Three Days Prior

I sat there all alone, the cold midnight air chilling me to the bone. My back leaned against the unforgiving wall of the Chantry as I fought hard to not topple over. My blonde hair was matted to my cheek with my own blood. More blood soaked my armor and my sword, it pooled frantically beneath me. I looked towards the nightmare sky, the moon sneered down at me. I prayed for forgiveness. The Maker, Andraste, not even the stars in the sky could help me. I was in utter shock of what I had done. I closed my eyes tightly and I wept.

Three days prior...

"Yes, I've heard of the Champion of Kirkwall." My mother was in a constant state of reminding me how great the Champion was compared to me. Word had traveled fast from Kirkwall and everyone south of The Minanter had heard of the champions' exploits. Ever since the tales of the Champion rising up to lead the mages had reached our ears, my mother could not stop talking about it.

It had been another monotonous day of work at the Chantry. I was charged with the task of writing and delivering letters from the Chantry to all over Markham. Simple? Yes, but it did feed and house my entire family. I must have walked ten times the length of the city over that day, and all I wanted to do was relax and drink. Mother's ranting had just made the relaxing part of the day so terribly difficult.

"Why can't you be more like the Champion?" My mother sighed, her obvious disapproval hanging on her frown. "The Champion came from a long line of mages, you know. Just like yourself."

"Because mother," I returned the sigh, completely exasperated, "I am not the Champion, nor will I ever be." My answer only seemed to worsen the situation, mother became more frustrated.

"You'll never understand the pain your father and I have gone through to bring you up in this world." It was at this moment, my mother decided it was appropriate for her to storm off.

There was no use in arguing the point even further. We had done this dance time and time before, and it only ended in sorrow. I watched her, her arms coming up to her face, as if wiping away regretful tears. I couldn't tell, though, but I knew she was upset.

Both my parents were born mages; they met while in the Circle of Magi, fell in love, and somehow escaped. They went into hiding, changed identities, and years later my sister, Mioniel, and I were born. Mioniel had an exceptional talent in magic. At two years old she was already coxing fire from thin air. Father said she would grow up to be the most powerful mage in all of Thedas. As for me? Unfortunately, I have no magical abilities. I am completely lost, like a Dalish amidst the city Elves.

When I was old enough, my parents practically forced me to work at the Chantry, something about how it would give them an edge against the templars, should they ever find us. My finesse with a sword and shield was less than desirable among the ranks of the templar, so the Chantry hired me to do menial paper work. Since my parents are constantly hiding, and they let Mioniel do what ever she needs to progress her magical abilities, the responsibility was left solely to me.

Hours had passed since my mother retired for the night. My fourth bottle of honey ale had only a few drops left, the night was drawing on, and it was about time for me to pass out. My head hit the pillow and I was taken to the Fade.

Two days prior...

I had been summoned to Knight-Captain Kenton's quarters as soon as I arrived to the Chantry. I had only really seen the Knight-Captain in passing, during my routines. Throughout the corridors there were always whispers of gossip about his fearlessness and his respect in the ranks was clear. Nervously, I approached the doors, wooden and carved with intricacies, even the Maker would be impressed of.
As I began to open the door, a hand from the other side took over, holding it open for me. "Please come in Pychea." It was Knight-Captain Kenton; he motioned for me to take a seat at his desk.
It was the first time I got to see him up close, to breathe him in fully. I could see now why the lady templars were a fluster when talking with him. He was handsome, no doubt. Not like how a Prince is handsome, nor like how a Tevinter magistrate is handsome. Kenton's face was honest; the only thing covering it was a shadow of a beard. His hair was the color of dried mud and was perfectly unkempt. There was some age in the lines of his smile and his serious eyes, but it only added to his taste, like a well aged Dalish wine. Even in his Templar armor, I could still see how nicely his muscles had been shaped by years of fighting.
I went to his desk and sat quickly and quietly, as Kenton sat across from me. "I came as soon as I heard you called for me Knight-Captain."
"I knew you would." He said. His voice was harmony in this land of discord. "I knew Markham's best and fastest letter deliverer would be punctual."

I smiled at the compliment, as a rosy blush surfaced to my cheeks. "Thank you Knight-Captain. Is there anything I can-" I was cut off by the harmony.

"There is Pychea." His eyes of lake-water green stared intently at mine. "I have been watching you very carefully for the past few months now."

I wanted to gasp at this, but I didn't dare interrupt the Knight-Captain as he spoke. I'm sure my face told him of my shock.

"When you first came to us a couple years ago you were hardly qualified to become a templar and now I think you are no longer qualified for your current services."

My heart sunk down to my gut.

But despite my inner turmoil, Kenton kept talking. "But we've all took notice of your dedication and hard work. A lady of such high caliber, like yourself deserves to finally be in our ranks." A smile curled his lips. "Congratulations Pychea, you are a templar."

Words could not even begin to describe the happiness I felt. I jumped up. Kenton extended his hand and I gladly shook it. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"Your training starts now, and tomorrow you will begin your first mission. Be here early."

"Yes, of course, Knight-Captain Kenton." I thanked him again and hurried out of the room.

One day prior...

My whole body ached as I walked back towards Knight-Captain Kenton's quarters. Yesterday's training was the toughest thing I had ever done. I was sore in muscles I didn't even know I had.
The previous night I had told my parents the great news. They seemed less than thrilled by my promotion and thought I would turn into the horror stories that mage parents tell their mage offspring about the templars. I assured my parents that this would only mean more money for us to live with and I promised them I wouldn't go on any killing rampages. I wished to tell Mioniel the news too; however, she was off on another one of her crazy adventures. It wasn't uncommon for my sister to travel outside the city, to practice her magic in complete secrecy. I would just have to tell her when I saw her next.
The doors were heavier this time around.

Kenton was waiting patiently at his desk and smiled when I walked in. "Ah, Pychea, I thought you might not make it after yesterday." He chuckled heartily. "Glad to see you made it through in one piece."

I returned his joy with a familiar laugh. "There were times I didn't think I was going to."

"Yes, well, since you survived it's time you got your armor." Knight-Captain Kenton picked it up from behind his desk and handed it over. The crest of Markham sat proudly on the chest piece, and a chain mail undershirt was folded underneath it. The skirt armor and sash were a stormy sky blue embellished with gold details, matching the city's colors.

I didn't have much time to admire my apparel as Kenton also retrieved a sword and shield and began to explain my first mission. "You will be accompanying me to capture a hostile apostate. She's holed herself up in a cavern outside the city walls and has already injured a few of our best templars. She must be stopped, Pychea." His eyes narrowed, as he placed the sword in my hands. "At all costs. Any questions young templar?"

"No Knight-Captain Kenton."

"Good, let's make haste."

That day...

The early sunrise painted pink and lavender across the sky.

We had hiked all across the forest yesterday, making a small camp late in the night. My body was still sore, I was tired, and the traversing certainly wasn't helping.

As Knight-Captain Kenton and I were finishing a small meal of bread and venison jerky, he pulled a small vial out of his knapsack. "Pychea." His words were soft, trying not to wake the world around him. "This is lyrium." He handed it to me.

I watched it glimmer in the morning sunlight, as I held it in my hands. The glow turned my palms an iridescent blue. I recalled listening to the other templars speak of lyrium, it's powers and it's downfalls.

"You need to take it." Kenton placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. "The apostate we will be facing is very powerful. This will help you resist her evil, if it turns to that."

I really hadn't gotten nervous until just then. How was I supposed to fight a mage? How was I even supposed to convince them to join the Circle? My parents would rather die than go back to the Circle.

Kenton watched me, making sure I would take it. I put the small bottle to my lips and downed it in one gulp. It was absurdly bitter, and cold. Both made me want to throw it right back up; instead, I coughed and spit trying to get the taste from my mouth. "You could have warned me it would taste like Mabari piss." I cursed.

"That's about the same reaction I had to lyrium my first time." His boisterous laugh echoed throughout the trees. Our conversation died from there; I knew it was time to go. "Come, the cavern shouldn't be far."

Kenton was right; it was just a short hike from our camp.

Upon entering the cave, my skin felt clammy. It was damp, and I could smell the moisture in the air. Moss grew over the walls and algae climbed over the soaked ground. Our boots found mud puddles every step into the cave. Whistling wind rushed by us as we pressed onward.

We heard voices, hushed and secretive. The Knight-Captain stopped, holding his arm up to halt me as well. He listened attentively, cupping his hand to his ear.

I held my breath.

Unexpectedly, the Knight-Captain shouted. "Mage! I know you're in there! Surrender peacefully and we won't be forced to kill you! You can live in the Circle!"

"Never!" The response was a shriek, savage and untamed.

Knight-Captain Kenton drew his sword and rushed down the cavern, I followed suit.

What happened next…It was. It just happened so fast.

"This is your last chance mage!" Kenton roared.

A bolt of electricity surged toward Kenton and I, striking us. The sheer force of the attack threw us backwards, as a sharp pain spread from the tips of my fingers deep into my abdomen.

Finally, I got my footing and managed to get a good look at the apostate. She had wild red hair; it fell onto her pale face. Her blue eyes, crazed and dangerous, stared back at us. Mud was caked onto her skin, and her body looked distorted. I could scarcely recognize her. It was Mioniel! It was my sister.

"Sister!" I shouted to her, and for a moment she looked back at me. Her eyes calmed to a serene pool and her snarl faded. "What are you doing?" I gasped.

"I'd rather be dead than go to that damned Circle of yours." Mioniel spat. Another surge left her hands, and once again I tasted earth. I couldn't move, I could barely breathe. The pain was unfathomable.

A piercing scream rung throughout the cave as I brought my face from the ground. My sister began morphing right in front of my eyes. Her back bulged as she cradled herself. Arms and legs sprouted thorny appendages and her face twisted into a horrific display of flesh.

"An Abomination!" Kenton shouted frantically from beside me, his face swollen with fear. "She's an Abomination!"

"You cannot have me." The Abomination, no, my sister teased. Her voice was not her own, a remnant of what once was now drenched in corruption. "Your lives are mine." She laughed as floated towards me. Her arms reached out to me. I saw a flash and then horrific pain.

I screamed from the very pit of my being.

Kenton mustered enough strength to pick himself up. "Bastard!" He charged and his sword hit flesh, a strike right into my sister's chest. He stepped backwards, leaving his weapon embedded in her body.

She hissed and screeched, her anger turning towards Kenton. Reaching down, she pulled the sword from her chest and threw it aside, like a child who was done with its plaything. Blood gushed out of the cavity, but my sister didn't take notice. Electricity poured from my sister and engulfed Kenton. He wailed, writhing.

"No!" I reacted on pure adrenaline. It hurt to move and I could feel warm blood dripping down my face, but I managed to stand. I pulled my sword from its sheath and stumbled over to my sister. Her back was facing me, too occupied with Kenton. I took a deep breath and swung with all my remaining energy. My sword lacerated the back of her neck, and instantly, she fell.

For a second there was nothing.

My voice barely escaped from my throat. "Mioniel! Mioniel!" I shouted, crouching over her body. I turned her over; she was limp in my arms. Gone.

I turned my attention to Kenton; he was slouched over against the cavern wall. "Kenton!" He didn't reply. His body was still and his eyes open wide, no longer holding the life they used to. Gone.

There was no time to think, no time mourn. I did the only thing I could do. I crawled my way back to Markham.