WARNING: This will be a female!Surana/Morrigan story, meaning two girls will be in a relationship. Eventually. There will also be a small crossover with Final Fantasy X later on. No knowledge is needed of the game as I'm using it mostly as something that happened in the past, like a long forgotten legend, though some aspects will come into play later on, I'm twisting them to my needs and to fit the world of Dragon Age. This story will follow Dragon Age: Origins somewhat, though for obvious reasons it will deviate a little to a lot in certain situations, with a few added elements here and there. And finally, this will be a long story, since I dislike most short ones. I try not to rush the story, and so it might even be broken down into multiple ones. I'm as of yet undecided. If you take exception to any of this, or if this kind of story isn't your cup of tea, then by all means, heed this warning and click the back button. To all others, feel free to read, comment, and perhaps even add your suggestions. You've certainly played this game more than I have.
Wynter's Grasp
Chapter 1 – The Harrowing
Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to the Dragon Age or Final Fantasy franchise. I don't even own most of the plot. In fact, let's just say that if you recognize it, I don't own it.
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Wynter blinked her eyes rapidly to clear her spotty vision. Well that certainly wasn't what she was expecting. Sure, young apprentices were told time and time again that the Harrowing was dangerous and that there is a high chance that, lacking sufficient will, you will die. Wynter herself had been told plenty of times these very things, and, like the other apprentices, had spent a copious amount of time pondering what exactly the Harrowing entailed. Despite the various scenarios her somewhat twisted imagination had come up with, a lyrium induced trip to the Fade to fight a demon or else be skewered by a bloody templar had not been one of them.
She was weaponless, armourless, and clueless. She was also stuck in a place where various things would love to take advantage of those very facts and possess her, whilst in the waking world a dozen Templars stood watch over her unmoving body with their swords drawn, waiting for a sign to strike. Cocking her head at the sound of a wolf's howl and brushing one of her silver braids aside, Wynter wiped her hands on her robe and started forward.
"No time like the present," she muttered as she strode down the discoloured cobblestone path. Looking around, Wynter was able to make out strange rock formations to either side of the path, and, beyond that, a shear drop into nothingness. "Yep. Okay. Note to self, do not wander off the beaten path."
Her wanderings took her past many strange things. The Fade being essentially a land of dreams where demons and spirits lived, the scenery wasn't exactly what you'd come to expect in the real world. In fact, even your perception shifts slightly while in the fade, everything becoming more ethereal. This meant that if someone found themselves in the Fade without knowing it in the first place, their perception would be shifted just enough to entice and convince them that nothing was wrong and giant floating rocks were an everyday occurrence.
Many might find the Fade fascinating, or even frightening. All Wynter could think was how dull and boring it was. The scenery sucked and was, to be perfectly honest, kind of creepy. Her feet hurt from walking, and she still hadn't come across the demon she was supposed to fight. In fact, besides taking a minute to stare at a disturbing statue of some sort of tentacle-man-thing and pilfering a few packets of health poultices from a bland clay vase, Wynter hadn't come across anything of interest.
An hour later and Wynter still hadn't found what she was looking for. Stomping forward with a scowl, Wynter stumbled slightly as she heard a frightened squeak and saw a rat scurry out from beneath her feet. Confused and wary, she eyed the critter as it began to speak. "Someone else thrown to the wolves, and as unprepared as ever. It isn't right that the Templars do this. Not to you or me or anyone."
Blinking dumbly, Wynter opened her mouth but no sound would come out. Clearing her throat, she tried again, still staring at the rat. "You're a talking rat." Well, she had been looking for something to break the perpetual cloud of boredom she had been in, though a talking rat wasn't exactly what she had been hoping for.
The rat began laughing at her, his tone condescending as he told her the only reason she looked like she did was because she thought she looked that way. She had half a mind to tell him off before something else he said piqued her interest.
"You took the Harrowing?"
"It's fuzzy, that time before. They wake you up in the middle of the night before dragging you to the Harrowing chamber. They kill you if you take too much time, figuring that you lost. That's what they did to me, I think. I have no body to reclaim. And you don't have much time before you end up the same." The rat-turned-man replied, his eyes unfocused as if trying to reclaim a lost memory.
"That…really sucks. No offense Ratman, but I really don't want to be stuck here with you. In fact, I refuse to let that happen to me." Not only because I'd rather be alive, but because you give me the creeps. She found the ability to shift into a different form fascinating, but something about his aura set her on edge, making the magic within her swirl around and come to rest just below the surface. A twitch of her fingers and Ratman would be wishing he were in the tropics.
"That has been said before, but you don't know the danger. Something foul awaits you, something dangerous that has been drawn out to attack you. Either you kill the demon or it will possess you, and you will be struck down by the Templars the moment you wake up." You tell me I have little time left, and then you prattle on about things that were made obvious in the Harrowing chamber, consequently wasting my time.
"Look Ratman," Wynter interrupted, rolling her eyes as he glared at the name she had given him, "I appreciate the warnings, I really do, and I'm sure you mean well, but I'm tired, cranky, and I refuse to die by the hand of a templar. Come or don't come, but I'm going to find the demon and kick it's ass so I can wake up and go back to bed."
Walking forward at a brisk pace, Wynter threw her hand up and caught a Wisp Wraith in her Winter's Grasp, the ice spell freezing her floating opponent before she had even fully made it around the corner. "Not bad. Not bad at all." Wynter smirked, striking another one with an Arcane Bolt. Perhaps things wouldn't be as boring as she thought they'd be. Behind her she could hear the heavy footfalls of Ratman, or at least they were heavy compared to her own light steps. One of the very few perks of being an elf.
As she crested a hill, Wynter slowed down before coming to a stop before a glowing white figure in armour. Weapon stands surrounded a flaming anvil behind him, but what really caught Wynter's eye was the spiral of weapons suspended in the sky behind him. "That's…not something you see every day." She muttered to herself as she craned her neck to see that the suspended weapons continued up into the dark clouds. Turning her attention once again to the figure in white, she hesitated only briefly before walking up to him. What the hell, she thought with an inward shrug; he doesn't feel malevolent and doesn't set me on edge like Ratman.
"Another mortal thrown into the flames and left to burn I see. Your mages devised a cowardly test. Better you were pitted against each other to prove your mettle with skill, than to be sent unarmed against a demon." His voice was confident and steady, yet seemed to resonate strongly like an echo.
"I agree, but I didn't have a choice." Nope, no choice. It was this or die. Tranquility isn't even an option.
"Indeed. Choice and the fault lie with the mages who sent you here. That you remain means that you have not yet defeated your hunter. I wish you a glorious battle to come." His voice boomed from within his suit.
Nodding in thanks, Wynter studied the spirit curiously. He seemed sincere, more so than Ratman, and she had always had a certain fascination for spirits, though she learned early on to hide this fact from her teachers. Her curiosity, however, was infamous among those who knew her and so she had put her elven stealth and hearing to good use, focusing on conversations where spirits were mentioned and sneaking through the libraries past curfew. Despite her findings, she was left much more questions than answers, as it seems most books about spirits had either been destroyed or forbidden by the Chantry. Curiosity getting the best of her again, she couldn't help but question the entity before her. "What kind of spirit are you? If you don't mind me asking, that is."
"I am Valor, a warrior spirit. I hone my weapons in search of the perfect expression of combat." He stated his voice level yet not disturbing like those of the Tranquil.
"These weapons, did you create them all?" She asked as she gazed at the weapons again, not even bothering to count them. They seemed sharp and well made, and the flaming anvil behind her had left her wondering if he had crafted them himself.
"They are brought into being by my will. I understand that in your world, mages are the only ones who can will things into being. Those mortals who cannot must live such hollow, empty lives." His voice remained level, and yet Wynter could feel the emotion behind them, his power giving off an aura of pity.
Wynter almost snorted in dark amusement. They make up for their lack of magical abilities by controlling ours. "What else do you know about the Harrowing? You must have encountered many of us over the years."
"Is that what your test is called? I know little of your mortal ways. I do know that a demon has been called and told that a meal awaits. It will not—cannot leave—until one of you is dead." Bastards. A meal, am I? I'll show you a bloody meal. And even if it had the will and want to leave instead, it wouldn't be able to. Those damn Templars are forcing both of our hands. If I do fail, though the chance is next to nil, I hope those bastards get just what they deserve.
Letting out a long, slow breath and counting backwards from ten in Orlesian, Wynter's attention was once again drawn to the weapons behind Valor. "Would these weapons affect the demon?" She questioned, curiosity once again taking hold of her and calming her homicidal thought process. The blades looked wickedly sharp and the staves seemed sturdy enough, but then again, she had never fought a demon before.
"Without a doubt," He replied, as if it was and undisputed and obvious fact and she was touched in the head for even having to ask. "In this realm everything is an expression of will. Do you believe the blades to be sharp? Do you believe they can draw blood? These weapons are an expression of my will and the will to fight. Do you truly desire one of my weapons? I will give one to you… if you agree to duel me, first. Valor shall test your mettle as it should be tested."
Interest piqued, Wynter weighed her options. It would be terribly foolish of her to enter battle with something like a demon without a staff to help focus her spells. On the other hand, she held no illusions that she would be able to defeat this mighty spirit in a duel. Still… "And what are the rules of this duel?"
"If I believe you capable of slaying the demon, I will stop the duel and give you the staff. If I don't then I will slay you. I trust those rules are simple enough to remember, mortal?"
Well then. Those are pretty high stakes, though I guess no higher than what'll happen if I fail. That staff could mean the difference between life and death, and surely Valor would fight with honour... Tapping her pursed lips thoughtfully, Wynter shrugged and grinned mischievously. Oh well, if I fail, at least I would have died by his hand and not a Templar's. "I agree to your duel, Valor."
"As you wish mortal. Do you understand the rules I explained to you?" He questioned, not surprising her in the least. She had figured him a fair spirit, and his willingness to explain the rules again to a mortal like her confirmed it.
"Yes, I understand." Wynter replied, just barely biting back the cheeky, smartass comment that was on the tip of her tongue. Making smartass comments and playfully teasing others amused her greatly, though she didn't think Valor would appreciate her cheek. Or understand it, really. He seemed like a straightforward kind of spirit with only honour and battle on the mind. And it was a really good one too…
"Our duel begins now. Fight with Valor!" He stated, his unintentional pun causing her to snicker and barely avoid being cleaved in two.
Holy shit. Eyes wide, Wynter nimbly leaped backwards trying to put as much space between her and his sword as possible. That was close. Focus, focus. Drawing upon her mana, she quickly wove the Winter's Grasp spell that she was so fond of before letting off three Arcane Bolts in quick succession. The ice spell slowed him down slightly while the bolts of magic threw him slightly off balance, giving her enough time to leap to her left before his sword impacted the ground where she once stood.
Eyeing him closely, she realized that he wasn't going at full power. In fact, the rules were to show him she could fight, not to show him she could defeat him. Grinning, she dodged another swing and let out four more Arcane Bolts before dashing away from him. Deciding that she was far enough, she turned back around and concentrated. Her hands became covered in a dense cold cloud of tiny ice shards. She poured more and more mana into the spell and let it loose just as he reached her, sword overhead and ready to bisect her. The spell crashed into the glowing white spirit and froze him for a moment before he broke the hold the spell had on him, slowly sheathing his sword.
Panting slightly, for that last spell took a bit out of her, she waited for the verdict. "Enough. Your strength is sufficient to the task. The staff is yours."
"Thank you." She said, grinning mischievously as she accepted the weapon and gave it a few practice swings before leaking her magic into it to see how it felt. Eyes widening at the feel, she experimentally let off a bolt of magic, channelling it through the staff. It worked easily with little focus, much better than the practice staves they were taught with as children. "There's no chance it'll stay with me when I leave the Fade, is there?" She asked, eyes still running along the staff.
"I suspect not." Ah, bugger. That sucks. Pouting slightly, Wynter thanked the spirit again before continuing on her way. She didn't know how long she had been in the Fade, and she was uncertain how long she had left. If there was indeed a time limit, she had no doubt the Templars would take joy in carrying out their 'duty'. Therefore she had to find the demon and kill the damn thing.
Once the warrior spirit was out of sight, she stopped and listened. Something wasn't right. The howls were getting closer, and seemed more hurried and joyful instead of lonely and full of sorrow. It was as if the half-starved wolf had found prey and was alerting…his…comrades…oh shit.
From a bend in the road in front of her came two snarling spirit wolves, their bodies scrawny and their eyes desperate. Throwing an Arcane bolt at one and a blast of ice at the other, Wynter dodged their leaps and fired off another spell at each, finally downing them for good. As she watched them dissipate with curiosity, her ears twitched and she barely had time to turn around before she was pounced on by another wolf.
Lying on her back with the wolf on top of her, the only thing that separated his teeth from her neck was the staff she held in both hands. Grunting with the force it took to keep the wolf back, she spoke through clenched teeth. "This. Is. My. Stick." Concentrating on her magic, her eyes began glowing slightly as her hands and staff crackled with energy. "Go. Get. Your. Own!" With a yell she channelled her energy outward from her staff, frying the wolf in the process. Not even giving it time to dissipate, she pushed the dead weight off of her with a grunt before using the staff to help her to her feet. Wiping the slobber that had dripped on to her neck, she made her way up the hill, groaning in frustration as she encountered another problem. Great. At this rate I'll be stuck in here forever with only Ratman for company.
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Wynter waved to the stoic Valor as she retraced her steps to the spot where she was supposed to fight the demon. Behind her, a big black bear followed along. The figure at the dead end had ended up being a Sloth Demon. Not the best conversationalist or dinner guest, but what can you do. After answering three riddles correctly she had been able to convince him to show Ratman how to take on the form of a bear. Beary, as she now dubbed him, was now more useful to her, though no less creepy. He just gave off that vibe.
Walking into the clearing surrounded by fire, a clearing she really should have seen on the way in but had not, Wynter took a deep breath, readied her staff, and waited. And waited some more. Starting to grow frustrated, Wynter started tapping her foot in irritation as her left eyebrow began to twitch. After another few minutes of waiting, Wynter snapped. "Oh for the love of-! Hurry and get your demonic ass out here so I can be done or so help me I will shove my staff so far up your-"
Her angry tirade was broken as a spiral of fire erupted right in front of her. When the fire died out, an ugly, disfigured, thing, stood before her. Except it had no legs. It was like a red blob. With arms. And no mouth. Gross. She furiously tried to remember what kind of demon it was, and she had to admit she was kind of regretting not listening more closely during that Demons, The Fade, and You course last year. Looking at it again, she thought it might be a Rage demon. Maybe. I mean, rage can be associated with fire, right? And I don't think the flames on his head are a fashion statement sooo…yep. We'll go with Rage demon.
As it began to talk, Wynter tried to pay attention. She really did. She tried to listen attentively as it told her it was going to enjoy devouring and possessing her, but she couldn't. All she could do was stare at it in disturbed fascination. It was talking, in a really creepy kind of doubly voice, but that's not what caught her attention. Oh no, what caught her attention was his mouth. His unmoving mouth. The blob of fire was talking without moving his mouth. Either something was really wrong with this picture, or he was a damn good ventriloquist, and Wynter was betting on the former. He didn't seem the type to play with dolls.
Snapping back to reality when she realized it was done talking, she let a smirk slide onto her face as she readied her staff. "Then come and get me, if you can."
With a roar of rage, Rage began talking about how Ratman used to bring him others to eat. Ratman stated he was done and didn't have to hide anymore. Then all hell broke loose. She knew there was something creepy about him; he didn't feel right. Ratman turned into Beary and, with a roar, charged the raging blob as Wynter backed up a safe distance and began firing ice spells after she weakened his defenses with a hex. Though Wynter didn't trust Beary as far as she could throw him, she had to admit he was doing a good job at keeping Rage busy as she fired ice spell after ice spell. In fact, for this reason, and because ice was at the opposite end of the elemental spectrum from fire, the demon was defeated quite easily. With one more Winter's Grasp spell, the ugly thing was erased from existence.
With a pleased smirk, Wynter turned back to Ratman, watching as he took human form one again. "You did it. You actually did it. When you came I hoped you might be able to… but I never really thought any of you were worthy." He seemed excited.
Though he had helped, the creepy feeling she got from him hadn't gone away. She turned and looked at him warily. Eyes narrowing, she asked, "Sounds like your help was unusual. Why?"
"You made me believe in you. You're a true mage. One of the few. The others, they never had a chance. The Templars set them up to fail, like they did with you. I regret my part in it, but you have shown me that there is hope. You can be so much more than you know." Everything about him screamed sincere, regretful victim, from his expression to his tone of voice. Despite that, there was still a…a wrongness about him. Deciding to trust her instincts, she brought her magic to the surface, just in case.
"Anything to survive. Like an animal. Or worse." She replied in clipped tones, eyes fairly glowing with barely supressed energy.
"I am what the Fade has made me. Am I to blame for that? Deciding to exist or not exist is not a choice. If you want to help, there may be a way for me to leave here, to get a foothold outside. You just need to want to let me in." At the end his tone shifted, becoming more persuasive.
Alarm bells sounding in her mind, Wynter stepped back, allowing the cold to envelop her hands. "I'm starting to think the other demon wasn't my test."
"Wha-what do you, of course it was! What else is here that could be a threat to a strong apprentice like you?" Wynter merely glared at him. Seeing that he was no longer fooling her, he began chuckling in a deep double voice as he faded away. "Simple killing is a warrior's job. The real dangers of the Fade are preconceptions, careless trust. Pride. Keep your wits about you, mage. True tests…never end."
Wynter looked around warily as she slowly let her magic dissipate, the unspent power refilling her mana pools. She could no longer sense Ratman. No wonder he loves the rat form. He has the personality of a rat. Feeling something shift, Wynter looked down at the staff to see it fading. In fact, everything was fading, even her. Spots filled her sight and, before long, all she could see was darkness.
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A/N: I know, I know. Nearly 4000 words for just the Harrowing. I'm crazy. I'm playing this through as I write so as not to miss anything. 20 minutes of gameplay = 2 hours of writing. It's torture. I suppose this chapter is to let you get a feel of Wynter, though nothing much happens. This story is un beta-ed, so I am sorry for any mistakes. Spellcheck can only do so much.
Next chapter, The Great Escape!