The Destiny Of Surana
Chapter One: Nerves
The Harrowing.
The very word sends chills down the spines of the apprentices. A test all apprentices must go through in order to become a full-fledged mage. Some were cocky, thinking they could easily finish the test before the demon could overwhelm them, possessing them. Others were scared, shivering at the thought of facing an unknown enemy. Verlis, on the other hand, was sick to her stomach trying to hold the idea in that she could survive the test.
"Relax, Ver. You'll do fine. You may not have a lot of confidence, but you do have very good skills for an apprentice." Jowan says with a smile. "I hope to do my test soon."
"Do not worry so much, Jowan. You will called soon enough. I am sure of it." Verlis replies, smiling lightly.
Jowan lowers his head, running his fingers through his hair. "I don't know. I've been here longer then you, and it seems like you might be going before me."
A cold chill runs through the air as Verlis hears the words that she might be going into the Harrowing soon. "W-What? I… I am not ready! I… I-I've barely learned enough!" The young elf moves nervously in her chair, running different ways in which she would fail during the test. Jowan reaches over the table, and gently pats her on the hand. "You are over thinking this too much. Yes, you need to be careful during the Harrowing, but I think you are over doing it. Now eat up, your stew is getting cold."
After saying goodnight to Jowan, Verlis climbed into her bed, hoping for a peaceful rest, but soon found out that would not be so. A rough hand shook her shoulder, arousing her from her sleep. Two templars stood before the elf, and she knew that she was being called to take the Harrowing.
As they walked the halls of the tower, Verlis became aware of the chill that ran through them, the shadows that danced on the wall, as the flames on the torches swayed with the breeze. But what she noticed most of all was the blaring silence. During the day, the halls of the tower were filled with the chatter of mages and apprentices talking away, some for lessons and others just for plain socializing. Being a mage meant a gift to some, but a curse to others. So they are locked up in a tower located in the middle of Lake Calenhad, never allowed to be free in the outside world. Feared by the gifts the Maker gave us, they are chained to forever live in the Circle Tower.
After climbing staircase after staircase, the elf mage and two templars reach the top floor, whereshe guessed the Harrowing will take place. Both the First Enchanter Irving, and Knight-Commander Greagoir were waiting for us along with another pair of templars. Verlis swallows the sickness she felt in her stomach and stepped forward towards the two older men.
"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. Your magic is a gift, but it's also a curse, for demons of the dream realm - the Fade - are drawn to you, and seek to use you as a gateway into this world." The Knight-Commander's voice booms as he paces back and forth in front of the elf.
"The Harrowing is a secret, for a reason, child. During the ritual, you will be sent into the Fade, and face a demon. The only thing that you will be armed with is your will. Every mage must go through this trial. As we have succeeded, so will you." The First Enchanter Irving states, placing a hand on the young mage's shoulder as he speaks.
Knight-Commander stops in front of Verlis, staring the elf straight in the eyes.
"Know this. If you fail to defeat the demon, or take too long. We templars will perform our duty. You will die."
Verlis eyes widen, a lump forming in her throat. The only action she could make to show she understood was nodding her head.
The Knight-Commander ushered Verlis towards a single metal stand, a light blue glow coming from the bowl that the stands supports.
"This is Lyruim. The very essence of magic, the gateway into the Fade. You are ready."
Verlis' body shivers, her hands clenched into fists as she moves towards the glowing. As she dips her hands into the lyruim, she hears the First Enchanter. "Keep your wits about you." The apprentice feels a cold sensation as her fingers touch the magic essence, her vision going blurring. She closes her eyes and prays to the Maker to stay alive during her trial.