Chapter Text
Darkness, swirling and swaying in his already turbulent mind. Were his eyes open or were they closed? Why couldn’t he seem to clear his head from this oppressive haze? Sparks of green laced across his eyelids and then a pain erupted from his left hand that jarred his senses back to the surface, like ice water to the face. Blinking he looked around and is instantly disturbed by what he sees. A torn shard of green swirls in the distance mixing with the dark chasm that is the sky, illuminating a barren landscape with its sickly rays. No stars hover in its inky blackness, no sun, no moon, it is void and lifeless.
“Quickly!” a woman’s voice calls to him and he spins around to find it’s owner, “This way!”
He lays his eyes on a figure in the distance standing beside another smaller swirling tear of green, beckoning him towards herself. He takes a step towards the figure on shaky legs but falters, unsure if he should trust this mysterious person. Almost as soon as this thought crosses his mind the hairs on the back of his neck begin to stand up as a faint sound reaches his ears. A sickening chittering coming from behind him. His mind tells him not to look and every sense in his body is screaming at him to run, but fear grips him to the spot. Panicking he turns his head slightly so that out of the corner of his eye he can see creatures scurrying and crawling towards him. They look nothing like anything he has ever seen before, but they remind him of something right out of a nightmare. Limbs twisted and gnarled they push forward getting closer by the second. The sounds they make are almost defining now as they clamber towards him. He only has a split second to weigh up his options. He takes his chance and runs towards the figure that called to him, scrambling over rocks and shards of dirt that bite and cute at his hands when he stumbles.
The nightmarish creatures are getting closer by the second, but so does the figure that called out to him. He can make out her features now, old and panicked. She must be as scared as he is, but she must also be very brave to wait this long for him. Faced as she was by the full view of the monstrous hoard of unknown creatures that are chasing him. She stands fast, her hand outstretched toward him. Finally, he reached her, his hand grasping out and grabbing hold of her thin outstretched hand. It is so frail looking, but her grip is like a vice as she pulls him behind her towards the green tear.
It almost feels like they are both going to make it, when suddenly something grabs at his leg, tripping him. He yells out in surprise and stumbles but manages to stay on his feet. The lady turns slightly to see what is happening, fear evident in her pale eyes. She hauls him bodily in front of her, shielding him from the creatures right at their heels, determination burning bright in her eyes,
“Go!” she yells and for a split second their eyes meet, they are full of warmth and determination with only a hint of sadness buried deep behind them. She pushed him away from her, causing him to fall in his surprise ad he began to fall backwards towards the tear in the sky.
“No!” he yells, realisation crossing his face. His fingers grasp in a vain attempt to reach after her. He can’t let it end like this, this is not how these kind of things are supposed to play out. He panics, his hand coming away with nothing but thin air, his eyes growing bigger and bigger as he sees the monsters closing in on the woman who has saved him. Then everything goes dark and he is falling, one thought whispering on his mind before unconsciousness takes him,
I don’t even know her name.
~*~
His senses are slow to awaken the second time - or had he awoken before, ever so briefly before falling back into a restless fevered dream. His head lolls to the side as he painfully tries to lift it, the movement is too much for him and his head dips back down, his chin resting on his chest. Suddenly a cracking noise sparks and a scorching pain runs up his whole arm, starting from his left palm and coursing all the way up to his elbow. His eyes fly open and he yells out in pain bringing his arm in close to himself. After the wave of nausea that fallows the pain he tries to take in his surroundings with bleary eyes. He is in a dark, damp room that’s only source of light comes from a couple of flickering torches on the walls. There are men standing all around him, all armed and clearly on guard. He tries to move but finds he has been restrained, his eyes grow wide as they dart around frantically trying to find some way of escape. What was going on? Who were these people, and why had they imprisoned him? Was this a group of slavers? He had heard horror stories of this kind of thing happening, but he never thought it would happen to him. How had he even got here in the first place? He racked his brain for an answer, but with a panicked realisation he found he could not recall anything.
Before he could go into proper panic mode there was another sudden spark of green and his hand flares with pain again. The wooden door in front of him bursts open as if on cue and a formidable looking woman marches in. She is dressed in medium weight armour and a sword that looks well used hangs at her side. Her face was a wash of stone cold hostility and anger as she moves around the room. Following shortly after, he noticed another woman walked into the room. This one was smaller, hooded and more agile looking. She seemed to have a fluidity to her movements that scared him more than the first woman’s stony appearance ever could. She moved silently, her gaze never leaving him for even a second. He felt like a mouse under the cool gaze of a cat. She folded her hands behind her and stood a little off to his left, not saying a word, her face masked slightly by the hood she wore.
“Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you now?” the first lady demanded, her accent thick. She moved so that she was now standing behind him. This made him painfully aware of how vulnerable he was and his attention was now firmly on her, even though he could not see her properly from where he knelt on the floor. “The conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead.” she paused, moving again so that she was standing right in front of him making it so that he was forced to strain his neck to look up at her. “Except from you.” she accused glaring down at him. He found he couldn’t keep her gaze and so dropped his head down, his eyes now staring at her feet.
This was not boding well for him and he knew it. He had to think fast. Conclave? Conclave? Think, think, think! Yes, that was it! He had been sent to this conclave with a group of his clansmen to spy on the proceedings. This business with the mages and Templars had gone on long enough. The problem had escalated so drastically in the past couple of years that it was starting to effect everyone - human or not. This was far too big a problem for the clan to bury their heads in the sand, and he had argued as much before his elder had finally given in. No one had been more surprised than himself when he had spoken up so passionately about the subject, a factor that probably weighed heavily in favour of the clan getting involved. He sighed thinking back on it, oh how he wished he had just stayed quiet like he normally would. His silent reflection did not go unnoticed by the two women, who seemed to mistake his silence for some form of insubordination or worse, acknowledgement of guilt. The silent one raised a thin eyebrow slightly while the more expressive of the two huffed in annoyance, pouncing forward to grab his restraints harshly.
“Explain this?” she yelled, pulling his restrained arms upwards and out so that his hands were in full view to him. A green spark ignited in his left palm, the light blinding him after the darkness of his jail cell. Pain prickled up his arm starting from a green gash in the middle of his palm that he could now see clearly for the first time. His eyes widened as he began to panic at the sight despite the pain he was feeling.
“I can’t.” he finally yelled, his panic clearly portrayed in his voice.
“What do you mean, you can’t?” The woman demanded, leaning over him and getting right in his face.
“I don’t know what that is or how it got there.” he protested, trying to get his hand with the offending object on it as far away from himself as possible. Which wasn’t that far considering the woman still held his restraints in a death grip.
“You’re lying!” she accused, her voice all but a growl as she moved to strike him. He shrank back anticipating the hit, but it never lands. Looking back up cautiously he saw that the other woman had moved forward to stand between them, her hand holding the first lady by the wrist. Her gaze was cool and level and her words gave no room for argument,
“We need him Cassandra.” He can’t help but note that her accent is different from the first lady’s - from Cassandra - more musical, possibly Orlesian? Her hand falls away from Cassandra’s once she is certain that she will not continue with the beating she was about to give him.
With the couple of moments this display has brought him he frantically racks his brain over everything he can remember. He had gone to this conclave they spoke of, he knew that for a fact. He remembered sneaking into the temple with a couple of his clansmen … his … clansmen? No … no no no! Suddenly he felt his stomach drop and his guts tied into knots. How could he forget his own people? His eyes grew wide as he searches for answers in his own mind. He feels sick and a cold shiver of dread travels up his spin as he tries to fight back the bile forcing its way up the back of his throat.
“All those people.” he whispers, bringing their attention back to him. His breathing is becoming ragged as he clenches his fists in frustration. How did this all happen? How could they possibly think he could do this to his own people? To his … family? “Everyone … is dead?”
Hearing the panic growing in his voice the second woman stepped in, “Do you remember what happened? How it all began?” she questions. Her voice is even and clinical. For some reason it seems to calm him and he tries to hold onto this olive branch she is offering. He can’t think about these things right now. He needs to remember all that he can. Taking a few calming breath he tries to recall what he remembered last.
“I remember running.” he began, his voice quiet but steady as he retraces his steps in his mind, “Things were chasing me and then … a woman?”
“A woman?” she cuts in. Her voice may have stayed calm, but the speed at which she had jumped on that tiny detail had him curious. Who did she hope this lady was? Cassandra seemed to be bristling behind her, clearly impatient for his answer. Who was this woman to them? He carried on, watching their faces closely for any signs,
“She reached out to me, but then …” he paused. But then … what? What happened next? He couldn’t remember. He couldn’t even remember what the lady had looked like. Sighing heavily Cassandra stepped forward, she could see that this was getting them nowhere,
“Go to the forward camp, Leliana.” she ordered, “I will take him to the rift.”
Leliana looked Cassandra in the eye for a second - like they were having an unspoken conversation - before nodding minutely and walking out of the room. The door closed behind her softly, her feet not once making a sound on the hard stone floor.
His eyes trailed after her, lingering on the sold wood of the door before turning his gaze to Cassandra, a cautious mistrustful expression on his face. She clearly did not like him - so far the feeling was mutual - but he needed to get her trust him if he wanted to get out of this mess. That and he had answers he needed in order to try and fill in the gaps in his memory.
“What happened?” he asked, not sure where to begin. Cassandra looked down at him, her brow furrowed and her lips pursed as she seemed to size him up. Her face dropped when she finally came to an answer in her mind and she sighed inaudibly before speaking,
“It will be easier to show you.”
With that she bent forward and unlocked the wooden blocks holding his wrists. They clattered to the ground along with the chain that had been keeping him from moving away from the centre of the room. He got to his feet slowly, moving his wrists in the proses to try and regain some feeling in them. He couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow when one of the guards stepped forward and bound his wrists again, this time with rope. Honestly, what was he going to do? He was one elf, unarmed and surrounded by a group of humans twice his size. So why did they all seem so on edge around him? His eyes flicked between Cassandra and the guard as she motioned him to follow.
They led him up a flight a stairs that were lit with the same flickering torches as the room he had been in. They smelled bad and made his eyes sting from the smoke they produced. He was glad when he began to feel a breeze on his face and then they were outside. He attempted to shield his eyes from the light that assaulted his vision. The sun shone so bright that it took a moment for his eyes to adjust, but then he saw it. His jaw dropped and his hands dropped away from his face. There, hanging above him, a swirling cloud of green tore across the sky, mixing with grey clouds to produce a sickly ominous shroud that hung like a presence in the sky.
“We call it “the breach”.” Cassandra supplied, looking in the direction of his gaze. “It’s a massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger with every passing hour.” her gaze lingers on the swirling gash in the sky, her voice calm despite what they were facing, “It’s not the only rift.” she added, “Just the largest. All were caused by the explosion at the conclave.”
She caught his eye and did not let her gaze falter, resolve clear in her voice, “Unless we act, the breach may grow until it swallows the world.”
He gulped slightly, unsure what to say. He was saved from answering her when his hand flared up again. The pain snapped through his veins far more intense than before. He gasped in pain, gritting his teeth and clutching his arm close to his body.
“Each time the breach expands, your mark expands … and it is killing you.” Cassandra explained matter-of-factly, her tone even, “It may be the key to stopping this. But there isn’t much time.” she turned to continue walking, the conversation over as far as she was concerned. But he had questions that he needed and wanted answered.
“You say it may be the key? To doing what?” he all but pleaded in his desperation for answers. She looked at him over her shoulder, her eyes scanning over his features before resting on his arm that he was still holding protectively to his body. He didn’t know what she saw in that moment, but her face softened slightly and she sighed before she turned back around and explained,
“Closing the breach. Whether that’s possible is something we shall discover shortly. It is our only chance however.” she stated, looking him in the eye again, drilling home the importance of her next words, “And yours.”
He blinked in surprise, “You still think I did this? To myself?” he asked incredulously, his brow furrowing in anger.
“Not intentionally.” she offered, her voice calm and steady, not seeming to care at all about his outburst, “Something clearly went wrong.” she added.
But I didn’t do anything, his mind screamed. There seemed to be no point trying to convince her otherwise though, so he tried a different approach,
“And if I’m not responsible?” he throws back tactfully, trying to contain the anger that is bubbling up inside him. They weren’t even going to find out what had happened, were they? They were going to pin this all on him - an elf - and be done with it.
“Someone is, and you are our only suspect.” she stated, confirming his train of thought. She sighed lightly before continuing, “You wish to prove your innocence? This is the only way.”
He looks her in the eye at this, his own eyes narrow in mistrust. His eyes scanned over her features, trying to see if there was any hint of deception. When he found none he let out a breath, his face taking on a look of determination as he nodded his consent. Her eyes softened at this for a brief moment before she echoed his nod, turning and beckoning him to follow.
Walking through the town was nerve-wracking to say the least. Every eye was on him and not a single one of them was friendly. His ears pricked at some of the whispers he was hearing as he passed - they were colourful to say the least. He tried to ignore them, trying instead to keep his mind on the task ahead.
“They have decided your guilt.” Cassandra supplied from over her shoulder. Was she trying to make him feel better? She wasn’t doing a very good job of it. “They need it. The people of Haven mourn our Most Holy, Devine Justinia, Head of the Chantry. The conclave was hers. It was a chance for peace between the mages and the Templars. She brought their leaders together. Now, they are dead.”
Her voice had dropped low and he could hear the sadness and regret laced into her words. He felt like he should apologise, but he kept silent as they moved forward through the town. Soon enough, they stood before the gates of Haven, which the guards stationed there opened after Cassandra commanded them to.
“We lash out, like the sky.” she continued, walking under the stone archway and out onto the dirt road, stopping so that he could move to stand beside her. “But we must think beyond ourselves. As she did. Until the breach is sealed.”
She reached behind her back and retrieved a small dagger from her belt. Reaching over she took his bound hands and in one fluid movement cut through the course rope that had been biting into his skin. She dropped the rope to the ground before putting the dagger back in its spot on her belt. He used this slight pause as an opportunity to rub his sore wrists, massaging some feeling back into them.
“There will be a trail.” she stated, “I can promise no more.”
He looked her over again. Maybe he had been too harsh in his estimation of her. He respected that she was trying to stay neutral given the circumstances. She turned and walked forward again,
“Come, it is not far.”
“Where are you taking me?” he asked as he follows after her, quickly catching up to Cassandra so he could see her face. Her brow twitches in annoyance but she says nothing, forcing him to follow quickly.
Well, he thought to himself, at least it wasn’t slavers.