at us. 

‘No, a dragon.’ Hawke heaved back jokingly as we threw ourselves on the ground while a burst of fire shot right above us, the dragon roaring in the skies.

The dragon—Corypheus’ dragon—perched itself on a high tower overlooking the bailey. Erimond gleamed with pride as it roared and spat. He didn’t see Clarel’s spell coming at his back. The sparks gleamed over his armour. Erimond groaned weakly and fell to the ground. The dragon stared the Warden-Commander down, licking its blackened teeth. But Clarel, finally seeing the truth, loaded up another spell.

‘Clarel, wait!’ Erimond lay on the ground, reaching towards her. 

But Clarel didn’t hesitate anymore and fired upon the beast. The dragon answered with a blast of its own and jumped from its place, flying beyond, encircling the bailey. 

Taking advantage of the dragon’s flight, Erimond jumped back up and ran, like the rat he was, to the back of the bailey, up the castle and the battlement bridge at the end.

‘Help the Inquisitor!’ Clarel ordered her warriors, her chin towards the binded mages and demons. She then took off after Erimond, cursing loudly in Orlesian.

The mages and demons roared as the other Wardens turned their back on them and rallied with us. Spells exploded, weapons clashed and arrows flew by. Maxwell ran towards the Rift. ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck!’ He cursed. ‘That’s a big-ass spider.’ 

‘You can see it too?’ I yelled at him while sending another blast of sparks and fire and ice at a binded mage. 

‘Ugh yes. Let’s close this thing before that comes through!’

And with a wave of his hand, Max’s Anchor connected with the Rift. The Rift didn’t close however, though it became less big. 

‘The Rift is dormant!’ Solas called towards us. 

‘Alright!’ Maxwell shook his hand as if the Anchor had pricked him. Perhaps it had. ‘And that means…’

‘It means, by theory, it cannot yet be closed by the Anchor!’ Solas ran towards the Rift, his face stern and sweaty. 

‘We'll come back later to close it then! Let’s get moving.’ Cassandra grunted as she fought off one last mage. The Wardens roared in victory as Cassandra drove her sword through the mage’s stomach. But before we celebrated any further, a deafening screech filled the skies. Fuck, the dragon.

‘Let’s go! Quickly!’ Maxwell called towards us and sprinted to the back of the Fortress, beyond the bailey and up the battlements—towards Clarel and the dragon.

‘Wait, Max!’ I ran after him, Solas on my heels, cursing. 

The others followed suit.

As we reached the upper battlement, Clarel was closing in on Erimond, her staff in hand. ‘You! You’ve destroyed the Grey Wardens!’ she screamed.

Erimond stepped backwards, his staff abandoned somewhere. 

Clarel opened fire on him and the weak Magister stumbled back, whining. But then that whine turned into weak laughter as he straightened himself. ‘You did that to yourself, you stupid bitch. All I did was dangle a little power before your eyes. And you couldn’t wait to get your hands bloody!’

Clarel gritted her teeth and blasted another powerful burst at him with her staff. Erimond flew back, blood spraying from his mouth. Still he spewed at her: ‘You could have served a new God.’

‘I will never serve the Blight!’ Clarel stormed towards the crawling Magister. She raised her staff and… BAM! The dragon suddenly swooped down from the skies and grabbed Clarel with its mouth. The woman didn’t even have time to scream and the dragon dragged her along its teeth and threw her back on the ground a couple of feet in front of our group.

The tangy smell of blood filled the air. A lot of blood. 

Yet, the Warden-Commander was still alive. Her stomach was torn open, blood and whatnot pouring out as she crawled towards us. The dragon preyed towards us as well, ignoring the dying woman beneath its feet. The beast snarled, its hot breath reeking of death and decay. 

‘Stand ready,’ Maxwell huffed, weapons at the ready.

Tantalisingly slow, Clarel crawled our way, stone by stone. A path of blood formed behind her. My magic curled at my fingers. But one wrong move, and the dragon was upon us. 

‘In war, victory.’ Clarel’s voice came out in huffs, blood on her thin lips. ‘In peace, vigilance.’ She stopped crawling and turned on her back, her face towards the dragon lurking above her. But as the dragon readied itself to pound on us, Clarel raised her hand and with all her remaining strength, sent a surge of magic up at the dragon. The creature roared in pain as the magic slid through its scales. Its tail sweeped in anger and hurt, destroying the remainder of the battlement bridge.

‘Run!’ Maxwell screamed at the tops of his lungs as the dragon mauled the battlements, stones toppling and tumbling into the ravine below, along with the dragon.

‘It’s collapsing! Make way!’ Solas yelled. 

‘Shit! Shit! Shit!’ Dorian cursed as he ran towards us, Maxwell, Hawke and Stroud at his back. Bull, Cassandra and Blackwall had already made it back to the castle. But I had stopped as Hawke almost fell to the ground and into the ravine. It was Stroud who had grabbed the man and dragged him along the ledge back up. 

‘Saeris! Run!’ Solas grabbed my arm and pulled me forward. 

‘MAX!’ I screamed as I saw Maxwell stumble. The whole battlement bridge broke off like a twig, taking Max, Stroud and Hawke with it. 

I turned on the spot, janking my arm from Solas’ grip. I will not leave Maxwell! If he falls, so will I! ‘No, No, No!’ I ran after him, towards the deep ledge. Ready to jump and—

‘SAERIS!’ Solas roared at the top of his lungs and grabbed for me again, toppling us both on the ground. My face bit into the stone. Solas flew right over me, further up the ledge. And then the ledge gave way as a whole. 

‘NO—NO SOLAS!’ I screeched as I looked over the ledge just in time to see all of them disappear into a giant green Rift. It opened up like an eye. And when it blinked and closed, they were gone.

***

‘O Maker, hear my cry: Guide me through the blackest nights. Steel my heart against the temptations of the wicked. Make me to rest in the warmest places.’ A Grey Warden prayed over his fallen friend. A mage, her eyes blackened by the ritual. ‘O Creator, see me kneel: For I walk only where You would bid me. Stand only in places You have blessed. Sing only the words You place in my throat.’ The Warden took off her helmet and kissed the dead mage tenderly on the lips. ‘My Maker, know my heart. Take from me a life of sorrow. Lift from me a world of pain. Judge me worthy of Your endless pride.’

‘Saeris.’ Cassandra stood behind me. I ignored her.

I focussed on the patient before me. The Inquisition soldier heaved as my magic healed his broken ribs. A sigh. ‘There you are,’ I whispered. 

‘Your Holiness, thank you.’ The young man breathed comfortably now. I recognised him to be one of the ex-Templars. Oh how they’ve turned on me.

Onto the next. I looked over the courtyard. Wardens and Inquisition soldiers alike were helping one another, waiting… I saw Cole standing with a hurt Warden, carefully taking away his pain as another Inquisition healer helped. 

‘Saeris! Do not ignore me! You are acting as a—’

‘As a what, Cass? A child?’ I finally turned to her, my face pulled into an angry sneer. And then I saw her face. Sadness, worry. She had seen them fall too. ‘I’m sorry, I—I don’t know what to do.’

Cassandra put her hand on my shoulder. ‘Come,’ she said and guided me to the makeshift battle table Cullen and the others had set up. Behind him a tent was put up, its entrance heavily guarded. In it lay Magister Erimond. Unconscious but alive. Unfortunately. ‘Do we have sight on the dragon?’ Cassandra asked Cullen as we arrived.

I felt the Commander search for my gaze, but I stared at the map unblinkingly. I had seen him give a thankful prayer when he saw me enter the courtyard with the others. And it angered me. 

If Solas hadn’t pulled me back, he’d still be… I could’ve—

‘It was spotted by our scouts beyond the Fortress to the North, flying towards the Nahashin Marshes.’ Leliana answered. 

Cassandra tightened her jaw. ‘And Maxwell?’ 

Leliana shook her head silently. ‘Saeris, earlier, you said you saw him and the others disappear into a Rift?’ 

I nodded.

‘Then… he must be in the Fade. Is that possible?’ Leliana held my gaze tightly. 

‘In theory, yes,’ I said, a shiver crawling up my spine. They had been gone for almost an hour already. If they were in the Fade… that demon I had seen… ‘Fenedhis,’ I whispered under my breath. ‘If they are in the Fade… then that demon will find them.’

‘That demon?’ Cassandra leaned forward in interest. 

I swallowed. ‘In the Rift, up the bailey… we saw a massive demon behind it. It’s what has been controlling the mages, I guess. I—’ I shook my head. ‘The longer they remain there… the more likely they’ll…’

‘Maker keep them.’ Cassandra closed her eyes and sighed deeply.

I looked up to Cassandra, realising: ‘Solas is with them.’

‘We know, he—’ Cullen interrupted.

‘No, no…’ I put my hand to his face to shush him, my mind clearing. Why hadn’t I thought of this before. ‘I can find them. If they’re physically in the Fade…’

‘... then you can perhaps reach them if you dream,’ Cullen finished my sentence, his face bright.

‘Yes. Perhaps.’ I stared at the Commander. He nodded back approvingly. Dream and find the others as I had found Cullen once… though now I had to find them physically. In the Fade.

‘You must try.’ Cassandra stood up. 

‘I agree.’ Leliana nodded.

‘Alright,’ I said. ‘I’m going to try.’

I walked towards the dormant Rift, trying not to look up to it, to see the monster behind it still lurking, its many eyes challenging me. 

Cullen, Leliana and Cassandra followed me. Our sudden hope became noticed by the others. 

I sat down at the foot of the Rift. If I sat close to it physically, perhaps it would be easier to find its location in the Fade. To find my friends. 

‘What are you doing, Twinkle?’ Varric popped up right next to Cassandra. 

‘Taking a nap.’ I winked back at him. 

‘Seriously? Genius.’ Sera had walked over too. ‘Who cares about this, yeah. Need your beauty sleep, don’t ya?’ She grinned. 

‘Well,’ I looked over my shoulder to the group, ‘I’m actually going to try and find the others… in the Fade.’ The rest of the inner circle had joined the group, staring down as I made myself as comfortable as possible on the stones.

‘You are… a Somniari.’ Vivienne gasped. ‘Why was I not told of this.’ She turned her face to Leliana, who heaved up her shoulders, her eyes devious.

‘Get ‘em back, will you?’ Bull’s voice silenced the others. The giant Qunari’s face was bleak with worry. Dorian was in the Fade, too. 

‘I’ll try.’ I tried to look at him assuredly, but I don’t think my eyes looked as confident. 

‘Be careful, Saeris,’ Cassandra warned before I laid down. 

‘What happens if you die in the Fade?’ Blackwall asked Vivienne under his breath. 

‘I’ll become Tranquil.’ My voice was calm yet dreadful. At that, the others grew silent. I nestled myself on the ground, closing my eyes and taking advantage of their silencing worry. Though it didn’t stay quiet long.

‘Is she sleeping already?’ Bull mumbled after a minute. 

‘I don’t think so, Tiny,’ Varric whispered back. 

‘Annoyed. Worried. Can I help them?’ Cole appeared next to Vivienne. 

‘Gah!’ she squealed. ‘Shoo, demon!’ 

‘He’s not a critter, you can’t “shoo” him.’ Varric laughed.

‘Guys!’ I sat back up. ‘Can you please keep it quiet. All of you, shoo!’ I waved my hands at them to go away. 

‘Critter critter!’ Sera stuck her tongue out at me and laughed. 

The group walked away. 

I waved my hand over myself, a ward springing into place. It hummed and buzzed quietly, silencing the sounds around me. Again, I nestled down onto the stones below. 

Luckily, the battle had worn me out so much that sleep came swiftly. 

***

Taking into mind all of Solas’ lessons, I tried to navigate the Fade. The fog was dense, full of memories of Adamant Fortress. But I wasn’t looking for memories. 

Instead, I tried to look for Solas. His essence. The smell of Elfroot and books. The hum of his voice. I listened for Maxwell, for his laughter. I searched for Dorian, his flowery perfume. Yet, the fog remained silent. 

The demon… No, I have to look for the demon. They are in its territory, if I guessed correctly. It was lurking here for the Ritual, ready to step out of that dormant Rift. I need to look for its realm. 

‘You can do this, Saeris,’ I whispered to myself and sucked the dense air into my lungs and out again.

Eyes. Thousands. Legs. Also too many. Power, lingering terror and ancient fear. Blood and magic and Tevinter. Wardens and false promises. Blighted. Nightmares. Fear.

The fog started to lift. I held my breath. There! 

I stepped towards a ward—though it was different from any ward I had ever seen before. It felt… alive as well as dead. Unnatural yet welcoming. I tried to stare behind it, but I couldn’t see anything but rock and emerald lava. I tried to squint my left eye at it, but the sight didn’t change. No hiding. It didn’t have to form as a nightmare realm. It already was on its own.

No Maxwell or Solas either. 

My heart stuck in my throat. Was I too late? 

‘Hello.’ A voice, gentle and light, called behind me. 

‘Fenedhis!’ I cursed and turned around. A ball of pure, golden light zoomed towards me. Before I could run though, it stopped right in front of me. The ball of light twisted and turned until its form changed to something that resembled a woman, still made out of light. ‘Thank goodness.’ I heaved. I thought my heart was going to pop out. ‘You’re a spirit.’

The spirit remained silent.

I wanted to question its purpose, but decided not to, hearing Solas’s voice inside my head to not impose anything on it. Instead, I asked: ‘Can you help me?’

‘Yes.’ the spirit said, its voice soft and feminine. 

‘Have you seen-’

‘Yes,’ she said again serenely. ‘There.’ A golden hand appeared from its form, slender fingers pointing. And, like we zoomed through the skies, the image behind the ward changed. 

Maxwell, Solas, Dorian, Hawke and Stroud were fighting what looked like wraiths. My friends looked well, albeit disturbed and confused.

‘Nasty!’ Dorian shivered as his spell hit one of the wraiths. Its essence splattered across a stone wall. 

‘Thank you!’ I looked over my shoulder towards the spirit, but it had already vanished. 

I noticed Solas stopping in his tracks. Though he had been fighting off a wraith, his eyes were alight with awe. He looked around curiously, as if he had heard me. 

‘Solas!’ I called from beyond the ward. He couldn’t hear me. 

‘Ah, fuck this,’ I cursed and pushed myself against the invisible, disgusting border of the dream. But it still didn’t budge. Until I realised I had to enter it unseen. Become a part of this dream. This realm. Something the demon wouldn’t bat an eye at. I imagined myself as a wisp of terror, eating from the big demon’s back as a parasite. Too small to bother with. Too stupid. Too insignificant. The ward around the realm responded. I’m in. 

Again, I called out to Solas. ‘Ma falon, ra’s em! It’s me! Saeris.’

‘Saeris?’ Solas answered. 

‘What?’ Maxwell stopped in his tracks as he heard Solas call my name in response. 

Solas looked around the space again. 

‘I thought I may have heard…’ Solas trailed off. 

‘We’re doomed. Solas is beginning to hear voices,’ Dorian moaned dramatically. 

I willed myself to be seen, focussing to keep a hole in the ward behind me, yet becoming one with this realm. To be a part of it, to wear its owner’s cloak. With a flash and grunt, I fell to the ground in front of the group.

‘Andraste’s tits!’ Hawke jumped aside as I landed.

‘Demon!’ Maxwell ran up to me as I got up, weapons in hand and eyes determined to kill. 

I jumped aside just in time. However, Maxwell turned swiftly and before I knew it, held his sword right up to my throat. ‘Stop! It’s me. It’s Saeris,’ I said, swallowing as the blade almost touched my bare skin. Would it cut me as a Dreamer?

‘Saeris?’ Maxwell hesitated.

‘Yes, Max.’ I heaved. This was taking so much energy. 

‘You are lying!’ The others looked at me wearily. Everyone but Solas. 

‘I’m…’

‘Dreaming,’ Solas finished my sentence, walking around my figure scholarly. ‘Magnificent.’ I rolled my eyes at him. How to make a girl feel like an object in ten seconds or less.

‘How can you be sure, Solas,’ Maxwell said. 

‘Look at her. Really look at her, Inquisitor.’ Solas pointed to where I stood. I remained as still as stone. 

‘I just see an abomination that resembles her!’ Maxwell became slightly frustrated. Is that what they saw? Of course! I had willed my essence to be of this realm. I looked down at my body. I resemble myself, but with grey and dead-looking skin, scratches all along my arms and legs, thorn old battle clothes and darkened talons instead of nails. I was an undead version of me! I bet my face looked ghastly. I pinched my eyes closed, willing again to look as myself, just for a second. The others gasped. 

‘I cannot stay here as myself. The demon will take notice,’ I said, more to Solas than to Max. ‘I’m sleeping below the dormant Rift. We… devised you fell into that demon’s realm, the one we saw in the Rift, Max,’ I tried to explain, but only Solas nodded.

‘How are we truly certain it is you.’ Stroud looked at me suspiciously. 

‘Look at her form.’ Solas pointed out again. And indeed, the contours of my body were blurry, almost shining even. ‘It is similar to that spirit’s earlier.’ 

‘We must trust it. As we did with Justinia,’ Stroud said after a moment, still eyeing me suspiciously. 

‘Fine. For now.’ Maxwell sheathed his swords. I swallowed again, freely this time. ‘Do you know how to get out of here… Saeris?’ Maxwell eyed me with great mistrust. 

I closed my eyes and thought for a second while the others stared at me suspiciously, still except Solas. I focussed on my body, the doorway I had left open, the buzzing Fade beyond it… and there I could hear it, beyond my dream, my own ward buzzed. I can hear it here… through the Rift! Of course! It’s still open! I can just…

‘I can just follow the threads back,’ I whispered to myself.

‘Say what now?’ Dorian murmured. 

I ignored him and turned to Solas. ‘I am sleeping next to the dormant Rift. I can hear my ward. Solas, I think I can guide you there. And because it’s dormant… you can all just… step back out of it.’

‘Marvellous,’ he said in answer. ‘Very good, Saeris. I think this is a viable option.’

‘Our only option.’ Maxwell sighed. ‘Alright, guide us.’

‘Wait.’ Dorian halted. ‘Saeris, if that is really you… and you are a Somniari… can you shape the Fade first into something more… agreeable?’

I tried to give Dorian a comforting smile, but shook my head. ‘No… this place… it belongs to a very alert demon. It is too honed, too strong. I’m an intruder here—and I expect it already knows of my presence, though it will probably think of me as a lesser shade or wraith. And besides, it would take too much energy than I have right now to change anything at all.’

‘We would be back where we started if Saeris wakes up. We must endure,’ Solas stated sternly. 

‘Too bad,’ Dorian whined, gripping his staff even tighter than before.

The group walked further, deeper into this realm. I lead them at the front, guiding them as my own ward guided me. 

The area was like a giant crater in itself, filled with dark caverns, rocks and swirling pools of emerald lava. The stench of sulphur clung to the air and I could hear the constant crawling of many legged creatures, perhaps spiders. Lots and lots of spiders.  

Pillars of rocks and spires of rubble floated in the sky, as if there was no up or down. Dirt-coloured water poured from some of the rocks in every single direction. In some way, I understood Solas’ awe. Though unnatural, it was beautiful in an eerie way as only the Fade could be.

As we continued walking, Solas updated me on what they had already been through. First, they had come across frozen scenes of long lost souls, stuck in their fears. They helped some souls along the way, feeling the dread lift from the air as they had done so. Perhaps by helping the souls, the demon grew less powerful. One fear at a time. After the souls were freed, a woman greeted them.

‘I think it was the Divine.’ Maxwell nodded, his eyes not leaving me. I couldn’t blame him. I wouldn’t trust an undead-looking version of him either.

‘Or a spirit taking her form,’ Solas added. ‘A spirit that identifies so strongly with Justinia, that it believes it is her. How can we say it is not?’

I stopped. ‘I saw a spirit too, outside the border of this dream. It has guided me through.’ I looked at Solas. ‘Its form was undefined yet female. But perhaps it was the same one.’ 

‘Perhaps,’ Solas mused, sparkles in his eyes. 

‘Ugh,’ Dorian scoffed. ‘I get it, you like it here. Now chop-chop.’

We continued up a sloped rocky path. Solas continued his rushed summary. The Divine or whatever she was, had informed them the demon that commanded this realm was a Nightmare demon. Old, cunning and fat with fears caused by Corypheus’ actions. This was its lair. 

‘The memories from the Conclave, the ones that I don’t remember. This demon has taken them from me. But I remember now,’ Maxwell added out of breath. ‘The Anchor came from the Orb. Corypheus used it.’

No Maker. No Andraste. 

‘He wanted to rip open the Veil, use the Anchor to enter the Fade as we are now… and enter the Black City,’ Stroud added.

‘With the help of the Wardens,’ I heard Hawke mutter, but I think I was the only one who heard… or gave notice to it.

A cold shiver ran down my spine. No Veil… and the Black City… the chaos, the death it would cause. I looked at Solas, but his gaze was almost blank. Ungiving. 

‘It obviously went wrong. The Anchor went to Maxy here, and voilà! Here we are.’ Dorian sighed sarcastically. 

‘Well-put.’ Hawke grinned, but then added, ‘When the explosion at the Conclave happened, parts of it were blasted into this realm. We have found scraps of journals from visitors to the Conclave. I’m really happy I wasn’t there. No offence, Inquisitor.’

‘None taken.’ Max winked. ‘The Divine or whatever is still here somewhere. She told us the demon still has something of me… She went forward to look for it. But then we couldn’t figure out the path. And that’s when we met… you.’

I nodded. ‘Let’s find her then and get out.’ No time for anything else.

We ran down the slope on the other side. 

I stopped in my tracks. A rumble roared through my bones. My eye started to hurt. ‘It’s close.’ I whispered. I felt the border of the dream shudder. The others became deadly silent. Fear permeated from their skin. Even I could smell it. ‘And it has found us too.’

‘Ah, we have a visitor.’ It spoke, its voice raw and deep and ancient. Though it seemed to completely rattle the others, as if it was too loud to bear for them. ‘A stupid boy has come to steal the fear I kindly lifted from his shoulders. You should have thanked me and left your fear where it lay, forgotten.’ Maxwell gave a tiny squeal as Nightmare continued: ‘You think that pain will make you stronger? What fool filled your mind with such drivel? The only one who grows stronger from your fears is me . But you are a guest here in my home. So by all means, let me return what you have forgotten.’

‘I think I just peed a little,’ Max whispered to Hawke. 

‘Or perhaps I should be afraid, facing the most powerful members of the Inquisition.’ The laugh of the Nightmare demon rumbled across the crater. I willed my essence to stay true to this realm. Don’t notice me. Don’t notice me. 

‘I can feel it’s being sarcastic.’ Dorian rolled his eyes, trying not to show his discomfort. 

‘Greetings Dorian.’ The demon laughed. ‘It is Dorian, isn’t it? For a moment, I mistook you for your father.’

Dorian grumbled at it. ‘Rather uncalled for.’

‘He is trying to get on your nerves, weakening our resolve. Do not listen to it.’ Solas called over the demon’s laughter and signalled us to continue forth. 

‘Dirth ma, harellan? Ma banal enasalin. Mar solas ena mar din.’ The Elven words flowed in a perfect symphony on the demon’s tongue. So fluent and fast, I could hardly understand. Something with rebel and victory and death? And pride, or just his name?

Solas seemed completely unbothered. ‘Banal nadas,’ he said as swiftly as the demon had. That phrase I knew. Nothing is inevitable.

I stared at Solas, he didn’t look back at me. 

The demon continued. ‘Warden Stroud. How must it feel to devote your whole life to the Wardens, only to watch them fall? Or, worse, to know that you were responsible for their destruction?’ The demon enjoyed this torture. ‘When the next Blight comes, will they curse your name?’

‘With the Maker’s blessing, we will end this wretched beast,’ Stroud hissed angrily. 

‘Don’t let it get to you,’ Hawke whispered. The demon noticed, though.

‘Did you think you mattered, Hawke? Did you think anything you ever did mattered? You couldn’t even save your city, how could you expect to strike down a God?’

‘Not listening to you…’ Hawke mumbled to himself. 

‘Anders is going to die, just like your family, and everyone you ever cared about.’ Nightmare tried again.

‘Well, that’s going to grow tiresome quickly,’ Hawke answered again, this time jokingly, like it hadn’t bothered him at all. But the words twisted the most inner sacred thoughts of them. 

‘Let’s move, come on.’ I signalled to the group again. This time, they followed. 

As we moved forward, the demon kept on trying and we kept on ignoring. It taunted Maxwell with being a fraud, not good enough of a son. The spare of the spare. It jeered at Dorian about Bull and that love was never in the books for him. His father would be so disappointed. 

We were not far! I heard my ward buzzing as if calling us home. 

‘Ewwww!’ Maxwell yelled. Five long-legged, hairy spiders the size of Mabari hounds crawled our way. The legs so fast and thin and slimy. And yet… they didn’t feel real. I closed my right eye and sighed. 

‘Do not fear,’ I whispered, hoping the demon still couldn’t hear me. ‘These are merely manifestations spawned from the nightmare itself. They’re wisps of terror.’

Maxwell threw some smaller daggers from his belt, hitting three of the creatures in the head. Dorian and Solas weaved their staff around, their fire spells taking care of the rest of them.

‘Did you like my children?’ Nightmare’s voice called out again in glee, ignoring me completely. Good. That means it hadn’t noticed me yet.

‘And of course they look like giant spiders.’ Hawke grunted, poking one of the dead creatures with his sword.

‘Spiders?’ That’s not what I saw.’ Stroud said, confused. ‘I saw… darkspawn.’

‘Remember, we walk in the Fade. Demons of fear shape their appearance to unnerve each of us,’ Solas stated as if a scholar observing from a distance. At that, he turned to me and whispered: ‘How do you observe them, as a Dreamer in this realm?’ His cold eyes were full of focus. 

‘First, I saw spiders too. Detest the things. But I feel they’re not real. And my eye senses it too, their disguises are annulled by it, as all manifestations of the demonic in the Fade per usual.’ I whispered back. I didn’t know if it mattered if I whispered or not. But yelling felt too much. If that demon finds out I’m here… 

A little further down the path, we came across… the spirit. It indeed looked like an elderly Chantry Sister, dressed in fine robes and a tall headdress. Divine Justinia. Though I noted the edges of its figure shining like a spirit. And yes, through my left eye, I saw its true form. And when it spoke, I was sure. 

‘The nightmare is closer now,’ it said, ‘it knows you seek escape… and it feels a new presence. Slowly. With each moment, it grows stronger.’

‘That’s not good.’ Maxwell sighed. Not good indeed.

I walked a little closer to the spirit-Divine. ‘Hello, again.’ I smiled. 

The spirit smiled back. ‘You have made it, Dreamer. Good. They need all the help they can get.’ 

Maxwell walked up next to me, feeling a little more comfortable now since the “Divine” recognised me as well. ‘So you are Saeris.’ He smiled at me. ‘Shit, you shouldn’t have come. If you get killed…’ 

‘Do not worry about me. This is what I’ve been training for.’ I winked, trying to be as relaxed as possible. 

‘Alright.’ Maxwell sighed, too tired to do anything else. Then, he turned back to the spirit. ‘Did you find the last piece of my memory?’

‘I have,’ it said serenely and opened her wrinkled yet soft hands. Inside its cupped hands was a vial of swirling blue and green water. I tried not to think of the implications of the colours and how they resembled my eyes. ‘You must drink. Then, you must remember.’

Maxwell took the vial from its hands gently. He looked back at Solas, who nodded at him. And with one chug, Maxwell emptied it. 

For a second, he wavered, almost stumbling. Then, he regained his balance. 

‘What did you see?’ Dorian stepped forward. 

‘I saw… the Breach back in Haven, how I escaped.’ Maxwell touched his head and winced. ‘Divine Justinia, she…’ he looked up to the spirit. ‘You were there. We ran, and you saved me. They thought it was Andraste sending me from the Fade, but it was the Divine behind me. And then you… she died.’

A deep sadness appeared in the spirit’s eyes. ‘Yes,’ it merely said. 

‘So this can’t be the Divine.’ Stroud sighed.

‘You don’t say.’ Hawke rolled his eyes at the Warden. 

‘I am sorry if I disappoint you,’ the spirit said as its body turned from frail to golden, a light erupting from within, until it was the spirit I had seen beyond this dream. Its true form my eye had discerned earlier. I smiled gently toward it.

‘You are not the Divine. But you helped us, whatever or whomever you may be. Thank you.’ There were tears in Max’ eyes as he stared up towards the floating spirit. 

‘What we do know is that the mortal Divine perished at the temple, thanks to the Grey Wardens,’ Hawke bit towards Stroud.

‘As I said, the Grey Wardens responsible for that crime were under the control of Corypheus.’ Stroud sighed in annoyance. ‘We can discuss this further once we return to Adamant.’

‘Yes, Adamant, where the Inquisition faced an army of demons raised by the Wardens,’ Hawke continued either way. 

Now, Stroud became angry. ‘How dare you judge us?’ He grunted. ‘You tore Kirkwall apart and started the mage rebellion!’

Hawke stepped up to Stroud, his face right in front of the Warden’s. ‘To protect innocent mages, not madmen drunk on blood magic! Even without the influence of Corypheus, the Wardens go too far. They need to be checked.’

‘Agreed,’ Solas stated. ‘The Wardens may once have served a greater good, but they are far too dangerous now.’ I knew Solas disliked the Grey Wardens. What had he said? Responsibility is not expertise? 

Dorian spoke up next. ‘They might still be useful. What if Corypheus conjures another Blight? You never know.’

The group stared my way. I rolled my eyes. ‘This debate can wait until we’re out of danger.’ I twisted my neck, feeling the strain of energy in my muscles. I felt my body stirring. ‘I don’t have much time left in the Fade.’

Screeching was heard from behind us. Fuck. 

‘Saeris is right, let’s go.’ Maxwell gave me a thankful look. He wasn’t ready to make any decisions now. 

‘Follow us.’ I said and took the lead with the spirit, guiding the others even deeper along the nightmare. 

We came upon more and more rememberands of the Waking World which Rifts had pulled to this realm. Inquisition armour. Boats and fishing equipment with the emblem of Crestwood. Pieces of a Chantry from Redcliffe. Sand from the Approach. 

‘What’s that!’ Maxwell yelled and pointed to a corner of the swamp, up on a small hill. ‘Is that a…’

‘Graveyard.’ Hawke swallowed. We walked closer to it. 

The first one on the left. It said: “Blackwall - Himself.” Another one on the right said: “Varric - Became his parents.”

I read the other stones in silence. Cassandra, helplessness. Cole, despair. Sera, the nothing. Dorian, temptation. Vivienne, irrelevance. Iron Bull, madness. 

Maxwell swallowed as he looked at his own grave. ‘Forgotten.’ It said. 

I looked for my own grave. I smiled a little as I read it. ‘Eternity.’ 

‘Death by greatest fear.’ Solas mumbled, staring at his own grave. I walked up to him and laid my undead head on his soldiers. His grave said, ‘Dying alone.’ Solas looked down to my face, his mask unyielding, but his eyes full of emotion only I understood. I squeezed his arm, my fingers curling around his. Our fears as similar as they were contrary. And yet here we were.

‘Let’s go,’ I said after a second of silence. 

‘Good idea.’ Dorian sighed, his eyes not on his own grave, but on Bull’s. 

‘Yes.’ The spirit behind us hummed peacefully, its voice patient.

Deeper and deeper we went, the path going on endlessly. Finally, we entered some kind of cavern. It opened up to an open space. At the end of it, rested a Rift. And beyond that…

‘My ward. We’re here.’ I yelled. We’re here! My ward buzzed happily, like a call from the other side. Come, come, come to me! Quick! 

‘And who are you?’ A deep voice rumbled. Nightmare. 

It found me. 

‘Oh… my… Maker,’ Maxwell groaned. 

And from a twisting spire, crawled Nightmare. Its body was grotesque, resembling a gigantic armoured arachnid. Its bulbous and spiked carapace enveloped the whole sky beyond it. Nightmare had eight long legs that ended in sharp, grey talons. Its body resembled the crater around it, moulded by the realm itself. Where its head should have been, just a horde of blackened and decaying teeth and eyes had spawned. In front of the giant demon, another creature waited for us —the Aspect of the Nightmare: a large Fear demon that looked almost human in form, yet necrotic and skeletal. It stood upright, its tattered and pale arms raised as if to welcome us. Its face was obscured by some sort of mask that extended into several long, thin appendages or tendrils, or legs… 

‘You do not belong here,’ the demon’s voice called. I wasn’t sure from which creature the voice came from. I don’t think it mattered. ‘Intruder!’ it spat so angrily. 

I let go of my disguise. It wasn’t worth the energy. I stared up at the demon defiantly. 

But I shouldn't have done that. 

And then… the demon laughed. 

‘Ahhh, you must be Saeris,’ Nightmare said my name with a purr. ‘How have you crawled your way in, Dreamer?’ His voice became slick as honey. ‘You belong not in this World.’ 

I stared at its thousands of eyes. Which world? 

And then, I heard a click. The door! My exit through this dream’s ward! NO! Nightmare had distracted me. I willed it to open, just a tiny little crack. I heaved, I felt my body in the Waking World twisting and turning and screaming. I could feel the hoarseness in my throat. No, focus! 

‘Ny silaimem shala em’an, Saeris. Mar dirtha’vhen’an.’ The demon sneered in Elven. The words rang into my head, my blood pulling from my face. Those words. No. No, no, no, no.

As the demon spoke, Solas whipped his head to me, his gaze wide and confused and searching. 

I looked at my feet and swallowed. And swallowed. And swallowed. No. No. What do they mean? Those words, those whispers. No, no, no. 

Nightmare laughed deeply as it closed nearer and nearer. 

‘Go!’ The gentle spirit reached for me, its golden hands on my chest. I looked up at her in panic, and somewhere within the light, I saw calm and steady eyes. ‘Wake up.’ She whispered again only to me. Its hands on my chest send waves of warmth through me. 

And then a mighty push and… before I could scream or shout or even breathe, my body, my essence was ripped away. 

I heard the spirit roar, not to me, but to the others. ‘Tell Leliana, “I am sorry. I failed you, too.”

Further and further and further I was pushed back. Until my friends became ants and the giant demon a smudge on a map. And then I screamed, my limbs twisting unnaturally as if I was being pushed through a crack too small for my body. And then I woke up.

***

‘Twinkle?’ Varric’s voice ebbed in my ears. First soft, than louder, like a reversed echo. ‘Firefly?’

‘I prefer Twinkle.’ I moaned. 

‘Thank the Maker.’ I heard him curse. 

‘Ow.’ I tried to push myself up. My arms were broken.

‘No, calm down. Don’t move yet. You suddenly started flailing and then both your arms snapped like twigs.’ Cassandra hushed. They all stood in a semi-circle around me.

I let my magic curl around me, searching the bones agonisingly slow. When my magic finally found the fractures, it started to mend them splinter by splinter. 

‘Astonishing.’ Vivienne huffed as she watched my work. 

Within a minute of painful wheezing, my magic curled around my bones one last time and SNAP! I yelled out in great pain. The bones sprung back into place.

‘That looked… horrible,’ Sera said, her face pale. 

‘Saeris, did you find them?’ Cassandra asked carefully, yet with great haste and worry.

I looked from her to Cullen… and to Leliana. ‘Yes. They’re… fighting… the demon.’ I heaved. ‘A Nightmare demon… They had… help… The Divine… a Spirit.’

‘The Divine?’ Cassandra and Leliana said in almost perfect unison. 

But before I could answer, the Rift suddenly opened wider, sputtering and spitting. Awakening. First out was Dorian, tumbling forward. Bull had the man up in his arms before he hit the ground. 

Next was Solas. He ran out with a grim face, his eyes searching and quickly finding mine near the base of the Rift. He kneeled next to me, a small smile on his lips. ‘You did well, da’len.’ He said. 

After him followed Hawke. And finally, Maxwell.

Where is Stroud? 

But before anything else happened. Maxwell turned around, his Anchor connecting with the Rift and with a clash and a slam, he closed it. 

Captured and bound mages that were still under the Ritual’s binding, snapped from its spell. I heard the wailing of demons, ebbing away as they died. Without the Nightmare to control them, the mages were free, and Corypheus lost his demon army. 

People started cheering. And I did too. We did it. He did it. 

‘He broke the spell!’ Soldiers whispered. ‘He truly is blessed by the Maker!’

A Warden ran forward. I recognised him. It was the Warden we had saved on the battlements before, with eyes as blue as his armour. ‘Inquisitor!’ he said, bowing deeply and pounding his chest with his hand, across his heart. ‘My brothers and sisters aided in the last attacks. We stand ready to continue to help make up for Clarel’s… tragic mistake.’ He looked around our party, his eyes faltering once more. ‘Where is Stroud?’

Maxwell swallowed, his face grim. ‘Warden Stroud died striking a blow against a servant of the Blight. We will honour his sacrifice, and remember how he exemplified the ideals of the Grey Wardens.’ Maxwell's voice roared over the quiet courtyard. Evey soldier, scout, mage or Warden on his lips. ‘Even as Corypheus and his servants tried to destroy you all from within.’ The accusation hung in the air. 

‘Inquisitor,’ the Warden in front of us hesitated, ‘we have no one left of any significant rank. What do we do now?’

Maxwell stared the Warden down, his eyes wide and in deep thought. His gaze flickered my way, then to Cassandra. Then, to the skies. He sighed. ‘You stay and do whatever you can to help.’

Solas sighed deeply and shook his head in disappointment. Vivienne tutted as well, and I saw a disapproving glean in Cassandra’s eyes, though it disappeared just as quickly.

Maxwell raised his voice louder, over the murmuring crowd: ‘Stroud died for the ideals of the Wardens. In war, victory. And we are still at war!’ The Wardens all stood straight. Some had tears in their eyes. ‘Do you believe the Wardens can still help?’ Maxwell said somewhat more quietly to the blue-eyed Warden.

The Warden took off his winged helmet, his dark hair buzzed short. ‘I do, Your Worship.’ His voice didn’t waiver. 

‘You’re still vulnerable to Corypheus,’ Maxwell concluded, ‘and possibly Venatori, but there are plenty of demons that need killing.’

And the more help, the merrier, I thought.

‘Thank you, Your Worship. We will not fail you,’ The Warden said, his brothers and sisters bowing to the Inquisitor. To our Maxwell. 

Lead them or fall. Corypheus will not let us choose.

Notes:

Translation:
Ny silaimem shala em’an, Saeris. Mar dirtha’vhen’an. -> You have forgotten to protect us, Searis. Your "dirtha'vhen'an".

Chapter 56: Endured

“Nothing endures but change.”

— Heraclitus

 

***

The night after we had laid siege on Adamant Fortress, we camped on the courtyard of the castle. All day long, soldiers and mages and Wardens had cleared bodies and debris from the grounds. They mourned their fallen friends, yet rejoiced that they themselves could live for another day. And when the courtyard didn’t resemble a battlefield anymore, there was room for celebration. 

Fires had been lit not only to burn corpses, but to dance and drink around. People sang and drank wine and mead that was brought just in case. 

My eyes followed the dancing shadows. Hours ago, they were fighting for their lives. 

I spotted Dorian and Bull, hidden—but not—in the shadows cast by a campfire to the side of the courtyard. Their arms were intertwined, their faces obscured by one another. 

Maxwell had left for bed an hour ago, before the sun had set. I hadn’t seen Cassandra since as well. 

‘You do not seem at ease.’ Solas sat down next to me and handed me a cup of warmed mead. ‘What is on your mind, ma’falon?’ 

‘The Fade…’ My voice cracked slightly. ‘What was it like? To be there physically?’

Solas raised his eyebrows and thought for a second. ‘It was an extraordinary experience.’ His eyes peered into the fire before us. ‘We travelled its roads as we do the Imperial Highway. As real as any place in Thedas. Yet, the boundlessness of the Fade echoed throughout, enhancing every move, every thought, every whisper. And the Black City, almost close enough to touch…’ His voice was full of marvel. 

‘You liked it there.’ I laughed weakly. ‘Didn’t you?’

‘I did, in a sense.’ Solas chuckled back and stared up at me, his eyes piercing. ‘It was a fascinating experience, devastatingly so, even.’

‘I wish my experience felt the same.’ I sighed, rubbing my left temple. It had throbbed all day long, ever since I had woken up… no before… when Nightmare said that damned word I dreaded so. 

Dirtha’vhen’an. Dirtha’vhen’an. Dirtha’vhen’an.

‘You had found your way to us masterfully, da’len,’ Solas whispered. I opened my eyes to meet his’. ‘Your disguise had fooled the master of the realm, ancient as it was, for a span not many a Dreamer could ever accomplish.’

‘Still. Its words… They were meant to be feared. And I did so. I failed. Lost focus.’ 

If that spirit hadn’t pushed me back through that crack in the ward she had pried open so painstakingly, I would’ve been stuck there still. Forever. 

Solas rested a hand on my shoulder. It felt as if it could burn right through my flesh and bones. ‘You aided us as no one else could. You did well.’ The fire crackled loudly. When I didn’t respond and the silence almost settled between us, Solas spoke again. ‘The words it spoke to you, I assume you know of their meaning.’

I stared deeper into the fire, as if it could answer for me. ‘Some yes… But there’s one.’

‘Perchance I know which word you mean. I had been thinking about it throughout this evening.’ Solas’ voice broke my trance and I looked over at him, eyes curious.

‘You know what it means.’ 

‘In a lexicological sense, yes. And perhaps, more.’ The corners of Solas’ lips curled up slightly—a smile reserved for when he knew something others didn’t. I saw him do it often. 

‘Can you… tell me?’

‘Not here,’ he whispered, eyes darting to the shadows and the people within them that surrounded us. 

Before I could answer, Solas stood up from the ground next to me and walked to his tent. He hadn’t even glanced my way before he entered. I understood why, as I heard mumbling behind me. The Chevaliers. All had survived but one. The knight called Henri had passed. I wished all of them had. And I didn’t feel bad about it. 

After a couple of minutes, I too stood up in silence and sauntered back to my tent. Before I entered, I sneaked a peek over my shoulder to Solas’ tent he shared with Cole—if that boy ever slept. A thought ran through my mind, of Solas and me. And that tent. 

I closed the flap behind me and put away the thought with the light. 

***

A book laid open on a wooden pedestal, which looked as if it had sprouted up from the floor and into something that resembled a table naturally. I took a closer step to the book, knowing full well he intended for me to read it. 

‘So brazenly, hah’ren,’ I mumbled to myself. 

The room—his private library—had been empty when I had arrived. No signs of the owner of this dream. But I knew he was here somewhere. I felt it. And he wouldn’t have let me in otherwise. 

I reached out and let my fingers graze the corners of the ancient script before me, the writings dancing into words I could understand. The book was bound in delicate cloth that shone iridescently as the light from the open window hit it. I took another step closer and bowed before it to discern the tiny, swirly writings. My hair fell on the white pages and almost disappeared within them. 

“Eliel was my name. Friend and son, is what I had been called.” The words were written in the deepest of black ink. “From my brethren to my kin, our bindings were held by Sylaise. Her markings bled my skin. Bound to Her duty. A promise of servitude. I prayed as I obeyed.”

My eyes caught the song dancing along the lines. 

“Sylaise, whose heat rivals Elgar'nan's light. Sylaise, whose temples rival Mythal's cities. Sylaise, whose breath rivals Andruil's spear. Sylaise, whose skill rivals June's craft. Sylaise, whose fire cannot be quenched. We give ourselves gladly to your service.”

My eyes skimmed through the text. A story of someone’s life aeons ago. A servant of Sylaise? I read the words again before I continued to the next part. Her markings bled my skin… 

“His Title was not His name, yet he had been called to by many. Feared in reverence. He spoke of dreams released, of blood unspilled. As one of many to come, yet few of the first to follow, I laid my purpose in His fated hands. ‘Do not fear what unboundness holds for you.’ He had told my brethren, my kin. ‘You are free.’ The words He spoke, a recon of rebellion. Of a People unleashed.”

Ar lasa mala revas. Ar lasa mala revas. Ar lasa mala revas. Those words hummed like song from the paper. 

“Eliel was my name. Friend and son and rebel. It remains as such. I am no longer bound by blood. My oath unravelled, my face now barren. My promise is broken. I am free.”

‘Interesting, is it not?’ Solas’ voice echoed through the halls of his dream. 

I straightened my back, jumping a little. ‘And where have you been?’ My voice entwined with his echoes. 

Solas chuckled and ignored my question. ‘What are your thoughts on this tale, if I may ask?’ His eyes conveyed a deep interessest in my answer. 

‘Is this a recollection? Or fiction?’ I furrowed my brows. 

Solas’ faint smile remained on his full lips. ‘What is fiction and what is not? What is true or what is interpretation? Adaptation?'

I rolled my eyes. ‘I just meant that I thought it was… never mind.’ I sighed. 

Solas cocked his head, yet remained silent, his curious gaze holding mine. 

‘Ok.’ I mused and stared at the iridescent book again. ‘So… It’s a story about Eliel, who was once bound in… blood? To Sylaise?’ I pursed my lips. Solas’ gaze shifted for a second to my mouth, then back to my eyes. 

‘Yes?’ He nodded. ‘What else?’ He walked around me then, arms bound to his back, eyes alight. 

‘He… was freed from his oath and… became a rebel?’ Harellan. Nightmare had called Solas that. Odd. ‘He… his face became barren from the blood…’ I hummed in thought. ‘Wait… is this… blood writing? Is this a story about… Vallaslin?’

Solas’ eyes sparkled with delight at my answer. 

But I shook my head. ‘No… the Vallaslin honoured the Evanuris? Why would he want them removed?’ I frowned deeper and walked to a bookcase around the corner. Solas followed me in scholarly interest. I grabbed a newer tome than most and opened it. I had read it before. Here. ‘When the children of our people came of age, they earn the privilege of wearing the Vallaslin, the blood writing.’ I stopped and looked up to Solas. He nodded silently. ‘It sets us apart from the shemlen, and from the elves who have thrown their lot in with them. It reminds us that we will never again surrender our traditions and beliefs.’ I read the text aloud. It felt wrong not to whisper here, but still I did so. ‘Keeper Gisharel’s literary work is well-known, even by today’s scholars. And I remember it clearly from what I was told by the Dalish. Why would Eliel have his Vallaslin removed? Come on, Solas. I know you want to tell me.’ 

‘He was bound by blood. Yet he chose to be unbound. A promise broken.’

I cocked my head to the other side. ‘I still do not understand.’

Solas walked back to the iridescent book and I followed him. ‘Dalish Vallaslin…’ He looked back up to me, something silent in his eyes, something pleading for me to understand. ‘They are slave markings, or at least, they were in the time of ancient Arlathan.’

‘Truly?’ I asked surprised. ‘So, the Dalish tradition is wrong.’ 

Solas nodded silently. 

‘The Dalish won’t like that piece of information.’ I sighed and thought of Elgadira and Nenhara, of all the Dalish I once met. ‘For them to realise their markings are those of slaves… Was Elvenan no better than Tevinter?’

At this, Solas stepped around me to face me, his eyes gentle. ‘The Dalish reclaimed this abominable tradition to grasp at mere strings of a once great history. Yet, reality differed. A noble would mark his slaves to honour the god he worshipped. After Arlathan fell, the Dalish forgot.’

I looked up at his face. Though his gaze was gentle, I could sense he was not telling me everything. ‘I’m glad I refused the Vallaslin when offered,’ I mumbled under my breath, breaking our gaze for a second before looking back up. ‘You do not have a Vallaslin either.’ It was a statement, not a question. Yet, a question lingered in it. Was he once enslaved? Now a rebel? Is that why he made me read this text?  ‘Is that why Nightmare called you rebel?’ 

Solas smiled strangely. The air in the dream felt tense. 

When no answer came, I threw in another question. ‘Why did I read this story?’ I cocked my head, my hair falling to the side. Solas’ eyes followed the lines of my hair to my ears. 

‘As I said earlier, I had been thinking of what Nightmare had said.’ Solas finally spoke. ‘His words were meant to irk. A rebel is what he called me. For the past or for the apostate I am now, I do not know.’ His eyes gleaned and I knew he knew why. ‘He used a word to you, however, I had not heard… spoken in this age.’

I tensed my shoulders, couldn’t help it. A grimace overtook my face. ‘Dirtha’vhen’an.’ I whispered. 

‘Have you heard it before?’ he said, his voice betraying no emotion.

I looked up at him silently. We were standing so close, my chest almost touching his. As he did not tell me things, I did not tell him stuff either. Not out of spite. Or reservation. Perhaps I didn’t want to use the words. Perhaps he didn’t either. ‘In whispers and vague memories across the Fade, yes, I have heard the word before.’

‘You did not ask for my council?’ A hint of disappointment. 

I sighed. ‘As you know… I have been alone for a while now. I’m not used to sharing things like whispers I once heard in dreams.’ I took a step back, feeling a little rattled. ‘But I am asking you now.’ I frowned, feeling the headache thumping again. Strange, a headache within a dream. ‘What does… that word… have to do with Vallaslin? I do not have one.’ 

For a second, Solas stared at the space I had created between us. ‘Vallaslin was considered an oath of servitude, of binding oneself to a god. In Elvhenan, a promise was taken as a serious matter. To promise something, is to bind something. Immortality makes such things…’ His eyes pierced into mine as they watched me swallow. ‘...complicated.’

‘What does… dirtha’vhen’an mean? Am I… bound to something?’ A cold sweat broke out along my spine. 

‘Lexicologically, the word was derived from the idiom dirtha'var'en , which means “a great promise given”.’ Solas continued as he watched me closely. ‘Dirtha’vhen’an was meant for something far greater, far more obsidious.’ He spoke the word so delicately. It was strange, hearing it from his mouth. ‘In a literal sense, it meant “the heart of speech” or “to speak from the heart.” Yet…’ He weighed his words, eyes stern. ‘Aeons ago, magic and spells were different from this age. They intertwined with the very words we spoke to one another. In that sense, promises and vows were not taken lightly. To break them could have consequences only immortals could devise… who had eternity to think of them.’

‘I don’t understand, Solas.’ I became even more frustrated. 

‘There were once spells to hold another to their vows, literally making them unbreakable. I was thinking that perhaps… this curse that may hold you could be such a spell. If you were held to a dirtha’vhen’an, if an oath you made was bound to you so strongly, if it was turned into a spell or curse as you say, not even death can break it. It would explain why you cannot die, da’len. Until you fulfil your oath, your death is impossible. That is your dirtha’vhen’an.’ His eyes glittered as he spoke, a smile on his lips. But I shook my head and sighed. 

‘But that doesn’t help me, Solas. It is just a word to irk me, even if I know its meaning. And it still means what I already know: I promised something and I can’t die without fulfilling it.’ I put my hands over my eyes, covering them from the light, feeling the heat from my face. 

Solas’ hand covered mine. I jumped a little at his sudden touch. He had walked towards me so silently, taken my hands from my face gently and held them tightly in his own at our chests. 

‘Vallaslin were bindings from one to another. Yet, like Eliel’s, they could be removed.’ His voice was warm now. I looked up to him. 

‘So this means…’

‘That your vow may be removed as well.’ 

‘You can… remove it?’ My voice came out as a whisper, the hope in it undeniable. If he can remove it… I can be free as well? Like Eliel? 

‘There is a spell to remove Vallaslin. And I know it. However, it will not work on you. But perhaps a variant can. It will require more research, more power than I hold as of now. For you, I will try.’ He let go of one of my hands and let his fingers caress my cheek. I closed my eyes, trying not to cry. 

‘Thank you, Solas. For helping me.’ 

I moved to kiss his lips, and before I could, I heard him whisper back, ‘It is a promise.’

***

We travelled back towards Skyhold quickly. Our group travelled in advance to the troops, which were even slower now the battle had passed. At the Heartlands, we took the Inquisition’s military vessel back to sail along the Waking Sea, until we reached a port past Halamshiral. I was happy we didn’t stop there, or any big city for that matter. We travelled solely to return to Skyhold, to home. Everyone was tired and in great need of a good bath, a restful night in a real bed, and a hearty meal consisting of Flissa’s stew and Cabot’s salted bread.  

Every night, Solas and I searched the Fade for answers. We researched books in Solas’ library about Vallaslin and the process of removing it—and what it did to the enslaved bindings. We read about oaths and vows and ancient prophecies, we looked out for spirits of Learning and Purpose, but nothing told us what we wanted to know—how to break an unbreakable vow. A dirtha’vhen’an. 

During our searches, we threw glances at each other as we did throughout the day, thinking of other things we could do while we dream. Or at least, I thought so. Solas had grown quieter in his search for answers. Even during the day, his mind was constantly at thought. He wasn’t avoiding me, but he wasn’t giving me more attention either—at least not more than I wanted. Every night, I stayed awake just a little longer, hoping the entrance of my tent would open silently. Two stern grey-blue eyes in the night finding mine. They did not. 

Maxwell, Varric and Sera often joked our way, about our “Elvy” whispers and “magical mystery thoughts.” 

We were not far from Halamshiral. We had left the boat and walked all day to a meeting point, where horses were ready for us. The landscape had turned from desert back to green and now grey and white as we entered Emprise du Lion. The closer home, the colder it became.

The night was settling in, thick and quiet. I had taken the first shift up. Maxwell was to relieve me. And he did, albeit half an hour too late.

‘My apologies, Searis,’ he said as he walked my way, rubbing out the creases in his wrinkled shirt. ‘I dozed off just a little too deeply, I think.’

I raised an eyebrow and grinned. ‘I heard you moan Cassandra’s name, Max.’

‘Yes, well, I had a dream…’

‘I heard her moan yours too.’

‘Perhaps she’s dreaming—’

‘You know, tents are just fabric. There is a ward that dims sounds…’ I whispered and added with a wink: ‘The next time, just ask me. I’ll cast one at a special price just for you.’

He coughed awkwardly and sat down, but I saw a cheeky grin curl on his lips as he waved me goodbye. ‘I’ll keep that in mind, oh wise one.’ 

I walked to my tent, which was erected at the outskirts of camp, where the ward buzzed safely and assuringly. I used to hate the buzzing and how it stopped all the sounds of the surroundings, at least to me. But ever since visiting Nightmare’s realm, the buzzing became more comforting. 

Inside the tent, it was cool yet comfortable. I heaved my leather vest over my head, feeling how the crisp air caressed my bare skin underneath my thin, linen shirt. I unsheathed my old dagger from my belt and dropped to my bedroom, where the blade gleamed in the darkness. I was about to drop my pants, when I heard hurrying yet careful footsteps not far away outside my tent. I buckled my belt back on, dagger in place, tucked my long shirt back into my pants and popped my head back out the tent to see who was wandering near it. 

It was Solas. 

His eyes were big and worried, his skin sweating in the moonlight as he paced up and down in front of his own tent. His fingers worked in tight, anxious movements I’d never seen from him before, as though he were struggling against something unseen. 

‘Solas?’ I whispered worriedly, my voice soft to avoid waking anyone else, and walked out to meet him, my hands to his shoulders. He looked at me, anger and fear and desperation in his eyes. ‘What’s wrong, lethallin?’ 

His head snapped up, and in his eyes, I saw an expression that surprised me—worry, a rare, naked kind of it. He paused, as if weighing his words, before he finally spoke. ‘I was waiting for you in the Fade. One of my oldest friends… A spirit of Wisdom. I had been planning for both of you to meet. Perhaps they could help us find answers.’ He stopped pacing and sighed. ‘I heard them call for help as I waited for you.’

I blinked, absorbing his words. ‘What happened?’ I took a step closer. A spirit of Wisdom… 

Solas shook his head. ‘Unlike spirits clamouring to enter our world through the Rifts, my friend was dwelling quite happily in the Fade. It was summoned against its will by mages through some kind of summoning circle, forced into slavery. It is the only possible reason for their desperate call tonight.’

‘Okay…’ I pursed my lips, my mind flooded with questions. But I’ll have time to ask them later. I let go of Solas’ shoulders and took a step back. ‘Give me a moment to grab my stuff. Let’s leave for your friend immediately. No time to waste. Maxwell’s at the campfire. Tell him what you’ve told me. He’ll understand.’ I said, not missing a beat. 

Solas’s shoulders dropped a fraction in what looked like relief, though his voice was still laced with worry. ‘ Ma falon , I should not pull you into this… it’s a dangerous path, and I would not wish to risk you on a matter of my own.’

I was already packing up my tent when I looked back at him and frowned. ‘You’re not pulling me into anything I don’t want to be part of, Solas,’ I said, my voice firm. ‘This friend of yours needs us both, and you shouldn’t have to go alone.’ I straightened up and walked towards him again and stopped right in front of him. He stood still, breathing heavily out of worry. My hand found his cheek, which was cold and clammy from the unrestful sleep. When my hand held his face, Solas closed his eyes for a second and sighed deeply. ‘And besides, for you, anything,’ I whispered. I kissed his other cheek, my lips warm on his skin. For a moment, I faltered—would I kiss his lips too? But I decided it was not the time. 

When I released him, I stayed close for a moment longer, body to body. Solas looked down to me and for a second, I saw relief in his deep-set eyes. 

I turned around before he could say anything and continued packing. Solas waited for a second longer, then walked over to Maxwell, who had been staring into the fire, poking a stick in its embers. 

When I packed up everything silently and put on my travelling cloak and foot wraps, I walked over to the campfire. The moon stood high in the starlit sky. People snored and mumbled in their sleep as I passed their tents. 

Maxwell’s voice, although hushed, was still quite loud. I heard him talk to Solas before I even saw them. ‘No, I understand. Go… But take good care of her, Solas. You know she can be…’ 

‘Ravishing? Brave? Incredibly capable of taking care of herself?’ I finished Max’ sentence when I walked over into the fire’s light. 

Maxwell scoffed. ‘Yes… Yes. And yes, quite.’ 

‘I’m packed.’ I nodded at Solas, who was standing as still as a statue, arms bound behind his back, eyes grave. ‘Max, we’ll meet you back at Skyhold.’

‘Alright.’ Maxwell sighed and pursed his lips. The campfire made his skin glow even more golden. ‘Don’t take too long.’

‘We will not,’ Solas answered in my stead, his voice deep. 

Maxwell looked up at Solas. ‘Take two horses and the supplies you need. I’ll tell the others come morning.’

‘Thank you.’ Solas gave a little smile and then took his leave towards the horses at the other edge of camp. 

I patted Maxwell on the shoulder. ‘Travel safely, my friend,’ I said and winked at the golden man. ‘And make sure to take some well-earned break back at Skyhold.’

‘I will, I will.’ Maxwell smiled and waved at me to go. 

***

Solas already had his things packed and was busy readying his horse. Even in the darkness of the night, I saw the contours of his upheaved shoulders and tensed jawline. 

He would have left for his friend either way—if I would have joined him or not. But still, he had come to me. Asked me for help. That meant something.

In complete silence, I readied my horse as well. Once we were both ready and settled into our saddles, we drove our horses away from camp back to the south-west. Deeper into the Exalted Plains. Solas had sensed his friend’s location in the Fade. How that worked, I didn’t know. Nevertheless, he had marked the location down on our map, and it wasn’t too far from here. A couple of days away if we rode swiftly without too many breaks. 

The forest closed in around us, a stretch of shadows and starlight that cloaked the path ahead. We rode the entire night in silence, until the sun came up. We stopped near a creek that slithered through the dense pinewood forest. I lead my horse to the water and let it drink slowly. Solas did the same. I guessed this was as good a time as any to ask the questions I had been thinking all night long. And knowing Solas, I knew he wouldn’t mind answering them. Not these, anyway. 

‘So… Your friend is a spirit of Wisdom? How long have you known each other?’ 

Solas looked at me as he loosened his horse’s saddle for comfort. ‘Ever since I was but a young man,’ he said and I wondered how many thousands of years ago that was. ‘We shared many conversations of plainly exploring our knowledge of this world. Nothing more, nothing less. I respect its purpose as it respects me as I am.’

‘And… if I may ask…’

‘You may.’ 

‘Earlier, you said your friend was summoned against its will? But I thought spirits wanted to find their way into this world?’ 

‘Some do, certainly, just as many Orlesian peasants wish they could journey to exotic Rivain. But not everyone wants to go to Rivain. My friend is an explorer, seeking lost wisdom and reflecting it. It would happily discuss philosophy with you, but it had no wish to come here physically.’ His voice betrayed his anger and frustration. Not at me. Never at me. 

I hummed in response. ‘That is true, though Rivain is quite pleasant at times.’ I tried to lighten the mood. Solas didn’t answer and continued unpacking some breakfast. I helped him carry it to a flat stone near the creek and put the food down. Bread and water would do for now. Solas sat down on another nearby rock. He tore some pieces of bread from the loaf and ate them, his face blank, his mind elsewhere. I sat down next to him and tore some bread off myself. 

‘Do you have any idea what the mages want with your friend?’ I asked after some minutes of silence. I gulped down some cold water and stared at Solas. 

‘No.’ He sighed and stared at his last piece of bread with disdain. ‘It knows a great deal of lore and history, but a mage could learn that simply by talking to it in the Fade.’ Solas closed his eyes for a second and continued. ‘It is possible that they seek information it does not wish to give and intend to torture it.’

I shook my head. ‘That’s horrible.’

‘It is.’ Solas said gravely.

‘We will save your friend.’ I looked at Solas, hoping he would look back, but he stared at the creek, at the horses and the forest beyond it. ‘Let’s go.’ I said when I followed his gaze. 

We continued riding throughout the whole day. Solas was quiet and deep in thought of all the possibilities of his friend and what could be happening. I could tell. I lost many friends over the years. The feeling of dread was allincompassing. I understood. If only I could make him feel better now. But the only thing that could was finding his friend, Wisdom… and stopping whoever was holding them prisoner. 

At nightfall, Solas and I stopped again. My back had been beginning to get sore, so I was glad for the rest. We set up a campfire and a tent—one would suffice, as Solas and I would take turns sleeping and keeping watch. First, however, we ate dinner together. Some bread and water and some dried meat. 

I waved my hand towards a patch of earth next to me and a few plants sprouted immediately. I had grown some Salubrious Embrium for tea and Spindleweed, which had a crispy and tangy taste once roasted. Solas watched my work with great interest. I took two empty cups from our satchels and conjured some water in them. I plucked the Embrium flowers and crumpled the petals in my hand, after which I tossed them into the cups of water. I then summoned heat to my fingers and the water hissed at the warmth, steam coming from the cups within seconds.

‘Here you go.’ I handed Solas a cup of Embrium tea. ‘I know you don’t like tea, but it’ll help with the soreness.’ Embrium, like Elfroot, had healing qualities. However, the Embrium flower tastes more sweet and aromatic than Elfroot, which had an earthy aftertaste. And when the Embrium petals are crushed, it tastes even sweeter.

Solas took the cup from my hands gently and sipped from it. He tried not to shudder at the taste, but failed. I laughed loudly. Solas looked at me and gave me a small but genuine smile back. ‘You are indeed quite proficient at taking care of yourself, I see,’ Solas said and took another sip of tea. 

‘I have had a lot of time to practise, yes.’ I winked at him and started roasting the Spindleweed above the fire until crispy and ate some with the dried meat and bread. Solas followed my lead. He hummed contently when he swallowed the food. I watched him closely, how his throat bobbed when he swallowed, how his tongue flicked his lips for any leftover crumbs, how his jaw loosened and tightened with every chew. I bit the inside of my cheek. ‘What was the food like… back in ancient times?’

Solas swallowed some bread and Spindleweed, then spoke. ‘As with many things, magic was infused with food and drink alike, making every flavour deeper, more intense. Our wine was sweeter, yet perfectly bitter. All was in equilibrium, in balance. As the world around us.’

I tore off a piece of dried meat with my teeth. It tasted saltier now. ‘This must suck in comparison, then,’ I said with my mouth half-full, and swallowed. 

Solas chuckled. ‘It is… different, yes. However, it does what it must, and with the right company, any sustenance can be…’ His eyes were on mine. ‘... delicious.’

I swallowed again, though I had no food left in my mouth. I scraped my throat and coughed, taking a gulp of tea, which had cooled already. 

‘You should get some rest. You have not slept in two days,’ Solas said, his eyes more bright. 

He was right, though. I had taken the first shift back at camp with the others, and then I had left with Solas. Suddenly, I felt the tiredness in my legs. 

I stood up. ‘You’re right.’ I yawned and stretched my arms above my head, hearing some bones and muscles pop and groan. ‘On nydha,’ I said to him. 

‘On nydha, Saeris,’ Solas said back, his eyes not leaving me until I disappeared into the tent. 

***

The Exalted Plains stretched in quiet desolation around us, a stillness broken only by the crunch of leaves under our boots. Solas and I had been travelling relentlessly, before sunrise until after nightfall, sleeping for a few hours. Me first, then Solas. After another day of travel, the dense pinewoods made way for more open fields and green forests of oak and birch. 

We rode towards a lake near an open field of grass and tundra. That’s where Solas had marked our map. That’s where Wisdom was. Or should be. 

Solas was ahead of me, his entire frame taut with agitation. 

Suddenly, Solas stopped his horse, his hand raised for me to be silent. I did so. But I heard nothing but the wind blowing between the rocks and hills, along the tall grass. 

‘We are not far from where my friend was summoned,’ he whispered to me, eyes cold and calculating. 

We continued riding west, when I noted something in the tall grass. ‘What’s that there?’ I said and pointed. Solas stirred his horse as I jumped down from mine. I walked a little further, then furrowed my brows. 

An elderly man, pale and pasty, covered in blood. Arrows punctured his torso, and the dirt around him was littered with signs of a skirmish—arrows snapped and scattered. The man had been dead for a while. Flees were already starting to eat at his flesh. I scrunched my nose at the horrid smell. The man wore Circle robes. 

Solas had also dismounted and walked to where I stood, hunched down and examined the corpse. 

‘One of the mages,’ Solas said. ‘Killed by arrows.’ 

‘Indeed.’ I looked closely at the wounds. ‘Bandits, most likely.’

Solas’ eyes scanned the road ahead, his worry sharpening into something more anxious. ‘No…’ he then whispered. Suddenly, Solas almost ran forwards along the hill. I followed, leaving the horses bound to a lone tree. 

‘Solas, what’s wrong?’ I heaved as I caught up with him. 

He had stopped right in front of… 

‘What the…’ I cursed. 

A hundred paces further, the quiet was shattered by the mangled remains of those who had clearly attacked. Two bodies lay torn and twisted, their faces frozen in terror, limbs bent at unnatural angles, burned into husks of dried skin and bone. Blood pooled beneath them, too thick and dark, as though some terrible force had drained their life out piece by piece. There were long scratches on their backs. Deep and jagged.

Solas’s face paled. ‘These aren’t mages. The bodies are burned, and these claw marks… No. No, no, no,’ He cursed, his voice deep and worried. 

Then, the wind turned. And we heard it. Grunting and cursing and… thundering. Solas’ face jerked up the same moment mine did. With one look at one another, we knew: we’ve found them. And something’s really, really wrong.

Without another word, Solas broke into a run, sprinting down the narrow, winding path. I followed, my heart hammering, an instinctive knowledge of what we were about to see thrumming through me. Soon, we stumbled into a hollow where the trees bowed, enclosing a terrible scene: a massive summoning circle corned by spires of Lyrium. At its centre, trapped and writhing, was a demon, its enormous form twisted with burning eyes and sharpened talons. Its horns curled like the gnarled branches of the ancient trees surrounding us. I knew what kind of demon this was. Pride. The twisted essence of Wisdom, buried beneath layers of cruelty and arrogance.

The demon knelt down on one knee, seemingly unable to move. 

It looked… sad. Pitiful. 

‘My friend,’ Solas gasped as he saw it. And then growled, eyes dark. He bared his teeth, and I took a step closer to him, trying to hush him. There were mages standing near the summoning circle, and they hadn’t seen us yet. 

‘The mages turned your friend into a demon,’ I cursed. ‘How?’

‘A spirit becomes a demon when denied its original purpose,’ Solas growled, he looked at his hands, tightening unto fists and loosening. Then, his eyes fixated on the heaving demon beyond. 

‘So they summoned it for something so opposed to its own nature that it was corrupted,’ I stated. ‘Can it be reversed?’ 

Solas looked at me, but didn’t answer. Instead he walked towards the mages, his pace quick and angry. With this, I had my answer. 

‘A mage!’ one of the mages called when he saw us coming towards them. He wore Circle robes, like his dead companion not far from here. His face was round and chubby and he had a thin moustache above his crusty lips. ‘You’re not with the bandits?’ He sounded so relieved. He won’t be for long. ‘Do you have any Lyrium potions? Most of us are exhausted. We’ve been fighting that demon…’ 

‘You summoned that demon!’ Solas took a step closer as he growled at the mage. Except it was a spirit of wisdom at the time.’ Solas took another step, towering over the dumb mage, who seemed to shrink in Solas’ presence. ‘You made it kill. You twisted it against its purpose.’

The other two mages from his group, who were standing near the summoning circle, looked at us wearily. The dumb-looking mage before us took a step back, holding up his hands in innocence. ‘I… I… I understand how it might be confusing to someone who has not studied demons, but after you help us, I can…’ 

‘We’re not here to help you .’ Solas growled even deeper, flashing his teeth like a wolf ready to rip its prey to shreds. 

I took a step forward, almost standing between the two. The mage looked up at me, his eyes big as he noted my glowing eye. ‘Word of advice?’ I grimaced. ‘I’d hold off on explaining how demons work to my friend here.’

But the mage shook his head, ignoring my warning. ‘Listen to me! I was one of the foremost experts in the Kirkwall Circle—’ 

Solas crossed his arms, his eyes flashing. ‘Shut. Up.’ he said, his voice deep and threatening. ‘You summoned it to protect you from the bandits.’

‘I—Yes, but—’ the mage tutted. 

Solas continued. ‘You bound it to obedience, then commanded it to kill. That is when it turned.’ Solas looked at me then, eyes pleading. ‘The summoning circle. We break it, we break the binding. No orders to kill, no conflict with its nature, no demon.’

I wanted to confirm, but the mage interrupted. ‘What? The binding is the only thing keeping the demon from killing us! Whatever it was before, it is a monster now!’ 

I felt fury boiling within me, a quiet, simmering rage that made my fists clench as tightly as Solas’s. My voice was low as I spoke, every word was like a dagger, aimed to pierce. ‘Fools! Spirits are not tools. You’ve twisted a being of purity and counsel, forced it into arrogance, pain, cruelty—you don’t comprehend what you’ve done!’ I pushed the mage almost to the ground. ‘Solas, I’ve seen rituals like this during my time in the Circle. I should be able to disrupt the binding quickly. Let’s go. Let’s save your friend.’

Solas looked at me and nodded, his gaze frantic as he ran towards the summoning circle. ‘We must hurry!’ 

The demon looked up as we neared and roared in pain—as if it recognized us, somewhere deep within, perhaps it did. 

‘Move!’ I yelled at the flabbergasted mages when I neared the summoning circle. 

‘What are you doing!’ one of them, a woman, cursed at me.

But I ignored her and focussed on the spires of Lyrium, letting my magic move through the ground. The spires had to be destroyed at the exact same moment, otherwise, the ritual would break and draw more magic, fuelling the demon. But if the spires fall down together, the binding will release its prisoner swiftly. I raised my hands and roots of grass and rock burst from the ground, curling around the spires like vines along a wall. 

The mages shouted, hands flaring with their own magic, but Solas raised his staff and pushed them back, shielding me with a determined barrier. 

A feeling of calm clarity washed over me as I focused, energy vibrating through me. I could feel the demon straining, clawing at the invisible bindings that held it. The Pride spirit’s roar grew in volume, a growl so deep it rumbled through the ground beneath us. And yet, in the centre of that roar, I sensed something familiar: a whisper, quiet and broken, but present.

With a jerk of my hands, my roots twisted and pulled. And with a loud snap, all three spires of Lyrium crumbled into dust.

The demon yelped in pain, an emerald light bursting from its pores. The snarling visage, talons poised to tear, shifted and softened into something gentler, but it flickered, trembling like a candle’s final light. 

Solas ran towards what once was the demon. But now, a wisp of light and air knelt into the blackened grass. It looked neither male or female, like most spirits. Wisdom had a sharp face and big, deep-set eyes. They resembled Solas’. It had long and flowing hair that seemed to disappear into light at its ends. Its body, though kneeling, looked slender. It wore no clothes, yet wasn’t naked. 

‘Ir abelas, lethallin.’ Solas sighed and knelt before his friend in the grass. I stayed back and stared at them, the image so familiar; of someone losing a friend. I had been there many times, and yet, it always felt like it did the first time. 

‘Tel'abelas. Enasal. Ir tel’him,’ the spirit spoke softly, its voice frail, yet kind. Its faint form lifted a spectral hand as if reaching out, its voice a gentle echo. ‘Ma melava halani. Mala suledin nadas. Ma ghilana mir din'an.’

Guide me into death.

Solas closed his eyes at the spirit’s last sentence and looked to the side in thought. His face was so pale, so grave. I wanted to kneel next to him, to hug him, to tell him all would be alright. But I didn’t, because it wouldn’t be alright. The spirit was dying. His friend was dying. And no spell, no healing, no words could help. In the silence, the spirit looked my way, its eyes calm. 

Wisdom nodded at me as if in recognition.

‘Ma nuvenin.’ Solas looked back to his friend. His hand trembled as he lifted it, fingers brushing the fading edges of the spirit’s form. I could smell the magic tingling from his fingers. With a reluctant, shaky breath, the magic seeped out, releasing. The spirit looked up to Solas and smiled. Untethered.

The spirit shone once, in a soft, gentle glow, before fading into the quiet air. Gone. Carried away by the wind, if it could. 

‘Dareth shiral,’ Solas whispered back, but the spirit had already gone. 

I finally knelt down next to Solas. He didn’t say anything as he stared at the blackened grass his friend had sat on mere seconds ago. I rested my head against his shoulder and sang in prayer for Wisdom. ‘Melava inan enansal, ir su aravel tu elvaral. U na emma abelas. In elgar sa vir mana in tu setheneran din emma na. Lath sulevin, lath araval ena, arla ven tu vir mahvir, melana ‘nehn, enasal ir sa lethalin.’ 

I raised my head from Solas’ shoulder. He looked at me and I at him.

‘Now, you must endure,’ I whispered to him. Endure the pain of losing someone close to you, of losing a friend. This will not blow over. It can only be endured.

‘Ma serannas,’ Solas whispered back to me. 

We heard shuffling behind us. The mages. Their presence was an intrusion in that sacred moment, an affront to the memory of the spirit they had destroyed. Fury, sharp and hot, flashed across Solas’s face. He stood up and turned to them, his eyes cold and furious. ‘All that remains now is them.’ Solas grimaced. 

‘Thank you.’ The dumb-looking mage took a step forward from the group, unable to take note of what had just happened. What had just been lost. ‘We would not have risked a summoning, but the roads are too dangerous to travel unprotected.’

With a low snarl, Solas raised his staff, striking the ground with a crack that sent raw energy splintering across the ground. ‘You!’ he yelled. I felt my heart drop at the tone. ‘You tortured and killed my friend.’

The mage stumbled back as Solas closed on him. The other two mages stepped back cautiously as well. ‘We didn’t know it was just a spirit!’ One of them huffed. ‘The book said it could help us!’

But Solas continued on, his staff flaring. 

One of the mages raised her hands in protest. ‘We—we only wanted to protect ourselves! We had no choice!’

‘No choice?’ Solas’s voice was venomous, each word laced with disdain. ‘You had every choice. You could have asked for its help willingly, yet you bound and twisted it. You took something pure and broke it.’

I wanted to tell him to stand down. To let it go. But I didn’t. I knew that pain. It demanded retribution, to silence whatever you felt. It was wrong. But so was what had happened. And so I stood back, and  watched, silent and still, as he cast his spells, each wave of magic unleashing his fury upon the mages, until they lay scattered, defeated.

‘Damn them all,’ Solas cursed as he looked at the corpses at his feet. His back was turned to me. And I noted how tall Solas stood, how icy calm suddenly as well. Decisive. 

‘Are you alright, Solas?’ I called. The sudden silence became eerie.

‘I need some time alone,’ he said, his voice soft.

I nodded, understanding more than I wanted to. ‘Of course.’ 

The wind picked up between us, howling through the open fields. 

Looking back now, I wished I had stopped him then.

Notes:

Thank you for reading! Hope you liked my take on "All New, Faded for her" - it took me way too long to see the anagram "Dread Wolf Fen'Harel" ... Subtle, Solas... subtle.

Translations:
Ir abelas: I'm sorry
Tel'abelas. Enasal. Ir tel’him: I'm not. I'm happy. I'm me again
Ma melava halani. Mala suledin nadas. Ma ghilana mir din'an: You helped me. Now you must endure. Guide me into death
Ma nuvenin: As you say
Dareth shiral: Untranslated, means "Safe journey"

Translation of Saeris’ song called Suledin (Endure): Time was once a blessing, but long journeys are made longer when alone within. Take spirit from the long ago, but do not dwell in lands no longer yours. Be certain in need, and the path will emerge to a home tomorrow and time will again be the joy it once was.

Chapter 57: Loved

Notes:

*NSFW warning

I had left Solas alone, as he wanted. I gave him half of my supplies—he protested but I did so anyway. I walked back to our horses alone, took mine, and drove it away, back east, to Skyhold. 

Of course, I understood he wanted to be alone. But still, a small voice accused me of leaving him as he requested. I had told him I would take the same route back home, that he could always catch up with me. And I decided I would travel more slowly than usual, so he actually could catch up to me.

I brushed down my horse, murmuring nonsense to him as his ears flicked in tired contentment. I took my time, a small part of me hoping I’d hear a familiar footfall behind me, that Solas might have finally caught up. But the week had passed in silence, with only the sounds of the wild keeping me company. Even the Fade was silent. I knew he was there. But I couldn’t find him if he didn’t want me to. So I didn’t pry any further.

I had travelled all day and had taken a few breaks. Still, my back felt sore and my legs numb. Now, the sun was already starting to set, the stars beginning to peek out one by one above the treetops. I had bound my horse to a thin tree, gave it a few carrots I had kept in my satchel and conjured some water into a hollowed-out stub. ‘There you go, sweetie.’ I patted the horse. 

With a quiet murmur, I started to draw a circle around the camp, trailing fingers through the air, letting my magic set a thin ward to protect me as I slept. Just a gentle shimmer, enough to alert me if anything crossed the boundary. Satisfied, I put up my tent and got a campfire going. For dinner, I had some Embrium tea and some dried meat with leftover raw carrots I shared with my horse. I had made camp in a clearing in the forest. I could look up at the patch of open sky littered with stars all night. My ward around me buzzed happily and the campfire crackled with heat. I closed my eyes for another second and breathed in and out slowly. Perhaps I will sleep outside tonight, for old time’s sake. 

I walked over to my tent and dragged my bedroll out onto the damp grass. I hadn’t felt any presence—human or elf or anything alike—for at least a day. I was alone. 

Another sigh. One of relief. 

I looked around again, letting my magic flutter—still, I felt no presence of life around me, except for the usual critters. The night felt… grounded, a quiet lull holding me as I unbraided my hair and ran a hand through it, letting it fall loose around my shoulders. I washed it in a river yesterday, and it smelled of fresh air and grass. If I could bottle the smell, I would. I’d call it: ‘Eau de Thedas.’ Orlesians would hate it. 

I stripped off my jacket, then the heavier tunic, until I was only in my undershirt and loose trousers. I even pulled off the cotton bindings from my chest, feeling how the crisp wind picked up along my bare skin, the soft linen fabric of my shirt caressing my bare breasts underneath. Finally, I unravelled my footwraps and planted my bare feet into the damp soil. I wiggled my toes into the grass one more time, then plopped down onto the soft bedroll. 

For a second, everything was so calmingly silent. I closed my eyes and tilted my head back, drawing in a long breath as the cool night air settled over me, and the faint chirping of insects rose from the brush. The stars shone clear and vivid overhead, spreading a soft, silvery light across the campsite, and I felt small, my burdens shrinking under the endless sky. I started to trail the stars above with my eyes, trying to find figures. After a while, my voice came out naturally to ease the silence around me.

‘May it be an evening star, shines down upon you. May it be when darkness falls, your heart will be true. You walk a lonely road. Oh, how far you are from home?’ 

I stopped for a second. How did it go again? Music had always been what I could remember the longest. Melodies and words strung together… Yet, some songs had been so long ago, even the ones I cherished in a previous life… They faded away like the faces of my human friends. 

I hummed the rest of the song. The words may be lost, but the melodies weren’t. The song felt faded, but alive. Perhaps one day, the words will come back to me. Perhaps everything will come back to me. 

My voice echoed through the silent and dark forest—the shadows not frightening, yet so relieving. My eyes turned foggy as I looked at the dancing stars above me. My eyes fluttered closed, my thoughts lost among the stars above. The wind caressed me as a mother as I dozed off. Tonight felt like the old days—just me, the night, and the vastness of the world around me. The sky was like a map, endless and ancient. I could almost forget how far I’d come, just sinking into its depth and quiet.

‘Saer—’

Before whoever finished saying my name, I jumped awake. The firelight had grown smaller, only casting small flames and large shadows. The deep, velvety darkness of the night had taken control of the clearing around me. Whoever had entered my camp, had done it swiftly and quietly—slipping past my ward without stirring it. The figure—a man—stood over me, next to my bedroll. But with a turn of my legs, the man toppled over, with me on top of him. With a swift movement I had practised with Cassandra, I took out my dagger I had hidden under my bedroll for precaution. Pinning the stranger beneath me, I held my blade steady at his throat.

‘It’s me, lethellan.’ Solas huffed, his throat bobbing underneath my knife.

It took me a moment before I realised. But then the wind shifted, and the campfire cast him into the light. His expression was one of mild surprise, though his hands remained up in surrender. The embers of the campfire cast a soft, warm glow over his features, and he was watching me with a tentative smile.

I then became aware of my wild hair that crowned his face, of my bare chest underneath my thin linen blouse, and of the wind pricking my skin underneath. 

‘Fenedhis, Solas! You could’ve given some warning, you know,’ I cursed, though I couldn’t stop the small laugh that escaped me as I let the dagger drop to my side. My pulse was still racing as I released him, rolling back, and he slowly sat up, dusting himself off. 

Nervously, I combed down my hair with my fingers. I must’ve looked like some kind of savage. ‘Why are you so… silent?’ I cursed. ‘I didn’t even sense your presence. And how did you get past my ward?’

Solas chuckled, his voice echoing throughout the clearing, which gave me goosebumps. ‘I heard your voice not a while ago. I warded my presence, which I am quite good at, if I may say so. And your ward recognised my presence, and did not protest my entering.’

‘Stupid ward,’ I mumbled underneath my breath as I tried smoothing out the wrinkles in my shirt. Solas’ eyes followed my hands with uninhibited interest. A blush creeped along my face. 

‘You were sleeping soundly as I neared. I did not want to wake you abruptly. My apologies.’

After a huff, I shook my head. ‘It’s alright.’

Solas grinned slightly and stretched out his hand. I took it and he pulled me up from the ground. His pull was strong, and I bumped right into his chest as he yanked me up. 

Unlike me, he was warm. His cotton and woollen tunic felt soft against my linen blouse. Only his jawbone necklace was hard against my chest, stinging me almost. 

I took a step back, scraping my throat awkwardly. ‘Please, have a seat.’ I pointed at the campfire. Solas walked around my bedroll, a small yet sly smile still on his lips, and sat down on the edge of the firelight, just within its embrace. I walked to my satchel and took a cup that I filled with water. I was happy to see him. I hadn’t expected it anymore. I was convinced he would meet me back at Skyhold. Of course, I had wanted… What did I want?

I walked over to Solas and gave him the cup. He accepted, sitting cross-legged across from me, his eyes warm as he met mine in the dim light. He drank quietly and eyed me as I sat down on my bedroll a little away from him. I sighed, another scrape of my throat and then I said. ‘How are you now, Solas?’

Solas looked away from me and into the small fire. He reached a hand to the embers and with a flick of his fingers, the campfire grew again. ‘It hurts,’ he said, his voice soft. ‘It always does, but I will survive.’ He looked back up to me then. 

‘I know the feeling,’ I said, staring into his dark eyes. ‘It doesn’t go away. But after a while it… slumbers.’ I thought of Daniel and Sybil, of all those I’ve lost. And then, almost without meaning to, I scurried closer to where he sat, reached out, brushing my fingertips along the line of his jaw. He stilled, his eyes meeting mine with a searching, almost vulnerable expression. His hand rose, catching mine, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. ‘When you left,’ I murmured, barely louder than a whisper, ‘I didn’t expect you to return… for some time.’

‘Neither did I,’ he replied, his voice low. ‘But there are reasons—reasons that keep me close, even when I’m far away.’

His hand slid to cup my face, fingers threading gently through my hair. I felt myself leaning into his touch, my heart thrumming with a quiet ache, and for a moment, we were lost in the silence that had held me only moments before.

‘So… Where did you go? I felt you in the Fade, but couldn’t find you.’ I leaned back, away from his touch. My voice sounded foreign and awkward.

Solas leaned back and scanned my face with his calm eyes. ‘I found a quiet spot and went to sleep. I visited the place in the Fade where my friend used to be,’ he said, his voice low. Before I could ask, Solas already anticipated my question. ‘It’s empty, but there are stirrings of energy in the Void. Someday something new may grow there.’

‘Something new?’

‘Death for a spirit isn’t the same as for mortals.’ Solas’ eyes were piercing mine even deeper as he said so. ‘The energy of spirits returns to the Fade. If the idea giving the spirit form is strong, or if the memory has shaped other spirits, it may someday rise again.’

‘So your friend might come back?’ I cocked my head. Perhaps, spirits and I were alike in that sense.

‘No, not really.’ Solas smiled at me softly. The campfire created shadows that danced along his face, his eyes, his lips. ‘A spirit’s natural state is peaceful semi-existence. It is rare to be able to reflect reality. Something similar may reform one day, but it might have a different personality. It would likely not remember me.’ Solas drank from his cup. ‘It would not be the friend I knew.’

Death in another sense, yet in every sense of the word.

‘I’m so sorry, Solas.’ I stared into the fire, thinking yet again of Daniel and his flaming red hair and his kind eyes. ‘I wish I had known Wisdom. I hope it will reform into something it wishes to be, if it can.’

‘Me too,’ Solas said, his eyes still not leaving mine. ‘Thank you.’

It’s been a while since we were completely alone like this in the Waking World… even in the Fade, things were easier for us. Yet now, I felt… so seen. ‘Have you eaten? I have some leftovers, if you’d like. Or you can go to sleep, if you want to. You must be exhausted, catching up to me,’ I said and stood up, going for my larger satchel to grab some food. 

‘Saeris.’ 

Solas suddenly stood behind me as I was rummaging through the bag. 

I jumped a little. ‘Oh shoot, dropped a carrot.’ I turned to him and smiled again softly. Being aloof or nonchalant wasn’t my forte. Before I could scoop down and pick it up, Solas gently grabbed my wrist. I looked up at him and furrowed my brows.

‘Are you alright?’ I asked. 

Sometimes I forgot how tall Solas was. Usually, I towered over most Elves. But not him. Solas stood so close to me, his scent so similar to mine. Forest and grass and magic. 

‘I have been thinking. Of you, of us,’ he said, his voice so deep and so soft.

Ma. You. Em. Me. Em’an… Us. The words twirled inside my head. ‘And?’

‘You have… a marvellous spirit. Most people act with so little understanding of the world. But not you.’ His voice came out in a growling whisper, hungry. ‘It has been so long since I could trust someone. And yet, here you are now. As fate, so be it.’ 

I bit my lip, and Solas' eyes grew wilder. He took another step closer, until his chest was flush against mine, his hand still on my wrist. His other hand slipped over my hip, my skin there burning. I became hyper aware of my body as he stood so close to me, of my thinly covered breasts against his chest again. Solas guided my wrist higher, to his face. He then kissed the palm of my hand. My skin pricked where his soft lips touched. He then let go of my wrist, letting it fall to my side again and leaving his hand free to cup the back of my head, pushing me closer. Our faces were now a breath away from each other.

‘Ar lath ma,’ he whispered to me. ‘Vhenan.’

My breath got stuck in my throat at his words. Love. He loved me. His heart.

There were no sounds but our breaths finding one another.

‘Solas,’ I whispered. ‘I—’

But then his lips were on mine. Hungry. Needing. I opened my mouth to his, welcoming him. Our lips settled into one another, our breaths intermingling. His tongue found mine as I slid into his mouth. He growled and deepened our kiss. The sound almost made my knees give way. I pushed myself even closer to him and moaned against his lips. More. More. Solas’ hand left the back of my head and caressed along my spine. His other hand pinched my waist, not releasing me even an inch. I twisted my head and let go of our kiss to breathe. Solas pushed himself against me after a second, his tongue wilder in my mouth, claiming me whole.

How long had it been since we had kissed? Truly? Not in the Fade, but in the Waking World. Was it at Haven? 

I pushed the thought away. 

Solas’ hands kept caressing my waist and spine, my blouse wrinkling up until my waist and stomach became bare. At that, Solas took a step back. His eyes ravished me as they looked me up and down, the fire in his gaze was matched only by the warmth I felt beneath his fingers. A flicker of a hunger in his eyes that almost made me undone.

I took a step back, and another. Until I was at my bedroll. Solas’ eyes followed me tantalisingly slow, his gaze deep. 

My eyes were still locked on his, not letting him leave either. 

I hesitated for a moment and swallowed. I let my own fingers find my bare stomach, caressing myself upward, slowly. Solas’ eyes followed my gesture with great amusement. I continued on, higher and higher, and pushed up the linen blouse slowly over my breasts until they became bare. I flung the blouse over my head and to the ground. The wind blew across my naked torso and goosebumps appeared all over. 

Solas’ eyes were on mine, hungrier than ever. 

I stretched out my hand to him in a silent invitation. 

Solas shook his head and for a moment, I thought he would deny me. Deny us. But then he walked over to me with a hard pace and scooped me up in his arms, growling as he kissed me again.

I let my hands rest lightly on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my fingers. There were almost no other sounds than our breaths. Only the fire's crackle punctuated the stillness, sending occasional sparks into the cool night air, where they flickered briefly before fading into the dark. Around us, the forest held its breath, as if honouring the intimacy of our embrace. 

I broke off the kiss for a gulp of air. Solas trailed his kisses away from my lips, along my cheekbones, down to my chin, my neck. My breath got stuck in my throat as his tongue flicked across my skin. I stared up towards the sky, giving him the reign of my neck. The stars above, scattered like diamonds across the sky, seemed to shine a little brighter. 

His kisses climbed down and down and down. From my neck, he now kissed my collarbone, then my sternum, the space between my breasts. He growled against my skin as I shuddered, his hands at my waist, keeping me in place. I bit my lip to stop myself from moaning. His right hand stroked upward from my waist to my breast. His touch ignited me from within. With a soft motion, he cupped my breast with his hand, his mouth finding the tender and soft skin. He moaned inwards as he kissed around my breasts. Then, his tongue found my nipple and tasted it softly. 

I let my hand stroke the back of his head, then along his face and pulled his chin back up to me. I kissed him harder on his lips. The world outside our embrace ceased to exist. 

I let my hands roam across his chest, not letting him go from our kiss. My fingers found the buttons of his tunic, right above his necklace. I pulled the horn buttons undone, one by one. I opened my eyes and took a breath from his lips. Solas held my gaze, his eyes predatory, yet an amusing glint in them. I gave him a tiny smirk back as I pulled the last button. Solas took a step back, his eyes still holding mine encaptured, and he slowly undid the belt that hung around his hips, after which he pulled the woollen tunic over his head along with his cotton shirt underneath. 

I let my eyes break his gaze and let them roam across his bare chest. His skin glowed in the silver moonlight, his muscles lean yet defined. Only the jawbone necklace hung to his chest, which softly and rhythmically moved up and down as he breathed. My eyes dared to go lower, to his cotton pants that hung loosely around his waist, to the shadows that played there, growing. 

I let myself grin cheekily at him as I stared at him without restraint. Solas’ eyes glazed as they raked over my body, my breasts, to my pants that hung loosely on my hips. With one step, Solas was back in front of me, looking down with his stern grey eyes. His hands glided from my stomach to my waist to my behind, where he grabbed me and pulled me against him. 

‘Ma ane ina'lan'ehn,’ he whispered in my ear, his teeth raking along the brim to my earlobe. I shivered in delight. We kissed again, until I believed there was no Saeris or Solas anymore, but one being. 

I freed myself from his grasp and took his hand, guiding him to my bedroll, which was cast in dancing shadows from the firelight. I was ready.

‘Isalan hima sa i’na,’ I whispered to him. His breath became deeper on my skin as I kissed and nipped at his neck. ‘Vera em su tarasyl.’ How I knew those words was a mystery, but they flowed from my lips natively… ancient.

My hands slid to his pants, so loose, so inviting, so tight where it wasn't before. 

Solas groaned and kissed me, but grabbed my hands, keeping me from undoing his breeches. Instead, he held my hands up to his heart, beating strong and steadily. A silent command to hold them there. I let my hands rest on his warm skin as he let go to caress the small of my back, guiding me down to the bedroll. 

My heart pounded in my chest as he looked at me, ready to devour me. 

Again, I tried at his pants, but he hushed. 

‘Not yet, ma vhenan.’ He groaned. I was ready to protest, but Solas kissed me so tenderly, moving on top of me as we laid down. Taking my wrists, he held my hands up above my head and looked at me underneath him. A glint of something deep and dark crossed his eyes as he stared at my body beneath him, half-naked and yielding. I bucked my hips and bit my lips, enticing him to take me. Solas seemed to accept the invitation with a chuckle and bent down to kiss my lips. He opened his mouth to mine and I let his tongue explore me again. I felt Solas let go of my wrists with one hand. The other trailed down lazily along the contours of my body, lower and lower. His hands caressed the border of my loose pants. Then, his fingers found the warm skin underneath the fabric, stroking lower and lower.

I moaned hard when he reached me below, his fingers carefully touching my wetness. His kiss deepened when he felt me, and my hips swayed to his movement. 

‘You have been anticipating me.’ He growled hungrily. He pulled his hand back slowly from underneath my pants, took his wet fingers to his lips and sucked them. ‘Mar rodhe ir’on,’ he whispered.

I almost came there and then. 

Solas then tenderly resumed his stroking along my stomach, then back beneath my pants. His eyes stared into mine. Just when I thought I could handle no more, he plunged his fingers into me and I groaned his name. Solas rested his forehead against mine, one leg between my thighs to open me up to him. His fingers explored me tenderly at first, then deeper and deeper. Demanding. And I revelled in it. A heat twisted along my legs as he added another finger, plunging into me in an enticing rhythm. 

‘Solas—I’ I groaned. 

He whispered against my lips, his Elven words so foreign yet so clear, so soft and yet hard and commanding. ‘Ha’mi’in. Lasa em tua rosas’da’din.’

At that, his fingers curled inside me. And I came completely. 

***

I lazily drew circles on Solas’ bare chest, my head on his sternum, his heart beating in an even drum. We did not go as far as I had wanted to, yearned to, but we have time.

With that thought, eternity does not scare me as much.

 Still, I relished this very moment. Him and me, together, skin to skin. The sky was still dark and alight with stars above. My fingers curled along the strings of his necklace, twisting the ropes on which the dark jawbone hung. 

‘Why do you have this?’ I looked up to him and found him staring at the stars in the midnight sky. His face was illuminated by the moon, like he was a being that belonged here, like the grass and the trees, the air and the stars themselves. 

Solas turned his face down to me, his eyes twinkling. ‘It is memorabilia from… before.’ Before the Fall. Before everything changed. 

‘What kind of bone is it? A wolf, I presume? It looks like it.’ I let my fingers graze the jagged corners of the bone, tied as a pendant with leather strings. It was heavy. Even half-naked, he continued to wear it, so it must have great meaning.

Solas chuckled. ‘Ever the curious one, you are. Yes indeed. This once belonged to such a beast.’

I laid the pendant gently in the palm of my hand. The bone was large and had turned dark overtime. ‘You like wolves?’

‘They are intelligent, practical creatures that small-minded fools think of as terrible beasts.’ Solas mused. ‘You do not care for them?’

‘I think you can count me as neutral.’ I grinned and looked back up to him. ‘They are majestic creatures, ruthless, yet smart. The Dalish think they are bad omens… And others as signs of prosperity. Either way, I wouldn’t want to find a hungry one in the dark.’

I thought back to the tale of Fenris. To the Hinterlands, at a campfire under the night sky. Oh, how much has changed. And how much hasn’t.

Solas chuckled. ‘Yes, I can understand that point of view.’

I let the silence settle back after that, trying to stay awake against the sound of his breath, the feeling of his chest moving up and down with it. 

‘May I ask you a rather personal question,’ Solas said after a while. I had almost dozed off. 

‘I think that we can be informal, Solas.’ I smirked at him and winked. 

Solas smiled back assuredly. ‘You told me, days ago, you have lost many long-time friends. I wondered…’

‘Ah, yes.’ I looked from Solas’ scholarly face to the stars above. ‘You wonder who?’ And he calls me the curious one. 

‘If you would rather not speak of it, I would understand.’ 

‘No, no it’s okay,’ I said. ‘I have had few close friendships and bonds with others this last age, and the one before. So, I know what loss feels like. Of course, I knew them not as long as you did… Wisdom.’ I paused for a reaction, but none came, so I continued. ‘You know of my sister, Sybil.’

‘I remember. Tell me about her,’ Solas asked, his voice soft and kind. 

I smiled. ‘She was brash and young.’ I imagined Sybil’s eyes, her laughter, her spiky chestnut-brown hair. ‘Maxwell would've liked her. She would’ve clashed with you, though.’

‘Oh?’

‘She was to the point. Act now, think later. We were opposites in that. And yet, we complemented each other.’ I sighed. ‘Her time in this world was short. But she left her mark, as she wished to.’ I said and reminisced further about Kirkwall, the rebellion and the Rebel Queen. 

‘It must have been quite the experience, those times.’

‘They were.’ I pursed my lips. ‘I spent years researching the antidote to an Orlesian poison. Nothing could help. If only I could have searched the Fade freely then, I could’ve saved more people.’

Solas stared at me inquisitively as I continued with my tales. 

‘Elgadira and Nenhara were marvellous minds. You would have definitely liked them—in spite of their Dalish beliefs, they were open to the ideas of others, of aiding others even when they themselves would suffer the consequences,’ I said after expanding on the poison and the antidote I had concocted, with the help of my former Dalish clan.

‘How did you come to find this clan?’ Solas asked, his tone light and calm. 

‘When I woke up… I was alone. Naked. Afraid. Completely disoriented. I didn’t know who I was… or what I was. I found refuge with a human man.’ His name stung my lips, and I tried not to think of his eyes on me now. ‘His name was Daniel. He became my friend, then lover… then more… And he introduced me to the Dalish, who helped me establish myself again in this world. They taught me what this world had to offer, if I had the courage to explore it.’

‘And did you?’ Solas’ eyes were clear even in this darkness.

‘After… Daniel died to the very poison I created an antidote to decades later, I tried to run away from what reminded me of us. In a sense, I started exploring due to him. I travelled to Kirkwall, met Sybil along the way and… you know…’ I heaved my shoulders up and down in nonchalance. ‘The rest is history.’

Solas was silent for a second, thinking. Then, he said, ‘This Daniel was important to you.’

‘He was.’

‘You loved him?’

‘I did.’ I looked at Solas, his eyes gazing into mine. ‘Does that bother you?’

‘No. Your past has made you who you are.’ This world has made me who I am.

‘It did. I hope you will one day tell me of your past, Solas. When you are ready.’ I held my breath for his answer. 

‘I will,’ he said and smiled softly, a saddening melancholy in his deep, blue-grey eyes. 

I saw the question flash through his mind, behind his eyes. He didn’t ask it.

Will you ever love me as you did Daniel?

Or perhaps that was a question I needed to ask myself. Could I love anyone like that again?

A soft breeze twirled across the clearing. I pushed myself a little closer to Solas. I was wearing his shirt, but still the breeze had crept through. Solas tensed his arm around me and… 

Why hadn’t I noticed that before?

The breeze was too sharpened, carrying no scent, no real… push . The grass beneath me shimmered faintly, each blade lined in silver. My breath caught. I lifted my head, scanning the trees—too tall, too bent, their shadows stretching in impossible directions. And the stars… endless, brilliant, watching without blinking.

My heart jolted. ‘This isn’t real. This is… the Fade.’

Solas didn’t flinch. His arm stayed firm around me, though I felt the faint curve of his smile against my hair.

‘At last, you notice,’ he murmured, teasing warmth in his voice.

I sat up. ‘You—How did you…?’ My voice was sharp, though my chest felt tight. ‘All this time, this—everything—was a dream?’

His gaze caught mine, his expression maddeningly calm. ‘We are in the Fade. That is true.’

I faltered. Heat flushed my face. ‘You should have told me. I didn’t notice because—’ My words stumbled, shame catching at my throat. ‘Because I was distracted by you.’

His chuckle was low, rich, and it rippled the air like a stone dropped in water. ‘Then I am glad to be so… diverting.’ His fingers brushed a stray lock of hair from my face, lingering just long enough to remind me of what we had shared.

And yet… something coiled in my gut. 

I hadn’t seen it. Hadn’t known. If he could weave entire moments around me without my notice, what else might he show me—or hide?

I pushed the thoughts aside, shaking my head.

He tilted his head, studying me with those unreadable eyes. ‘You doubt what you felt,’ he said quietly. ‘But was it not real, to you?’

I swallowed, searching for words. The air pressed close, heavy with the damned stillness only the Fade had. Damn it. ‘It was real enough that I forgot where I was.’

A faint smile touched his mouth, though it did not reach his eyes. ‘Then perhaps that is all that matters.’

The world around us shivered again, the silver grass bending as though to some unseen wind. My chest tightened. ‘You make it sound easy,’ I whispered.

‘Not easy,’ Solas corrected, voice low, almost tender. ‘Simply… true.’

I wanted to argue, to push back, but the world around us was already softening, the edges of trees and sky smearing like wet paint. 

His voice cut through it, firm yet unbearably tender: ‘You may wake now.’

***

I jolted awake with a gasp, dawn breaking pale gold across the horizon. The fire was nothing but embers, my bedroll tangled around me. I roiled around, searching, my heart in my throat. Then I saw him. Just beyond the faint shimmer of my ward, Solas leaned against a tree, arms crossed, a smirk tugging at his mouth as though he’d been waiting for this very moment.

Despite myself, despite everything, my lips curved into a broad smile. With a flick of my hand I dropped the barrier, grabbed my cushion, and hurled it at him.

He caught it one-handed with infuriating ease, his laugh echoing through the clearing.

‘Come,’ he said, tucking the cushion under his arm. His eyes softened as they held mine. ‘Let’s go home, vhenan .’

Notes:

Oh my... *blush*

Shoutout to FenxShiral and their Project Elvhen - for all the vocab and lexicon we need (dirty and all).

Translations:
Ar lath ma, vhenan: I love you, heart/my heart
Ma ane ina'lan'ehn: You are beautiful
Isalan hima sa i’na: I lust to become one with you
Vera em su tarasyl: Take me to the sky
Mar rodhe ir’on: You taste delicious
Ha’mi’in. Lasa em tua rosas’da’din: Relax. Let me make you cum.

Chapter 58: Dressed

Solas and I strode through Skyhold’s gates with a certain ease. Our journey home had gone swiftly. We rode past many ruins where we dreamed together, finding old memories and forgotten history. And every night when the weather allowed us, we slept in the open air, embracing each other. Nothing more had happened besides a heated kiss or two. But what had happened that night at the campfire still made my knees wobble—even though it had happened in the Fade. 

He called me his vhenan. His heart. 

And I hadn’t said it back yet. 

The sun stood high in the afternoon sky as we crossed Skyhold’s courtyard. Summer had taken reign of the season and warmth flowed through the stronghold’s ancient stones, making them glow almost.

People stepped aside as we entered, bowing my way in reverence. I still couldn’t get used to it. I half-bowed back every time. I noticed how most people seemed to ignore Solas as we walked past them. His mask had slipped back on, his face pulled in an uninterested, blank yet scholarly expression. 

‘Elves incoming!’ Sera yelled as she sat on top of the roof of Herald’s Rest. Next to her sat Maxwell, his legs swung over the edge of the roof, swaying back and forth. Both had a devious grin on their faces. Maxwell seemed relaxed. He must have arrived more than a week ago, and the good weather and proper bath had done him well.

I waved at them, smiling. 

At that moment, the door to the castle swung open. Josephine, drenched from head to toe, stormed out towards the giggling duo on the tavern’s roof. ‘You!’ she yelled and cursed in Antivan; ‘Por Hacedor! Que mierda? ¡Te lo juro, un cubo más y los cuervos serán los siguientes en encontrarte, Sera!’

Sera almost fell from the roof laughing. ‘It was Inquisy’s fault! I swear he did it.’ 

‘Sera… no…’ Maxwell heaved, laughing as well. ‘I would… never…’

Josephine tutted at the two motherly, a hint of a smile on her full lips. She turned around to walk back inside, when her eyes landed on us. She smiled a little brighter now and held up her hand towards us in greeting. With her other hand, she held up her soaked golden dress and walked down the stone stairs towards us, down at the courtyard. 

‘Ah, Lady Saeris, Solas. We have been anticipating your arrival,’ she said with a sigh as she approached us. ‘Excuse my… appearance. It seems someone ,’ she glared over her shoulder again towards the tavern, her wet brown hair swishing water in our faces, ‘has boobytrapped my door with a bucket of water.’ 

‘Ah, yes - I think I saw the culprits giggling away somewhere.’ I winked back at the Ambassador. 

Josephine then turned her face to Solas, her eyes pitiful. ‘Solas, how is your friend?’

Solas straightened his back ever so slightly and shook his head. 

‘Oh.’ Josephine cocked her head. ‘I am so sorry. My condolences.’

‘Thank you, Lady Ambassador,’ Solas said back, a softness in his voice. 

‘I will leave you be, let you get settled,’ she said with genuine sadness. She then faced me again, her voice a little lower. ‘Could you come to my office tomorrow, after you have rested from your travels? There are some matters to discuss.’ 

‘Of course.’ I smiled back at her encouragingly. 

Josephine curtsied at us and walked back to the castle. Probably to freshen up again. 

‘You should go rest.’ I turned to Solas. ‘It’s been quite a… journey. I will take the horses to the stables. And uh, I have to report back to Leliana.’ We had discussed on our way back what Solas felt comfortable with me reporting. He wanted me to stay truthful to the events, as the Spymaster would find out either way.

‘Alright. If you have need of me, I will be in my study,’ he said back with a blank face, no emotion.

‘Will do. See you later, ok?’ 

Solas looked at me and let his mask slip for a second and smiled amusingly. ‘See you later, vhenan.’

A deep blush crept along my cheeks and throat, which was still lightly marked from his kisses. ‘Y-Yes,’ I said. I heard him chuckle softly as I took the horses and walked back to the stables. 

I gave the horses to the stableboy, who scurried away with the steeds without looking up at me. Inside the stables, I noticed Blackwall, carving something out of wood. A… Horse? No. A Goat. A bird? He glanced towards me and dipped his head. I smiled back at the man. I knew he didn’t like me much - not anything personal, but the whole “elven apostate with crazy eyes and crazy magic” was a bit much for the Warden. Though he appreciated me helping the wounded ones in Adamant without a word. Blackwall was a strange man, something felt off. Not in an entirely bad sense. We all had secrets. And I knew for sure he had some. 

Still, he was a decent man, secrets or not. His friendship with Sera was adorable. The two of them could laugh and joke for hours.

I went over to Leliana at her tower and found the spymaster in the shadows, reading a transcript of what looked like Maxwell’s report on the Fade and what he saw at Adamant. Her eyes were melancholic. I coughed to let her know I was in the room. 

The Spymaster put the report back down as if it was a boring piece of literature. 

‘Ah, Saeris,’ she said, her tone manner-of-factly. ‘It is good you are back.’

‘Glad to be back.’ I walked towards her. ‘It’s livelier here with all the others returned. I think Sera pranked Josephine’s door…’

Leliana gave a soft chuckle. ‘Ah, yes, I thought I heard Antivan cursing…’ Leliana shook her head at the thought. ‘Now, back to business. How was your detour? What happened?’

I leaned against Leliana’s desk and sighed. I gave her the full report, all the facts on what happened with Wisdom. Not what happened… on the way back.

‘Give my sincere condolences to Solas,’ Leliana said, a genuine look of sorrow on her fair face. 

‘I will.’

‘I am glad someone was with him.’ She smiled slyly under her hood.

‘Yeah.’ I scraped my throat awkwardly.

Another small smile curled on the Spymaster’s rosy lips. 

After that, I ran downstairs, hoping to get some food from the tavern. Tonight, a bath will do me good. And some rest. Ah, in my soft, pillowy bed…

‘Wow there - quick one, are you!’ Dorian snickered as I staggered back. 

‘Oops, sorry - didn’t see you there.’ I smiled back apologetically.

‘Auwch. What’s to miss?’ Dorian scoffed. 

‘Oh no, you are unmissable.’ I winked back at the mage. 

Dorian leaned against the bookcase and quirked an eyebrow. ‘That’s more like it.’ He smiled. ‘So, good you’re back. We missed having you around.’

Now it was my turn to quirk an eyebrow. ‘Did you now?’

‘Well… yes! Someone needs to take the heat from Varric and Maxwell’s jokes. I cannot. Literally.’

‘Aw, thanks Dorian.’ I winked at him. ‘Say… You and Bull have grown quite close, haven’t you.’

‘Ah, well, yes. It is true. We have… uhm… fun.’ 

‘Sure. A lot of it. But I’m happy for you. If he makes you happy, then that’s all that matters. Nothing else is my business.’

Dorian straightened his back at that, a soft look in his eyes. ‘Thank you… You should meet my father, tell him that for me.’

‘He… doesn’t approve?’

Dorian heaved up his shoulder. ‘Oh yes, if I can’t give him the adorable, powerful, gifted grandchildren, then I am useless to his sort.’ Dorian tutted. ‘Well, enough about that - I don’t want to ruin your mood.’

‘You’re not. And I’m here if you ever want to talk about it.’

‘Thank you, I mean that. It is nice to… not be judged.’ Dorian grinned at me and then shook his head. ‘Oh, before I forget. I haven’t thanked you yet for what you have done in the Fade at Adamant. Come to help us and all. So… thanks for that as well.’

‘I would say it was my pleasure, but…’ I shivered, ‘I don’t ever want to do that again. It was horrible in that place.’

‘It was worse being there physically. Yuck.’

‘I can imagine.’ 

‘You are… Somniari.’ Dorian looked at me with interest. It wasn’t a question, more a statement. 

‘I am.’ I smiled. ‘As is Solas.’

‘Well, Maker be damned, two Somniari in one place. You don’t come across that very often.’

‘You’ve never met a Somniari?’ 

‘No. They are rare… Feared here in the South. Quaint, but slow-minded folk down here. In the Imperium, Somniari are revered, perhaps also in fear in a sense. To be Somniari is to have power. And the Imperium does love power.’

‘Well, here it’s not something to brag about.’ I sighed. 

‘You should visit Tevinter, if given the chance… oh, wait, perhaps not since you’re-’

‘An Elf?’

‘Yes. No offense, though.’

‘None taken.’ I laughed. ‘I would love to hear more about the place, though. I’m going to get some food at Flissa’s. Care to join me? I can tell you more about Somniari stuff, if you’re so interested.’

‘Oh, yes! Absolutely! I love it when I don’t have to ask.’

‘Uhuh, I know… you like it when people… give it to you.’ I wiggled my eyebrows, grinning. ‘I heard Bull-’

‘Ah-ah-ah. No. Don’t ruin our moment, Saeris dear.’

***

Dorian and I ate dinner together at the tavern, listening to the in-house minstrel, Maryden Halewell, singing brightful tunes. The mage and I talked about Tevinter and especially Minrathous. It would be great to visit it one day, but it would not welcome me - for the shape of my ears as well as my hedge magic. We danced around the topic of slavery, neither of us feeling especially keen to talk about it. Not when we could talk about dreams and the Fade. Dorian was more sceptical about all of it than Solas was. But still, he tried to understand what it was like - and what kind of mischief could be done with it. We also talked about the Magisterium and their history. I knew very little of them, so I was glad to get some insight. Dorian told me Maxwell had already sat in judgement of Magister Erimond and had remanded him to the Grey Wardens, who had executed him the following day. I was glad he was dead. One less enemy to think of. 

‘Two mages sit in a bar and- nah you guys won’t get it,’ Varric joked as he joined us at our table. 

‘Yes, we won’t. So don’t tell us, lest we feel insecure.’ Dorian rolled his eyes jokingly. 

‘Aw, Sparkles, I would never.’ Varric winked back, and then turned to me. ‘Good to see you’re back, Twinkle. It was starting to get boring without you here to stir up the pilgrims.’ 

‘Yeah, they shit themselves around you. It’s funny.’ Bull passed our table just in time and leaned in to our conversation, almost toppling our table as he rested his elbows on it, bending down comically low for his stature. 

I wiggled my eyebrows at Dorian, who shushed me, his eyes bright. 

We continued to talk until the tavern began to get busy with people looking for a reprieve of their day. When Bull ordered a round of Maraas-Lok, a Qunari liquor, I quickly excused myself. I wasn’t ready to get another one of the hangovers anytime soon. 

‘I have to go freshen up and sleep. I’ve had a long journey.’ I smiled. 

‘Hah! Scared of a little drink?’ Bull laughed loudly.

‘Little?’ I eyed the giant tankards Flissa placed on our table. 

‘Everything is little to you, Tiny.’ Varric laughed, grabbing a cup. 

‘No… I knew a few things that are… huge.’ Bull grinned and winked at the increasingly reddening Dorian beside me. 

Dorian quickly turned to me. ‘You’re right, you should freshen up. You smell dreadful… And your neck is so, so dirty.’  

‘Ohhh, Solas got game!’ Bull roared and pounded his fist on the table. The tankards jumped from their place around the table, as did Varric, who laughed so hard he became as red as Dorian just was. 

‘Ha.Ha,’ I tried to say seriously as I brushed my hair over my neck, covering the hickeys. I couldn’t stop the blush from appearing on my face. I took off after that, hearing the group laugh and roar as I closed the door behind me. 

Servants had already filled up the bathtub, I just needed to warm it up with my magic and it quickly became comfortably hot. I undressed and crawled into the steaming tub. The servants had left soaps and poultices at the side of the bath. I took the one closest to me and washed my hair with it - it had gone quite stiff after washing up in a cold river a couple of days ago. The soap smelled of lavender and citrus and something I couldn’t quite place.

After the bath, I was ready to just roll into the freshly made bed, the blankets and cushions smelling of fresh cotton. 

‘Now just…’ I mumbled to myself as I walked over to the dressing table in front of the mirror to comb out my wet hair, when I saw my reflection. 

My hair had gone purple. 

‘SERA!’

***

I had to wash my hair five times yesterday to get the purple colour out. It had taken me an hour, and my scalp still tingled from all the scrubbing. 

Still tired, I rolled out of bed when a gentle knock sounded on my bedroom door. I wrapped a robe around me and opened the door. There was Sorris, the servant I had met before. I smiled at the young boy, and he tried to smile but only shuddered at me in response. ‘Milady Saeris, y-you have been s-summoned to a-Ambassador Montilyet’s o-office. P-please.’

I cocked my head. He wasn’t cold, it was hot outside already. ‘Are you alright?’

Sorris just bowed more deeply. 

‘It’s okay. Tell Josephine I’ll be down in a couple of minutes.’

‘Y-yes, Milady Saeris,’ he said, after which he hurried away. 

I got myself dressed - double-checking if my hair wasn’t still purple - and left for the main castle. It was still early, but Skyhold was already buzzing about. I snuck past the whispering people, saying back polite greetings when they were thrown my way. When I crossed the throne room, which had been renovated beautifully in the time that had passed, I knocked on Josephine’s door. There was no answer. After a minute, I walked inside.

There was no one in the room. Josephine’s office looked pristine as per usual, yet the furniture had been moved around. The burgundy settees were pushed against the outer wall, creating an open space near the windows. Tucked into a corner, stood an old, full body mirror. 

I walked over to the Ambassador’s desk, the only thing that looked normal - it was covered in stacked letters and scrolls. My eye landed on an open letter tucked to the side. I could only make out the last sentence, which was finished off with a deep-red imprint of someone’s lips. It read: ‘I look forward to seeing you soon, mi reina . With love, J-’

‘Ah, don’t you mind that.’ Josephine had entered the room and quickly covered up the letter with a book. I looked up at the Antivan woman, a deep red blush appearing on her tanned cheeks. Ear to ear. 

I giggled, but decided not to pry when Leliana, Maxwell and Cullen also entered the room. 

‘Lady Saeris, it is good you have arrived,’ Leliana purred, a gleam in her all-seeing eyes. 

‘Tell me, Spymaster, why are we here?’ Cullen sighed after he bowed friendly my way. ‘I still have a lot of work after the siege. The Wardens have need for accommodations and requisitions.’ There was an annoyance in his tone. 

‘Oh relax, Commander.’ Maxwell patted Cullen on the back, a relaxed look on his face. 

‘My apologies,’ Cullen mumbled. ‘My desk has been squeaking and I cannot for the life of me find what is wrong with it.’

Leliana gave me a small grin - of course she already knew who had pranked the Commander’s desk, and I also had a feeling who had done it. 

Josephine clasped her hands together, a bright smile on her lips. ‘As all of you may know, the Winter Ball will take place only a couple of weeks from now. Preparations have been met for months now.’ Josephine turned to me. ‘Lady Saeris, I have ordered several dresses in the colour range you have chosen. Shall we try them on now?’

‘How many dresses are we talking about?’ I swallowed nervously, my eyes looking over at Cullen, who stared back at me. I quickly looked away. ‘And why does everybody have to be here?’

‘We are advisors, after all.’ Leliana stepped forward. ‘And we must make sure everything is… according to the theme.’

‘Theme?’

‘We’ll explain later.’ The Spymaster winked back at me. Commander Cullen looked more uncomfortable by the minute. 

‘Now, let’s get started. Polène, Bertrand!’ Josephine called and two human servants entered carrying a large chest. And as Cullen, Leliana and Maxwell - who looked giddy as hell - sat down in the settees against the wall, the servants put down the chest and left. 

‘You can change here.’ Josephine pointed to the room divider against the opposite wall. It matched the style of the settees. ‘This is going to be so much fun!’ Josephine almost hopped as she guided me behind the divider. I wanted to run away. 

The female servant, Polène - though I heard some call her Polly - helped me undress. She was a sturdy woman, with dusty brown hair and the same colour of eyes. Her face was full and rosy, littered with freckles. 

‘Try this one first!’ Josephine pointed to the plum frock in the chest. Polène took the heavy fabric and held it up in confirmation. The plum dress had a fitted bodice and a square neckline, the skirts were long and flowy. I tried it on, pushing my arms through the tight leg of mutton sleeves. It fit like a glove. The fabric itself was soft and silky, clinging to my body. 

Josephine looked at me with a nod, her eyes gleaming but betraying no judgement. 

I stepped around the room divider, shoulders tense. I had worn dresses before - I used to love wearing them around Daniel, though those had been less luxurious and beautiful. 

Leliana clasped her hands and exclaimed: ‘Oh, yes! This one is beautiful!’ 

Maxwell leaned forwards and smiled. ‘Yes, yes - but is it Halamshiral beautiful?’ He wiggled his brows comically. 

‘Hmm, I see what you mean, Inquisitor,’ Josephine said seriously, walking around me. ‘What do you think, Cullen?’ 

I looked at the Commander, who stared at me intensely. I cocked my head and smiled encouragingly. At that, his face grew red and he looked away. ‘It’s - ah - well, pretty.’

‘Not good enough, then.’ Josephine nodded assuredly. ‘The next one, Polène!’ 

Next up was a deep golden dress with a voluminous skirt of tulle and silver butterflies stitched across the folds. The bodice was tight, with a high neckline, a basque waist and puffed sleeves. I felt ridiculous.

When I stepped around the divider, Maxwell began laughing so hard, his face became as red as drakestone. 

‘I like it…’ Josephine mumbled at his reaction. 

Cullen shook his head and laughed - looking a bit more comfortable now. ‘No, I must follow our Inquisitor on this one.’ 

‘I agree. Next.’ Leliana leaned back in her settee relaxed. This was torture, her favourite pastime. 

This next dress was rust-coloured - not entirely red, but warmer and softer. It clung to my body in every place - the silk fabric leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. It had a sweetheart neckline with a fitted corset - which pushed everything to the top, my breasts almost spilling out.  There were panels of deeper colours along the flowing skirts, which draped along my ankles. Gold trimmings followed along the side of my waist and the edge of the skirt. The cape sleeves were transparent, showing off yet another sliver of skin. 

‘Oh my.’ Leliana leaned forward, eyes glittering. ‘That’s - uh -’

‘Revealing...’ Maxwell gawked. ‘What kind of party are you going to? And why am I not invited?’ Another giggle. He sure felt guppy today. 

‘It is stunning - it would surely fit…’ Josephine said in thought, her eyes to the Spymaster and then back to me. ‘But yes, it might be too on the nose.’

I looked at Cullen, hoping he wouldn’t like it either. One wrong movement in this dress and I would be flashing the whole court. How could I even dance in this? 

When I met Cullen’s eyes, however, I stiffened. He stared at me wholly and intensely, his eyes raking across my body - his golden eyes. There was a glow in them, something I hadn’t seen before. And while the others discussed, Cullen’s eyes found mine staring into his, waiting for his comments. For a second, the room, everything, dimmed. Cullen’s mouth opened slightly, his eyes bore into mine. And then, his hand, which was resting on his knee, tightened and loosened in a strange and tense way. He blinked, and then looked away from me again. I saw a blush climbing from his throat, along his neck, to his face. 

‘I think our Commander quite likes it.’ Maxwell poked Cullen in the waist. 

‘Maker’s breath.’ Cullen scraped his throat, still not looking at me. 

At that, I turned around and stepped behind the divider again, mumbling, ‘Not this one.’ A blush reddened my face as well, and I couldn't tell exactly why.

I tried on almost all of the dresses in the chest. A taupe one, a burgundy one and a teal one. I saw a red thread, a theme, so to speak, in all of the dresses: each and every one of them was flowy yet sensual - alluring. I had expected frilly ball gowns, knowing Josephine. Why had they decided to go this route? 

While I tried on dress after dress behind the room divider, Cullen, Leliana, Josephine and Maxwell talked about Halamshiral, Celene and Gaspard and an ambassador called Briala. According to Leliana, the empress’ assassin must be hiding within one of those factions.

‘What do we know about this Duke Gaspard, exactly?’ Maxwell asked. ‘I haven’t seen him in Jader…’

‘Gaspard is the man who would have been emperor. He’s Celene’s cousin, and was first in line to inherit the throne when Emperor Florian died. Celene outmanoeuvred him. She won over the Council of Heralds, who hold authority over title disputes. She became empress, and he a general in the Imperial Army. He’s well loved by the troops. He’s also a Chevalier. Most of their number sided with him when he turned on the empress,’ Cullen answered.

Another Chevalier. Great.

‘Aren’t the Chevaliers part of the army? Why would they follow the duke?’ Maxwell pondered. ‘I heard Lord Jean-Gaspard - Maker, those names are confusing - speaking of this at Adamant.’

Cullen leaned forward in his chair. ‘Most Chevaliers are sworn to serve the crown, but that does not give them faith in the person wearing it. The empress has tried to improve relations with Ferelden and Nevarra. The Chevaliers see her as anti-military. They believe Gaspard could lead the empire back to the glory of Drakon’s expansion years.’

I scoffed behind the divider, trying to wiggle into another plum gown. The only ones who benefitted from those glory days were the human Orlesians, especially the nobles.

‘Okay… And then you also said something about an ambassador? Briala?’ Maxwell continued.

‘An ambassador in name only. She has organised the elves of Halamshiral into an underground army. The empress invited her to the peace talks in a bid to gain the elves’ alliance in the war. That would be scandal enough, without the rumour that Briala is a jilted lover of Celene’s. A personal grudge and a network of saboteurs at her command? A promising lead.’ There was a tone in Leliana’s voice as she spoke of this Briala. Was it caution? Or was it interest? 

‘Wait. The elven leader is a jilted lover of the empress?’ Maxwell gasped comically. ‘How scandalous indeed.’ Only a cup of tea he could sip from, and he was the perfect image of a gossiping aunty. 

‘It’s not widely known,’ Leliana said, amused - of course she had found this out. ‘Just a rumour whispered among the palace servants a few years ago. If it’s true and were to get out—the empress and an elf—the scandal could destroy Celene’s court. Even as a lie, Briala could use it to blackmail the empress. She has some connection to the throne.’

Maxwell sighed. ‘Boy-oh-boy. What a bunch. And tell me again, what do we know about Celene? Any other secrets I should know about? Any Qunari or Dwarven lovers maybe?’

‘Empress Celene is a renowned diplomat and reformer. She works tirelessly to secure peace for the empire. Unfortunately, many Orlesians view peace as complacency. She has yet to name an heir, leaving the future of the empire in doubt if anything happens to her. Especially when the next in line is her cousin Gaspard, who’s made few friends on the Council of Heralds,’ Josephine stated, eyebrows raised. ‘She is known to take several lovers - so perhaps we can find out…’

I popped my head around the divider. ‘Hold on. Gaspard is Celene’s heir?’ The plot thickens. ‘How can Gaspard still be next in line while he wages war against his empress?’

‘The title “grand duke” indicates that he was a prince before the empress took the throne,’ Cullen answered, still not looking at me. 

I showed off another dress; this one was a deep shade of midnight blue, so deep it almost seemed black. When the light hit it, however, a shimmer of a silvery pale blue moved along the fabric. It had long fitted sleeves, a high collar and a deep v-neck. But because the fabric was stiff and a little rigid, it felt a little like armour. There were appliques of glittery black sequin-like lace along the cuffs of the sleeves and around the neckline. 

This dress was by far my favourite. 

My pale skin against the blue fabric looked like moonlight.

The others agreed it was beautiful, but not nearly excessive enough for a ball. So, with regret, I took it off again. But I’m definitely keeping this one. 

‘Do we really need to go to the peace talks? We tried at Jader, and we couldn’t do anything there either. Besides, the empress must have personal guards. We could just warn her she’s in danger.’ Maxwell sighed and slouched deeper in his settee when I disappeared behind the divider again.

Josephine tutted and said ‘We’ve made the attempt, but…’

‘It seems that our messages never reached her. Someone intercepted them,’ Leliana continued, gritting her teeth slightly - I could hear it. 

‘It’s better that we don’t leave this to chance. If Orlais falls to Corypheus, no land is safe,’ Cullen stated seriously. I heard Maxwell sigh and imagined him rolling his eyes.

Polène took out the last dress. ‘Save the best for last.’ I heard her mumble when she gave it to me. She had a rural accent, which reminded me of Gwaren.

When I had it on, Polène made sure to pin up my hair with a golden hairpin into a half-down updo. She even patted me down and cinched me into the corset extra tightly. 

‘Saeris!’ Josephine gasped and held up her hands over her mouth in exasperation. ‘This is the dress. You must wear this one! Oh, I knew this was your colour.’

I grimaced at the ambassador. I had said no green. This dress… 

‘She is right. This is the one,’ Leliana stated, her eyes flickering with delight.

I think I preferred the rust-coloured dress from before. Though I could definitely dance in this one… Still… I wanted the ground to swallow me whole. 

‘Inquisitor? What do you think?’ Josephine turned to Maxwell, who sat up straight for once. 

His eyes gleamed as well, a bright smile on his lips. ‘Wow, Saeris. Just… yes. The whole court will want to be you…’

‘And be with you,’ Leliana added slyly, her eyes connecting with Josephine. They nodded at each other. What were they scheming?! 

Polène shuffled towards me and led me down to the settees, to the mirror. I looked at myself, really looked at me. I thought of Solas’ words from the night in the forest, of me standing in front of him, utterly naked and willing. His ancient eyes finding mine and devouring me piece by piece, as the night’s darkness curled around us.

“Ma ane ina'lan'ehn.”

‘You are beautiful,’ Cullen said. I whipped my head to him, the memory shattered at his words. Back to reality. I looked into the Commander’s golden eyes as they stared at me again, not looking away this time. 

‘Then, the decision has been made!’ Josephine said, sighing with relief as well as a tad of sadness that this game of dress-up was over.

‘Alrighty. Can I go now?’ Maxwell clapped his hands and stood up. 

Leliana, however, held up one hand, and he sat back down again like a puppy. ‘First this, Inquisitor. My agents will ensure our soldiers get inside, but it must be a few at a time to avoid attention.’

‘Indeed.’ Josephine tapped her heel on the stone floor. ‘If we want to make sure the outcome of the peace talks are in our favour, we must play their game. Avoid unwanted attention, and attract the right attention, in return.’

‘And to make sure all parties are… open… to our prepositions, we must have leverage.’ Leliana’s eyes flashed around the room, finding each and everyone of us.

‘Sooo… we shouldn’t attract attention from the court, yet we have to attract them… We have to be present, yet sneak around to find blackmail material on each of them. How are we ever going to do all of that? As well as, of course, making sure the Empress isn’t killed. I can’t be everywhere at once.’

‘Exactly.’ Leliana smiled, her eyes finally landing on me. Uh-oh. 

‘Sounds like you have a plan.’ Cullen cocked his head. So he wasn’t already up-to-date?

‘Oh, yes. We have a plan .’ Josephine stepped forward until she stood next to the settee Leliana was sitting in. The two former bards smiled coyly.

‘The game is on.’

Notes:

Next up is Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts! Can't wait!

Chapter 59: Wicked - Part One

"The Old Gods will call to you,
From their Ancient Prisons they will sing.
Dragons with wicked eyes and wicked hearts,
On blacken'd wings does deceit take flight,
The First of My children, lost to night."

— Canticle of Silence 3:6

 

***

The giant golden doors opened with a soft clunk. The ballroom behind it fell silent for one, two, three seconds. Only the music continued—violins and harpsichords thrumming fancy tunes to ease the mood within. The smell of sweat, people, alcohol and a mixture of heavy perfumes bombarded our senses. The warm light of the vestibule behind us dimmed as the doors closed again. We took another step forward. At this cue, the people around us erupted in whispers, first soft then heavy. Masks wiggled on noses as they hushed to each other in wicked interest.

Is that him? Is that the Inquisitor? Who’s that? The gall! Must be Gaspard’s scheming. Look at his entourage! It is her, that Elf.

We raised our chins in unison and walked forwards, my dress swishing on the ground. The heavy air pricked my exposed skin, the brims of my ears, which were full on display and adorned with fine gold jewellery and cuffs. Proud. 

Maxwell’s arm tightened around me. A small sign. Let’s do this. 

‘And now, presenting:’ the court herald walked to the golden balustrade before us, a mask and cloth covering his entire face, which moved as he announced, ‘Grand Duke Gaspard de Chalon.’

The duke walked out in front of us, his arms opened wide as the people gawked at him. His golden and silver mask with gilded lions dancing around his eyes glowed in the light of the giant diamond chandelier that hung above the dancefloor. 

‘And accompanying him…’

Maxwell let go of my arm and stepped forwards—walking casually with his hands in the pockets of his rich gold and deep black doublet, and with an obvious swaggy smile on his handsome face. 

The announcer continued: ‘Lord Inquisitor Trevelyan, son of Bann Trevelyan of Ostwick! Vanquisher of the rebel mages of Ferelden, crusher of the vile apostates of the Mage Underground. Shepherd and leash of the wayward Order of Templars, purger of the heretics from the ranks of the faithful!’

‘This guy writes better fiction than I do,’ Varric mumbled behind me.

‘This is all for show, my dear. Now, smile,’ Vivienne bit back under her breath at the Dwarf.

‘Champion of the Blessed Andraste herself!’

I saw Gaspard snicker as he walked down after this last announcement. Maxwell didn’t seem to mind one bit. 

Whispers arose when Maxwell didn’t step down the gilded stairs to the dancefloor below. Instead, he turned his head, a lazy and alluring smile on his lips as they watched me. 

‘Accompanying the Inquisitor—’

This was my cue. I thought back on all the tips Josephine had given me, of all the warnings Leliana had. This was their plan, and I was ready to play my part. I stepped forward towards Maxwell and stopped next to him as the herald announced me further. 

‘Lady Saeris, Healer and Emissary of the Inquisition, Enchanter of the former Ostwick Circle of Magi.’

I stopped next to Maxwell, my dress swishing around in flowing folds. I smiled prettily and carelessly at the people below, at the empress on the balustrade on the opposite side of the room. I raised my chin, showing off my exposed neck and chest. People murmured. But I wasn’t done yet. I looked slightly over my shoulder and ever so softly bit my lip, my eyes connecting with Commander Cullen. I gave him a woeful look. He dipped his head back, eyes solely on me.

People whispered louder now.

I looked back to the front, sliding my arm through Maxwell’s. He tucked me close against him. We looked at each other and held one another’s gaze. 

Another round of whispers.

Then, Maxwell led me downstairs while the herald started announcing the others. We walked carefully and slowly while people gossiped around us.

Everything was going exactly according to plan. 

*** 

Three weeks ago

‘You want me to do what?!’ I gasped at the two bards.

‘Maker’s Breath.’ Cullen shook his head as well.

‘I know what we are asking of you, of all of you, but we assure you: we have thought this through,’ Josephine assured. 

I crossed and uncrossed my legs nervously. I had just “chosen” a dress for the ball, with all the advisors as well as Maxwell present. Now, I sat on a settee next to Maxwell, back in my casual clothes. The others sat in chairs in a circle around us. 

‘We are on their turf. If we want to win, we must play their Game. They will never expect it, underestimating us still.’ Leliana leaned forwards in her settee. 

‘Yes, I get that part—but why… like this?’

‘If we want to turn this Game into our advantage, we must not only find leverage against all parties, we must also gain control of the court’s approval. Inquisitor, you will attract a lot of attention. So if we want you to find the right information, we need… distractions,’ Josephine continued.

‘And if there’s someone the court is as interested in as the Herald of Andraste at this moment… it is the strange Elven woman who was given a second chance in this world for saving his life.’

I leaned forwards, burying my face in my hands and sighed deeper. I was to be a pawn, to play and dance with people I despised… the people whose ancestors killed my Sybil. The people I fought against for a decade.

‘Please, Saeris.’ Maxwell leaned forwards. ‘It’ll be fun… in a way. Beat these people at their very own Game. Meanwhile, I’ll snoop around with the others. With you prancing around… in that dress… no one will even notice I’m gone.’

‘I get that…’ I sighed again, looking back up from my hands. ‘But why do I have to play the part of a… seductress?’

‘Ah, yes.’ Josephine grimaced. ‘As you may know, there have been many rumours since Haven that you and the Inquisitor are… ah… courting. We have denied such claims, but the gossip is persistent.’ 

Maxwell winked at me. I gave him a small smile. 

‘It is something which has held the attention of many young nobles. We can use it to our advantage, especially considering the… other rumours,’ Josephine continued and looked at the Commander, who had turned even paler than before. 

‘Josephine… what rumours?’ I sat up straighter. I knew the gossip about me and Maxwell. We all knew they were false. Maxwell was my friend, nothing more. I could even consider him a younger brother. And besides, he has Cassandra. And I have— 

‘Some… have guessed you also are the mistress of our Commander.’ Josephine looked down. 

Cullen groaned awkwardly. 

‘Wait. What?’ I gawked. 

‘These are tumultuous times.’ Leliana crossed her legs, her eyes shimmering. ‘People need a reprieve from all the devastation: the Breach, the civil war, the mage rebellion. They grasp at any distractions, any gossip. You and Commander Cullen have… a certain sway. You must have known this already? Saeris, how many letters of marriage have you gotten? Cullen, how many declarations of love have you received?’

‘Yeah, you have a fan club, or so I’ve heard.’ Maxwell grinned. He was all too happy he could sneak away during the ball. Couldn’t blame him.

Cullen sighed. ‘Yes, but I do not understand what this has to do with Halamshiral.’

‘Aside from the rumours about Lady Saeris and Lord Maxwell, there have also been whispers about a secret affair between her and you, Commander.’ Josephine smiled apologetically. ‘A love triangle, so to speak. All the nobles present at the ball will want to know if… these whispers are true or not.’

‘Dear Maker, guide me,’ Cullen cursed. 

‘How are people coming up with all of this?’ I held my hands up in the air.

‘The rumours have been stirring ever since Haven… but have taken flight after the siege on Adamant. It seems the Chevaliers have been playing games… And servants at Lydes have picked up some whispers.’

‘Shit.’ I plopped deeper into the chair. 

‘We will deny all these rumours and gossip, do not fret.’ Josephine shuffled a little closer to me. ‘But for now… Leliana and I think that we could use all of this to our advantage. Stir up the court. Play their Game.’ 

‘If we can get the court busy looking at you, Saeris, our Inquisitor is free to roam and… snoop about as much as we want… we need .’

Now I understood why all those dresses had been so sensual and revealing. 

‘I don’t know if I can do this,’ I said, staring at my feet on the greystone floor. 

‘We understand, and we are here to help.’ Josephine looked at me like a puppy who wanted treats. ‘Leliana and I shall teach you anything you need to know these upcoming weeks. And besides, you have already proven yourself capable of holding your own amongst the court during your time as Emissary. We are certain, after some additional training, you shall succeed.’

I leaned back in my chair, all eyes of the room on me. I kept silent for some moments, contemplating. An entire night in a revealing dress, smiling prettily at hateful Orlesians… to me, these were still enemies in a sense. How could I pretend to be one of them? A seductress… an Elven whore. On the other hand… If I could aid our cause by just playing pretend for a couple of hours… Wouldn’t that be worth it? If we can get… perhaps some kind of truce? Make Orlais an ally in this war against Corypheus? We could actually win.

I knew Maxwell wouldn’t mind playing at this—he liked games in a sense, saw the fun in it—a reprieve in itself for him, from being the serious Inquisitor who carried the fate of Thedas in his marked hands. But the Commander… I looked at Cullen, and he looked at me.

‘What do you think about all of this?’ I asked him, breaking the heavy silence.

‘I do not like this idea,’ he said—I noted a redness creeping under the collar of his armour along his neck. ‘However, I will do what I can to help the Inquisition.’ He eyed Maxwell and then looked back at me. ‘But if you do not feel comfortable, Saeris, you must say so. We will not… I will not go through with this.’ At the end of this sentence, Cullen threw an angry look at the Spymaster and Ambassador. ‘We will not go through with this, yes?’

‘Of course.’ Josephine nodded. ‘Just say the word, milady.’ She looked at me intensely. 

Sighing again, I finally shuddered. ‘Alright. Tell me everything you know about the Game. If we are to win this thing, I need to know the rules.’ 

‘Yes!’ Maxwell balled his fist, and then settled again. ‘Uhm, I mean… Great!’ 

Leliana looked at him with a cautious glare. ‘You will also follow our lessons, Inquisitor. You will not be away the entire ball. You must address the court from time to time, show your face, and appeal to the crowds.’ 

‘Indeed,’ Josephine said. ‘I’m sure you know how to handle most nobility, but the Game is nothing like the Free Marches’ intrigues. How you speak to the court is a matter of life and death. It is no simple matter of etiquette and protocol. Every word, every gesture is measured and evaluated for weakness.’

‘I’m not intimidated by stuffy Orlesian nobles.’ Maxwell scoffed. ‘I’ve fought worse demons.’

Josephine tutted. ‘These people burn cities as a diversionary tactic and assassinate one another as a feint. The Game is like Wicked Grace played to the death. You must never reveal your cards. When you meet the empress, the eyes of the entire court will be upon you. You were safer in the Fade with the fear demon.’

I swallowed visibly, as did Maxwell—who had turned two shades paler at the Ambassador’s words. 

‘But do not fret.’ Josephine waved her hands to us nervously, trying to change her tone before we changed our minds. ‘I will teach you how to speak, how to look, even how to breathe properly. Everything will be fine!’

Leliana smiled at Maxwell, Cullen and I encouragingly. Her silent smile made me even more nervous. The Spymaster smiling is almost never a good sign. These weeks will be hell.

Cullen scratched the back of his neck. ‘Andraste watch over us all.’

***

Present day

Our footsteps reverberated throughout the ballroom as we crossed the dance floor. It had been more than a century since I had walked on heels. And even in my human days, so long ago, I only wore them at fancy parties or weddings. I had to learn to walk in such shoes again these last weeks. Josephine had made me walk around Skyhold with them. I had blisters for days, but now I could prance around effortlessly as if the heels were an extension of my feet. 

I could see my reflection in the polished marble floors, see the colours of my flowing skirts. My dress was a cascade of light with soft blues and iridescent emeralds. 

It matched my eyes, I realised. 

There were fine gold appliques stitched around the edges, along my waist, up to the brim of the low scooping neckline. The structured bodice of the dress showed off the curves of my body. It pushed my breasts up—which the neckline displayed sensually. Enough to arouse, yet leaving just a bit more to the imagination. That’s what this dress was made for: to make others wonder what was beneath it, if the pale skin glowed without the gold as well. The dress clung to every curve, yet flowed along my legs and swished graciously as I walked. There was a long slit in the skirt, to show off glints of pale legs as I walked or danced. The back of the dress had a deep, scooping neckline to show off my entire back. With my hair up, I felt almost naked there. 

In a sense, the dress felt very… Elven. It was unlike the stiff and voluminous dresses the noble women around me wore. I stuck out. That was the plan. 

Maxwell walked slowly, my arm linked to his. He looked every part the Inquisitor; the sunburst on his jacket, the golden jewellery on his face and hands, his wavy hair pulled in a loose ponytail at the nape of his neck. His black and gold outfit stuck out against mine, yet it somehow matched. The golden thread used in our clothes curled similarly. Josephine had made sure everything was perfect. For all of us. 

Our whole group wore extravagant costumes, but we were linked together by the deep blue sash pinned along our waists and chests, and by the diamond and golden chains in front of our eyes. A mask, but open and vulnerable. It looked like golden necklaces, hung from ear-to-ear, or woven into our hair. Mine was linked to the golden diadem that was woven into my updo. Strains of gold hung to the tip of the sunburst diadem to the chains on my visible pointed ears. 

People stared at me, every exposed inch, every curve and shadow on my skin. 

Behind me, Leliana, Josephine and Cullen followed. The herald’s voice booming as he announced them. 

‘Ser Cullen Stanton Rutherford of Honnleath. Commander of the forces of the Inquisition. Former Knight-Commander of Kirkwall.’ 

Cullen walked closely behind me, his eyes burning in my bare back. People whispered and gawked at him as he passed. And with reason: the man looked like a prince. His golden hair was tousled perfectly and his gold and burgundy doublet was fitted to perfection. And while Maxwell’s jacket was nonchalantly unbuttoned to show off a sliver of chest, Cullen’s doublet was buttoned to the top. It gave him a stricter look, as a serious Commander should. The men looked like two sides of the same coin. 

‘Lady Leliana, Nightingale of the Imperial Court. Veteran of the Fifth Blight. Seneschal of the Inquisition and Left Hand of the Divine.’ 

The Spymaster walked graciously next to the Commander. Her short, red hair was braided in multiple strains that intertwined at the nape of her neck. The golden necklaces that were linked as a mask were twisted into those braids. The diamonds that were woven into the gold strings reflected the purple, plum and bordeaux shades of her simple dress, which flowed behind her. 

‘And Lady Josephine Cherette Montilyet of Antiva City. Ambassador of the Inquisition.’

Josephine followed in Leliana’s footsteps. Her gold and cream, Antivan-style dress swayed around her. There were golden suns stitched across the bodice of her dress. The blue slash that was pinned along her chest gleamed in the lights of the giant chandelier above us, as did her dark hair, pinned back in an elegant updo.

Cassandra, Vivienne, Dorian, Varric and Solas followed suit. Sera was off sneaking around the palace already—her Friends of Red Jenny had pulled the right strings to get her entrance as a random elven servant, giving her the opportunity to get inside intel. Blackwall, The Iron Bull and his Chargers were stationed on standby in the shadows outside, ready to march if need be. Cole was around here somewhere, but he wasn’t announced by the herald or noticed at all. If there was someone perfect for snooping around unseen, it was that boy. 

‘Seeker Cassandra Allegra Portia Calogera Filomena—’

‘Get on with it!’ Cassandra grumbled at the herald. 

‘… Pentaghast. Fourteenth cousin to the King of Nevarra, nine times removed. Hero of Orlais, Right Hand of the Divine.’ 

Cassandra stepped forwards, her black dress sober and modest, stiff like armour. The only colour was the blue sash, draped across her chest, the golden sunburst emblem pinned on that sash, and the golden chains on her face. Her hair was braided as per usual, albeit neatly and tightly. 

‘Madame Vivienne, First Enchanter of the Circle of Magi, Enchanter of the Imperial Court, mistress of the Duke of Ghislain.’

Vivienne walked down, her hips swaying left to right, her face pulled into a relaxed and pleasant smile. She felt right at home. She wore a crisp white and gold dress with the same blue sash bound as a belt around her white leather corset. It frayed out into a tight skirt that had a long slit from which her long legs peeked when she walked. The golden chain-mask on her face was connected to curling twists of gold that laid around the horns of her white dragonesque headdress.

‘Lord Dorian Pavus, member of the Circle of Vyrantium, son of Lord Magister Halward Pavus of Asariel.’

Dorian stepped forward, an amused grin on his face. His moustache was combed and curled into perfection, the tips dipped in gold paint—like it was an accessory in itself. He wore a soft silver ensemble with golden applique all along the justacorps jacket and pants. The man even wore golden gauntlet rings on top of his fingers—looking every part of an imperial mage.

‘Renowned author Varric Tethras. Head of noble house Tethras, deshyr of Kirkwall to the Dwarves Merchants Guild.’

Varric stepped in line, a swagger in his pace. His ginger hair was pulled into a tight bun at the nape of his neck. The Dwarf had left his crimson jacket unbuttoned—as per usual—to show off his muscled and hairy chest. The blue sash was twisted along the hoops of his belt. 

‘The Lord Inquisitor’s elven servant, Solas.’ 

I couldn’t help but scrunch my nose a little at that… announcement. I tried to throw a look over my shoulder, making it look like I was looking at Cullen, but my eyes looked for Solas just for a second. My breath got stuck in my throat as he walked down the gilded stairs. How dare they call him just an Elven servant? He certainly didn’t look like it. The tall Elven man strode slowly yet confidently, and even somewhat relaxed, down to the dancefloor. His black and gold jerkin jacket was buttoned to the top, looking somewhat rigid. Yet the billowy sleeves of his crisp white shirt underneath made him look noble. The shirt was tucked into high-waisted black pants that matched his jacket. He even wore boots. I had only seen him in foot wraps. His outfit… it reminded me of what he wore last night, in the Fade—

Solas looked my way, his stern grey eyes glittering behind his golden chain-mask that matched the cuffs on the tips of his pointed ears. Those cuffs matched mine. And I felt a little more comfortable knowing that. 

‘Cousin. My dear sister.’ Gaspard bowed his head slightly in greeting of the royals before us as we finally reached the daïs. 

‘Grand Duke. We are always honoured when your presence graces our court,’ Empress Celene spoke. I dared to glance at her. She wasn’t tall or particularly beautiful, yet she had a certain allure. I understood why many crowded at her feet. The fair woman, at the end of her thirties, with steel blonde hair raised her chin, her silver and golden mask shimmering—the same mask as the duke, the mask of House Chalon. The empress looked down at us from her balcony above, smiling prettily—which showed the fine lines along her mouth and eyes she had tried to powder away. She curtsied politely at the duke before us, her royal blue, black and gold Orlesian-style frock swaying. I noted the shield or whatever it was on her back. It looked like… swords? Or feathers? They crowned at her back, peaking out like the rays of a sun or wings of a great bird. 

‘Don’t waste my time with pleasantries, Celene. We have business to conclude.’ The duke tapped his buckled shoes impatiently. 

‘We will meet for the negotiations after we have seen to our other guests.’ The empress smiled pleasantly, unbothered by the duke’s impatience and tone.

The duke gave an overdone curtsy, waving his hands as he bowed to Celene.

‘Inquisitor.’ He stepped aside from Maxwell, bidding his farewell in a careful tone. Then, the man walked off to a balcony outside. 

The empress now looked down to us, her pale eyes betraying no emotion but pleasantness. ‘Lord Inquisitor, we welcome you to the Winter Palace. Allow us to present our cousin, the Grand Duchess of Lydes, without whom this gathering would never have been possible.’ 

The empress waved softly to the woman standing next to her. She resembled the empress in a sense, albeit smaller, older and more sneering. The woman, Florianne, had steel blonde hair like her cousin, but it was short and thinning. Her mask, the mask of House Chalon, looked less extravagant on her gaunt face. She wore a cream and silver dress with a high, outward scooping collar. On the skirt of her dress were appliques that resembled the wings of a… butterfly? No. A moth. A grey moth. Hopefully she won’t fly too close to the flame. 

Florianne curtsied to Maxwell, her eyes scanning the rest of us. And as the Game required, no emotion betrayed her face. ‘What an unexpected pleasure. I was not aware the Inquisition would be part of our festivities. We will certainly speak later, Inquisitor.’

Did she sound… nervous?

Florianne walked off to some other nobles, leaving the empress to address us further alone. 

‘Your arrival at court is like a cool wind on a summer’s day,’ Celene said pleasantly. 

‘Let’s hope the breeze does not herald an oncoming storm.’ Maxwell smiled back just as pleasantly. 

‘Even the wisest mistake fair winds for foul. We are at the mercy of the skies, Inquisitor,’ the empress answered. 

I wanted to yell at her to stop this charade, to call off the ball for her safety and the safety of her country. But I didn’t. Instead, I kept my gaze in an uninterested, bored look. 

‘How do you find Halamshiral?’ the empress continued.

‘I have no words to suffice. Halamshiral has many beauties, and I couldn’t do them justice.’ Maxwell grinned again in his charming way.

‘Your modesty does you credit, and speaks well for the Inquisition.’

‘Thank you, Your Imperial Majesty.’ Maxwell curtsied at her. We all did. 

Before the empress turned away though, she stepped a little closer to the railing. I felt her eyes burning on my bowed head. ‘I must say, you bring interesting company, Inquisitor.’ 

I swallowed. 

Maxwell chuckled and I felt his hand slither along my waist and hold me there. ‘As interesting as they are beautiful, Your Imperial Majesty. Very fitting to your palace indeed.’

Celene gave a little smile. ‘This will make for an interesting evening, I reckon. Feel free to enjoy the pleasures of the ballroom, Inquisitor. We look forward to watching you dance.’ 

And that dance would happen soon. We knew they expected it from us.

‘I look forward to it as well, Your Imperial Majesty.’ Maxwell dipped his head.

***

Two weeks ago

‘Ouch!’ 

‘Oopsie… Okay let’s try that again.’

‘No. Wait. OW! Max. Stop!’

‘It’s these damned shoes!’

‘No, it’s your damned feet in general!’

‘Children, children. Please refrain from all this fighting.’ Vivienne clapped her hands and tutted. ‘Truly, Lady Ambassador, these are the easiest dances of the lot.’

‘You must let the music take control of you, let your body remember the moves.’ Josephine tried to hush towards Maxwell and I with an apologetic smile on her face.

‘I don’t think the body remembers.’ Maxwell sighed and took a step back, letting go of my waist. 

‘I can feel that.’ I groaned, wiggling my toes in these horrible heeled boots. 

‘Then, we must practise harder.’ Vivienne sat back down in the chair, her eyes glaring at us. ‘Again.’ She signalled towards Maryden, who started up the tune again. 

Maxwell sighed and cocked his head at me, a sorry smile on his sweaty face. He held his hands open to me. I rolled my eyes and walked to him again. With one hand on my waist and the other holding my right hand next to our heads, we moved along to the music. 

‘And one-two-three, one-two-three,’ Vivienne clapped her hands at every drop of tune. ‘Now let go of her hand—yes—turn, hands down, Inquisitor. No, now up again, there—’

‘OUCH!’ I jumped away as Maxwell stepped on my heel again. ‘Fuck that hurts.’

‘Oh, sorrows, sorrows, prayers.’ Vivienne rolled her eyes at me. ‘You must have patience, my dear. You will dance with worse partners at Halamshiral.’

‘I sure hope not.’ I grimaced and rubbed the back of my heel—right on the tendon!

‘Well, these feet were made for fighting, not dancing,’ Maxwell huffed. 

‘Ah, yes—but is it not, in a sense, the same?’ Josephine tried. 

‘Yeah, his opponent is getting hurt quite the same alright.’ I glowered at her. 

‘If you keep pestering one another like this, you will never learn the dance. Now shush and try again. Maryden!’ Vivienne shook her head—but I bet she was enjoying this immensely. 

We tried the dance again. This time, Maxwell stepped on the back of my dress. I cursed loudly, falling back to the ground on my arse. 

Maxwell held his hands up in the air out of desperation. ‘I give up. It’s impossible. I’d rather fight the demon army.’

‘Now, now.’ Dorian walked inside the throne room. It had been emptied for our lessons. Only an occasional servant slipped through the doors, eyes peeking at Maxwell and I, trying and failing at a “simple” court dance. ‘You are teaching these poor souls all wrong, Madame de Fer.’ Dorian tutted, a wicked smile on his lips and fake pity in his eyes.

Vivienne rolled her eyes dramatically. ‘And you know better? Do take the floor then, Dorian.’

Dorian crossed his arms. ‘Our dear Inquisitor needs guidance, Madame. And Saeris darling is but a student. Here—’ Dorian dropped his coat on Vivienne’s lap, who eyed it with a sneer of disgust. 

I couldn’t help but giggle. And I saw Josephine trying to hide her face as she did the same. 

Dorian walked up towards us. ‘Saeris darling, if I may,’ he said and dipped his head to Maxwell. 

My smile broadened. ‘Oh, please do.’ I stepped aside and walked over to Josephine, happy to get a reprieve from being trampled on. 

‘What? You’re going to dance with… me?’ Maxwell whined.

‘Yes. You will guide me as your dancing partner and I shall… direct you if necessary.’ Dorian grinned. ‘Oh Maryden! If you please.’ 

Maryden dipped her head and played the familiar tune on her lute.

‘Grab my waist, Inquisitor.’ Dorian smiled deviously.

Maxwell grumbled, but did so. ‘Don’t anyone ever tell Varric about this.’

***

Present day

Maxwell swung me across the dancefloor. I held my back straight, my face a painting of pleasantness and grace. We stepped between the dancing people, moving along the steps as we had been taught. Dorian’s lessons had rubbed off on Maxwell. He moved graciously, guiding me as a true partner.

People crossed us on the dancefloor, their eyes beneath the masks looking at us sideways as they passed us. 

Maxwell danced fluently, spinning me an extra turn, making me stop right before him. I rested my hand on his chest and pushed myself off in a swing. Max took back my hand and dipped me slightly to the side. I let my arm wave out graciously. 

People oh’d and ah'd as we did so.

‘You’re quite good at wooing the crowd, Max,’ I whispered at him as we turned another way. Waltzing across the dance floor in a circular pattern. 

‘I know—I practised on Cassandra, made her all wobbly in the knees.’ Maxwell wiggled his eyebrows.

Another turn and then the dance was over. Maxwell bowed deeply towards me, and I gave him an even deeper curtsy, my knee almost to the ground. 

A round of applause followed and I tried to steady my breathing. Everything had to appear effortless. Maxwell took my hand in his and we bowed to the empress on the balcony, who looked at us with an amusing and gentle smile. Ever the face of diplomacy. 

The first dance of the night was done. Let’s hope there aren’t too many to follow.

People dispersed from the dance floor, some going up for refreshments up on the balconies, some lingered along the side of the dance floor. Maxwell guided me upstairs. I tried to glance around the ballroom. Everyone had been allocated certain positions. Leliana and Cassandra were positioned in the vestibule, keeping an eye on who’s entering and who’s leaving. Josephine, Vivienne and Cullen had to keep an eye on the ballroom. Josephine and Vivienne stood on the eastern side, Cullen on the western one. Dorian and Varric were making conversations in the guest garden. Solas moved along the guest wing, trying to intercept as much information as possible from working servants moving up and down the ballroom and garden. Cole, being absolutely unnoticeable, was tasked to go snoop around in the Grand Library as soon as he found a way up there. The more information he could find on Celene, Gaspard and Briala, the better.

I was given the order to “mingle”—walk around, make sure everybody had seen my face. Make them notice me. The more their eyes were on me, the less they were on Maxwell.

Maxwell led me to the entrance of the ballroom, where Cullen was conveniently waiting for us. We all smiled cordially at one another. Maxwell gave my arm to the waiting elbow of Cullen. The two men gave each other a polite yet stern look. I looked between the two cautiously. 

All was coordinated in detail. Every look we gave each other, every glare, every smile. People were whispering after Maxwell had “given” me to his Commander. The plan was working.

Then, Maxwell walked, with his hands in his pockets, to the vestibule, where Leliana was waiting for a report. 

‘Care for a promenade, my lady?’ Cullen said to me a bit too loudly. 

‘Ah, I would love that.’ I dipped my head and grabbed Cullen’s arm a little tighter, almost territorially, as we walked past a group of young noble women. They chittered unkindly at that gesture. 

We walked along the interior balcony above the dance floor. Cullen grabbed me a crystal glass of sparkling wine as we passed the buffet. I sipped from it, eyes on him.

‘How are you keeping up?’ I whispered at him as we continued walking slowly around the room. 

‘The sooner we track this infiltrator, the better.’ Cullen sighed back under his breath. 

‘I take it you’re not having any fun.’ I tried to conceal my smile. 

‘Templars didn’t go to balls,’ Cullen said. ‘This is… not exactly inside my comfort area.’

‘Same for me.’ I took another sip. The wine was a little too sweet. I swallowed hard. 

‘Oh! Josephine, it is them! Introduce me, quick!’ 

Josephine sighed as we passed her, her eyes searching across the ballroom, as if she was looking for someone. The ambassador turned to a younger woman, dressed in a similar Antivan court dress. The young lady, who had olive-toned skin and deep brown hair, smiled brightly behind her cream mask as we passed. If Josephine could have a mini-me, that’d be her. Josephine dipped her head courteously as we stopped before her. 

‘Lady Saeris, Commander, please allow me to present to you my younger sister, Yvette Gabriella Montilyet,’ Josephine said with an extra sigh, her eyes wandering expectantly behind us. Who was she looking for? 

‘Delighted to meet you, Lady Montilyet.’ Cullen smiled pleasantly at the young girl, who swooned a little.

‘I didn’t know you had a sister, Lady Josephine. I am pleased to meet you!’ I smiled kindly as well.

Yvette looked up to me with big brown eyes. It was hard to tell how old she was beneath that mask, but I guessed perhaps young twenties? She giggled as she said to me, ‘Milady Saeris, I’ve heard so much about you and… the Inquisition! But not as much as I want. Josephine writes, but she never tells me anything.’

‘Oh?’ I raised an eyebrow at Josephine, who rolled her eyes dramatically. ‘Ask away then, if I can answer of course.’

‘Oh! Oh!’ Yvette tiptoed around excitedly. ‘Is it true rebel mages in Redcliffe were performing blood rites and orgies before the Inquisitor stopped them?’

Cullen gave a short laugh, but composed himself in time. 

I pulled my lips tightly together so as to not laugh out loud. ‘Uhm… yeah. Yes. Sure. Every word, it is true. Those mages were… something special.’ 

‘I knew it!’ Yvette grinned and looked at Josephine, who groaned again. 

Josephine’s eyes wandered off again, to the door to the vestibule. Every time another noble was announced, her eyes flickered upwards. 

‘Are you expecting someone?’ I whispered towards the ambassador.

‘What? Me? Oh no, I—’

‘She’s waiting for the pretty Lady J—’ Yvette grinned deviously.

‘Yvette. Stop.’

‘But she—’

‘No.’

Yvette grumbled, and then, in one breath, called. ‘She has a secret lover and nobody knows and she won’t tell me who it is and they’ll be here tonight because I saw it once in her diary she writes every night in and she draws hearts on the pages.’

‘Yvette!’ Josephine turned at her sister enraged, her eyes nearly spitting fire. 

Yvette wiggled her fine eyebrows. 

‘I think that’s our cue to—’ Cullen lowered his head and whispered to me.

‘Yes, let’s go.’ I nodded. ‘Bye-bye!’ I waved and winked at Josephine, who still looked angry and disgruntled. 

Cullen and I resumed our promenade around the room. I felt a little lighter. The ballroom and the whispering nobles had disappeared for a second, and I had just been having a conversation with friends. I was thinking that this night would go by alright, when we passed a group of nobles, hushing around a buffet table littered with crystal glasses of sweet wine. 

‘I heard they do it . All three of them. Together… ’ 

I raised my chin up, ignoring the words. But from the corner of my eye, I saw Cullen shaking his head visibly, his face pulled in a strange grimace.

‘I’m sorry I roped you into this mess.’

Cullen looked down at me. ‘Roped into… no, you did no such thing. It is not your fault,’ he said that so softly. 

‘Still… those damned—’ I swallowed the words and tried to settle myself. ‘Let’s hope this ball is over quickly… I hate to see you so uncomfortable.’ I did, truly. The man looked like he wanted to melt into the walls. 

Cullen stopped. We had walked the whole way around the room. He stood in front of me, golden eyes piercing. ‘I am not—’

‘Milady Saeris, my apologies for intruding.’ A middle-aged man stopped in front of us, bowing neatly at me—ignoring Cullen. I eyed the noble up and down—he wore a red and black justacorps coat with exaggerated shoulders, tight pants and pointy shoes with golden buckles. A red half-mask that covered his forehead, eyes and nose, up until his lips. The mask even incorporated a silver painted moustache above his mouth. His hair, black and glossy, was curled above the mask. He looked ridiculous. ‘Would you care for a dance?’

‘Oh, my apologies—I just danced, my lord. Thus I am in dire need of fresh air.’ I smiled pleasantly. I felt Cullen’s chest shuddering against my arm—we were standing that close together. Was the Commander laughing at me? 

‘Ah, but of course! I shall accompany you, milady.’ The man smiled back. 

I tried not to grimace as I took his arm. The man strolled on confidently, taking me back to the vestibule. I looked over my shoulder back at Cullen, who stared after me pitifully. 

‘You may not recognise me, milady,’ the noble said, his accent as heavy as his perfume—where had I smelled it before? ‘When I saw you entering the palace tonight, if I may be so bold, your exquisiteness is… d'un autre monde , otherworldly. The tales do not do you justice.’ 

I swallowed as the man stopped just before we entered the guest wing, passing by the Hall of Heroes and its many statues. He held up my hand and kissed my fingers. I pulled my hand back gently, trying to pass the move off by tucking away a strand of hair behind my ear.

‘Thank you… sir…’

The noble smiled haughtily. ‘Henri Jacques Guillaume Paul-Pierres Moulin-Garnier de Val Chevin, milady.’ 

Ah, fuck. I remember that name and his perfumed love letter. A baron, wasn’t he? 

‘Oh, yes.’ I chuckled prettily. ‘Baron de Val Chevin. My deepest apologies for not recognising you earlier.’ I offered the man my hand again. He kissed my finger a bit too wetly before taking my arm and continuing to guide me to the gardens. 

‘It is no matter.’ He smiled. His breath smelled of cinnamon and nuts. ‘I am very happy to encounter you here tonight. Call it fate, peut-être. No?’

I’d rather not.

We walked into the guest wing, my eyes searching and finding Solas. He stood there, the lights of the setting sun cascading through the open arches behind him. He was leaning against a marble statue of a woman holding a vase. Shadows played on his face—deep in thought. Yet, there was a strange relaxed gaze in his eyes. People passed by him without looking, like he was a part of the scenery—a statue like the one he was leaning against. He drank from a crystal glass, which glittered in his hand. 

We walked closer, the baron jabbering about his properties and conquests, all in hope of wooing me, to reconsider my rejection. I smiled prettily and steered away the conversation every time he asked me questions. And he was more than happy to talk about himself. 

Solas' head turned our way as we walked past him. His fingers tightened around the glass, eyes narrowing as the baron licked his lips between every sentence, looking to devour me as soon as I gave any sign of permission. I saw how Solas’ jaws tightened and loosened. I threw him a quick look, our eyes finding each other. I tried to give him a small smile, tried to convey I was alright, before the baron pulled me further along to the gardens. I wished I could have pulled myself away and run up to Solas. I would have pushed myself against him, until we were behind the statue, covered in shadows. And I would kiss him. I would wait out the rest of the ball and stay there until the sun had gone down and up again.

After turning a corner, I lost sight of Solas and his all-seeing eyes. 

I could already see the greenery through the open windows and arches. There were several trees on this intimate rooftop garden. The walls were decorated with white trellises on which vines climbed up towards the towers above. As we entered the guest garden, a crisp breeze welcomed me. I couldn’t help but let out a small sigh. It had been so hot inside: the stuffy clothes, the staring nobility and whispering servants… 

‘Are you alright, milady?’ The baron turned to me, his arm letting go of mine as his hand caressed my back, his finger grazing the exposed skin there.

Ew. 

I took a step away. ‘I'm good, thank you, your lordship.’

‘Ah, Lady Saeris.’ 

Thank the Maker. 

Maxwell strolled towards me, away from three women who stared after him, then walked back inside. I knew those women… 

***

Two weeks ago  

‘Empress Celene’s ladies-in-waiting.’ Leliana pointed to the three portraits on the table. ‘Lady Fleur, Lady Colombe and Lady Couteau. They will be at the ball for certain. And—if I am correct—will be the ears and mouth of the empress. Celene will most likely seclude herself with some bodyguards. It hails her importance. The less she’s seen, the more valuable her appearances are.’

Maxwell leaned over the table. He had been in meetings all day long, and now, when the sun was setting, he had to sit down for another court workshop with the Spymaster and me. He looked so tired. 

‘Recognise these masks?’ Leliana asked, raising an eyebrow. She liked interrogating us as if we were one of her prisoners. But I had done my homework last night, studying most titles from the guest list. Ask me about the Council of Heralds, and I shall tell you everything about all seven of them. Even in the Fade, I had asked Solas to question me on Orlesian nobility. Know thy enemy, as they say.

‘They are of House Valmont,’ I answered quickly. 

‘Smartypants.’ Maxwell stuck his tongue out at me playfully. The more tired he was, the more jokes he made. I knew him well by now. 

Leliana ignored his joke and continued. ‘You must be vigilant when they approach you, Inquisitor. They must and will relay every word you utter back to Celene.’

Maxwell gave an even deeper sigh, ‘Why do they make this so difficult in Orlais! Why not just stop wearing masks and faking conversation and get on with it. I don’t have time for this.’

Leliana gave him a scolding look, which made Maxwell wince a little. ‘This is the Imperial Court. It is the beating heart of the Great Game. Of course everyone is wearing a mask. I learned this very young. I was still a girl when I attended my first ball. All this? The smiles, the small talk? It is a dance. And like any dance, it can be learned.’

I tried not to laugh. ‘We may need Dorian if that’s the case.’

‘Once was enough.’ Maxwell rolled his eyes.

***

Present day

‘If I may have my Emissary, my lord.’ Maxwell smiled cockily. 

The baron bowed his head, a reluctant sneer on his face. ‘Do save a dance for me tonight, milady,’ he said.

‘Have a good evening, your lordship.’ I gave him a small curtsy. I was not going to promise any dances.

The baron waited another second—hoping perhaps I would change my mind and join him? Ew again. When the perfumed man sauntered away, Maxwell turned back to me, stepping a little closer.

‘How’s it going?’ he whispered to me.

‘Ugh, I hate this place,’ I whispered back. ‘Thanks for saving me just now.’

Max chuckled. ‘He looked like some kind of peacock. He smelled like one too.’

I giggled. 

People passed us, going back and coming from inside. They eyed us—but to them, we were just whispering lovebirds. 

‘And how have you been? Uncovered massive secrets?’

Maxwell looked to his left and right unsuspiciously. ‘Yeah. Seems like Gaspard, Celene as well as this Briala person have beef with one another. I talked to a vassal of the Council of Heralds, and Gaspard has threatened many of them, even his own uncle, Duke Germain. If only any of the Heralds could confirm this in person… Oh and upstairs, up at the Grand Library, Cole found some incriminating letters between the two of them, probably acquired by Celene, which incriminates her of spying in her own right.’

‘Oh my.’ I tutted. 

‘That’s not all. Solas has heard several servants whisper things about Briala. Something’s going on in the servants' wing, but the door is locked. Oh, and another thing. Our empress has an occult advisor—an apostate. A certain Lady Morrigan. You know her?’

I scoffed. ‘Not all apostates know each other, Max.’

‘Worth the try, though.’ He chuckled back. ‘Alright, so this occult advisor has made many important friends… some say by mind control. Leliana even knows her from the Blight, she said.’

‘Mind control?’ 

‘Uhuh. I’ll tell you if I meet this Lady Morrigan, but no one has seen her around this evening. Very curious.’ Maxwell shook his head. 

‘Hey beautiful people.’ Varric strode towards us, waving behind him to a couple of swooning nobles.

‘That's your fanclub, Varric?’ Maxwell smiled.

‘Yeah,’ Varric grinned, ‘I didn’t know my books sold so well in Orlais. I’m going to have a chat with my publisher.’

‘Have you seen anything, Varric?’ I asked. 

‘To be honest, I haven’t seen much. But you wouldn’t expect anything to happen out in the open. Everyone is on edge, and it’s not just that they’re worried about the war.’

‘And where’s Dorian?’ Max looked around under the guise of stretching his neck from left to right. 

‘He’s off to sneak some of those candied nuts and a plate of garnish to Tiny outside—appears he likes that stuff.’ Varric heaved his shoulders. 

A bell was rung. A sign that another dance would take place… and a call for us to show our faces in the ballroom again.

‘Come.’ Maxwell sighed. ‘Let’s go.’ He held out his arm and I took it. 

‘Bonne chance, you two.’ Varric waved at us and returned to his giggling fans. 

Maxwell and I walked back slowly, making sure we only entered the ballroom by the second bell. Fashionably late, Josephine had called it.

When we passed the guest wing, I noticed Solas was gone from his spot. I frowned and tried to catch him along the shadows in the hall. But I couldn’t find him.

We entered the vestibule when the second bell rang. Perfect—

‘Well, well,’ a deep female voice said, ‘what have we here?’

For a moment, I felt snow underneath my toes, a cold wind rising in the air. I was back in Emprise du Lion. Behind me, the tavern door shut and mocking laughter was heard inside. And, since decades, I was awake. The moment was gone in a second, and I was back at Halamshiral, in the dense air of the Winter Palace. 

A shiver ran up my spine. I turned around slowly, letting go of Max’ arm. 

‘Asha'bellanar?’

Notes:

Hope you liked this first part of my take on Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts! I always dread this quest, but writing it is actually really fun!

First dance Maxwell & Saeris inspired by https://youtu.be/l7fNERF_Dz8?si=eGq2HvfFHFE0qaea 

Chapter 60: Wicked - Part Two

"O Maker, hear my cry:
Guide me through the blackest nights.
Steel my heart against the temptations of the wicked.
Make me to rest in the warmest places."

— Transfigurations 12:1

 

***

A woman descended the stairs, tall and graceful. Her raven hair glimmered in the lights of the candles around the vestibule. She wore a dress of dark red velvet and gold embroidery. The corset and overskirt were of black leather, the bodice cut low in the front. It showed off the array of golden necklaces around her long neck. Three black feathers were pinned on her breast. She walked towards Maxwell, an assured smile on her red lips.

Those eyes… those yellow eyes… 

‘The leader of the new Inquisition, fabled Herald of the faith. Delivered from the grasp of the Fade by the hand of Blessed Andraste herself. What could bring such an exalted creature here to the Imperial Court, I wonder? Do even you know?’ 

Maxwell frowned, looking from me to the woman who stopped before us. He then raised his eyebrows, his mask back on. ‘We may never know. Courtly intrigues and all that.’ He smiled charmingly. 

The raven-haired woman grinned ever so slightly. ‘Such intrigues obscure much, but not all.’ Her yellow eyes flickered to me, an interested gleam in them. ‘I am Morrigan. Some call me advisor to Empress Celene on matters of the arcane.’

‘Ah, I have been waiting to meet you, Lady Morrigan.’ Maxwell eyed me sideways. Caution. ‘May I introduce you to Lady Saeris, Healer and Emissary of the Inquisition.’

I let go of Maxwell's arm and stepped aside, curtsying with a careful smile on my face. ‘It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Morrigan.’ I looked back up and stared into her yellow eyes. She looked so much like Yavana. Could it be family? No, that’s not possible. That would make her the daughter of Flemeth. But those eyes. I swallowed as the woman raised an eyebrow as I stared at her.

‘I have heard much about you this evening,’ Morrigan purred. ‘Tis not every day one meets another true apostate mage, bound to no clan nor circle.’

I cocked my head. How did she know? I was presented as a former Enchanter. The court didn’t know of my years as an apostate. ‘Have we met before, Lady Morrigan?’

Maxwell coughed. ‘Lady Morrigan, would you care for a promenade? I think we have some matters to discuss.’ He looked at me sideways again, his eyebrows raised. Right, back to business.

‘I must head inside. I’ll speak to you… later.’ I dipped my head to Maxwell. Then, I turned back to Morrigan. ‘Lady Morrigan.’ I curtsied towards her. 

She dipped back her head, those yellow eyes unyielding any emotion but quiet interest.

I turned around and rushed to the ballroom. I spotted Cullen there immediately and slowly walked to where he stood. I eyed the ballroom. Josephine was still talking to her sister. Vivienne was laughing with some elderly noble women. Check and check. 

There was a group of young men and women standing around the Commander, all eyeing him. 

‘Commander, has anyone told you that you have the most remarkable eyes?’ A woman tried.

‘Several times this evening, in fact.’ Cullen mumbled back.

‘You have such beautiful hair, Commander.’ A Lady to his side tried to touch it. 

‘Uhm, thank you,’ he said and took a step away from her. But then he made a little jump, his face disgruntled. ‘Did you just… grab my bottom?’

The man next to Cullen woefully—and dramatically—sighed. ‘I couldn’t help myself. I’m a weak man.’

Poor thing, I thought to myself. I was almost there to rescue him, but then, someone tapped gently on my shoulder. I turned around. 

‘Lady Saeris,’ the man before me said, dressed in a silver set, with a matching mask. I recognised his face and mask immediately. ‘My apologies for bothering you.’ 

I smiled pleasantly, eyeing Maxwell and Morrigan as they entered the room, deep in conversation. ‘You would never, your grace.’ I said. 

‘I shall introduce myself. I am Duke Cyril de Montfort, member of the Council of Heralds and Lord of Chateau Haine.’ 

‘I am honoured to make your acquaintance, your grace.’ I bowed. Of course, I knew exactly who he was from Leliana’s nobility crash course. A cousin to the empress—an important figure indeed.

The orchestra started a fine tune and people flocked to the dancefloor. 

‘Can I have this dance, my lady?’ Cyril bowed neatly. 

My orders from Leliana and Josephine had been clear: dance only with those we can use. And be fastidious—the less you dance, the more coveted you are. Well, if this one isn’t useful, no one is. 

‘Milady Saeris!’ I heard an annoying voice call me from the other side of the balcony. Shit. It’s Henri.

I smiled widely at Duke Cyril and eagerly took his hand. ‘With great pleasure, your grace,’ I said quickly and almost dragged him to the dancefloor below. 

The duke and I danced a short routine. He was courteous and very interested in Maxwell. I knew from the gossip Leliana taught me that I was not the duke’s… type. So I felt comfortable as he moved me along the floor in an easy waltz. 

‘You dance beautifully, my lady.’ Cyril hummed as he twirled me around.

‘You flatter me, your grace. Your steps are equally impressive. It's a pleasure to share this dance with you,’ I answered, trying to be as kind yet unemotive as possible.

‘The pleasure is mine. These masquerades are always more enjoyable with delightful company. Tell me, how do you find the Inquisitor?’

So to the point. I raised an eyebrow slightly. ‘The Inquisitor is a remarkable man. His leadership has been crucial in these trying times.’

Duke Cyril nodded thoughtfully. ‘Indeed, his reputation precedes him. He seems to inspire a great deal of loyalty and admiration. Some even say there is a special someone who holds his heart. Do you know if there's any truth to these rumours?’

I wanted to laugh, but tried to maintain my composure as I answered in a measured voice: ‘Rumours often grow wild in the absence of facts. The Inquisitor's focus is on his duties, and he remains dedicated to his cause.’

‘A noble sentiment, to be sure. Yet, even the most dedicated of us are not immune to the charms of companionship.’ The question lingered in his eyes as he twirled me around.

He knew very well how Maxwell and I were presented tonight, clinging onto each other's arms. Why so coy? ‘The Inquisitor indeed values his allies and friends deeply. Many are close to him, for he inspires trust and camaraderie.’ We danced around the floor and the topic. I couldn’t outright confirm or deny if I was with Maxwell, that was the charm of the mystery—that’s what kept the rumour mill going. 

Duke Cyril chuckled softly. ‘A diplomatic answer, my lady. But I suppose one can't fault you for that. After all, matters of the heart are often best kept private.’

I smiled enigmatically at the short man. ‘Indeed. Speaking of important matters, it’s good to see the council present, your grace,’ I said as we turned, hoping to get some extra insight—and change the topic. ‘I’ve always had a love of heraldry.’ 

‘Yes,’ the duke sighed, not too happy to steer the conversation away from Maxwell. ‘The council had to be present, since the talks concern inheritance of the throne. Of course, we would have hardly refused any invitation from Empress Celene.’ 

‘But would you refuse an invitation from the Grand Duke?’ I dared. 

Duke Cyril tutted. ‘Absolutely! He had allies on the council once, but burned those bridges years ago. Gaspard is a villain. Little better than a bully. Shouting his vile death at the council to give him the crown. The Chalons heraldry will never rule over the palace. The council will not bow to him.’

Good to know. ‘Would you be willing to testify to that?’ I tried.  

The duke raised his eyebrows. ‘Surely I could not—’

‘It would be very opportune to know of such threats during the negotiations. The Inquisitor would be very grateful… He might come to thank you personally for such a deed.’

‘Oh, then I may consider it…’ Cyril smiled faintly, eyes glittering behind his mask at the idea of a very, very thankful Maxwell. 

The orchestra strung their last cords, and the duke and I bowed to one another courteously. 

‘It was a pleasure dancing with you, your grace.’ I dipped my head confidently. I was getting the hang of this stuff.

‘Thank you, my lady.’ The duke replied with a bow. 

I walked back up the steps and meeted Maxwell halfway. I felt the gaze of Duke Cyril on our backs as I took Max’ arm.

‘Let’s promenade to the vestibule, my lady.’ Maxwell smiled at me, unbeknownst of his admirer staring at us from below.

I dipped my head and followed him quickly. When we entered the candlelit shadows of the vestibule, Leliana and Cassandra walked our way hastily.

‘Alright, so Lady Morrigan is kinda creepy,’ Maxwell whispered to us.

‘What did she say?’ Leliana didn’t seem as surprised.

‘Well, she’s been keeping an eye on us. But, for now, it seems like she might be an ally. Said we have “mutual enemies” or something. Oh, and she killed an agent of Tevinter upstairs.’

‘Minor detail.’ Leliana smiled. ‘What else.’

‘So she found a key on the Tevinter’s body, which she gave…’ Maxwell took the golden key from his pocket ‘... to me. Briala’s people are whispering about disappearances in the servants’ quarters. I bet this key leads there.’

‘Well, it’s a good place to start.’ Cassandra eyed the key. 

‘You better leave now. The crowd has seen your face around the ballroom. They will not miss you if you disappear for a short while. Not if Saeris distracts them.’ Leliana whispered.

I rolled my neck and sighed. ‘Hopefully they’re just happy for now. I need a drink.’

‘Drink one for me as well.’ Maxwell smirked. 

‘Be careful with the alcohol.’ Cassandra looked at us with caution, then stared at Maxwell: ‘Let us go now. I shall go with you.’

Maxwell said his goodbyes and left—casually—towards the guest wing with Cassandra. He was going to round up Varric to join him, and he hoped to meet Sera somewhere in the servants’ quarters. He was going to ask Solas to join him as well—if he could find him. He wasn’t in his spot when we left the garden… I hoped he was ok.

‘So… You danced with Duke de Montfort?’ Leliana turned to me as Maxwell sauntered off. ‘Good job.’

I felt like a child getting a good grade for school. ‘Thanks.’ I beamed. ‘I think he wanted to find out if I was really into Maxwell. Seems like I have a competitor for his affections.’ 

‘Ah, that does not surprise me indeed,’ Leliana answered. ‘I heard many nobility gossiping about the duke tonight. He is a hot topic.’

‘And… he has some great insight on Gaspard. You know he threatened the Council? Well, the duke is willing to testify to that if it means having a meet-and-greet with our handsome Inquisitor.’

‘Well played indeed.’ Leliana smirked.

‘Something else… about Lady Morrigan. You know her?’ I couldn’t help but ask. I need to know… Flemeth helped me before, and we could surely use her help now. If this Morrigan was related to her… 

‘I do. I have fought alongside her during the Fifth Blight,’ Leliana whispered back to me even softer now. ‘She has always been a strange figure, her magic of a… foreign nature. She has matured over the years, I see.’

I wanted to ask Leliana about Flemeth, if she knew Morrigan was related to her… But I decided not to. The questions she would ask… I wasn’t sure I wanted to answer them. Not right now. 

‘Can you report back to Josephine and Cullen about this? They ought to know,’ Leliana said after I became silent. 

‘Oh, yes, I will do so now.’

I quickly returned to the ballroom, trying to keep my gaze from looking worried. Cullen’s eyes flew to mine as soon as I entered. I cocked my head towards Josephine, a silent request to join me there. Cullen nodded and excused himself to the group of nobles that still surrounded him. 

To appear as casual as possible, I strolled to a buffet table first and grabbed a glass of wine before I resumed my course to Josephine. The Antivan woman was standing near the wall, talking to a large and statuesque woman. Her sister, Yvette, was standing next to Josephine, looking bored as the two other women conversed intimately.

I stopped a little before them, looking at their conversation—how Josephine’s cheeks grew a blossoming red, her eyes large and her lashes fluttery. She curled a strand of dark hair behind her ear and laughed breathlessly at what her liaison said. The way Josephine stood, swaying a little, her gaze so soft. Is this other woman Josephine’s lover? 

The woman, I guessed in her late twenties, was tall and wore a long, draping dress—not of Orlesian or Antivan style, or even Fereldan. The silvery fabric of her dress looked like chainmail, finished off with a golden pauldron on her right shoulder—as if she came in armour. The dress showed off the woman’s toned arms, her fair and freckled skin radiant. Her hair, a play on blonde and brown, was braided in an intricate updo, showing off her long neck. She also wore long metal feline-shaped pendant earrings that matched her dress. I took a step closer and scraped my throat. ‘I’m so sorry for interrupting.’ I smiled broadly. 

Josephine turned to me, her whole head glowing red. ‘Ah—uhm, Lady Saeris. This is—’

‘Jilliana Mellarkeyn of Cumberland, at your service,’ the woman said, her voice melodic. 

‘Y-yes,’ Josephine stammered. 

‘I am delighted to meet you. How do you know our dear Ambassador?’ I smirked coyly. 

Jilliana noted my smile, and grinned in response. ‘Oh, Lady Josephine and I go way back. We met at another ball here in Orlais. My father is a well-known merchant in the Free-Marches, but my mother is from a minor Nevarran noble house. Once you walk the circles in Thedas’ nobility, you will find it to be a small world.’ 

‘Interesting.’ I couldn’t help but chuckle. ‘And, Lady Josephine, is this the very guest you have been anxiously waiting for?’ I wiggled my eyebrows at Yvette, who nodded back fervently. 

‘Ah—uh.’ Josephine’s blush deepened. 

‘You were waiting for me, my lady?’ Jilliana looked down to Josephine and smiled warmly. 

‘I, yes—uh.’ Josephine was at a loss for words. Something for the history books. ‘Ah, Commander, thank Andraste.’ Josephine chirped as the Commander walked towards us. 

‘You have information?’ Cullen said matter-of-factly. 

‘Oh, yes!’ I had almost forgotten to report back. A bit disappointed, I continued. ‘Yes. From the Inquisitor.’

‘Yvette, shall we go for a drink?’ Jilliana turned to Josephine’s younger sister. 

The two women walked off. Josephine looked after them with a disgruntled blush. 

‘Sooo… is that your—’

‘Not. A. Word.’ Josephine tutted, but she was still blushing. 

Respecting the Ambassador’s wish, I started with my report, telling everything I knew to Josephine and Cullen: about Morrigan and the servants’ wing and the Tevinter body. 

‘Maxwell is investigating the place as we speak. Cassandra, Blackwall and Solas should be with him. He hoped Sera was there somewhere as well.’

‘Well, she could very well be.’ Cullen sighed. ‘She must have had access to the kitchen.’

‘What do you mean?’ 

‘Take a sip from your glass of wine.’ Cullen smiled a little.

‘Blegh!’ I swallowed hard. ‘That’s some…strong wine.’ I coughed.

‘Yes, she spiked some of the drinks. I saw a Red Jenny sign on one of the tables.’

‘Well, drunk nobles aren't our biggest concern, right now,’ Josephine whispered, eyeing the exterior balcony on which empress Celene and Lady Morrigan stood. ‘If the court gets suspicious of the Inquisitor’s absence, you both know what to do.’

Cullen and I looked at each other for a second. He looked so uncomfortable, I felt bad. Let’s hope it won’t be necessary. 

***

One and a half weeks ago  

Skyhold felt empty, quiet, slumbering—as if waiting to breathe again, after the ball was over with. Or perhaps, it was just me. 

Maxwell was busy running things, along with court and dance lessons—but at least he could set his mind to other things. For me, there was only Halamshiral now. Day in, day out. Even the others had fled the proceedings and preparations. Sera was off doing some business with her Friends of Red Jenny. Dorian, Bull, Cassandra and Blackwall were always down in the valley these days, helping train new recruits: mages, templars, pilgrims and now Grey Wardens. Solas, Varric and Cole were away to the Northern Hinterlands for the week: something about helping Cole deal with his past. I wished I had been able to join them, be away for a while—away from Josephine and Leliana. They were driving me nuts.

Court lesson here. Game training there. Then time to try-out make-up, accessories, hairdo’s... After that, political courses and lectures. And now again, dance training. 

It was late afternoon when I walked down from my bedroom to the rotunda. Now that Solas was away, the dance lessons would take place there: less prying eyes. It felt strange to be there without him—a room where everything screamed his presence: his desk, his ink, his chair, his magnificent drawings on the walls…  

When I entered the rotunda, I was already thinking about which dance we would practise today and who would be my dance partner. I had danced with Maxwell mostly, but Josephine or Dorian took over from time to time when he was too busy. I wore my usual dance outfit: a simple midnight blue, Fereldan-style gown. Loose, yet appropriate. 

‘Oh? I didn’t expect you here.’ I smiled at Leliana when I entered the room. She was leaning against Solas’ desk, which had been pushed against one of the curved walls to make space. Josephine stood next to her, facing the Spymaster. They were talking and smirking at one another—which didn’t bode very well. I walked up to the two women with my arms crossed and eyebrows raised. ‘So, who will be my partner today?’

‘Today, we are going to try something… different.’ Josephine turned to me as I entered, her coy smile suddenly turning slightly nervous. 

I frowned and looked at the Spymaster. ‘Oh? Is that why Leliana’s here?’

‘Oh no, I’m just here to observe.’ Leliana’s face was covered in shadows, but I could hear her snickering softly. 

‘Then wh—’

At that moment, Commander Cullen walked into the room, looking confused as well. He stopped abruptly when he saw the three of us staring at one another. ‘Good afternoon,’ he said softly. 

I smiled kindly at him, but then looked back to the two women in front of me. ‘What’s going on?’

‘Well—hear us out—’ Josephine raised her hands guiltily. ‘Leliana and I have been going over the plans for the evening, and found that there may be several… gaps.’

‘Gaps?’ Cullen strode to where we stood, then crossed his arms—a concerned and stern look on his face.

‘Yes,’ Josephine scraped her throat, ‘so there might be a chance we may need some… extra distractions.’

‘Which means?’ I asked, my voice low and distrusting. 

‘If necessary, we have prepared a dance for the two of you.’ Leliana took a step forward. ‘If we play our roles right, people will eat this display up. If, by circumstances, Maxwell is… detained in his search for evidence, we will need the two of you to step up.’

‘What? Absolutely not!’ Cullen heaved, a red blush creeping along his ears to his cheeks. ‘We have already agreed to a charade, must we—’

‘I know, we are already asking so much from the two of you. But let us prepare for this, just in case. It might not be necessary.’ Josephine winced at the scowl the Commander gave her. 

‘Saeris? Please say something. Are you alright with this?’ Cullen stared at me, exasperated. 

I pursed my lips in thought for a second, crossing my arms. ‘Well… It’s not bad to prepare for all situations. I am already expected to dance with Maxwell and a few nobles. But I won’t if you’re not comfortable, Commander.’ I stared up at the man. I was already going to dance, so one routine more or less wouldn’t kill me. At least it was with Cullen. I trusted him. I’d rather dance with him than any stuffy marquis Josephine would pick out.

Cullen held my gaze, searching for something… but I didn’t know what. After a short silence, Cullen finally sighed. ‘I cannot believe you’re doing this to me again , Ambassador. Fine. But just in case.’

‘Ah, great! Thank you, the both of you! I have such a beautiful dance planned out. It will certainly enthral the court. Oh, and you’ll look so dashing, the both of you and—’

‘Alright, alright. Let’s get on with it now.’ I rested my hand on Josephine’s shoulder to calm her down. 

‘Saeris is right. Let’s start.’ Leliana winked at the all-too-happy Ambassador. ‘Commander, please remove your mantle and armour. It will restrict your movements.’ 

Cullen’s face turned even more red. He mumbled something under his breath—something about the Maker and Andraste. But then he did as he was told. He heaved the heavy mantle and metal shoulder clasps from his shoulders, and undid the steel cuffs from his arms—his eyes were cast downwards shyly as he did so. I tried not to stare at him as he undid his final cuff, until he was in but his overshirt with long, scrunched up sleeves, and simple brown trousers, which were tucked into his high leather boots. 

When Cullen was ready changing, he stepped up to the centre of the rotunda, to where I stood waiting for him. 

‘Have you danced before?’ I whispered to him, trying to sound relaxed. 

‘Not really…’ Cullen sighed. 

‘It’s going to be alright. I’ll help you.’ I grinned up at him. 

He didn’t respond and looked away instead. 

‘Alright—let’s begin! There are a few tricky moves, so we’ll need all the time we’ve got today.’ Josephine clasped her hands and smiled broadly. ‘Commander, please take Saeris’ hand and waist. Let us begin with the basics and ground work.’

I took a step closer to Cullen when he didn’t move. ‘Here.’ I whispered and took his wrist, placing his hand on my waist. I then took initiative and gently placed my other hand in his. ‘Like this.’

Cullen stared at me nervously, yet intensely. I stared back at him. 

Josephine scraped her throat. ‘And, one-two-three…’

***

Present day

An hour had passed and still no Maxwell. People started to murmur. Cullen looked more nervous by the minute. 

Vivienne even walked over to me, asking where Maxwell was. ‘People are getting suspicious, darling. Have you seen him yet?’

‘I haven’t.’ I whispered back. ‘He should be back by now.’

The bell rang. ‘Shit.’

‘Vocabulary, Saeris.’ Vivienne grumbled. ‘Now, you must distract the crowd. The court must be looking at you as to not arouse suspicion if the Inquisitor is late.’

‘Yes, yes, I know.’ I waved my hand at her face. 

She tutted, displeased. ‘Do you have a partner already? Perhaps you should—’

‘Wait.’ I held up my hand to her face again. Vivienne made an annoyed face and almost swatted my hand away. ‘I have an idea.’ I know what everyone expects, that we made plans for this type of situation, but Cullen looks too nervous tonight. They were already asking too much of him to play pretend at this false-romance with me. If I can solve this part on my own, then… we don’t have to dance. I know he hates the idea. I felt it during our practices. He had looked so uncomfortable, so nervous, so… agitated.

‘You do?’ Vivienne cocked her head, the jewels on her headdress jingling.

‘Where is Grand Duke Gaspard?’ 

‘Oh, marvellous idea. Yes!’ Vivienne smirked a little diabolically. ‘He’s on the western balcony outside. If you get him to dance, Saeris dear, the court will be satisfied for hours to come.’

‘ If I get him to dance with me,’ I mumbled.

‘He is notoriously unfazed by the Great Game, that is true.’ Vivienne took a step closer, her eyes gleaming with excitement. ‘However, his wife passed away a while ago. He must be stressed… alone… perhaps you should try another hand at seduction, my dear. You have been playing that card wonderfully tonight.’

I made a disgusted noise. ‘Let’s go for it then.’ I dipped my head to Vivienne, who almost ran to tell of my plan to Josephine, and worked my way through the crowd that was starting to form around the dancefloor and the balconies overlooking it. 

This is just like the dance with Duke Cyril. Give a finger, take a hand. I can do this. I thought to myself.

I walked assuredly to the balcony. People murmured as they saw me pass by the Grand Duke’s guards. They looked at me through their steel helmets with interest. I gave them a woeful smile and they let me pass without a word. 

The Grand Duke stood on the edge of the balcony, leaning against the balustrade and looking to the gardens below. The sun had set and the moon was rising, the sky a deep hue of blue with just a smidgen of orange as a remnant of the sun. The Grand Duke stood next to a small table littered with bottles and a few glasses, a goblet of wine in his hand. He had been drinking heavily to pass the time, as expected. Hopefully the alcohol made him more… willing. 

I swallowed my nerves before I spoke.

‘Your highness.’ I curtsied low before the Grand Duke, who turned around with an interested grin. ‘Avoiding the festivities, I see?’ My voice was deep and measured.

‘Lady Saeris, what a welcome surprise. Come in… Have a drink,’ he said a little too sober for my taste. Let’s hope he was drunk enough. He hadn’t minded me in the courtyard before we entered the palace. But I had seen how his eyes had betrayed an interest as they had scanned me from head to toe. Call me an opportunist, but if I could get this man to dance with me… no one would mind Maxwell being a little late to the party, if he showed up at all. 

‘Thank you, your highness,’ I said with an alluring low voice. I strolled to him and took a cup and a decanter of port from the table next to him. I poured myself a glass as the Grand Duke eyed me up and down.

‘And to answer your question: yes. The court's frivolities are not to my taste. I prefer the company of the night sky to the scheming whispers of the ballroom.’ The grand duke smirked as I took a sip from my cup. His eyes were on my lips, then on my bobbing throat as I swallowed. I couldn’t tell if he wanted to bed me or rip out my throat. It could be both with this man. 

‘I understand. The stars do have a certain honesty about them, don't they?’ I licked the port off my lips. ‘Still, the night is young, and the court would be delighted by your presence, your highness.’ I took another sip, my eyes not leaving Gaspard’s. 

Gaspard chuckled. ‘Let them revel in their own amusements. I have no need to play their Game.’

I shrugged my shoulders. ‘I must admit, I share your sentiment. The machinations of the court can be tiresome. Alas, as long as the music plays, we dance.’ 

Gaspard dipped his head and drank from his own cup. ‘And what dance would you have me drawn into, my lady? Surely you did not seek me out simply to exchange pleasantries.’ He’s sharp for having drunk so much alcohol. Shit.

I smiled gently. ‘Perhaps I simply wished for a breath of fresh air and some stimulating conversation.’

Gaspard sipped from his goblet. ‘Curious. The court buzzes with rumours about you, the Inquisitor and the Commander. Yet here you are, seeking out my company?’

I took another sip from my cup, mirroring Gaspard. ‘Rumours are often just that, your highness. Perhaps I am more complex than the court realises. Just as you are more than the sum of your ambitions.’ What a dance this was. ‘Tell me, if you may, what will you do when you are emperor?’ I said casually, swaying the port in my cup lazily. 

‘I like you, my lady.’ Gaspard smirked. ‘Not an if, but a when. Well-chosen words for one who detests the Game.’

‘A vague and diplomatic answer for someone who detest politics, your highness.’ I smiled pleasantly, but my eyes still didn’t leave his.

The Grand Duke licked his lips in interest. ‘Well, I intend to take back what is rightfully mine. Celene stole the crown through politicking, but I am the rightful Emperor of Orlais. The empress has been mired in intrigue for too long. We need a clear course of action.’

‘Oh?’ I put down my cup on the table and crossed my arms, leaning with my hip against the balustrade. I gave the Grand Duke a seductive smile. ‘What… action did you have in mind?’ 

Gaspard smirked. ‘The empire is declining. We cannot allow Nevarra and Ferelden to chip away at our borders. I will see Orlais return to glory as the strongest nation in Thedas.’

Glory? How can Orlais ever return to glory when it was never, once, glorious.

‘Your vision for Orlais is... ambitious. But I wonder, have you considered the costs of such a path? You intend to return to expansionism. I remember… I read about the war of the Blessed Age. You surely do not wish for history to repeat itself, your highness?’ I tried to block out the flood of memories that came crashing down in my mind of that time. The poison. The killing. The loss. 

‘I like to solve problems in the simplest answer, my lady.’ Gaspard stared at me. ‘Ambition is the lifeblood of progress. Orlais was built on the dreams of those who dared to reach for greatness. To shy away now would be to dishonour my legacy.’

I wanted to throw in another history lesson, but then the second bell rang. 

‘Ah,’ I said disappointedly. ‘I have enjoyed our conversation… and your drink, your highness.’ I took back my cup of port from the table and drank it up with one clean chug. Gaspard looked at me with a slight admiration as I put the cup back down. ‘I fear I must continue my charade.’

‘Too bad, I started enjoying your questioning, my lady.’ He smirked. 

The orchestra started playing. Now’s the time. 

‘You may… continue to enjoy my questioning, if you wish, your highness.’ I dared. Would he bite? 

Gaspard seemed to consider me for a moment.

I held out my hand, the moonlight shimmering on my pale skin. I raised an eyebrow. ‘I would love to hear more of your exploits.’ Bite, bite, bite. 

Gaspard sighed and then, surprisingly, took my hand. ‘You are persuasive, Lady Saeris.’ 

‘Only when I want to.’ I smirked.

Gotcha. 

The whole ballroom erupted in whispers as I stepped inside from the balcony, tightly holding on to Grand Duke Gaspard’s arm. Josephine and Vivienne’s mouths fell open as I passed them on my way to the dance floor. I couldn’t help but smile satisfactorily. 

The dance started off with a bow. I dipped low and deep in front of the Grand Duke, giving him a hint of what was beneath the tight neckline of my dress. A predatory gaze stared back at me. Then we took a step closer. I laid my hand in Gaspard’s outstretched fingers next to our heads. His other hand was placed on my side, his fingers gripping the fabric. 

As the music started, we began to glide smoothly across the floor in a series of rise and fall motions. We held a straight posture—my head and neck in a straight line away from Gaspard’s as this dance required, but our bodies brushed against one another slightly. Provocatively. 

He turned and then he stood next to me, his hand on my lower back and his other hand holding my arm. I let my free hand curl to my dress, holding it up as we stepped forwards and backwards to the music. A great move for conversation. 

‘You spoke of ambition earlier. Indeed, ambition has driven many great deeds. Yet, it has also led to great suffering. The people—those who bear the brunt of such endeavours—must be considered.’ Could I talk him out of his ideas, I wondered? It was worth a shot. 

Gaspard laughed breathlessly—almost cruelly—his hand tight on my waist. ‘The people need a strong leader, someone who can guide them through these turbulent times. I am that leader, my lady. I will bring Orlais to new heights, and our enemies will tremble at our strength.’

‘Strength is a valuable trait, your highness. But strength alone can be... isolating. The bonds we forge with others, the respect we garner, these too are measures of true power.’

‘Respect is earned through power and decisiveness. Orlais must be unyielding. Only then will we secure our place in Thedas.’ Gaspard twirled me with his hand, my gown swaying with the movement. 

I swallowed the bile in my throat. ‘Your determination is admirable, Grand Duke. Yet, history has shown that unyielding force often breeds… rebellion. A ruler who can balance strength with empathy might find a more lasting peace.’

‘Peace?’ Gaspard scoffed. ‘Peace is a transient thing, maintained by the vigilant and the strong. I intend to ensure that Orlais is always prepared, always formidable.’

I bit the inside of my cheek. This man knew nothing of the true repercussions of war. He was a child playing games. He might say he preferred action and clear winners and losers, but he failed to see his own faults. If these were his plans, then I would make sure he would never rule this place. I will never allow what happened the previous age to happen again. Never again. For Daniel. For the Dalish. For Sybil. For Ferelden. We twisted out and continued dancing again face to face.

The duke hummed approvingly as I looked at him through my lashes. ‘You dance masterfully, your highness,’ I whispered in his ear as he dipped me and pulled me back up. He twisted me around, then held me back close. ‘You handle the dance floor with the same confidence you show in battle. The court is certainly enthralled.’ Let’s keep him happy until this dance is over. Then I never have to speak with this brat again.

‘A leader must be versatile, my lady. Whether in war, in a ballroom, or in the bedroom , one must command attention and respect,’ he whispered back in my other ear. His breath was hot and wet. Was the stench of alcohol getting stronger? Or did I only notice it now? ‘You dance gracefully as well, Lady Saeris. Almost as if you were born for the court, despite... your origins.’ His grip on my waist gave off a possessiveness. A shiver ran up my spine. When is this music going to be over?

I tried to hide my grimace and maintain composure. ‘Flattery, Grand Duke? I didn't think that was your style.’

‘I have many styles, my lady.’ He spun me around again. The other people on the dance floor steered away from us, whispering louder.

Perhaps I had played my part a bit too well.

Gaspard let go of my other hand and grabbed my side, heaving me up and down in short intervals along with the thrums of the music. He twirled me again and took back my hand. His other hand was on my back again now, his fingers grabbing the bare skin hungrily.

Another wave of whispers. But not about me… I whipped my head to the upper balcony. 

Thank the gods. Maxwell.

He strolled towards us in his casual manner. Lady Florianne on his arm. Were they… going to dance? And indeed, Maxwell and Florianne bowed deeply to one another, then started the same waltz we were moving to. 

For a second, Max’ eyes and mine found each other. He winked at me and then twirled Florianne around in his arms. 

‘I must take my leave now, your highness. I am honoured to have had this dance with you,’ I whispered to Gaspard and tried to twirl away from his grasp. 

‘You should be.’ Gaspard tightened his grip on my arm. Shit. He pulled me closer to him, forcing the dance to continue. The other couples had left the dance floor to make space for Maxwell and Florianne. The music swelled, and Maxwell turned Florianne in a graceful movement. The crowd applauded their every turn, their attention away from Gaspard and me. This is my chance to get away. 

‘Your highness, I must insist—’

‘Insist on what, Lady Searis? That we cease this dance just before it gets interesting?’ Gaspard’s grip on my hand became slightly painful, his eyes behind his mask dangerous. This had been a really bad idea. I should’ve danced with someone else. Anyone else. ‘You play your part well, my lady. But you forget, I know a thing or two about the Games of court.’ Gaspard smirked knowingly.

‘I'm not sure what you mean, your highness,’ I said, startled.

‘Oh, but you do. You needed a distraction, and here I am, at your service.’ Fuck. 

‘Oh, you are mistaken, Grand Duke. I didn’t—’

‘—want the court to gossip about your Inquisitor's tardiness, I presume? I suspected indeed.’ Gaspard pulled me hard against his chest, his voice low and dangerous. ‘Now, I have played my part. The least you can do, little rabbit, is play yours. And if you play your cards right, you might find more advantages coming your way.’

‘You overestimate your charm, Gaspard.’ Fuck this Game. ‘I’m not interested in anything you can offer me.’

Gaspard’s expression darkened slightly, his tone insistent. ‘Everyone has their price, Saeris. Even you.’

‘You mistake me for someone who can be bought.’

‘You are not? Your actions tonight might make people think otherwise, so don't play coy with me.’ 

Shit, shit, shit. My breath got stuck in my throat as Gaspard’s grip on my waist and wrist tightened, his fingers burying in the skin of my back hungrily. Flashes of the Circle Tower raged through my head. Of Simon. Shit. This is getting out of hand. And I’m not going to let this happen. Not again.

We passed Maxwell and Florianne in our dance, they themselves in deep conversation. Maxwell’s eyes found mine again, noticing my unease. Then his eyes glanced at Gaspard's grip on my waist and wrist. His gaze darkened. 

‘You are mistaken, Grand Duke. My apologies. Now, I must go.’ I tried again with a not so pleasant smile. ‘We do not want the people to gossip at our prolonged dance, do we?’ 

‘You think you can just walk away?’ Gaspard growled back hungrily, his grip tightening until it really started to hurt. ‘You forget your place.’

A glitter of magic spurred along my arm, along my fingers. Gaspard winced and pulled his hand back. ‘No. You forget yours.’ I grimaced and stepped away from him, chin held high. The Grand Duke staggered back, eyes furious underneath his mask. 

From the corner of my sight, I noted—up on the outer balcony—the gaze of two yellow eyes staring at me, as if drawn by my magic. I tried to ignore them, ignore their piercing stare.

I gave the Grand Duke another fluent, low curtsy. ‘Good night, your highness.’ I smiled, but it didn’t reach my eyes, my mask slipping.

Before the crowd around the dance floor could start whispering, Gaspard took a deep bow, his face back to bored pleasantness. As if nothing had happened. Just like that. As if he merely pulled a switch. Nonchalantly, the Grand Duke walked back up the stairs, not even giving me another glance, and strolled back to his balcony. To the court, it would’ve seemed like the Grand Duke had merely gifted me a dance and then returned politely to the negotiations. Detestable. 

I gathered my skirts and quickly left the dance floor as Maxwell and Florianne continued their waltz. 

‘Are you alright?’ Cullen said breathlessly as he hurried towards me.

‘I’m fine.’ I huffed, though there was a bite in my tone. My face had turned pale, my heart beating in my throat. I couldn’t stop the images from flooding my thoughts: of Simon’s hungry stare as he pushed me against a wall, his hands on my body—just as Gapsard’s. I thought I was over this. I should be. 

I’m in control. Breathe. I’m in control.

But then, in the back of my mind, Simon’s eyes were replaced by Sybil’s. Disappointed. Disgusted. Betrayed.

Behind me, Maxwell wrapped up his dance with Florianne. The crowd applauded their way. I walked along the upper balustrade and looked at them bowing to each other below. Cullen stood next to me, his eyes on me—a concerned look in them.

Josephine walked towards us, her eyes flashing with interest and excitement. 

‘That was magnificent, Lady Saeris.’ Josephine smiled at me. 

‘Was it?’ Maxwell strolled towards us and stopped next to me. He looked tired and worried.

‘You’ll both be the talk of the court for months. We should take you dancing more often.’ Josephine smiled at the both of us even brighter. She hadn’t noticed the stressed atmosphere between Gaspard and me then, or perhaps thought all of it had been intentional.

‘I’ll never dance again after this.’ I grimaced. I could still feel where the Grand Duke’s hand had gripped my waist. The skin was probably turning blue and purple already. 

‘Are you okay?’ Maxwell bowed to me, whispering.

‘What’s wrong?’ Josephine cocked her head. 

I shook mine. ‘I think Gaspard was a little too into it.’ Instinctively, my hand rubbed the side of my waist. Cullen’s eyes stared at the bruising skin that peeked along the border of the open back of my dress.

‘That bastard—’ Cullen balled his fists and almost stormed to the balcony on which the Grand Duke had retreated to. 

‘Commander, keep a hold of yourself.’ Josephine intervened by grabbing Cullen's arm. She let go once he stilled his movement again reluctantly. She then turned her gaze to me. ‘I’m so sorry you had to go through that, Saeris. But you have done well. Thank you.’

‘No worries.’ I winced at her apologetic stare. 

‘Were you two just dancing with Duchess Florianne and Grand Duke Gaspard?’ Leliana hurried to our group. 

‘Yes, we’ll tell you later.’ Maxwell gave the Spymaster a cease-and-desist kind of look. She dipped her head in sudden understanding. ‘Now listen, we found something in the servant’s wing. Aside from Venatori bodies, I found Gaspard’s knife in the lower levels, used to kill a man. His sister just confirmed he’s the traitor,’ Maxwell said, mainly to Leliana. ‘I don’t trust her either, though.’

‘Florianne and her brother are thick as thieves, but she would give him up in an instant to save herself,’ Leliana whispered back. 

‘Then… the attack on the empress will happen tonight,’ Cullen interrupted. 

‘We should warn her now,’ I hissed in answer.

‘Warning Celene is pointless. She needs these talks to succeed, and to flee would admit defeat.’ Josephine frowned.

Leliana crossed her arms and raised one thin eyebrow at our group. ‘Then perhaps we should let her die.’

‘I thought we were here to stop the assassination.’ Maxwell nearly threw his hands in the air, but crossed his arms instead. He looked at the Spymaster quizzically. 

‘Listen to me carefully, Inquisitor,’ Leliana said in a low whisper, her voice barely louder than the music. ‘What Corypheus wants is chaos. Even with Celene alive, that could still happen. To foil his plan, the empire must remain strong. This evening, someone must emerge victorious.’

‘And it doesn’t need to be Celene. She’s right.’ Cullen sighed, eyes glancing my way again. I refused to look back. I stared at the people resuming another dance below. The lights of the giant chandelier flickering along the marble floors and walls. Like disco lights, I remembered. 

‘Do you realise what you’re suggesting, Leliana?’ Josephine bit back affronted to the Spymaster.

Leliana cocked her head, her stare thoughtful. ‘Sometimes the best path is not the easiest one.’

‘Stop it. No.’ Maxwell stepped closer to the whispering advisors, his stare hard. ‘We came here to save Celene. And that’s what we’ll do. No more games.’

‘Then you must not only save her life, but also her empire.’ Leliana sighed.

‘And that means giving her a victory over both Gaspard and Briala.’ Josephine looked up at Maxwell approvingly.

‘If there truly is proof Gaspard’s in league with Corypheus, that would be a start.’ Cullen threw another glance my way. 

‘Saeris, what do you think?’ Maxwell leaned towards me. 

I frowned and turned my gaze from the dance floor back to the group. ‘I will not allow what happened the last age to happen again in this one.’ I stepped closer to the group, my voice hoarse and biting and tired. ‘You have not seen what I have…’ I swallowed. ‘... in the Fade. Orlais is a powerful nation. Gaspard told me of his plans. Such plans will have repercussions for all of Thedas. And who will suffer the most? Those without power, without lineage and gold, those without rounded ears. Can you, in good conscience, allow this man the throne? I think it would be a mistake. A big one.’

Maxwell stared at me for a second, then nodded sternly. ‘I agree, Saeris. And I promise you, I will not let Gaspard be emperor. Florianne just mentioned that Gaspard’s mercenary captain is in the royal wing. That he knows about the assassination. If I have proof against Gaspard, his claim can be repealed.’

‘His mercenary captain? This could be a trap.’ Cullen frowned again.

‘Or a lead. Either way, you should search the private quarters in that wing for clues,’ Josephine said assuredly. 

‘Then get me access, and in the meantime, get your soldiers into position—and tell Bull—and Dorian—and Blackwall to stand ready.’

‘At once,’ Cullen confirmed.

Maxwell eyed his advisors. ‘I will need all the backup I can have. So once I get access to those quarters, you will be on your own…’ Maxwell grimaced and then looked at me. ‘I will do everything I can to come back with information… on time.’

‘You better.’ I gave him a tiny smile. ‘I have but one more dance up my sleeve. And we’ll only be able to do it once.’ 

Commander Cullen and I stared at one another. We must follow the plan—it has to work.

‘Let’s wrap up this party.’

Notes:

Dancing with dukes to distract the court? Very demure, very cutesy. Saeris doesn't pause the quest to go hunting for halla statues. Very mindful. Very demure.

Chapter 61: Wicked - Part Three

The cloak and dagger dangles
Madams light the candles
In ceremonies of the horsemen
Even the pawn must hold a grudge

Statues made of matchsticks
Crumble into one another
My love winks, she does not bother
She knows too much to argue or to judge

— Bob Dylan, Love Minus Zero

 

***

A few days ago

The sun was beaming intensely in the early afternoon. A soft breeze picked up and made the leaves in the nearby trees rustle. I leaned against the archway, staring at the gardens covered in cooling shadows cast by Skyhold’s tower. There, tucked between the pagoda and the entrance to the castle, sat Commander Cullen. He stared intensely at the sturdy wooden table before him. On it was a beautifully carved chessboard, the pieces arranged meticulously for battle.

Before him sat Solas. 

A rare occasion. I hadn’t seen Solas converse with the Commander much. Perhaps it was logical they would only speak over a game of chess. 

Skyhold had been busy with servants packing for the trip to Halamshiral. We were to leave tonight. I felt more and more anxious as the minutes ticked by. All of my dresses had been packed, all of the masks were ready. Literally and figuratively. I was taking a walk between planning and packing when I came across the scene. I stopped and observed from my place within the shadows and stared at the men with an amused grin, their play as intense as their expressions.

Cullen moved his knight forward, a glint in his golden eyes and a subtle smirk on his lips. ‘Your move, Solas. Let's see how you handle this.’

Solas calmly and without hesitation, advanced his pawn to meet the knight. ‘An interesting position, Commander. You do have a knack for creating challenges.’ His voice was deep and relaxed, as if this game was nothing but a breeze. Exactly how I imagined he would play. Confident and patient. Solas played the long game. It is in his nature. In ours.

Cullen studied the board for a minute. ‘And you have a talent for seeing beyond the obvious. But let's see how long that lasts.’ A challenge. The Commander moved a bishop to threaten Solas’ pawn, eyes sharp on the chuckling Elf before him. 

The game progressed slowly yet actively. Each piece advanced with purpose and intent. Cullen’s moves were precise and calculated—his rooks and knights working in concert, creating formidable defences and aggressive advances. He was a worthy opponent to Solas. The Elf was calm but had an unyielding presence, his moves deceptively simple but revealing complex patterns that unfolded as the game progressed. I should ask him to teach me. 

Advancing a rook to counter Cullen’s move, Solas chuckled. ‘Bold, but not without its risks. Boldness often leads to vulnerability, Commander. In strategy, one must always be prepared for the unexpected.’ He spoke as if he was a teacher tutoring a child. Perhaps in a sense, he was.

Cullen pursed his lips, then smirked lightly. ‘True, but sometimes the direct approach is the most effective.’ With a flick of his pawn, he captured one of Solas’ bishops with his queen.  

There was nearly no response coming from Solas, except for the flicker of amusement in his stern eyes. ‘A valuable piece, but every sacrifice serves a purpose.’ He spoke softly and then slid his knight into place, putting Cullen’s queen under threat. I swallowed at the tension. I felt like a spy, being witness to something I wasn’t supposed to. And I couldn’t look away. 

Cullen's brows furrowed as he recognised the trap and moved his queen to safety. ‘Clever, Solas.’ He cursed slightly under his breath. 

Solas’ game was indeed clever, each loss calculated for a greater gain. He would beat me in a second. I wasn’t that good at making such advance plans, but going with the flow wasn’t a good tactic in this sort of game. ‘In both chess and life, the smallest pieces can change the course of the game,’ Solas answered scholarly with a straight face, then advanced another pawn.

Nodding thoughtfully, Cullen said calmly—as if trying to mirror his opponent: ‘Yes, however sometimes, it's the stronger pieces that decide the outcome.’ With a slightly aggressive shove, Cullen moved his rook forwards.

‘Strength is important, but vision is crucial. You must see the endgame from the beginning.’ Solas merely chuckled at Cullen’s move and continued calmly, moving his bishop. Cullen tried to counter his knight to Solas’ bishop again, a trickle of sweat dropping from his brow. Solas, however, advanced his own rook, putting Cullen’s king in check. 

‘Check, already? You are relentless.’ Cullen leaned forward, his brows furrowing even more, and studied the board carefully, then moved a pawn.

Solas stared at the Commander, no emotion behind his eyes… almost. I saw a rare glint in there. A challenge. ‘Only when the stakes are high.’ Solas moved his pawn yet again. 

I couldn’t see what had just happened. Had he moved a major pawn? His gesture had seemed so casual. 

‘Checkmate,’ Solas said softly.

Cullen stared at the board, seeing the inevitability of his defeat. He exhaled slowly, but there was admiration in his eyes. Cullen leaned back in his chair and sighed again. ‘I hadn’t seen that move coming. Well played, Solas.’

Solas inclined his head, a faint smile on his lips. ‘Thank you, Commander. In both chess and life, it is often the seemingly small moves that shape our destiny.’

***

Present day

I hastened along the halls of the guest wing, searching for the powder rooms. I needed to splash some water into my face. I needed a moment to breathe. To be alone. To hear my thoughts. I needed the whispering to stop, just for a minute.

There she goes. Did you see?

Shut up, shut up, shut up!

Who does she think she is? 

Knife-ear.

Rabbit.

The nobles whispered.

Whore.

Even the Elven servants spat my way.

Whore.

The voices all sang.

Whore.

‘Vhenan.’ A hand around my arm pulled me to a halt. I hadn’t realised I had started running, my dress billowing behind me.

Solas pulled me against him, behind the statue, until the shadows swallowed us. 

‘What is wrong? Why are you running?’ Solas placed his hand on my shoulder looking me up and down carefully. 

‘It’s nothing, Solas, I—’ My voice trembled, completely out of breath, as I tried to move away.

I need air. 

‘Wait,’ he said, his hand on my waist to keep me before him. Just the spot where Gaspard had grabbed me. I winced. Solas cocked his head and turned me around. His eyes found the growing bruises—purpling fingerprints—on my back and along my waist. Anger simmered beneath his calm exterior, his eyes darkening. ‘Who did this to you?’ I swallowed at the growl in his voice. The wrath.

‘It’s okay. I’m okay,’ I whispered back, trying to ease the tension. The ballroom had just been so… suffocating. The dance, the groping, the Games they played… I played . I think I wasn’t just taken aback by Gaspard’s aggressiveness, his resemblance to Simon… It was more the fact that I played this Game… well. I was good at it. It felt easy… And that felt wrong.

I played, danced, and enjoyed the fact that I was using someone. And the one I had played, was someone who would have killed my Sybil if he’d have been alive back then. He would have killed all of us. Revelled in it. He still would. And Sybil would be so disappointed in me if she had seen the charade. Even if she had known it was all a play. She would have seen the cunning in my eyes. Was I any better than the rest of this lot? Use and be used?

I shook my head, trying to stay calm. But when I looked into Solas’ protective eyes, the tears that were waiting behind mine started to drip out. ‘I’m sorry,’ I whispered, my voice breaking, and tried to wipe away the wet stains on my cheeks. 

‘It is alright. You are alright.’ Solas took my hand away from my face and then kissed the tears away. One by one. His breath was cool and his lips soft and warm. His scent, grass and air and night, a hint of wine, dimmed the heavy perfumed air of Halamshiral. ‘I'm here, vhenan. Breathe, just breathe.’ Solas took my head in his hands, his voice shushing me gently. ‘Tell me what has happened.’

‘I danced with the Grand Duke.’ The anger in Solas’ eyes deepened. ‘Maxwell wasn’t back. I just wanted to solve this on my own.’

‘He has hurt you?’ The wrath deepened and it sent shivers down my spine. 

‘Yes, but I’m alright. That’s not—’ I sighed and tried to settle myself again, moving away from Solas’ grip. I need to get it together. ‘It was all a bit too much. Just hadn’t anticipated it all. I’m fine now.’ 

Solas stared at me for a second in silence, his look showing how he contemplated whether he would question me further, but then decided not to. ‘Come here,’ he said, his voice soft yet demanding, and opened his arms to me. 

I stepped into his embrace. With one hand, he tilted up my chin for me to meet his kind and concerned face. He kissed me gently. I exhaled softly against his lips as his other hand caressed my open back, his fingers finding the bruises. I smelled his magic before I felt it. It curled along his fingers that moved behind the seam of the fabric, feeling the extent of the bruising. The magic felt warm and comforting and familiar. ‘There.’ He let go of our kiss and whispered: ‘How does that feel?’

Taking a step back again, I twisted to touch the bruising. It was gone. ‘That’s better.’ I smiled softly at him. His touch had taken the pain away, the thoughts, the tears. 

***

About three weeks ago

‘That’s not it,’ I mumbled to myself, my voice echoing through the open space. I closed the ancient looking tome on even more ancient spells. Nothing on unbreakable promises and undoing death. Nothing about dirtha’vhen’an or something that sounds like it. 

I put the book back in its place and turned around to stare at the other pile waiting for me. The pile I dreaded. Books on Orlais, its history, famous people and even more famous Games. Games that were played so well, they were recorded in Thedas’ history to be remembered forever.

‘Are you not finding what you are looking for?’ Solas stepped around the corner, more tomes in his hands. Not on ancient spells this time. Not on Orlais. But on spirits: recollections from Rivaini seers on spirits and humans and the combination. He had been worrying about Cole as of late. I knew he felt a connection to the boy, even more now that Wisdom was gone. Cole was Compassion, or used to be. Or still is, I don’t really understand. I heard him talk to Solas and Maxwell earlier today when I went down to the rotunda to update Solas on the plans for Halamshiral. Cole wanted Solas to bind him. As a mage would a demon. As those mages had done to Wisdom. I had heard the anger in Solas’ voice when he refused. The regret. Maxwell had, of course, agreed this wasn’t the best idea. Not after what he had seen at Adamant. 

There was a solution, perhaps. An amulet of the Unbound. Maxwell had already asked Leliana to look into it… a favour for coming to all of her court lessons. If lucky, we would be able to get such a talisman soon. Then, Cole has a decision to make. Human or Spirit. Not neither, not both. This had become some sort of project for Solas. Perhaps something to set his mind to. If he could save Compassion, perhaps in a sense, he saved a little bit of Wisdom too. 

‘I can’t find anything on dirtha’vhen’an. But there has to be something on it somewhere...’ I sighed, looking over the other pile of tomes, their covers gilded and expensive-looking. 

‘And these are not to your liking, I take it?’ Solas chuckled as he followed my stare. He put his books down on another table, then leaned against it, arms crossed and his face amused. 

‘Blegh.’ I rolled my eyes. ‘Orlais stuff. I do not look forward to the ball. But I want to be prepared anyway.’

‘It is always a good plan to prepare oneself.’ Solas winked at me. 

‘Aren’t you… nervous, though?’ I took a step closer to him, cocking my head. ‘You seem so comfortable about the idea of a ball. I feel like throwing up just thinking about it.’

Solas shrugged, something I hadn’t really seen him do much. ‘I do not mind such events. The powerful have always been the same. Only the costumes change. And, perchance, in a sense I do adore the heady blend of power, intrigue, danger, and sex that permeates them.’

I swallowed, he said that so… enthusiastically. ‘Oh? I wouldn’t have taken you for someone who likes court intrigue.’ 

‘Why would one not? Even some spirits hover by the Veil just to observe the thrones of powerful nations. The machinations, political gambits, broken promises, half-truths? It is a place full of motivation. And motivation is where great things happen.’ Solas’ eyes were alight with something I could only describe as reverence and nostalgia. 

‘Have you been to many balls before? Were there any… back then?’

Solas moved his weight from one leg to another, his face betraying only deep thought and consideration. ‘I have. Grand balls were a common occurrence among the Elvhen. However, these were not just mere social gatherings, but events of immense beauty and significance.’ The sparkle returned to his careful eyes as he remembered. 

I listened, my eyes fixed on his’. ‘What was it like?’ 

Solas’ eyes held mine intently, an alluring smile on his full lips. ‘The halls in which these balls were held were magnificent beyond words—not even the Fade could do it justice. There were great structures of carved stone and living wood, intertwined in harmony, lit by floating orbs of light that cast a warm, ethereal glow. The floors were polished to a mirror finish, reflecting the grandeur of the surroundings and the elegance of those who attended.’ Solas slowly walked from the table to where I stood, his eyes still holding mine. I swallowed as he continued to speak, his voice deeper and deeper. ‘We adorned ourselves in flowing robes of the finest silks, embroidered with intricate patterns of gold and silver thread that had taken decades to create. Jewels and gemstones, enchanted to sparkle with their own inner light, were woven into hair and fabric, creating an unending display of colour and brilliance.’

I could almost see the vision he painted, the vivid images of a world long past.

‘The music,’ Solas continued, his voice softening, ‘was unlike anything you can imagine. Melodies crafted by the greatest musicians of the time, using instruments now long forgotten. The notes could weave through the air for months thereafter. It was as if the very essence of magic was woven into every song.’ He stood right in front of me now, and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. There was a hunger behind his eyes as he stared at me, and I thought back of our night next to the campfire. ‘And the dances,’ he said after a pause, a hint of wistfulness in his tone, ‘were more than just movements. They were expressions of connection, of lust… each step a tribute to the harmony between body and spirit, between partners and the world around them.’

‘Wow,’ I whispered, almost just to myself but too loud. ‘I wish I was there.’ 

‘Me too, vhenan.’ Solas stared down at me, and I couldn’t tell what he was thinking at all. Ever the enigma. ‘Me too.’

***

Present day

Splash! I threw the water in the porcelain basin to my face and breathed out harshly against the rush of coolness that came over me. 

The large powder room was empty except for me and an elven servant outside, waiting for me to finish so she could clean up after me. Most guests were in the ballroom by now, enjoying the fresh wine they poured and the sweet tarts and macarons they were starting to serve. No one had yet noticed Maxwell’s absence again. Thanks to Cullen, he had gained access to the royal wing half an hour ago, rounding up Solas and the others to join him in case it was really a trap. It could very well be. 

I wished I could’ve stayed with Solas in the shadows all evening. I sighed and looked up from the basin to the mirror, checking to see if my makeup had survived the splashing. 

I tried not to look surprised to see the Elven woman behind me reflected in the polished mirror. I thought I had felt a presence when I entered. And there she was: leaning against the cream and gold wall, eyes cold behind the familiar mask. 

Briala. 

Nonchalantly, I wiped away some drops of water underneath my green eye. ‘Ambassador, my apologies for not seeing you before.’ I smiled at her reflection in the mirror. 

Briala cocked her head, eyes calculating my stance. The Elven woman, short, yet regal, dipped her head at me. She was dressed almost casually, her hair woven in an updo with a silk scarf. ‘It is no matter, Lady Saeris. I am used to being unnoticed. Something you are not, no?’

Of course she knew who I was. As I knew her. Preparation is key in the Great Game. Now, let the match begin. 

I turned around to face her and gave her a polite curtsy, my face betraying no emotion. I need to get my shit back together. ‘More than you might realise.’ I smiled vaguely. ‘Though, must I say, there are perks to being noticed, for once. My cup has never been as full.’

Briala slightly raised an eyebrow. ‘Ah, how wonderful that must be. Being served by your own kind.’ The elven woman took a step forward, her look almost antagonistic. She despised me, as any Elf at this party. I was different from them—in every single sense.

‘There is nothing wrong with me enjoying a full cup, ambassador.’ I mirrored her stance. ‘It does not have to mean I am a betrayer to… our people. ’ I smirked. ‘Just like you: it is not because you and the empress were lovers, that you have forsaken the Elves of Orlais.’

Briala stared hard at me, considering. 

Now it’s her turn to move. 

‘I didn’t take you for a gossipmonger, my lady. Especially not considering the rumours about your lovelife.’ 

I chuckled softly. ‘Oh, you are mistaken. I am not one for gossip. I merely observe. As do you.’ I walked around her, my arms swaying along the fabric of my dress. Briala followed me cautiously with her curious eyes. ‘I am not your enemy, Briala. Tell me, are you ours?’ I stopped before a golden rack of towels, took one and dabbed my decolletage with it—unbothered by her presence.

The elven Ambassador pursed her lips in thought for a second. ‘I am an ally of our people. If the Inquisition is willing to aid my cause, then we will aid theirs. My spy network doesn’t just span the Dales. It spans the empire.’

‘And what is your cause, if I may ask?’ 

Come on, Briala. Sell it to me. I am not going to favour you just because you’re an Elf.

‘A voice.’ Briala said unwavering, her stare now more confident than cautious. She likely realised what was to play here: if the rumours were true, then my favour was the Inquisitor’s favour. ‘Simple enough, isn’t it? My people have none. We’ve lived two centuries amid the lowest ranks of society. No one hears us. No one sees us. If the elves of Halamshiral were elevated… if we have an elven noble at court? We’d have recognition, a voice. Like you have in Skyhold.’

I raised my chin. ‘A noble cause indeed. Everyone should have representation in their government. However, how are you planning to persuade the empress to elevate an Elf to nobility? I presume she might not be keen on the idea.’

‘It is already in place. Celene knows she needs us to tip the balance of the civil war in her favour. All we have to do is wait. She’ll exhaust her other options and come to us for help. Then we’ll name our price. It won’t remake the world overnight. Our problem is invisibility. The people in power are ignoring us. We’re not actors, we’re scenery. A small change can tip the scale in advantage to our future, for once, which can have repercussions for all Elves. Anywhere. Even for you, my lady.’

‘And what about Grand Duke Gaspard? I don’t think he’ll be as easily convinced.’ I grimaced at his name. I didn’t care if Briala could see that slip of my mask. She must despise him as much as I do.

‘Gaspard is a warmonger, nothing more—a simple man. Simple men aren’t hard to manipulate.’ Briala scoffed. ‘Something you already know, or so I have heard. Perhaps you can tell me something now: did you enjoy it? To quiver in the arms of maybe the future emperor of Orlais, if your Inquisitor sees fit.’

I was walking back around Briala. When she said that last sentence, I stopped abruptly in front of her. She was playing with fire. And my fire burns frail things like her. I raised myself up high and tall, looming over her. The candles of the diamond chandelier above us flickered at the tension. At my tension. Briala swallowed, but tried to hide it. She stared up at me instead, almost defiantly. She reminded me of Sybil. She would’ve liked her. ‘I do what I must, Ambassador, to help the Inquisition— my people . That does not mean I enjoy what must be done. I know what is at stake.’ The room grew a little darker as I continued, my green eye flaring. ‘I have met many men like Grand Duke Gaspard. Power-hungry and foolish. They do not play the long game. And once they fall, such men tend to take others with them. I am not planning on taking that fall, nor letting the Inquisition go down with him.’ 

I thought back to Cullen and Solas' game of chess days ago. It was at this very moment I realised what had to happen tonight. Which pawn I had to advance. And which I had to sacrifice. 

Briala stared at me intensely, feeling my magic almost simmering in the air between us. Feeling, now more than ever, I was not like her. Or perhaps I was. Perhaps she found that more dangerous than anything.

‘You remind me of someone,’ she said after a silence. ‘He would have liked you.’ 

At that, the elven Ambassador turned around and walked outside, not looking back. 

***

‘Ugh, so many crimes of fashion,’ Leliana leaned against the balcony, staring at the dancing nobles on the floor below. ‘Look at Lady Cambienne’s slippers. Trimmed with pearls and emeralds? And those buckles! Toss her in the lake and she’ll sink right to the bottom. What a disaster.’

I stared at the pastel-coloured macaron in my hand. I had taken a tiny bite from it. Tasted like soap. Now here I stood with it in my hand, the sugar melting all over my fingers. Sneakily, I threw it in an exotic plant near me, smacking my lips in hopes to get the soapy taste away. 

‘If we need another distraction, maybe we can tie her laces together.’ I sighed. 

Leliana chuckled at that ever so softly. ‘That might not be such a bad idea.’

Maxwell and the others had been gone for almost two hours now. Time was ticking, people were becoming curious again—the gossip of Gaspard’s dance with me already getting old. We had tried to create little fusses here and there to appease the crowds. 

Cullen and I had promenaded the ballroom once more, laughing and whispering to one another as if we knew something the court did not—and made it obvious. We had held people’s attention, but it wasn’t enough. 

Leliana had tripped a macaron-carrying servant, who then bumped into a drunk lord, who on his turn fell into the dessert table, on which a large candelabra stood that toppled over, right onto a lady’s poofy wig—who then began to scream. People laughed, and were satisfied for another half an hour.

After that, Josephine had danced with Jilliana—it had been a sweet yet innocent dance, the ambassador blushing throughout. People applauded them and gossiped for another hot minute. 

Now, the court became bored once more. The ball was nearing its end, and people wanted a final spectacle. One I was dreading to give.

‘Shit,’ Leliana suddenly cursed under her breath. My eyes followed her concerned gaze. There, up at the dais, Empress Celene slowly walked from her hiding place to the balcony. She was going to address the court, announce the end of the ball.

No. It’s too early. 

Maxwell isn’t here yet. 

‘Fuck,’ I answered Leliana’s concerned stare. 

Cullen and Josephine had noticed as well, and rushed—as unnoticeable as possible—to our place in the corner of the ballroom, close to the vestibule doors. 

‘The empress will begin her speech soon. What should we do?’ Cullen cursed when he reached us. He stared at me with exasperation, and I couldn’t help but think back to that dance practise less than two weeks ago. His discomfort. He wasn’t the type to be the centre of attention. The idea alone irked him. Perhaps he also disliked the idea of perpetuating the gossip about the two of us even more. I had hoped it wouldn’t have been necessary, this part of Josephine and Leliana’s plan… But I’m all out of tricks. 

I noticed the court herald getting ready to announce the empress. 

There was no more time. 

‘Cullen.’ I looked into his golden eyes. ‘I think we have to—’

Cullen sighed before I finished, and closed his eyes for a second. Then he breathed in and out curtly, as if he was readying himself to plunge into deep cold water. ‘I agree, we must.’

‘Alright. I have already bribed the orchestra in case this would happen.’ Leliana took a step forward. Of course she had. ‘Go. I shall alert them.’

‘Good luck.’ Josephine nodded at us, her eyes glinted excitedly. That woman loved drama.

Cullen and I moved from our shadowy corner to the grand stairway and the dancefloor below. It had been quite busy just minutes ago. Now, the polished floor was empty. Everyone had cleared away when the empress was seen moving from her private balcony. Just as decorum dictated. Lady Morrigan moved behind the empress, her bright yellow eyes scanning the room—searching and finding the two of us. She smiled ever so softly.

I looked to Cullen at my side, and he looked at me. ‘Are you sure you’re up to this?’ I whispered to him. 

Cullen stared at me, holding my eyes with his. ‘I am.’ There was assuredness in his voice. It eased some of the tension in my stomach. We can do this. Together. 

I presented my hand, and Cullen took it gently, his fingers encasing mine carefully. People whipped their heads to where we stood. Whispering loudly. The herald seemed taken aback for a moment as he was ready to announce the empress, but then took a step back. Empress Celene had just walked up to the balustrade and stared at the two of us across the large room. A small smirk played on her lips, almost mirroring Morrigan behind her.

‘Okay.’ I whispered. ‘Let’s give them one last show.’ 

***

Last night

The group applauded as Maxwell and I bowed to one another, ending our last dance routine. 

‘Wow, you almost look graceful, Inquisitor.’ Varric grinned as he clapped. 

Maxwell stuck out his tongue at the Dwarf. ‘You’re just jealous because I have rhythm and you don’t.’

‘Ah, yes… your innate rhythm.’ Dorian wiggled his eyebrows and then poked Cassandra in the hip. She rolled her eyes at the mage, but blushed slightly.

The others, me included, laughed loudly at that. Maxwell’s cheeks grew red as he pouted his lips at the Seeker. 

We had arrived a few hours ago at the chateau near Halamshiral that was reserved for our party. After we had unpacked, Maxwell and I went over all of the dances we had practised—under “persuasion” of Leliana and Josephine. Just to be sure. After the second dance, we had garnered an audience: Josephine and Leliana had been joined by Cullen, Varric, Cassandra, Sera, Vivienne, Blackwall, Bull and Dorian to watch the spectacle. Now, the dinner hall of the chateau was filled with music and laughter and wine—just enough to give us courage to brace ourselves for tomorrow. 

‘Cass, they’re making fun of me.’ Maxwell nagged playfully and nearly skipped to Cassandra, who tried to remain her stern self. We had been doing shots of sugary wine between every dance, so we were all quite buzzed. 

Cassandra couldn’t help but smirk. ‘Woe you.’ 

The others laughed their way. I brushed away the wrinkles in my gown and made a move towards the wine on the table. 

‘Hey, you’re not done yet.’ Vivienne held up her hand in front of me. 

‘But—’ I stumbled back. 

‘Commander Rutherford,’ Vivienne ordered and turned around to Cullen, who was sitting laid back in a chair across Blackwall. Cullen sat up straight, head whipping to Vivienne. ‘Do you not have a routine to practise as well? Now is the time. A prepared man has half fought the battle, my dear.’

Cullen frowned, then scoffed, then reddened. ‘How did you—’

I grinned and saw Josephine across the room, trying to disappear into a shadowy corner and looking awfully guilty. ‘She’s right, Commander.’ I looked back to the man in the chair, feeling fleeting and uncaring. I blame the wine. I held out my hand. ‘Come on, let’s get it over with, no?’

Cullen scrunched his nose, then scratched his neck and stood up reluctantly. 

‘Ah, wait before you deal.’ Bull signalled to Varric, who had already pulled out his shiny deck of Wicked Grace he brought with him everywhere. ‘I wanna see this.’

As Maryden started up the tune, Cullen gently took my outreached hand. 

With every turn and every lift, the room got quieter, and laughter died down. Cullen and I moved along the floor. His grip on my waist was so light, he was almost not holding me at all. With every lift, his palms on my sides became sweatier. Like he was scared to drop me, like he feared I was a porcelain doll ready to break. 

We waltzed along the room, Cullen turning me around on every cue, my skirts twirling in the air. The dance ended with us facing each other. We breathed hard, our chests grazing each other as we heaved. I stared up at his golden eyes, and he stared into mine. I winked at him playfully, trying to ease the tension… Why was there tension? 

The room was quiet for another second, then erupted in applause and jeering.

‘Damn, socks off and all.’ Sera giggled. 

‘That’s quite a dance, Twinkle!’ Varric applauded loudly, his deck of cards forgotten. 

I twisted to face the others, and at that, Cullen released me and took a step back, still out of breath. As I smiled towards the others, I noticed two stern, grey eyes at the door. Solas. He leaned against the doorframe. Cole appeared beside him. The boy whispered something, his big eyes staring at me. Solas’ jaw tightened at what Cole said. When he didn’t respond, Cole disappeared again. Ever since he decided to become fully spirit last week, the boy became less and less sociable. 

I looked from Cole’s disappearing figure back to Solas, and smiled assuredly at him. Solas didn’t smile back—his eyes pierced mine with an unnerving, calculating glint. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Was he angry I danced with Cullen? He hadn’t minded it before with Maxwell. I cocked my head and furrowed my brows. At that, Solas’ gaze turned back to normal: calm and scholarly. He smiled neutrally back at me. 

‘Saeris?’ 

‘Oh, yes!’ I turned back around. I forgot Cullen was still there. ‘Thanks for the dance, Cullen. You did really well! I think we’re ready.’ 

‘N—Ah, no, thank you.’ Cullen smiled awkwardly, his white undershirt sticking to his skin. ‘I—’

‘Practice is over, people! Now come on, I have a game to win,’ Varric yelled and slapped his cards on the table. The others gathered around him, eager to see the Dwarf challenge the Qunari.

I gave Cullen—who looked somewhat taken aback—a warm smile, then made my way over to Solas, who waited for me in the corner.

‘Hi there stranger,’ I slurred somewhat. Was it the wine? Or perhaps all the dancing and twirling? I was feeling light and daring on my feet—a feeling I desperately wanted to hold on to, dreading the anxious thoughts that would harass me if I gave them the chance. I looked up at the stoic Elf with heavy eyes. 

Solas answered my stare with a clear, unwavering gaze. I hadn’t forgotten that strange glint I had seen in those eyes just minutes ago. Now, his look seemed… considering. He took a step forwards, his body suddenly closer to me than I thought he would dare. Solas had been careful to show his affections towards me when lots of people were nearby. I had thought he wasn’t the type for public displays of affection. Or perhaps he cherished the mask he wore too much—the mask of a scholarly, stern and cold apostate. Neutral. Uncaring. Untouchable. But now, his eyes on me were hard and hungry, claiming me whole. ‘Vhenan,’ he whispered, so only I could hear. His hand suddenly reached out to my cheek, his cold fingers caressing my hot, sweaty skin, moving slowly up to my ear, where he tucked away a strand of hair. His thumb and pointer finger dallied just a bit longer along the rim of my ear, and I couldn’t help but shiver all over. 

Solas’ eyes moved from my face to behind me as he stroked my ear tenderly. There was that glint again. 

I moved my face away from his touch to look behind me—just in time to see Cullen hold Solas’ stare just for a second to then look away and retake his seat next to Blackwall. 

Frowning, I turned back to Solas. ‘What was that?’ 

Solas looked back at me, nothing betraying his shadowy face. Then, a small smile curled along his lips—a smile that resembled the one he had made a while ago… after he had just won a challenging game of chess. ‘Meet me in the Fade. I have something I would like to show you.’

‘What—Now?’ 

‘Vin, ma vhenan. Garas.’ 

A couple of minutes after Solas had left the room, I bid goodnight to the others, claiming I needed my beauty sleep (which wasn’t quite a lie) for tomorrow. Josephine, Leliana, Cassandra and Vivienne looked approvingly at that, though Varric, Bull and Dorian seemed disappointed that I wouldn't join their game. 

I walked back to my chamber and undressed quickly. The room was lavishly decorated yet dark and cold. I quickly moved to the bed, burying myself underneath the fluffy blankets. The wine had done its job: as soon as I was comfortable, the dizziness turned into drowsiness. I feared sleep wouldn’t have come as quickly with the thoughts of tomorrow, but all I could think about were Solas’ hungry eyes and tender fingers. 

***

I pushed through the borders of the Fade, making my way to Solas’ presence, to his scent. It was calling out to me harder than usual. He was waiting. The wards along his dream opened wide for me as soon as I neared them, making way to the familiar ancient Elvhen halls. Without thinking, I moved towards the library as per usual—expecting to find him there as always. But when I opened the giant doors, it wasn’t the library I entered.

The hall before me stretched out and out and out. Orbs of warm and pearly light danced along the curved and vaulted ceilings, creating a spectacle that resembled the night’s sky, no… even beyond that. The universe. I followed the unending ceiling down to where the horizon met the ground, to where the universe reflected in the pristine, polished floors. My eyes couldn’t decide where to look next: to the towering pillars of stone and twisting vines that bordered the delicate, gilded carvings on the walls, or to the elaborate chandeliers hanging like crystalline stars that guided the light towards unseen corridors.

I moved towards the centre of the room instinctively, my breath catching at the beauty of the space around me. And then… the music started. Music I had never heard before—couldn’t even have imagined was possible to create. Only by powerful ancient magic and endless patience. It thrummed strongly, yet gently along the empty hall, bouncing off the walls and echoing along the starlit ceilings. There were melodies and harmonies caressing and moving with one another into a symphony I can only describe as effervescent. 

‘Vhenan.’ 

I turned around with a jump. 

A few paces away stood Solas, his piercing eyes observing me with a gentle intensity. I swallowed hard as I met his gaze. He wore brilliant white and gold robes, with golden cuffs along his wrists and high necked collar. He looked regal. Godlike. The fabric of his bright white, billowy shirt matched with the structured golden vest. There were appliques all over the fabrics he wore—not gaudy like in Orlesian or just in Thedosian fashion as a whole, but soft and… almost natural, as if the fabric was spun from silken golden leaves and moonlight. And though he looked ethereal, the gold and silver high steel boots and the structured panels and metal ornaments made his robes look like armour. Ancient Elvhen armour, like those in bygone drawings and statues only the spirits in the Fade still remembered. He stared at me wholly and intensely, a mix of gentleness and something deeper, more ancient. With two strides he stood before me. I forgot how to breathe as I took him in. His scent was so strong: of air and forest and fire and magic. Solas extended his hand towards me—he looked like a force of nature and time. 

‘Vhenan,’ he said again, his voice deep and soft, yet it echoed throughout the halls until it mingled and moved with the ebbing and flowing symphonies around us. ‘Come, before we wake, dance with me.’

My heart skipped a beat. ‘Dance?’ I whispered, hoping not to disturb the energy of the room, like I was an intruder, an alien on a different planet, and every move, every noise could have lasting effects on the nature of my surroundings. ‘I—I don’t know any dance to… this music?’ Calling it music didn’t suffice. It was more than that. Like the rhythmic sound of the sea. 

Solas's lips curved into a reassuring smile. ‘You do not need to know how. Trust in me, and I will guide you.’ His outstretched hand beckoned, and after a moment's pause, I placed my hand in his. The warmth of his touch sent a chill down my spine. The good kind of chill.

I stared at my fingers in his palm, at the long, pearly sleeves that covered my arms. My eyes moved along those sleeves and then to the polished floor, marvelling at my reflection instead of the hall. The dress I wore mirrored Solas’: gold and white, structured and elegant, opulent yet graceful. This dress, the fabric… this was art. The fabrics I wore must have been hand woven from the finest gossamer silk. It felt as light as air and shimmered like the universe above us. There was embroidery on my gold and pearl-boned bodice that looked so exquisite, I could barely see all the details woven within. And my hair… it was long and loose, with twists and elegant braids spun along my waves. Were there stars in my hair? Orbs of light? 

Solas pulled me ever so softly, yet demandingly, closer to him, his eyes ravishing me as mine did him. He then placed his other hand gently on my waist. And in response, I rested my free hand on his shoulder. 

The music swelled. 

‘Close your eyes,’ Solas murmured, his voice a soft caress along the spine of my ears. ‘Feel the rhythm of the space around us. Let it guide you.’

I swallowed hard but complied, letting my eyelids fall shut. The deepening harmonies around us seemed to pulse with a rhythm through my very being. Then, after a second of stillness, I felt Solas begin to move a slow, graceful motion that I instinctively mirrored.

‘You move beautifully, vhenan,’ Solas purred, his breath warm against my ear. 

My body felt like water, flowing with the course of the river. ‘I'm just following your lead.’

‘No, you are a natural. Shenamahn.’ Solas chuckled, which reverberated throughout my entire body. He continued to guide me into the dance—it was like a waltz but slower and more fluid, almost effortless. As we continued to move together, I could only marvel at the way Solas danced—with precision and grace, his every step deliberate yet light. His gaze never left mine, a quiet intensity behind those ancient eyes, as if he was savouring this moment in ways I could not fully understand. There was something otherworldly in the way he led, each movement embodying centuries of knowledge, as if he had danced this routine a thousand times before. Perhaps he had.

I felt myself melt into the rhythm, my body moving instinctively in time with him—as he had promised. I moved closer to him, pressing myself against his chest to hear his heart. It was like I was dancing to its even beat. Our movements became more intricate then, a seamless flow of elegant turns and sweeping motions, as though we had rehearsed this a hundred times. But in truth, it was something more—an understanding between our bodies that transcended words, a shared rhythm that needed no practice.

Solas's hand tightened slightly on my waist, drawing me even closer as the dance slowed, our movements becoming smaller, more intimate. I could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, the warmth of his breath near my cheek. His gaze softened, a rare smile tugging at his lips as we gently came to a stop.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. Our heavy breaths began mingling in the space between us. I felt the warmth of Solas touch on my waist through the fabric of my dress. My heart raced as I looked up at him, meeting his gaze. Slowly, almost hesitantly, Solas lifted his hand from my waist to cradle my face. His thumb brushed lightly against my cheek, just as it had earlier in the chateau. I closed my eyes again and leaned into the warmth of his palm, my breath catching in anticipation. When Solas finally leaned in, his movements were deliberate, filled with a reverence that made the moment feel sacred. His lips brushed against mine, the contact as soft as a whisper. I pressed myself closer, my hands finding their way to the back of his neck, fingers threading along the collar of his vest. Solas's lips moved harder against mine at that, each movement careful and precise, yet filled with the hunger I yearned for during the day. It was as if centuries of restraint were being undone with every single, breathtaking kiss. It had always been easier to let go in the Fade, to become undone. I felt myself melting into him, the rest of the Fade slipping away until there was nothing left but the sensation of his lips and the warmth of his body against mine. His tongue slid against my own, stroking harder and harder. I answered with a soft moan against his mouth, sucking on the bottom of his lip as he ravished me, a grunt vibrating through his chest to mine.

He then broke off the kiss with short intervals, kissing me over and over again, until we were out of air. We rested our foreheads against one another. 

‘Solas.’ I heaved. ‘That was… extraordinary.’

Solas’ voice sounded like a deep rumble of thunder throughout the empty hall, the music ebbing away. ‘You cannot fathom how extraordinary you are, Saeris.’

I couldn’t help the blush that creeped along my face as he whispered my name.

Solas then suddenly let go of our embrace, and took a step back. I felt somewhat empty without his warmth, his hands on me, his heart to mine. But before I could voice my longing for his touch, Solas stretched his hand towards me again. The music swelled once more. 

I smiled brightly and—

***

Present day

—and I rested my hand in his. The people around us murmured louder and louder, but his warm fingers encased mine and the world melted away. I moved my head up to meet his stare as my fingers wove through his as well. His left hand was pinned on my waist, his right held my own against our heads. I rested my free hand on his shoulder and pinched ever so softly. 

Cullen’s golden eyes were nervous but gentle, not leaving mine. 

The orchestra started up the melody.

Like we rehearsed, Cullen pulled me with a confident movement against him, our faces inches apart. And then, we danced. 

His hand was tight on my waist. Strong. Not forceful like Gaspard’s, but confident. His golden eyes were pinned on mine in a deep stare. I couldn’t look away. We turned, and Cullen rested his left hand on his straight back as he twirled me around with his right. I let go and turned on my own, going out with a loving wave of my hand. My eyes searched for him after every spin. I reminded myself to smile like a young maiden in love, like there were no other people but us. And it felt dangerously easy. Cullen’s jaw tightened, yet his mouth curled in answer.

After the last twirl, we stopped in front of one another. We moved our arms in a mirrored graceful wave, which ended in an embrace. He led me to the next movement, one hand on my back and the other holding mine besides our heads. We began again to move together, our feet gliding across the floor in smooth, synchronised steps. He guided me into another spin, his hand lifting mine delicately above my head. I twirled, my motions fluid and effortless, before returning to his embrace. 

Next, Cullen led me into a gentle dip, his hand supporting my back as I leaned into the movement, my leg extending gracefully behind me. My dress swung and clung to me as if alive.

People gawked and awed, staring down my long, yielding, vulnerable body.

As I let people relish in our spectacle, I saw how the vestibule doors opened wide. In came, finally, Maxwell. Sweat was dripping from his face. His suit was covered in blood. And his hand was spitting green light. I smelled it then. Magic and black ichor. He had closed a Rift. Behind him, the others pooled in quietly. Cassandra, Vivienne, Varric, Sera, Cole, Dorian, Blackwall and even Bull. They looked almost as dreadful as Maxwell. Solas entered last. His eyes found me immediately. And I didn’t like that familiar glint in them.

Cullen pulled me back up smoothly, our faces close for a brief moment before we continued the dance. His breath was shallow as it hit me, his lips inches from mine. We moved across the floor in a series of sweeping turns, our feet barely leaving the ground. Cullen guided me with subtle pressure and shifts in his posture, and I responded with effortless precision. With every pivot, my eyes tried to look at the bloodied group up at the balustrade. I saw how Maxwell’s face looked anxious and tired, his eyes first searching for the empress—who hadn’t yet noticed him. Then, he looked at me. His gaze was big and cautious. And I knew instantly. And when Cullen pulled me against his chest and stared into my eyes with warning, I knew he also understood. The assassination attempt was going to commence anytime now. But who? 

Another turn, and my eyes began to search the room, trying to maintain the tension of our dance, the attention of the crowd. 

Don’t notice Maxwell. Give him the chance to surprise the attacker. We still hold the situation in our control. We have the high ground.

Then, Maxwell’s face jerked up, his eyes finding the target. 

And I saw it too. 

Duchess Florianne weaved through the crowds, her pale eyes pinned on the empress. A look of murder in her glare and a steel knife in her bony fingers. 

Now was our chance! 

The music began to build. Cullen shifted his weight, signalling the upcoming last lift with a single press of his hand against my waist. I gathered all of my energy. Cullen bent his knees, and then, with a smooth motion, began to lift me up. I sprang upward, my body light and graceful as I rose. My arms extended outwards, my fingers poised, while my legs sweeped up and out in a delicate arch in the air. Cullen held me up with one arm around my back to my waist, his fingers planted firmly on my bodice. His other hand held up my leg in the arch, shifting up my dress provocatively as we turned in a breathtaking twirl. People applauded, fully immersed in the story we weaved. Florianne faltered, drawn by our display. 

No one noticed how Maxwell hastened through the crowds towards the Duchess. 

I let my magic burst from my fingers and made my whole body light up. From my fingertips sprang flowers and sparks of ice and fire that moved down my body. From the flowers sprang butterflies, balls of blue and green, gold and silver lights that exploded across the dance floor. 

Cullen’s arms around me were strong and steady as he supported me and raised me above the floor, even in his surprise at my burst of magic. But he held his own, his eyes swallowing me whole. 

We held the position for another brief, breathtaking moment. My head tilted back, seemingly in the pleasure of the attention, but my eyes held Florianne’s. At that, my spell was broken. She jerked up her head and noted Maxwell nearing her.

Time seemed to halt. Florianne jumped towards the empress, knife at the ready. Celene hadn’t even reacted yet, hadn’t even moved. Behind her, Morrigan’s hands moved upward defensively. But she would be too late. Even Briala, who was standing near the balcony at the other side of the room, started to turn in a sprint at the moment Florianne exposed the blade. But she wouldn’t make it. Maxwell had pulled his swords as well, pushing people to the ground in his attempt to reach the Duchess. He was too far away. Too tired. Too slow. 

It must’ve been fate. Or perhaps luck. A random opportunity. A choice. 

Grand Duke Gaspard had left his outside balcony and lukewarm alcohol to watch the spectacle Cullen and I had created. He had been staring down at us with an unwelcome sneer and a hateful grimace. But he was an attentive man. Aware of his surroundings. Of the Game. He had spotted his sister before anyone else had. How could he not? She was the only one he had left. But he would betray her and she would him. And in the moment Florianne pulled that knife and jumped at the empress, Gaspard had moved instinctively. Or perhaps not. Perhaps he had hoped to stop his sister. Perhaps save her life. Or kill her and become the saviour of the night. He would have been a hero whatever he had done. His claim would be so more righteous if he saved the life of his opponent, the empress. He would be seen as someone who did not play the Game. He would be someone who cared for the nation enough to save the one who had taken the throne out from under him. Why would one not support him then? Who would want to have a weak empress, vulnerable to assassinations? They would rather have the dashing Chevalier, someone who could save his own life, as well as another’s. Maxwell would have no choice as Inquisitor but support the Grand Duke. Elevate him. He would seem weak otherwise. And what if Briala could not manipulate Gaspard as she had claimed earlier? What if there’s too much evidence against her as well, resulting in her being banished? Or sentenced to death?  

All those possibilities. Chances. Futures of blood and war. In a single second, I had to decide. And I could not play the stakes. Not after what I had seen. Not after what I had done. Not after what Sybil had sacrificed.

Gaspard reached Florianne before Morrigan, before Briala, before Maxwell. Not before me. 

As he jumped at his sister, my hand had moved upward, my magic already out. The spear of ice swung past the spectacle of butterflies and orbs of light I had created, past the crowd, past Maxwell, past Briala. It reached my targets. 

People screamed. The empress stumbled back surprised, holding back a shriek. Morrigan caught her in time, golden eyes alight. Florianne fell down first. The spike of ice shredding through her chest like butter. Behind her, right before he could have pulled back his sister, stood Gaspard. He fell down to his knees slowly, almost in slow motion. His eyes bored into mine, his mouth agape. The sword of ice I had thrown had impaled his heart.

Their masks fell to the marble, polished and bloodied floor.

The Game had been played. Pawns were sacrificed. I wonder, did I win?

Notes:

Thank you for reading ❤️ I would love to hear your thoughts!

***

Saeris and Cullen’s dance inspired by: https://youtu.be/LwjLjm0sjsE?si=wOEkfOJAF7gUFiIG

Translations:

Vin, ma vhenan. Garas. - Yes, my heart. Come.

Shenamahn - native, natural, hereditary, lit. born here

Chapter 62: Joined

Notes:

Hi! I've updated all chapters to fit my current writing style (dated 9/12/2024). Especially the first four or so chapters have more significant changes (I'm sorry if you've just read them).

And omg I just got DATV! Gods, have I been waiting for this game...

A few days ago

The Fade enveloped me, pulling me gently from sleep, and I found myself once more in Solas' library—a sanctuary amid the tangle of thoughts I can never quite silence. I feel his presence deep in his dream. He knows I’m here, and it’s comforting beyond words.

Tonight, the library’s endless shelves seemed alive, breathing with their stories. Perfect. I’d come seeking something to distract me from the upcoming masquerade at the Winter Palace, as I've done for days now. We were travelling from Skyhold to Halamshiral. Just two more days of travel. Three nights of sleep.

I scanned the bookcases. A particular book seemed to pull itself from the shelf, as though wanting to be read. It caught my eye, peeking out just slightly, ancient binding worn with age and lined in faint silver-green markings.

I lifted it and settled into one of the armchairs, opening the book. 

“My name is Tuelen. A name I once cherished. It means, the Creators are gracious. Such folly, I know now.”

I took a deep breath and traced the author’s name with my thumb. The book was written in thick, hastily scribbled handwriting. But I noticed the ink was deep—it was written with great intent.  

“My son was taken, and then my daughter. Belavahnis, my dear curious one. And Eshne, she looked so much like her father.”

The book was fairly thin, as if it was more of a journal than a work of fiction. Perhaps it was. An ancient journal, someone’s deepest thoughts… like the story I once read of Eliel, a name etched into my mind.

“They are gone, yet I am still here, still breathing, though it feels hollow. The Vallaslin of the Huntress darkens on my face, and I cannot help but wonder if this mark is only a lie meant to remind me of the Goddess’s claim on me. She does not keep me for my own life but for the strength She draws from each of us who hunts and each of us who dies. We, Her People, fuel Her endless bloodshed.”

Marked with the Vallaslin of the Huntress. That must be Andruil… Tuelen must be a slave, then. Those curling tattoos once felt comforting, familiar. They reminded me of Elgadira and Nenhara, of the Dalish clan that had anchored me in this world when I was still so young to it. And now… 

“When my children were summoned, I foolishly let them go, trusting the Goddess would protect them, would welcome them in Her favour. I had not learned from my past.”

I swallowed hard and turned the page.

“I followed as You promised. I flew straight and did not waver. I bent but never broke. I received Your gifts with great mindfulness. How do I continue without them?”

The next part was written in a thicker font, as if the author wanted to hurt the paper by stabbing it. 

“In the darkness that followed, I heard them call to me—calls that broke upon the trees outside my dwelling and wove through my sleep. My children are gone. Just as my beloved was taken when our children were younglings. As I did now, I heard his screams—even as I stayed home to keep the fire burning, hoping he would return to it one day. But he did not. None of them do.”

I frowned. Solas had said the ancient Elvhen were enslaved to their pantheon. The Evanuris. But I had… expected the Gods of old to use their slaves in “simple” terms: to serve, to build and to fight. But what was written here? What had happened to these people? My people?

“The Goddess’s hunters come for me. Even as I write, I hear the familiar sound of their footsteps and know that they have not come to bless or honour me. They come to claim what is left—my breath, my blood, the faint warmth still in me. Andruil’s Hunt is endless, and Her People are its prey. But I will not go. I will not bend my head to the Goddess, nor yield this blood. She has taken enough from us, and Her hunger is unending. Let Her warriors bear down on me, but my spirit will not serve Her.”

A cold shiver ran across my spine as I read the last sentence. There were so many pages empty after the next part. But they would never be written on. 

“I will join the others—the broken, the weary, the hungry and grieving, those who have risen against Her in silence. There is a way beyond this, a rebellion within these forests and beyond. There are those who follow the Wolf. And now, so shall I."

As I closed the book, the library grew dimmer. I was left with the image of her standing tall in defiance, her decision a bright, fierce thing despite the overwhelming fear she must have felt. But it was a sacrifice she was willing to make. Some have to be.

I was stirring in my sleep, pressing to awaken. Before going, I traced a new name at the end of the book, just like I traced Tuelen’s. The Wolf. 

***

Present day

I stood on the narrow balcony, overlooking the distant gardens of Halamshiral’s High Quarter as the first rays of dawn stretch across the treetops, setting the dew-laden leaves aglow. Below me, the chateau’s paths are scattered with the few early risers or leftover guests from last night’s ball. They’ve all come down from the heights of that awful night. I’m still holding my breath, waiting for whatever comes next.

Maxwell and his advisors emerged from the main entrance across the courtyard, their expressions grim and hollowed with fatigue. They’ve been negotiating with Briala and Empress Celene all night, while I was smuggled back here, hidden away like some criminal relic no one wants to remember. Grand Duke Gaspard’s blood on my hands felt colder than any morning air. 

And yet, I felt no regret. No remorse. 

When it happened, I didn’t have a moment to think. I acted. 

I had cursed myself for not taking down Simon when I had the chance. But I had grown. Gaspard was a vile creature. He would have done the same to me, to so many others, if he had had the chance to become the hero of the night. Now, no one was. 

After I had thrown that shard of ice, I had hoped I’d done it swiftly enough, precisely enough, and it had gone unnoticed by most—just a blur of magic, and then Gaspard was gone. He had been in the wrong place, at the wrong time. There’d been chaos, of course. Gasps, shrieks. But Maxwell had taken over, steering the night’s direction with a leader’s presence, leaving me to the shadows.

I swallowed hard, watching the group below as they trudged through the gates. There’s Cullen, his eyes as sharp as they were last night when he pulled me through the crowd after our dance. He didn’t need to say a word, just pulled me back with that hard-set look and manoeuvred me out of the ballroom as chaos ensued. He’d brought me down the vestibule stairs, out of sight, and left me in Solas’ hands. Solas only nodded to Cullen, and then steered me by the shoulder back here, past the straggling onlookers and out into the quiet night air. 

Just two elves. No one even bothered with the spectacle going on behind us.

His eyes had been big… impressed. Proud. He wanted to remain with me, but I had refused, telling him I needed some rest after what had happened. But the rest never came. I stared at the ceiling for the fleeting hours of the night.

Now the silence felt… heavier. 

Did Maxwell lead the negotiations? Will the empress rule, or will Briala do it through her? 

I was staring at the rising sun, time passing by, when a hard knock rang me awake. 

I turned and swallowed. I could see my reflection through the glass doors to the balcony—I was a mess: smudged kohl and glittering jewellery still clung to me like a bad memory. ‘Come in.’

Solas entered through the door, dressed in his usual pants and woollen tunic, the jawbone necklace back where it belonged—above his heart. His eyes looked concerned as they scanned me. ‘I wanted to check on you,’ he began, his voice careful. ‘Thu ea —are you all right?’

I tried to answer, but words stuck in my throat. All right. The words didn’t fit. 

I wanted to tell him that I knew what I was doing, but here I am, unravelling in the aftermath. 

His gaze rested on me, unwavering, holding a warmth that feels both welcome and damning.

Solas took a few long strides until he was beside me. ‘What you did, vhenan—it was necessary,’ he whispered. His hand hovered near my shoulder, steadying me in a way that words never could. ‘And we all agree. You acted as you had to, for the sake of the Inquisition and the empress.’

I nodded, but the truth lodged like a stone in my chest. The others might’ve believed I killed Gaspard out of duty, out of loyalty to the cause. But I knew better. I didn’t aim at him just because he was a threat to the empress or the peace in Orlais. This country be damned, for all I care. I could’ve just focused on Florianne. But I hadn’t. In those split seconds, my intent was as clear as day and night. Gaspard wasn’t just a threat. He was a symbol, a reflection of everything dangerous and twisted in Orlais. I couldn’t pretend my motives were pure. I couldn’t claim I didn’t want to shatter that reflection, and I did.

Solas’ hand found mine then. He encased it gently, and squeezed it. ‘Did you rest at all? Would you like me to get you something to eat?’ He said softly, but there was a question in his gaze, something lingering.

‘Solas,’ I managed, glancing down at our hands, ‘I don’t know if I… What I did. I could’ve… missed Gaspard. Ar undalan —’ 

There it was, the truth. I killed someone in cold blood, unarmed, unprovoked. 

He tilted his head, studying me, his eyes flickering with understanding. ‘Sometimes,’ he said, his voice low, ‘it is the personal that drives us to act for the greater good, to create change that transcends ourselves.’ He paused. ‘That is no crime, vhenan.’

Solas stepped back abruptly as another knock interrupted us. The door swung open, and Maxwell strode in, his face worn and weary, clothes still smeared with the remnants of last night’s ordeal. Before I could even open my mouth, he crossed the room and wrapped me in a tight hug. The shock of it stilled me, but slowly I let myself relax into his grip. 

‘Fuck, I was worried about you,’ he murmured, his voice thick with relief. ‘You’ve done really well, Saeris, better than any of us could’ve hoped. And I’m so damn sorry I wasn’t in that ballroom sooner.’

Solas quietly shifted to the side, watching with a thoughtful, almost guarded expression. The others filed in—Cullen, Josephine, and Leliana. Josephine’s face was alight with relief as she looked at us. 

Maxwell pulled back, his tired smile tinged with gratitude and something else, something heavier. 

‘We must all thank you, Lady Saeris,’ Josephine began and stepped forwards, her voice carrying an unmistakable warmth. ‘The Empress knows how deeply indebted she is to you. The stability of Orlais itself rests upon her rule. And though this outcome is most beneficial to her, she regrets that Florianne and Gaspard conspired against her like this.’

Maxwell nodded, his hand resting on my shoulder. ‘Celene will continue to sit upon her throne, with Briala’s support at her side, who’s been granted the title of Marquise.’ 

‘They’ll need one another to restore some semblance of order after all of this.’ Cullen said, his golden eyes deep-set, but warm.

Leliana, who was still standing in the door opening, took a step forward. As she did, a shadow passed over her face, her eyes sharp and assessing. Her smile was barely there, a sliver of something wary and keen. ‘A fortunate outcome, all things considered,’ she said, voice low. ‘Maxwell gathered sufficient proof of Gaspard’s treason. Enough that he would’ve been convicted… if he were alive to stand trial.’

But I made sure he wasn’t. I made sure he wouldn’t stand a chance. I made that choice.

The air thickened at her words, and her gaze lingered on me, unblinking, a touch of understanding there, perhaps admiration. But there’s something else, too—an awareness, a calculation. She saw that I made my own choice and acted with conviction, a clear and unflinching strike.

Maxwell tightened his grip on my shoulder. ‘You’ve done more than anyone asked of you tonight, Saeris.’ He threw the Spymaster a warning look. ‘Everything’s going to be alright. Now, rest up. You look dreadful.’

I scoffed, a small smile tingling on the corner of my lips. Only Maxwell could make me smile like that in a situation like this. ‘Look who’s talking.’

Maxwell smirked back at me. ‘You might be right. I don’t even know who’s… or what’s gunk is on me right now.’ He turned around and nodded at his advisors, a silent order to follow him and leave me be. ‘I think I better bathe before the servants faint as I pass.’

Josephine dipped her head at me, and gave me another encouraging smile. Cullen took a step towards me. I heard Solas shift on his feet ever so slightly when the Commander rested a hand on my shoulder. ‘You have done what had to be. None of us… I—’

‘It’s okay.’ My voice cracked a little. 

Cullen’s golden eyes found mine for a second. Then, he gave my shoulder a final squeeze and walked out.

Leliana was the last of the advisors to leave. Her deadly eyes narrowed on me, as if they saw me in a whole different light now. Without another word, she turned and closed the door behind her. 

***

Solas lingered beside me, his presence calming as I ate in silence. The food—a bowl of hot porridge—was warm, but it barely took the edge off the unease thrumming through me. Solas watched quietly, his face thoughtful, brow drawn in a line that had deepened more and more.

'You’ve barely touched the bread,’ he said finally, almost gently. He hadn’t stopped observing me all morning, and I wondered if he’d seen the tension in my hands.

I tried for a small smile. ‘I’ll be fine. Maybe I just…need a little time on my own. Try to get some sleep.’

He nodded, his mouth settling into that almost-knowing expression that had become a recent comfort. He rose, touching the back of the chair before releasing it. ‘Of course. Rest well, ma vhenan .’

He slipped out, and I let out a small sigh, letting myself settle into the stillness of the room. I felt the presence shift then—the almost invisible sensation of someone else waiting. 

I may be old, but my senses are still keen.

Keeping my gaze forward, I spoke, my tone even. ‘You can come out now.’

A figure materialised from the shadows, stepping silently across the room with the assured grace of someone who didn’t care to be seen unless she allowed it. She’d concealed herself well; even Solas hadn’t noticed. I think. Her dark silks brushed the floor lightly as she stopped before me, eyes gleaming with that sharp gaze I’d seen at Halamshiral.

I inclined my head. ‘I’m impressed, Marquise . Few could slip past my friend unnoticed.’

Briala’s lips curved into a faint smile as she took the seat Solas had vacated. ‘I like to think there are some skills I’d never let fade,’ she murmured, her tone measured. ‘But I did not come merely to practise old habits.’

I folded my hands in my lap, watching her closely. ‘What did bring you, then?’

She was silent for a moment, her gaze settling on mine, assessing. ‘Gratitude,’ she finally said, her tone softer now. ‘For doing what no one dared—what I myself could not do: ending Gaspard.’

Her words settled into the room like a cloak, rich with layered meaning, almost more than what was said. She hesitated a moment, then inclined her head, the barest flicker of respect in the gesture.

‘And I’ll admit,’ she continued, ‘I underestimated you, Milady. But for that, I am grateful. And there are many of our People who are…grateful as well. You struck where others hesitated.’ 

‘You flatter me.’ I replied, my voice sharper than intended, ‘Tell me, will you follow through on what you’ve promised? Will you use this position to make things better for our kind?’

Briala’s expression softened, just slightly, and she inclined her head in a near-imperceptible nod. ‘I will,’ she said, her voice firm, carrying an uncharacteristic vulnerability. ‘There’s no turning from this path now.’

For a long moment, we were quiet. Then she placed something discreet on the table before me—a small slip of parchment, folded twice. ‘If you need to reach me, here’s how. Allies should remain connected,’ she murmured, her tone wry, though she was careful to add, ‘or at least, those who are not enemies.’

I glanced at the parchment and tucked it away. ‘Thank you.’

Briala lingered a moment longer, gaze travelling the room as though she searched for something more. Her eyes settled on me again, a faint smile touching her lips. ‘In the palace, you reminded me of someone I once knew,’ she said quietly, with an edge of nostalgia. ‘A mentor. He disappeared a little more than a year ago, but… certain things awakened old memories tonight.’

Her tone took on a sharp edge. ‘I’ll tell you this, as a gesture of trust: someone was lurking around my headquarters during the ball. And…’ her jaw tightened, ‘something was taken. I won’t say what. But it was important. Perhaps the only thing that truly mattered.’

The tension between us grew, crackling like embers. Her words weighed heavy, and I took them in carefully. ‘Whoever this was… do you suspect someone close to you?’

Briala’s gaze darkened as she took a half-step toward the door. ‘I suggest you take that question to heart as well. We can never be sure who to trust, Lady Saeris.’

And without another word, she slipped away, disappearing into the quiet of the hall.

***

It was early in the afternoon when we prepared to leave Halamshiral. I hadn’t slept since the ball, and the strain clung to me like a second skin. My muscles ached, my mind was foggy… I knew now that I wouldn’t be reprimanded by anyone within the Inquisition… after taking down Gaspard. It seemed everyone was just relieved the whole ordeal was over, the assassin had been killed, the empress was saved. How… didn’t matter today. That was yesterday. Now, it’s only tomorrow we should be concerned about… The aftermath of the ball, the duty of the Inquisition,... and Corypheus’ next steps. 

As we rode through the gates of the chateau, a crowd had gathered. Most came to catch a glimpse of Maxwell, dapper as ever, but as my horse trotted past, a few nobles stared directly at me. Some watched with quiet reverence; others burned with barely contained disdain. Their whispers swirled around me like smoke.

‘That’s her,’ one said in awe. ‘She saved the Empress.’

‘The elf,’ hissed another. ‘Another assassin in our midst.’

Solas rode close to me, his presence steady, his gaze flickering now and then in my direction as if he felt the tension rolling off me. But it was Vivienne who took my other side. She glanced at me with a lift of her chin, her expression unreadable.

‘Keep your head high, my dear,’ she murmured under her breath. Her tone was stern, almost cutting, but there was a strange warmth beneath it. ‘You’ve outplayed them at their own Game. Let them remember that.’

I nodded faintly, though I wasn’t sure I believed it myself. A rare moment of camaraderie with Madame Vivienne herself. Perhaps my performance at the ball had earned her respect—if I wanted it. 

As we approached the city’s High Quarter’s edge, the clatter of hooves and wheels caught my attention. A sleek black carriage rolled towards us, its form more elegant than any I’d seen during the ball. Leading the procession was a figure cloaked in dark robes, bright yellow eyes gleaming with something between amusement and purpose. 

Lady Morrigan.

Her lips curved in a sly smile as she dismounted gracefully and approached Maxwell. ‘Inquisitor,’ she greeted with a bow of her head, her voice smooth, rich. ‘Tis such a coincidence, us leaving at the same time. I trust it is no burden if I travel with you to your stronghold?’

Maxwell had enlisted the strange apostate to join the Inquisition, though I hadn’t expected her to show up so soon. 

She looks so much like Yavana… but her eyes, those are Flemeth’s.

Behind Morrigan, three burly man-servants struggled with a large, veiled object lashed to a second carriage. Its shape was unmistakable—a mirror, ancient, huge and foreboding, its ornate frame glinting even beneath the tarp.

It wasn’t the veiled object on the carriage that made me stir in my seat, however—though it did make me curious, it felt familiar. The thing that disturbed me, made my skin crawl with cold sweat, was something… or someone in that first carriage.

It’s death. 

The old dagger at my thigh seemed to burn a little, or perhaps it was my skin. Every pore felt like it was on fire. Ice, cold, burning.

Maxwell exchanged a glance with Cassandra, who nodded cautiously. ‘Of course not, Lady Morrigan,’ he said diplomatically. ‘The more the merrier.’

I stared at the raven-haired woman, dressed in the darkest of furs. Her golden eyes were fixated on Maxwell’s glowing hand as he drove his horse forward. As she and her attendants fell in with our group, I tightened my cloak around me and fixed my eyes on the road ahead.

Varric, who rode behind me, leaned over in his saddle to Blackwall, smirking. ‘Well, it’s official. Our crew just keeps getting bigger... and weirder. My publisher’s going to love this tale when it’s finished.’

Morrigan cast a sideways glance at him, her expression unreadable save for the faintest hint of amusement.

That night, we made camp at the edge of the Imperial Highway. The closest tavern was a two hour ride from now, and we were all too tired to continue. And so, we made camp under the stars, as we had done so many times before. 

I led my horse to the edge of the camp, its reins tight in my hand as I adjusted the leather strap binding its saddle. The camp was quieting into a lull, filled with the crackling of the fire and the murmured voices of companions setting up their tents or preparing dinner. My hands moved methodically as I brushed down my horse, its warm breath misting in the cooling night air. The rhythm was soothing, almost enough to let my mind drift.

Crunch! Leaves rustled behind me.

The brush stilled in my hand, and the world around me seemed to narrow. It was the sense of being watched, sharp and undeniable, like the cold tip of a blade pressing against my back. It was different from before, with Briala. No, this was… dread. My instincts burned, ancient and unyielding, demanding I turn.

It’s death. 

And when I did, I saw him—a boy, small and ordinary in any other context. But his presence hit me like a splash of icy water, setting my nerves alight. His dark hair framed a pale face, and his wide eyes, curious and unblinking, pinned me in place. He wasn’t menacing; there was no malice in his stance, no threat in his expression. But something about him was deeply, horribly wrong.

It wasn’t anything I could name, but I felt it in my bones, in the twisting knot in my stomach. He didn’t belong here.

No one had yet seemed to notice him but me.

‘You’re Saeris,’ he said, and his voice was the worst of it.

It wasn’t the high, uncertain voice of a child, but calm and steady, like he’d lived a thousand lives and each of them knew my name. The sound made my skin crawl, my breath catch.

My grip tightened on the brush. A heartbeat passed, and I realised I hadn’t answered him.

‘I am,’ I said finally, my voice sharper than I intended. ‘And who are you?’

The boy smiled then, a small, innocent thing that did nothing to ease the dread pooling in my chest. He tilted his head, studying me like a puzzle he intended to solve.

‘I’m Kieran,’ he said simply, as if that explained everything.

But it didn’t. And the unease didn’t fade. If anything, it only deepened. 

‘My mother never told me you’re an Elf. Or that you are a mage.’

I swallowed hard, my eyes scanning the camp. Everyone was busy with their own work. Was I hallucinating? Was I dreaming? Was I in the Fade? My left eye didn’t detect anything… demonic. Who was this kid? 

And what’s wrong with him?

‘I… am indeed an Elf. And, uhm, a mage. Is that a bad thing?’ My voice sounded distant. 

The child cocked his head. ‘No. It would be worse if you couldn’t touch magic at all. Like being blind.’

Okay…

I bent down a little, swallowing hard to keep the dread away. It’s just a child. In my kindest voice, I said. ‘Who’s your mother? Are you lost?’

‘Mother is the inheritor, she who awaits the next age.’ Kieran smiled innocently. ‘And I am where I should be.’

‘Kieran!’ Morrigan swept into view, her dark figure framed by the firelight behind her. She placed a firm hand on the boy’s shoulder. ‘I believe I told you not to wander,’ she said, her tone sharp yet not unkind.

The boy turned to her, unbothered. ‘I wanted to meet her.’

Morrigan’s gaze flicked to me, her golden eyes glinting with something unreadable. ‘And now you have. Back to the carriage with you.’

Kieran lingered for a moment, giving me one last curious look before trotting off towards the makeshift tent Morrigan had set up near her ornate carriage.

I exhaled slowly, forcing myself to push down the unease coiled in my gut.

‘He is precocious, my son,’ Morrigan said, watching her son’s retreating figure. Then she turned her full attention to me, a sly smile curving her lips. ‘Never where you expect him to be, naturally.’

Morrigan has a son. And he’s in some way even more jarring than her.

Without thinking, I said, ‘He is… curious.’

Morrigan didn’t react, her voice deep and unbothered. ‘He is a special lad. It falls to me to protect him from anything and anyone that mean him harm. Most of all, he must be protected from myself. No one could harm him more than I.’

I didn’t respond, unsure what to say. Something about the boy unsettled me, more than anything in quite a while.

‘I hope he did not bother you, Lady Saeris. But ‘tis good I have found you amidst your companions. I wanted to speak with you, as we had not seemed… done at Halamshiral.’ Morrigan continued, as though Kieran’s strange visit hadn’t happened at all.

Those eyes, those eyes, those eyes. 

‘Weren’t we?’ I tensed, feeling the blood coming back to my face. 

‘If my memory does not yet fail me, you felt as if we had met once before, did you not?’ Morrigan replied, her lips curving faintly. 

Shit, yes, I did ask her that.

‘Ah, yes. But perhaps I was mistaken. You just look... familiar.’ I hesitated, reluctant to mention the names haunting my mind. Can I trust her? Still, I can't back down now. Better bite through it before that odd son of hers comes back. ‘Perhaps… you have a sister?’

Her expression tightened briefly before smoothing into neutrality. ‘I do. Her name is Yavana.’

I straightened. Shit, I was right. Morrigan is related to Flemeth. To Yavana. ‘Oh! Oh? I thought… Okay. That’s why… I mean, I met her in Rivain… a while back.’

Morrigan's yellow eyes narrowed slightly, curiosity sharpening her gaze. ‘Tis not common I am surprised. My sister is not one to… meet with people.’

‘How is she?’ I asked, daring to let a bit of hope slip into my voice.

Morrigan paused, her brows furrowing ever so slightly. ‘She disappeared years ago. I do not know where she went, or why.’

Her words hung heavy in the air, and I felt a pang of something bittersweet. Yavana had been a fleeting presence in my life, yet she had such an impact… more than I imagined at the time.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said, my voice low.

‘Do not be,’ Morrigan replied, her tone clipped but not unkind. ‘Yavana follows her own path, as do I.’ She cocked her head to the side, then. ‘If I may ask, how did you meet?’

‘Ah—uhm.’ I scraped my throat. Shit. ‘During my travels. I was a minstrel before, you see.’

Morrigan smiled vaguely. ‘I see.’

Flemeth smiles like that too. Asha’bellanar. Okay, oddness definitely runs in their family. 

I scraped my throat awkwardly. 

‘You have lived quite an unusual life, or so I’ve heard.’ Morrigan said, giving me another little, tiny smile. ‘Not quite Dalish, not quite a City Elf, a nomad—an apostate such as myself. Yet, most would consider themselves a Chantry Mage if one spends so many years in a Circle. You do not.’

I bit the inside of my lower lip, staring past Morrigan’s demanding eyes, and to the campfire that was growing bigger and bigger. ‘I—I developed my magic before… being forced to join that Circle, that’s true.’

‘Ah, I hope you do not think I am judging you. I am merely… curious .’

‘You’re… an apostate too.’ Not a question. ‘Yet, you serve the Orlesian court?’

Morrigan snickered and leaned against the tree my horse was bound to. ‘Once, I was an apostate, living well away from the banal influence of the Chantry in the Korcari Wilds. Then came the Fifth Blight with the Darkspawn, and I left Ferelden for the empress’ court. It was a simple arrangement. Empress Celene needed answers to questions no Chantry mage could give her. And I needed… refuge. However, ‘tis certain the nobles of Orlais breathe a collective sigh of relief that I am leaving once more.’

‘And… your son… his—’

‘His father?’ Morrigan’s eyes glinted in the shadows. ‘Tis no secret, why do so many find that such a difficult thing to ask? You may know of him, he is often called by his title. The Hero of Ferelden. Events have conspired to take him elsewhere. But we will join him once again… after Corypheus has been dealt with.’ 

Ah, Leliana had mentioned she and Morrigan fought together during the Fifth Blight. The famed Hero of Ferelden… a partner to an apostate, a father to a son. That made him more real now, less… like a story. And it means that the child is… definitely not a spirit-being like Cole. That he’s born of two humans. And that idea made me a little more comfortable. I don’t know why. 

‘Now, less about me… more about you. Your… eye… is it—’

‘A curse?’ Now it was my turn to smile vaguely. ‘For all I know, I was born with it. It has magical properties. But you probably know all about that already. It has a connection to the Fade, perhaps in ways I have still to discover.’ 

‘Interesting, indeed.’ Morrigan purred. ‘And… I heard from the whispers at court what had occurred at Haven months ago. I must ask, and I do not hope you blame me for doing so, but what… was it like? To pass through the fire, to come out… unburned?’

For once, I dared to stare at Morrigan’s yellow eyes. So familiar. So foreign. So discomforting. Yet so not at all. I swallowed hard before I spoke. ‘Who says I did not burn?’

Morrigan’s calculating smile disappeared, her eyes gleaming more and more. 

But before she could continue her interrogation, I decided that this was enough for now. The memory of that time… of Haven… And so, I spoke before she could begin a new question. ‘I’m hungry. Want something?’ My voice cracked a little.

‘I thank you for your kindness, but I have eaten.’ Morrigan answered, expertly understanding my cue. ‘Thank you for speaking with me. I am looking forward to working with you.’

‘... Likewise.’ I said softly. Honestly, I didn’t really know how to respond. 

With a last dip of her head, Morrigan pivoted around and returned to her tent, where her son’s eyes lit up the darkness within—the same darkness that seemed to cling to her.

Sighing with relief that conversation was over with, I joined the others at the campfire in the centre of the camp. 

Dorian and Bull sat next to each other, thigh to thigh. Cole was poking into the fire, his eyes bright and big. Sera was sitting next to him, egging him on like a child. Blackwall, who sat behind them, was carving what seemed like a tiny wooden toy with a silver blade. Cassandra, Varric, Maxwell, Vivienne and the advisors—Cullen, Leliana and Josephine—were already deep in conversation about things I only wanted to start to worry about when back at Skyhold.

My eyes, however, searched for those calming, stern grey ones of Solas. When I neared, I noticed how the Elf was eyeing the veiled mirror on Morrigan’s carriage. His eyes twinkled with familiar curiosity… or determination. The look was gone as soon as I sat down next to him. He cocked his head to me, a soft and warm look in his eyes that melted all my previous nervousness away. He tore a piece of his bread and handed it to me. 

***

Two weeks later

The sunlight danced in the courtyard, warming my face as I took in the turning leaves of early autumn, each burst of amber and crimson casting a soft, shifting glow across Skyhold’s gardens. I leaned back against the stone bench, closing my eyes to savour the momentary quiet. 

We arrived back last week. Immediately upon our arrival, Maxwell had buried himself in strategy with Cullen and Leliana. Their war room became a hive of activity, littered with maps and reports, voices raised in urgency. I overheard Josephine on more than one occasion murmuring concerns about supply lines or the loyalty of newly allied nobles. But Maxwell’s mind was all on Corypheus and his Venatori. He had asked Cassandra and Cullen to look into the Red Templars, and Varric, Leliana and Dorian to look into the Venatori and their leader, Calpernia. Everyone was working hard to get back up to speed. Meanwhile, Blackwall was training the Wardens, Bull was training the new recruits, Sera was… doing Sera things… and Cole… even he was helping people in his own way, especially around the infirmary. 

Josephine had more work than ever before. She was, amongst many other things, neck deep in requests from the Chantry. They wanted the Inquisition to take a stance on who will become the next Divine. Because that’s what’s important right now. Their religion. Not saving the world. 

I heard that Vivienne as well as Cassandra were being considered—though Maxwell didn’t like the idea. Yesterday, I had heard him and Josephine discuss if Leliana was to be considered as well. She was the Left Hand of the previous Divine. And I kind of agreed she’d be a good candidate. A woman like Leliana—a blend of devotion and ruthlessness—might be exactly what the Chantry needed to survive in a world Corypheus was trying to remake.

For my part, I stuck to healing. The infirmary had no shortage of patients, and it kept my hands busy, even if my mind wandered. I thought of Halamshiral, of Gaspard’s bloodied face, of the way Morrigan’s golden eyes gleamed when she looked at me, always like she knew something I didn’t.

Morrigan herself had proven an enigma, keeping mostly to herself or her son, Kieran. When I saw him about Skyhold, he often ran to the gardens, finding small corners to play. Yet, when he looked at me, I felt a stirring deep in my chest—unfamiliar and unwelcome… When the kid stared at me like that… it felt as if there was a memory clawing at the edges of my mind, one I could not quite grasp.

And then there was Solas, who had his nose buried in books day and night: the Anchor, the Orb, Corypheus’ next move… I caught myself watching him yesterday evening. I was lounging in his armchair in the rotunda, reading a book on Tevinter culture I loaned from Dorian’s library. Solas was bent over a tome on his desk, the firelight of the torches catching the contours of his face. He looked as though he carried the weight of the Veil itself. Perhaps he did. 

Ever since Morrigan arrived with that mirror of hers…

I knew what it was the second they carried it in when we arrived. The veil slipped off of it due to a gush of wind. And it was unmistakable. 

An Eluvian.

Just like the one in Solas’ library in the Fade. 

“No roads existed in Elvhenan. With these, all we needed was to step through one side and step out at another.”

It must’ve felt… weird to him. Though Solas spoke little of what had happened before he slept in Uthenera for so long. But he had told me he had fled Artlathan through such an Eluvian. Because of the Veil… 

I should read up on that. 

Now, the seemingly dormant Eluvian was waiting in one of the upper rooms of Skyhold castle. Why did Morrigan have it? How did she come to it? And… What was she planning to do with it?

I would learn soon. 

Still sitting in the gardens, I kicked my feet with a sigh. I should go back to work. There is still so much left to do. But when I sat straight and made myself ready to stand up from my spot, I noticed Maxwell hurrying through the hallway to my right. Morrigan walked next to him, her strides long and determined. Kieran was—luckily—nowhere to be seen. 

‘Max!’ I called, waving my arm. I hadn’t seen him all day.

He stopped in his tracks and turned to search for me across the gardens. Morrigan stopped a few paces after him, her yellow eyes finding mine so quickly… like an eagle spotting its prey from high up above.

Maxwell’s heavy expression turned instantly to light. He waved back to me, then beckoned me to come over with a few waves of his hand.

I swallowed and stood up, jogging towards them. Morrigan’s eyes followed me intently.

‘Hi Maxwell—good day, Lady Morrigan—What’s up?’ I began. 

‘Hey, it’s good we ran into each other. I was just going to send someone to come get you.’

‘Oh?’

‘Yes, Cullen, Josy, Leliana and I were discussing Corypheus’ next move. According to today’s report from scout Harding, he’s on the move again—retreating to the Dales.’

‘The Dales? What’s he going to do there?’ Go on a hike? 

‘We don’t know, but he’s ransacking elven ruins all over the place.’ Maxwell sighed. ‘Leliana has also discovered Calpernia has been doing the same under Corypheus’ demands.’

‘Elven ruins? What are they looking for?’

Morrigan stepped in between Maxwell and I, and smirked, ‘Follow. And I’ll show you.’

Notes:

A mega thanks yet again to my beta reader, nerdsaretotallyawesome. Be sure to check out their expertly written and amazingly crafted stories, especially The Hunger Games Series - Peeta's POV!

Elven translations:
Thu ea? - How are you?
Ar undalan… - I killed…