Blood.
The hot metallic smell permeated everything and Jowan was sick of it.
The floor was covered in arcane symbols painted in blood and in the middle of it laid out as if on a funeral pyre was Nemeria, his best friend since childhood.
"You love her don't you?" Wynne's voice was not a question.
She looked down at the sleeping elf, her features softening. The enchanter had known both of them since they were children but like everyone at the Tower she had known and liked Nemmy much better than Jowan. The star pupil who was soft spoken and kind but with an iron will had stolen everyone's heart including his. He had once wanted to be resentful of her but never could bring himself to be mad at her for his failures.
He does not look up but keeps his eyes trained on her motionless form. Her body was safe but she was millions of miles away, fighting for her life and Jowan had sent her there alone. He could not handle one of Wynne's disapproving lectures now.
But to his surprise the senior mage began to recant a story.
"I remember when she first arrived at the tower. She was so small and frail in the middle of winter, half starved. We senior enchanters didn't think she would survive to see spring. The Templars who had brought her in were known for being violent and we feared they had beaten her mute, she was so silent by the time she arrived."
"I thought she had had brown hair she was so matted and dirty." Jowan said the image of a waif like child Nemmy returning.
"Weeks pasted and she did not speak or attempt to communicate. She was a ghost of a child her eyes so glassy and her cheeks so hollow. Until the one day we heard her laugh."
Jowan had to smile at that. He had been trying so hard to learn a fire spell and he had only succeeded in setting his robes on fire before creating a small ball sized flame which he tossed from one hand to another in an attempt to control it. He had noticed the small girl watching him with her huge green eyes but had only given her a tiny smile before returning to his practice.
"I had tossed the ball between my palms several times unable to keep it from burning me. I must have looked like a strange juggler because after she laughed she just reached out and her hand was ice cold, extinguishing the flame holding my burnt palm in her tiny ones."
"And neigh inseparable after that." Her eyes finally settling on Jowen a soft smile on her face. It is not the face of a disapproving mentor or even the revulsion at the act of blood magic. It was the face of a compassionate old woman who cared for him. Cared for him because of Nemmy, who had a way of making everyone see the good in him.
It had been something like that, he remembered. Jowen had been her protector for the first few months and she began to come out of her shell to him. Many nights they snuck into each other's bunks just for the companionship. Both had been too young at the time to think of the impropriety of it. They were just two mages against the world filled with dark terrors.
And now you feed her to those terrors because you were not strong enough. You dishonored her, hid the truth so she was forced away after you ran. You coward.