Tell me why we shouldn't kill you now.
It was a cold morning and the sun lazily hid behind thick, threatening clouds as it made its daily trek up the sky. Not the best start for what optimists were prematurely calling the dawn of a peaceful era, the day that would mark the end of the Mage-Templar wars: the day of Divine Justinia's Conclave. The most important members of the Chantry and its loyal supporters, as well as delegates from every Circle of Magi in Thedas and representatives of the Templar Order were expected to gather at the Temple of Sacred Ashes and work out their differences in a constructive and healthy manner. Ebris Trevelyan couldn't hold back the fits of laughter that overtook her when Cadan had read out loud the missive requesting his presence at said Conclave.
What an amazing idea! she'd exclaimed, smacking her forehead into both hands, Let's round up the most insane and dangerous people in all of Thedas in a room who incidentally hate each other to bits, lock the door, and see what happens. Maybe they'll kill each other and save us all the trouble. Mafareth's hairy arse, has Divine Justinia learned nothing from the last conclave at the White Spire? Perhaps this is a joke. Please tell me this is a joke.
While his sister continued to blaspheme and tirade about, Cadan had reread the invitation thoughtfully and the beginnings of a really, really bad plan starting brewing in his head. A few days later, when he divulged his plan to his sister, she had burst out in laughter again, this time at his expense. Still, even she couldn't deny that the opportunity this Conclave presented was too well-timed to pass up, and thus, they greased up the wheels of an idea-an inkling of an idea, rather-that they'd been toying with for nearly three years.
Ebris found the situation less hilarious now that she stood before the massive and imposing Temple of Sacred Ashes, its tall doors and even taller spires looming before her, demanding reverence she'd never felt in her twenty-eight years. She felt a chill that had nothing to do with the crisp snow on the ground or the biting wind that whistled through naked trees.
"It's rather impressive that they were able to preserve as much of the original structure as they did," Cadan whistled, admiring the architectural masterpiece.
"It's creepy," she grumbled. Cadan ignored her and pushed open one of the two heavy doors.
It was still too early for the doors to be open, but nobody stopped them as they made their way into the cool vestibule. Elven servants were still busily cleaning the large hall; some were scrubbing the marble floors and a few were on ladders, polishing the richly colored stone tiles that decorated the walls from the ground up to the domed ceiling. Despite the heavy fog and thick clouds, a stream of dim light spilled through the stained glass skylight, casting splashes of color throughout the atrium.
A handful of attendees had arrived before them, but for the most part, the sanctuary was quiet, save the low murmuring of hushed voices and the echoes of shoes clicking on the ground.
Ebris grew increasingly anxious as she followed her brother deeper into the Temple. Her fingers pressed against the old map hidden within her cloak obsessively, as if expecting it to magically vanish at any moment. She felt the scrutiny of several mage delegates from the Circle of Ansburg as they passed. She quickened her pace and averted her eyes; even with her hood pulled over her head, she still felt recognizable.
Cadan walked briskly and confidently towards the South Eastern chambers, as if he made this trip every single day. Of their siblings, he had always been the leader, charming nobles left and right with his natural charisma and commanding respect even from those above his station. Ebris, on the other hand, detested being in any sort of spotlight. She was most comfortable slinking in the shadows or crouching along catwalks, silently observing people from a more advantageous angle. She felt most powerful when she was hidden in plain sight.
"Stay close," Cadan said in a low voice. "Stop fidgeting and pull your shoulders back. Makers breath, were you raised in a barn? Stop slouching!"
They turned the corner and she found herself staring at two mages wearing Ostwick's colors. They glowered when they saw her brother's insignia bearing the Trevelyan family heraldry. She wasn't surprised; her family was not well loved. The Trevelyans' public and unwavering support of the chantry-from campaigning against the Templar Order in Ostwick and going as far as ordering the Rite of Tranquility on their youngest son, Kenver, who'd joined the mage rebellion in Kirkwall-had drawn the ire of both factions.
One of the mages met her gaze and she immediately recognized the cool, blue eyes and crooked nose of a man who deserved to die twenty times over, specifically by her hand. His pale, blonde hair was slicked back, so different from the unruly mess of curls she remembered as a child. A sneer of recognition crept its way up his face and she instinctively moved to grab the bow from her back, only to find thin air. Drat. She knew she would regret leaving her longbow at home.
"What is that stupid blighter doing here?" she hissed, unable to keep her voice from rising. An animalistic snarl escaped her throat. Handel cast her a lofty smirk before walking away with his mage counterpart.
"Senior Enchanter Handel is here to represent the Ostwick Circle of Magi at the Divine's Conclave," Cadan replied calmly, grabbing her elbow to drag her away. In addition to his charming personality and regal presence, he had also inherited their father's level head; Ebris, not so much.
"Handel is Senior Enchanter now?" Ebris snorted, tearing her eyes away from his retreating back. "Handel, the filthy half-wit who bullied Kenver out of the Ostwick Circle? How did that idiotic lout become Senior Enchanter? It must be some sort of magic... blood magic. No sane person would give that giant tit any authority over anything. Senior Enchanter? For the love of Andraste, whose balls did he have to fondle to - "
"Ebris, collect yourself," Cadan sighed, pulling her into the empty South Eastern chamber and closing the door firmly behind them. Once the door clicked shut, Ebris pulled back her hood, wiping beads of angry sweat from her forehead.
"I will kill him," she muttered, her rage not so easily quelled. "By the maker, his snaggletooth will be all that's left of him after I'm through, that piss-for-brains, nughumping, son of a - "
"Patience, dear sister. You will have your revenge," Cadan dismissed her with a wave of his hand and strode over to the heavy, wooden desk in the middle of the large, sparsely decorated room. It's starkness was jarring, compared to the lavishness and excess displayed in the main entrance.
Ebris still shook with anger. She long blamed Handel for Kenver's condition. Her younger brother had never explained the details of the events that led to his transfer to Kirkwall's Circle as an apprentice-mage, but she surmised from his vague letters that Handel was at the root of it. Kenver underwent his Harrowing at the Kirkwall Circle and, for a time, seemed content being a full member of the Circle of Magi. However, with the brewing discontent in Kirkwall between the mages and the Templars, that happiness was short-lived.
Ebris was ecstatic when Kenver wrote that he would be coming back to the family estate after the Kirkwall Circle dissolved. But the person who showed up at their doorsteps was not Kenver. Not really. The Kenver that showed up was devoid of everything that made him the brother that she loved; the shy, sweet boy who had followed her around relentlessly during their childhood was gone and replaced with a thing that smiled placidly and spook in an inhumanly monotone voice.
She remembered when he was ten and first displayed signs of magic, he had cried, terrified that the Templars would make him Tranquil. For an entire year, she had tried to keep his magic hidden, but eventually, their mother caught him accidentally set his toast on fire and sent him off to the Ostwick Circle of Magi. As they dragged him away, Ebris assured him repeatedly that she would never let them take away his dreams.
Handel would pay, as would her parents and the Templars who performed the Rite of Tranquility, whoever they were. She swore this in his memory every night as she watched his shell of a body lay on the bed like stone.
"Come quickly. Time is of the essence and I have precious little of it," Cadan waved her over to the table, bringing her back to the present. He removed his pack and pulled out a tattered, leather bound journal. "Do you have the map?"
Ebris gingerly plucked the old scroll from within her cloak and unrolled it, grimacing at the fresh crinkles. She had inadvertently been clutching at the ancient map as she raged. Another reason to hate Handel.
Cadan glanced over at the battered map and sighed his disapproval.
"Put what's left of the map on the table," he instructed. She delicately flattened the scroll as her brother leafed through his book. Though the map was old and the ink barely legible, a trained eye could easily decipher the document as building plans for the Temple of Sacred Ashes or, rather, the ruins that it once was.
Cadan lightly tapped a faded section of the blueprint.
"We are here," he said. His fingers traced the line of the path leading out of the chamber to the main atrium of the Temple, then down another hallway that no longer existed. His other finger bookmarked a page in the journal. "This hall leads to a collapse into the caves below the Temple, according to Genetivi's notes. They walled it off when they renovated the Temple, so you will need to use another entry point."
His fingers trailed up and tapped on a hallway leading to the North Eastern chamber.
"This hallway has also been closed off, but there is a room-a closet according to my source-with cellar access. It is right across from the east entrance of the Inner Sanctum so you must be absolutely certain that nobody sees you."
"What about Handel?" Ebris asked, "He recognized me."
"He thinks you are my guest. As such, you are only permitted in the entryway and lower levels. The Qunari guards on the balcony will not pose a problem. People who know you, like Handel, will be more difficult to evade, which is why it is important for you to gain access to the upper levels before the doors open for the delegates invited to the Conclave. When you reach the upper level, stick to the eastern wall until you reach an unmarked door. You will then head into the cellar and find a way into the caves. From there, you will - "
"I know what to do from there," Ebris interrupted, growing impatient. Cadan looked up from the parchment, annoyed.
"For my sake, just let me go over it. I must announce my presence to the chantry scribes shortly and I will not rest easy until I know for certain that you will not cock up our only chance to help Kenver because you could not follow very simple instructions."
Ebris rolled her eyes.
"Don't get caught, don't touch anything, did I miss something?" she pressed her fingers to her temple, dramatically.
Cadan glared at her. "Ebris, This is a simple scouting mission. Recover any information you can about the Urn or the Gauntlet, note any clues that the Hero of Ferelden had been there, then leave. It is imperative that nobody can know what we are searching for, so under no circumstances can you be caught." He paused for a moment before adding, "And also, don't touch anything. I will not have you poking around and ruining the integrity of the caverns."
"Right. No touching, no telling. I think I can manage that."
"One more thing," Cadan said, "Try to find an alternative entrance to the caves. I suspect we wont find such a convenient opportunity to sneak back here after today."
"Andraste bless the Divine and her terrible ideas."
"Ebris..."
"What? You have to agree that this Conclave is a ridiculous idea. The only thing you can do is cross your fingers and hope people don't start killing each other like they did in Val Royeaux."
Cadan shook his head as he rolled up the map and put the journal back in his bag. His voice was weary, though his angular face remained stern. "Is this really the time for levity?"
He shouldered the bag and handed the map back to his sister.
"Absolutely," Ebris insisted, stuffing the map unceremoniously into her inner pocket. "Although I'm being completely serious. Be careful in there. The conclave at the White Spire led to a war. Tensions have never been higher, Cadan. This day will not end in peace."
Cadan paused, then sighed, deciding not to argue. He didn't disagree with his sister's pessimistic views, but a part of him was hopeful that the proceedings would work in the Divine's favor. Unbeknownst to Ebris, he had plans to seek out the Divine and speak with her about their brother. There had been rumors-rumors that he had carefully been keeping away from his hotheaded sister-that Divine Justinia knew about a way to reverse the Rite of Tranquility. From the Divine's long history of treating mages with compassion, he had high hopes that she would hear his plight and, in time, might even share her knowledge of this mysterious ritual.
Ebris would be furious if she learned that he had kept such vital information from her, but he was certain that it was for the best. His sister had many talents-she was an adept spy and an accomplished archer, among other things-but a politician, she was not. She would forgive him for his deception, he decided, shaking off a twinge of guilt. Better to let her try and find the Urn of Sacred Ashes than try to get involved with what he was doing and inevitably mess it up. Who knew, perhaps her search would prove fruitful.
"You be careful as well," he said, giving her a reassuring smile.
Ebris opened her mouth, ready to tell her brother a funny joke she had heard about the Divine involving a dwarf, an elf, and a hat, but then refrained, deciding instead to gave him a small salute before disappearing out the door. She could tell him the joke on the journey back to Ostwick. It would be nice for him to laugh after what was bound to be a stressful day.
She might have said more to her brother before parting ways, had she known of the nightmare that lay in wait for her at the heart of the Temple. Had she known of the events that were about to unfold, hell, she would have done a lot of things differently.
The conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead. Except for you.