The Edge

They say you can't run away from yourself. Yet, that's what I am doing right now. Running. As if trying to escape some great danger, to slip away from the inevitable, thus only bringing it closer.

In my panic-like rush I am swiftly passing through Darktown's dirty tunnels, with only one thought throbbing in my head: WHAT. HAVE. I. DONE?!

I remember the feeling too well: although the spirit ruled over my body at the moment, my consciousness was still on, and I helplessly witnessed my feet stepping close to the girl. That's when I realized who she was. A mage. An innocent soul who was only trying to escape the merciless grip of the Circle, but unlucky enough to be caught by the templars – the ones we had just killed. Vengeance never realized this… I watched him… myself… raising my staff, I saw my hands hitting the girl with it so violently that, even though it was no blade, its end pierced through the tiny body, her blood splashed all over… I watched, and could do nothing to stop it.

That's when I finally regained control over myself just to behold miserably the dead body lying at my feet, the mutilated pieces of my hopes and beliefs. Of my former self. So I ran, leaving behind my companions who were there to help me on the matter.

I can't help but wonder: why didn't Hawke try to stop me? Why didn't she cast some spell to restrain me or even to hit me, dragging off from the poor victim? Was she startled by my sudden spate of anger, or did she just care for me too much to be able to hurt me?

Then suddenly, it strikes me: what if she did, and Vengeance would have turned on her? The very thought of it is too much for me to bear.

Shaken, terrified, and confused as I am, I find myself at the doorstep of my clinic. It is late evening, and nobody is there – it is dark and empty, which perfectly fits how I am feeling. For some time, I have been aimlessly pacing the room, unable to collect my thoughts. Although the darkness feels like a blessing, the silence is maddening. Overwhelmed with desperate loneliness, I rush forward to light up a candle, noting that my hands are trembling. I come up to the dim mirror and stare at my reflection.

What have I become? What have I done to myself?

I stare, and all I see is just… me. The treacherous spirit inside me never shows himself, abandoning me to face the outcomes of what he has done all alone.

No. Wrong. Of what I have done. Justice was a good spirit once – it's me who corrupted him, it's me who is wicked. It's all my fault.

The burden of guilt is tearing me apart. But what am I to do? Kill myself to set Justice free? Will he allow this? Or will he disagree and go mad again, wreaking havoc all around?

No, I can't risk it. Not to mention that giving up now would mean all my efforts were in vain. I will complete my task, no matter the cost, no matter how this will end for me – of that I am certain. No matter whose certainty it is…

Anyway, the message of what has happened is clear: I am dangerous, and I must leave before I hurt someone I truly care for. Someone like Hawke…

And here comes that knock on the door… I have no need to ask who it is – the one I was hoping (and afraid) to see. I let her in and step back to the deep shadow, unable to look her in the eye. She glimpses at shattered pieces of the mirror on the floor, and shakes her head:

"Look, you're upset. We need to talk about it."

"'Upset' doesn't begin to cover it!" I exclaim bitterly. "I murdered a girl! A mage… The very person I've dedicated my life to saving."

"You were out of control. And you didn't know who the girl was – it was an accident," Hawke says in her reassuring manner that is nearly magical.

"Exactly. One that happened because I am dangerous. Unstable. Everything the templars say. It's all gone wrong… Justice and I. We're just a monster, same as any abomination…"

I dare give her a look – and I see a touch of sympathy stirring her beautiful features. I see pain and distress in her eyes.

She is too kind… I would prefer accusation; I'd rather hear her calling me a murderer. She doesn't let her feelings out, though, standing as confident and reasonable as she always was.

I start pacing the room again.

"How can I fight for the freedom of mages when I am the worst example of what that freedom brings?" I ask, as if Hawke can know every answer. Well, she probably can…

"Mages are dangerous. That's why this has been so hard," she approaches slowly and cautiously, as if I am a madman. And I probably am. Then she continues:

"But you can prove yourself a good example – show them that mages can control their powers."

"I don't know how…" I stop and shake my head in disbelief. "How can I even trust myself to heal anymore? What if this creature of Vengeance turns on a patient… Will he… Will I resist, or will I loose his fury?"

I can't tell if she is struggling to be strong for me, or she is really so invincible that nothing can ruin her confidence. It may be both at once. It often seems to me that she is not afraid of anything at all. How I wish I was that fearless…

"I believe that you can make it," Hawke says with a warm smile, avoiding making it too personal, but somehow I know that she means 'I'm always here for you'.

"We got rid of Ser Alrik, right?" she adds. "Meredith will look downright reasonable in comparison."

Not only a friend, but also a supporter. The one who believes in me against all odds, even when I myself lose all my faith. She must have been sent to me by the Maker himself.

We talk for a little while, and then Hawke leaves me with so much to think over.

I should have left, fading from her view and hoping she would forget about my existence soon enough. I should have run away.

But I couldn't.