"What has magic touched that it doesn't spoil!?"
He watched as Hawke's shoulders tensed at the words. As if they had physically hit him. Fenris had yelled the words in a fit of adrenaline fueled rage and the moment they had left his lips, he already knew the answer to his question.
Hawke's expression had only faltered for second, to be replaced with his usual calm, reassuring demeanor, but that second had been enough. Fenris had seen the hurt in his eyes. His anger quickly melted into remorse and he could no longer bare to keep hawkes gaze.
"I... need to go."
He turned to leave half hoping Hawke would stop him. Grab his shoulders and pull him into an embrace. Tell him that they could find this long lost sister. That he was wrong and not everthying in is life had turned to ash.
No such words came. Hawke did not stop him.
He shouldn't have said it, but it was too late. He, himself, had just spoiled the only thing that magic had not.