Hello everybody! Are you ready for more Siris? For the ones who don't know what I'm talking about (I can't blame you), go check my fiction named Siris of Tevinter, a fiction taking place in a slightly alternate Dragon Age universe. Slightly. I'm really just taking liberties. That's kind of the point of a Fanfiction, isn't? Anyway.

This fiction you have right here is what comes after the last chapter of Siris of Tevinter.

I hope you'll enjoy it!

Don't forget to leave your opinions about the story in the comment section! That way, I know if I'm doing a good job... or not.

Bonne Lecture!

Damn.

It.

The temple blew up. She could remember that much. Trying to reach for her friend as the blast pushed them of the cliff. The explosion was so big and so loud… the only thing she could remember was how cold the snow was on her skin has they landed on it. Then, Siris woke up in a camp.

It was a mess.

People were screaming orders, muttering prayers, growling "it's the end of the world!". Apparently, the demons stopped falling off the sky. Siris did not stay awake long enough to acknowledge demons were everywhere.

Her mind turned towards less fantastic thoughts. The floor on which she was lying was made bare frozen-cold stone. Sirs felt stiffed and in pain. Her muscles were reluctant about moving, so she forced her fingers to form a fit. Her toes started to curl soon enough. Warm emerge from her chest to the rest of her body. When this one stopped complaining to much about how terrible she was treating it, Siris could finally sit up. Her first though she had was that she was among injured people. But the truth was much grimmer. Corpses. Dead people, human, dwarves, elves, qunaris from old women to little boys…no one was spared. Clawed, burns, frozen… Hundred of severed bodies lay around her, waiting to be prepared for cremation. Only a few clerics were able to do so: but they were not enough to be truly efficient.

Why was she lying among the dead?

Painful moments of corruption creeping in her blood came up. These memories encourage Siris to reach for Healer. The spirit answer almost immediately.

The Veil is fine, my student. It said. We should not speak so close to the opening, even if it is closed. Demons could try to attack us. Go to the village named Haven. It's not far from here, but enough to allow safe conversation. Avoid the clerics, you lay with the dead during three days, they will not understand.

Siris did not argue. She stood up at the right moment and walked as fast as she could towards the nearest tent. Her clothes were ruined, she needed to change if she was to go back to Haven. She needed food too. She was craving for curry, but the South had no such delicious dish. No matter. Anything would do.

The camp was against the mountain, stuck between ruins. Body were gently pilled on pyres which their fires never stop burning. The smell was terrible: the clerics must have run out of the aromatic herbs used to ease such discomfort. Siris did not have time to look around. She entered the first tent she found. It was empty –thank the Creator! With a quick look around, Siris figured this was a place where someone important sleeps and makes decisions. No matter: she was cold and hungry and there was a beautiful apple sitting on the map, on the table. She bit in it and enjoyed the sweet taste of the fruit on her tongue. Once most of it was down in her stomach, Siris took a shirt and a pair of pant. A man lives here. Hopefully he won't notice…although human (because how could an elf be in charge?) men were known to be weird. Perhaps this one knows every article of clothing he owns? Siris tried not to think of that as she left the tent. Her hair was a mess, but so everybody else's. She was floating in her clothes, their owner is definitely not a scribe: too tall, too large. The scent was familiar… taking clothes off a rack, she put it around a waist to keep the pants on; then took a coat from a pile. Creator knows she does not mean ill when she takes from the dead. But she was cold, the dead won't use it anymore and someone already removed it from the previous owner. No shoes were lying around… It was half a problem. Siris was cold but was quite used of walking bare foot.

"Everybody who's not either a cleric or an Inquisition soldier, please go toward Haven this way!" Shouted a soldier wearing some new-looking Armor. It looked… modern. With an eye on the chest plate. A bit creepy.

Siris followed the people heading to the direction the man gave. Haven was not far indeed. The young elven woman could see the village from where they were standing. She walked down the path. Was it the hunger, the thirst or the cold that made the journey particularly long? Unless it was the company? Humans cannot stop complaining about how cold they are: at least they have boots on! It took hours for the refugees to get down the mountain. Once at Haven's gates, things went even slower than before. Soldiers were checking belongings, probably for weapons? Asking questions about what people were doing or what they needed. Siris felt suddenly extremely anxious. No… No! she did not nothing wrong! Her guilt for the clothes and the apple will not have her tossed into the snow! She walked toward the guard when it was her turn.

"Name." He asked, reading to take note.

"Siris." She answered. "S-I-R-I-S"

"Siris, dalish woman. No obvious pocessions." The soldier noted.

"I'm not dalish." Siris said.

"Yeah-yeah. And your tatoos are your kid's drawings, right?" The man mumbles, before feeling suddenly awkward, as if someone just reminded him of something. "I… I mean no disrespect. Why are you here?"

"Food. Shelter."

"Alright. Head inside. Follow the path to the village's gate, then seek Quartermaster Threnn."

"Ma serannas…" she thanked before following the man's instructions.

The village was a mess. People everywhere, praying, crying, shouting, talking, sleeping, eating, training, running, walking or doing nothing. Siris walked amongst the people, mostly humans, not feeling quite comfortable. Some of them were looking at her. As she walked the steps leading inside the village, a woman took her children by the hands and muttered.

"She's like the Herald. You'll show respect to her."

Another man, a little further, spit at her feet: "fucking cutthroat knife-ears." He said.

Feeling nauseous, Siris hid inside the nearest –and empty house. Searching through the things, she found an old shield, shiny enough to reflect her face. She dropped it. Then looked at herself again. Hid again. Siris ran her shaking hands on her face, feeling the scars of the imitation of dalish tattoos her dominas forced on her skin many years ago. Solas took the ink away with a spell… How could it be back?

Solas… Solas! She forgot about Solas! Where was he? A sudden feeling an intense stress invaded her entire body. What if he was dead? What if he was lying on the stone floor up in the mountain with the others? No. Solas was an elf from ancient times. He had a sword planted in his chest when they met and it did nothing but put him into deep sleep. The man was almost unkillable! However, where was he?

My student? Healer called out. You are safe now, and so am I.

"What is happening?" Siris muttered, curling in a corner, tears frightening to invade her cheeks.

The world is changing, my student. You must be strong.

"But I'm scared."

Change is scary. The spirit gently said. But I know you can live in harmony with it. Your friend Solas is safe. He tried to reach me in his sleep. He asked about you.

"The others… they thought I was dead."

Yes.

"Was I?"

Not entirely.

"So… You brought me back again?"

I had to send a lot of magic into your body. A debris fell and nailed you to the ground, you almost bleed to death. There is a scar on your abdomen. Then, it was the cold which made my mission difficult. I managed to spare your limbs… It was not easy. Do you feel any discomfort?

Siris immediately lift the shirt and inspected her skin. How did she not see the scar before? It was not an ugly one: the skin was slightly paler but very smooth. As for the cold, she was feeling all her fingers, nothing seemed out of place… except for the ink on her face.

Apologies. Regenerative magic can have unexpected side effects. Healer said, before changing subject. The Veil being so thin is the reason why I can speak to you so easily. I would suggest you to find food and better clothing. From what I understand, the Inquisition is in need of healers… I would appreciate if my knowledge could be of use.

"Mea accedi cum tua.(1)" Siris said, in agreement. She needed to work on something, get her mind to think about something else than the maybe-it-is-the-end-of-the-world-but-we-are-not-sure-yet.

Siris stood up to face to door. Her legs were weak and she was terrified. But she was not about to leave the world in peace so easily! She opened the door and grasp the nettle.

(1) "I agree with you." (remember, I use made-up tevene mixing what we know of tevene, latin and Katie's Almost totally Made-up Tevene Dictnary/reference available on Archive of Our Own. go check her work, it's amazing!)

Oh dear, it's happening! Siris is Back! I did not expect to write her adventures again so soon! It's good to work on her story again!

You know, when I write my fictions, I use Microsoft Word (like many Windows users, I suppose...) and the settings always make me feels I'm writting a three-books-long story... Then I put it on , and get a bit disappointed. xD

also, I know I make spelling/grammar mistakes. I'm currently learning english and do my best to spott any of these mistakes. If you do, let me know wich one I made in the comment section. If you care. If not, no big deal, I'll see it eventually.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. New one: coming soon!