"Kadira," her brother quietly urged as he tugged her hand. "Gini somal bento, deid nai?"
The little girl stubbornly shook her head and trudged on in her brother's tracks just behind him. They had traveled this way for most of their journey in an effort to disguise their numbers. It was a trick that their father taught them before he left, though their father was someone the two children wanted to push as far out of their minds as they possibly could. He left them because it was his duty. The journey he ordered them to undertake was their duty. Nothing could change their fates, or so the Divine taught. It gave them hope that no matter what happened, they would be united with their father in the end.
In reality, only the older of the two knew that the reunion with their father might only happen in the Fade. He had gone to fight the Qunari; none of their friends' fathers ever returned from fighting the Qunari. Anton thought that their father might send them to live with their meni and mina in the north, but he ordered them to Ferelden instead. He didn't know why. They had no family in Ferelden, and they would be considered outcasts even as children. Still, his father's order left no room for dissent.
"The trip will be very far, so you must be brave," he urged Anton in the thick, accent-rich language of the Tevinter people. "There are many dangerous things to ensnare the mind and the senses. Be on your guard. Your sister will not understand." His battle-hardened face became drawn, and he suddenly seemed older. "I hoped to stall my battle until you were a man, but things have become progressively worse."
Anton squared his shoulders. "Father, I am a man. I am thirteen and a half," he responded likewise in Arcanum.
He huskily laughed under his breath and clapped a hand on his son's shoulder. "Yes you are. Just remember to watch the map, my boy," he said. Days later, the family departed – Anton and Kadira to the south, and their father to the north. It was the last time they saw him or their dilapidated, post-apocalyptic dwellings.
Their trip had so far gone without incident except for a farmer that discovered them asleep in the back of his cart. Though the old man seemed nice enough and offered them a place to stay and a warm bed for that night, Anton refused on the grounds that their father ordered them to Ferelden. This upset Kadira to no end who, at the tender age of five, was very tired of walking so much and hungry besides.
"When we get to Ferelden, I will get you a bed like a princess," Anton promised her in whispered Arcanum as they wandered along a road strewn with overgrowth. "And all the fruit you can eat."
She smiled and suddenly found it easier to walk.
And so it was this way for days and weeks, occasionally finding a break where they might charm people into letting them stay in their barn or to catch a ride in the back of a cart. A few times, people had heard them speaking privately together in their native tongue; despite being children, they were run off of their land. Their father warned them that might happen, and so they vowed to be more careful. After that, their journey remained mostly peaceful.
Except for that night.
They skirted through Orlais and remained out of the most populated areas, instead carving a path that took them alongside the Imperial Highway according to Anton's map. He figured that would lead them past Orzammar (well, over Orzammar – there were people who lived in caves! how absurd!) and finally into Ferelden proper where he thought they might be able to finally find a place to settle.
Despite how far they walked that night, there were no signs of any settlements nearby. Anton worried that they deviated too far from the road, but he was sure of their place on the map especially due to their surroundings. It was bitterly cold and everything was covered in layers of snow and icicles. Their forward movement and thick fur cloaks kept them warm, but as soon as they stopped for the night Anton realized that they were going to get cold rather quickly.
Kadira cupped her gloved hand in the snow and began to form a ball. As a child from a northern region, she was used to this more than the lush greenery of Orlais. She giggled and flicked the ball at her brother. "Can we stay here? This is Ferelden?" she asked.
He pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders and rummaged through his pack for their sleeping rolls. "Gese," he replied. "But we are not staying here. You will catch a cold."
She pouted. "No. I will not. Make me a fire!" she ordered.
"Saete, pesky girl," he said and grinned at her. He then unfurled her sleeping roll and laid it next to his. "Fetch some wood?"
Her eyes glowed with excitement. She loved it when he made her fire. "Gese!" she squealed and hopped to her booted feet. They made soft crunching sounds as she wandered across the snow-covered ground.
As young as she was, she was used to navigating through difficult terrain. Her home town was not much different from a forest in that none of its architecture, as decayed and broken as it was, made it possible to ever travel in a straight line. There was always an errant nail to snag your elbow or a brick to trip someone unaware. It became important to always look to the sky for clues. The tall buildings that had yet to collapse were a good guide, just as the trees in the forest gave her bearing. She began to watch the trees in the twilight as they caught the moon's glow from the horizon. Lost in her thoughts and the wonder of this new world, she didn't realize how far she had gone until she heard voices.
Just above through a thick patch of trees, she saw several men illuminated by a camp fire. They were very shiny, she thought, and wondered how anyone could get so shiny in a forest. It seemed as if their very bodies reflected the fire, all except for their heads. Some of them looked grim, but others smiled and talked and ate strips of something dark and chewy. Farther away, there were white tents that matched the snow, and even horses tied to trees.
She began to inch forward around trees, trying to keep as hidden as possible while still desiring nothing more to satisfy her curiosity. Soon, she drew within ten feet of their camp's perimeter. She prepared to jump to another tree for cover. With a swing of her arms, she leapt – and fell on top of slippery, snow-covered logs that cracked loudly in protest.
Suddenly, some of the shiny men looked up while others stood and drew equally shiny swords. Her eyes went wide as she realized she had been heard. She sat as still as she could and hoped with all of her might that she would blend into the forest.
"Roland, did you hear that?" one of them asked in the imprecise language of Thedosians. "I thought you said there wasn't any game up here."
The one named Roland grabbed something round and laid it in his lap. "Maybe we'll have a fresh dinner after all," he said and grinned.
Kadira frowned. I'm not food, she thought. Worried they might think she was just that, she quickly turned and crouched into an even tinier silhouette as she made her way back to her brother. She paused only to grab a few fallen branches that didn't seem too wet. Her breath, as startled as she was, sent quick bursts of fog from her pursed lips, and her pale skin was bright pink.
When she returned, her brother gave her an exasperated look and snatched the branches from her hand. "You went too far," he admonished her. "You made me worry. Why are you breathing so hard?"
"I thought I saw something," she mumbled and glued herself to his side. She rubbed her hands together. "Can you make the fire now?"
He grinned. "Girls always scare so easily by their own shadows," he said and nudged her side. He then held a single branch in front of her. "Are you ready?"
She grabbed his arm. "Yes!" she proclaimed.
"Then here you go," he said with a dark, theatrical flair. "I give you… fire!" Suddenly, the tip of the branch burst into artificially hot, bright red flames.
Kadira began to cheer, but she was cut off when they heard the shiny men rush toward them.
"Ser, one of them is an apostate!"
The men, now shiny from head to toe, encircled their small camp and brandished their swords at the two. One took several steps toward them, his size easily dwarfing them. His voice was muffled by his shiny face, but it was strong and commanding.
"Apostate, surrender yourself," he said.
Things became dizzy. Suddenly, both children felt their heads swim and energy veritably draining from their bodies. Kadira's eyes rolled toward the sky and she fought to remain steady on her feet.
Her brother, however, seemed to know exactly what was happening. Anton flung his cape back and pulled the sleeve of his sweater high on his bicep. "You will not harm her!" he hissed. He then tensed his fingers as if claws and thrust his fingernails deep into his arm. Blood flowed and burst from the wound. A great, dark energy revived both brother and sister enough that they were steady on their feet.
Until a shiny man stepped up from behind and swung his broadsword, cleanly separating Anton's head from his body.
Kadira screamed as she watched his body fall. His head rolled a few feet away and stared at her, unblinking, forever stuck in an expression of surprise. The snow was stained crimson.
"Ser," the shiny man said to the commanding one. "What of this one?"
Both shiny faces inclined toward her and reflected her own face, frozen in terror.
The commanding one huffed. "She is too young to be a maleficar. Restrain her," he ordered.
That draining feeling hit her once more, and she collapsed.