This is the story of two girls who meet at young ages and are torn apart by fate. An elven mage with cursed blood. A bloodthirsty human rogue. Their story spans from the 5th Blight, where they fought alongside the Hero of Ferelden, to joining forces with the Champion of Kirkwall and, with time, being tangled into the fate of the world as one of them shall be marked with the key to their salvation.
The only question: As many times as they have helped save the world, is there truly any way they themselves can be saved?
Sora Zullie
The sound of splintering wood met my ears as my papa picked me up and into his slender arms. Shouts met my ears, the voices of men I did not know filling my once peaceful home. Papa's grip around me tightened, reaching a point of almost bruising my thin arms. Fear gripped me even tighter than Papa. I buried my head into his chest and tried to ignore the pounding footsteps that were heading in our direction.
"Sora," my papa whispered my name as if I were a fragile flower. I looked up, straight into the crystal blue eyes that I had inherited. My papa's hair, an oaken brown, fell haphazardly around his face. His skin was like polished ivory. The expression upon my Papa's usually peaceful face was one of determination. "You have to be brave, for me. Can you do that, flower?"
I nodded, unsure of why the grave tone in which my papa spoke made me want to cling to his rough tunic harder. Papa's arms began to release me slowly, reluctantly. Struggling to stay in his grasp, I felt compelled to fight against the soft arms that my papa was placing me in. A soft cry left me, the plea of a child, "Please Papa."
"I love you, both of you," Papa told me as he finally managed to detangle me and place me into arms that I realized was the warm, protective arms of my mama. Papa leaned over me to place a soft kiss on Mama's lips before bending down and placing another upon my forehead. "They are slavers. Perhaps I can buy you both some time."
"Raef…," my mama's sweet-as-honey voice broke as she spoke my papa's name. Papa didn't respond, instead turning to grab the most valuable thing our family possessed, a sword that had been forged by our ancestors and passed down through the generations. My papa used to tell me stories of the battles that blade had seen.
"Go ma vhenan," Papa commanded. I looked up at my mama's face just as a tear fell from her meadow green eyes. She moved forward and brushed my papa's hair back and out of his face. Cradling me, my mama fled the room as more tears began to flow down her cheeks. At the time I was too young to know what those tears were. They were tears of morning. My mama was a widow now.
Our back door was in view when a loose floorboard caught Mama by surprise and she toppled over. Twisting, she managed to land on her back so as to cushion me from the fall. Down the hall, I heard a loud scuffling and not-so-muffled swearing. Mama scrambled back onto her feet but was too late as a group of three men, the slavers, burst into the hall. She set me down on the floor, my bare feet balancing upon the hard wood. Pushing me behind her, Mama raised her chin and pulled out a dagger from her belt. Defiance gleamed in her emerald eyes as her head tilted back her fiery red hair that was the same shade as my own seemed to flicker as if it were alive. The three men's faces were revealed in the candlelight, each one seared into my memory.
"Where do you two think you're going?" a gravelly voice questioned. My mother's eyes flickered between between the three. My body was shaking with terror as my eyes swept over the three men. The one that had spoken had dusty brown hair that was piled messily atop his head, and was obviously unwashed. His brown eyes were almost black, looking first to the dagger and then to my mother as a dark chuckle left him. "Look at this, men! This elven bitch thinks she stands a chance. Let's show'er what 'appens to knife ears that don't learn their place."
He made a motion with one hand and one of his companions, the blond with hateful blue eyes, brought up his bow and aimed it at my mother.
"Run, Sora," my mom whispered. Nodding, I took off for the door. My hand was on the handle when a loud thud filled the room and I couldn't fight the urge to turn and look. The blond was on the ground, blood pouring from where a dagger had embedded itself into his neck. The one with the gravelly voice had swept forward and was now pressing a sword against my mama's neck as his fingers wrapped around her braid. The sword moved in one swift motion, blood gushing from my mama's neck as her body went limp. Gagging, I turned and ran out my back door and into the chilly night, tears stinging in my eyes as I went.
~2 Years Later~
My throat was dry and scratchy. It was always dry and scratchy. My lips felt like torn up parchment as I ran my tongue over them in an attempt to wet them. There wasn't much I could do to solve my thirst. The hunger pains were sharp and intense. I couldn't even pull myself out from under the dirty sack I used as a blanket. I wished I could just die already. Death had to be better than this existence. My eyes fluttered shut. Maybe I could just sleep. Maybe death would come claim me. At least the nightmares didn't come anymore. I was too weak to dream.
"Hello?" a soft voice dredged me up from my sleep and I opened my eyes to see a tall, thin girl around my age leaning over me. A scream ripped itself from my throat and I tried to scuttle away from her but soon found moving to be far too much of a strain on my weakened body. She was holding a bowl of not-quite-sanitary water and a dry hunk of meat. If I wasn't dehydrated, I was sure my mouth would be salivating. "I wasn't trying to scare you. You look starved and, well, I know how it feels to be really hungry. I'm sorry I don't have much but you can have what's left."
I couldn't summon words. I don't think I had the ability to say them anyway. My throat ached for the dirty bowl of water. She placed it on the ground next to me and, without hesitation, I dove for it. The tepid water cooled my burning throat and helped numb the ache. I had already downed half of the water when I forced myself to pull it from my lips. The strange silver-eyed girl was holding out the chunk of meat to me and I slowly reached for it as well.
"Thank you," I croaked. A small smile pulled at the girl's lips. I tried to smile back but the effort pulled at the cracks in my lips. Hastily, I returned my attention to the hunk of meat. I bit into it, my teeth ripping off a good sized bite. It was dry and tasted like sawdust but when I swallowed the first bite I felt it settle in my previously empty stomach.
"Don't eat too fast. You'll get sick. I learned that the hard way," she informed me. Her long, black as oil, hair fell in her face a bit and she pushed it out of the way. I nodded and bit off another chunk. It settled like a log in my stomach and before long I had finished the meager meal the girl and had given me. When I was finished, I looked up at her. She was watching me calmly, with a small smile on her lips.
"Who are you?" my question came out slightly garbled but she seemed to understand. The raven-haired girl in front of me stretched out her hand with a large smile.
"My name is Faella Draecin," she introduced herself. I hesitantly slipped my small hand into her slightly larger one. Her palm was rough. She must have been living on the streets for years to have developed such rough callouses.
"I'm Sora. Sora Zullie," I mumbled as her grip tightened on my hand and I shook hands with the strange girl. Voices drifted from down the alley and my eyes darted to their source. A group of men, dressed up in leather armor with their greasy hair hanging in their faces, were rummaging around. Swords hung from their backs as they searched for something. I noticed them reaching the makeshift tent of Dolores Bierg. She was the only other person I talked to. The men ripped open the flap to her makeshift home and I heard her screams even from as far away as I sat. There was no mistaking it, these men were going to take her. Slavers always ransacked the alleys and slums of Kirkwall in search of some other homeless mutt that they could turn in for some coin to fill their bellies with mead. "We have to go."
The girl in front of me was staring in wide-eyed horror at the scene as it unfolded before us but we couldn't afford to waste time gawking. A few of the men were moving towards us. We had evaded notice so far, but I could see their beady eyes scanning from side to side. Without much thought, I grabbed the girl by her bony wrist and began fleeing. We kept low to the ground even as we rounded a corner. Adrenaline kept me moving but it was proving difficult to battle the weakness in my limbs.
"Where are we going?" Faella asked, looking over her shoulder to see if the men had spotted us.
"Hiding place...I...hide...trap door...secret," I gasped, pointing at a place cluttered with sacks and empty boxes. Faella had to half drag me over to the spot and I frantically pushed sacks out of the way until I found the indention in the wood. It was a hollowed out semicircle. I reached into the groove and pulled with all of my remaining strength. A pair of ivory hands overlapped mine and Faella helped me tug at the wood. It groaned open and we both hurriedly slipped inside. The drop to the floor of the secret cellar-like room was a good ten feet if you didn't have time to grab hold and slide down the frayed rope that was handing from the trap door. To our misfortune, Faella and I did not have the time. Unlike me, Faella had no knowledge of the drop and fell with a clatter to the floor whereas I managed to fall into a roll. A few cuts covered my skin but I was fine. Faella, however, was laying in a heap on the floor and moaning softly. I quickly spotted the odd angle her ankle was bent at. Crawling over to her, I reached for the injured foot. As soon as I touched it, Faella hissed and smacked my hand away. "You have to let me help. I'm... I'm a mage. I'm not very good, but I can heal it."
I waited for her eyes to turn accusatory and for some type of strike. I was an elven mage- probably one of the worst things you could be in a society dominated by small-minded humans. It took a moment for me to notice that the accusations I was expecting were not coming. Faella was surprisingly quiet. My crystal blue eyes risked a glance up at her- expecting harsh judgement and disgust to be wrinkling her features. Instead, I found guarded curiosity.
"Are you sure you can heal it?" Faella broke the seemingly impenetrable silence. I nodded in response and gave her wound an unsure once-over. Could I? I could try. "Okay. It can't hurt to try."
I smiled and reached for the injured ankle. A simple healing spell, one my papa had taught me, came to mind. I let it dominate my thoughts as I delicately touched the injury. It seeped into my skin and poured down to my fingertips. A soft glow covered her injury but I couldn't let it break my concentration. Faella gasped but it didn't sound pained so I continued. When I was finished, I pulled back and examined her ankle. It looked much better that it had moments ago.
"You did it!" Faella grinned. A small smile pulled at the corners of my mouth. Pride swelled in my chest and I tried not to let it go to my head. It was a simple spell on a small injury- nothing impressive.
"I'd try to stay off of it. It may need some rest," I mused.
"You got it, Doc," Faella gave me a mock salute and my grin grew in amusement. "So, what is this place?"
I glanced around the room. The walls and floor were dirt. The ceiling was made of worn wood and the walls were lined with broken shelves. At one wall was a large chest I had never been able to break open. Faella caught sight of it as well and rose to her feet against my protestations that she shouldn't be walking.
"What's in that?" She limped over to it and squatted down in front of it.
"I don't know. I can't get it open," I admitted. Reaching into her pocket, Faella pulled out two thin pieces of metal and slid them into the lock. She was deftly moving the metal pieces with such concentration that I was impressed. There was a soft click and then the lock popped open. Stowing away her tools, Faella lifted the lid of the chest and thrust it away from her. A cloud of dust swirled as a reaction. She reached inside and pulled out a stack of musty tomes and dirty robes. I moved over to her side and began examining her find. There was a coin purse full of sovereigns and the books appeared to be spell books and how to's on controlling your magic.
"This was an apostate's home," I realized. "They must have gotten caught by the templars."
"You could use these books, right Sora? Oh, this one's in elven! You can read what it says, right?" Faella shoved a dusty book at my face. I furrowed my eyebrows at it. I had never learned much elven since I lost my parents at a young age. I shook my head. "Oh. That's okay. We'll just sel-"
"No!" I cried out, wrapping my thin arms around the book. "I want to keep it. Maybe I can use it to learn.."
how to speak like my papa did.
~4 Years Later~
Another successful snatch. All it took was some well placed fire and an innocent mask- two things I was good at- and small fingers with the ability to stay out of sight- two things Faella excelled at. We had snagged the nobleman's coin purse right from under his nose and now I just had to run back to our hideaway. Faella had convinced me four years ago that it was a much better place for us to live. She was right. We were safer there. The nights were cold, but I could summon fire. The weather could not reach us. It was our home. I spotted Faella running ahead of me. Her hair was trailing behind her and the wind carried her delighted laughter. Quickly, I caught up to her and we were running side by side. It was just like any other snatch we had done. Only this time, I didn't check for slavers. Fingers dug into my braid and hauled me backwards. I gasped in pain and my small hands reached back to tug at the burly fingers tangled in my fiery red hair.
"Faella run!" I screamed. It was too late. One of the men grabbed her. We were being held side by side and I struggled in the man who held me's grasp. He just laughed. Faella was crying and scratching at the hand tangled in her hair. She loved her hair. Tears pricked my eyes and I reached over to grab that man's hand. "I'm sorry Faella."
Flames leaped from my fingers and burned the man's hand along with her hair. She cried out but finally broke free. I screamed at her to run and she did. Small flames flickered in her hair as she escaped. The commotion from my spell had given her a distraction. Relief momentarily filled me and then I was being shoved into the ground. The man dug his knee into my back and I tasted dirt and blood in my mouth.
"An apostate," the man snarled.
"And a knife 'er at 'hat," another one pointed out, kicking me in my ribs.
"Looks like we found a little rodent for Magister Tiberius's project. We'll be living like nobles, boys," the first man bragged. I struggled in his grip but it was useless. I was a goner.
In the next chapter we will be faced with Faella's own battle. With Sora gone, what will Faella do? What lengths will our thief be willing to go to in order to find her best friend? At this point in the story, our future heroins are two 12 year old girls with poor lots in life. Despite their hopeless circumstances as of present, they are destined to play a vital role in Thedas.