A mage - capable of dangerous magic; susceptible to demons; a statistic. That was what I was to most people. I had known another life once, where magic was welcome, rare even, and my people had rejoiced at the thought of an elven child, born with a gift from our Creator. There had been no worry as to what I would become, no thought that my magic was not a gift, but a curse. Everything was fine for awhile, and then I fell ill with the taint.
It was said that the first darkspawn originated from the group of Tevinter Imperialists, an ancient band of mages who ventured into the Fade with the intent to usurp the Golden City, where the Maker was presumed to reside. Yet, the mages had greed in their hearts, and they soon began to thirst for power, the power of the Golden City itself, as well as the Maker's. Their sin corrupted the wondrous city, turning it black and sick. The Maker was angry with them, and cast them out from His kingdom, where they fell back towards the earth, their exterior reflecting their inner demons. They became the first monsters.
Things declined from that moment. The darkspawn multiplied, much faster than the other races of Thedas did. Their ranks grew in number, rapidly, as soon there were enough of them to conquer the entire world. All they needed was a leader. Sadly, they found one. The old gods; (who took the form of high dragons) had been sleeping peacefully; awakening only to help the world's races in dire times of need. However, the darkspawn soon found a particular deity, and their evil tainted him, corrupting him until he, too, became a darkspawn. The old god organized his creatures into a lethal army, and eventually, the darkspawn declared war on the world.
No one had known what to do at the time. Humans, elves, and dwarves alike had seen nothing like the darkspawn. For awhile, everyone was slaughtered. The darkspawn killed mercilessly, setting villages on fire and destroying everything in their path. It was utter chaos, and perhaps the blackest time of our history, until the Grey Wardens came. They were an order of warriors that rose from the depths of hell, or that was how the legend tells it. The Wardens incorporated Thedas' finest soldiers, consolidating each and every race, gender, and specialization. Finally, the world had stood a chance again. The darkspawn were defeated, and with great sacrifice, the old god was slain, bringing an end to the Blight as the darkspawn fled back underground.
To this day, it is understood that there are more darkspawn than any other race alive. However, without a leader, they remain scattered; perplexed. Word of a new Blight had reached the surface about a month ago, but there were only rumors. Nothing had yet been confirmed.
That was when I was living with my people, the Dalish elves. We were an ancient race, one of the last tribes of elves in existence. We lived wandering the land, unwelcomed by all - especially humans, and we settled everywhere and nowhere, never dwelling in the same place for more than a month. Yet, we were a happy race, bound to each other in wordless and unexplainable ways; more than family, and beyond that even. My father had been the Keeper of our particular clan, or in other words, the leader. He and my mother had died at a young age, however, slain by a vicious band of humans along with the elves who had cast off their ties to us, choosing to live among the humans. I was raised by the Keeper elected after my father's death, Marethari. She took me on as her own, and for that I remain in her debt.
I suppose I had revealed my talents as a little girl. At the age of seven, I had shown the first signs of my magic. It had been a simple and innocent spell, nothing to cause a flurry of fear or an uproar of terror; as such the humans put it when their offspring performed their first. Marethari had found me among a lush meadow beside the edge of our camp, blooming wild fire-lilies with gentle whispers and melodies. They took heed to my words, and opened proudly when I sang to them. She knew at once that I was "special", the only child among the Dalish who was a mage, besides that of Merrill. Merrill had gone on to be the Keeper's first, or her apprentice, while I took comfort in hunting with my best friend, Tamlen.
I've known Tamlen ever since my parents had died. We were expected to marry; not by custom but by choice. "Always attached at the hip," the elders would say. It was true, however. My days were never without his warm smile beside me. When my parents died, I used to cry a lot, perhaps all the time; and he would sneak away from the camp at night to find twisted pieces of sylvan wood to bring back to me. Sylvan wood had magical properties that made it radiate beautiful light – it was so mentally and spiritually calming that sylvan wood soon became one of our most prized possessions. When Tamlen would bring some to me, I would set the pieces beside my bed the next evening, watching the way they glowed under the moonlight. We've been close ever since.
One day, that all changed. My whole life did.
Part 1; Chapter 1 – The Beginning of the End