The Spectral Breath

Chapter Two: Innocent Until Proven

Feeling. Touch. Consciousness. Still alive, it seemed.

I took in a deep breath. The faint smell of stale sweat, iron and damp was the first to catch me off guard. The second was how cold the air felt and the third was the rough and unevenness of the ground I lay upon. The small, sharp rocks rested underneath my side and poked my ribs with every little movement. Quiet murmurings and rough voices seemed to resonate from the walls and floor and whispered around like the faint sounds one could hear when pressed underwater.

I kept my eyes closed and tried to make sense of what the murmurings said. I gave up after a few heartbeats. The words, if they were words at all, were spoken too quickly and quietly for my benefit, but as I felt the life return to my limbs and arched out my back, the sharp jarring and clanking of metal stopped me.

I didn't like that sound. The things that could relate to it were few and the very thought made my gut churn.

As I opened my eyes, I could only make out a blur of dark timber and high-gabled wall. Darkness claimed nearly every corner of the chamber, apart from the small slits of light, cast from the narrow ceiling cracks and the two sconces nailed close to the doorway and the back wall.

The iron bindings rattled as I tried to sit up. My reward was a flash of pain across my right arm.

"Fenedhis," I cursed with a gasp.

Gingerly, I felt my right shoulder. From the tip of the shoulder blade to the flat of my palm was bound tightly in fresh linen strips, and wrapped quite well. While slow at first, the linen did partially unwrap and I was able to get a peak at how far the scars had grown. They hadn't, surprisingly. It seemed that luck was on my side for once. Patches of worn and burned skin were usual; it was something I grown accustomed to. The deeper groves were also expected, but the fact that the scarring hadn't grown further was both a relief and worrying.

My thoughts were disturbed by the clamour of thumps that hammered from above. Disrupted stone and dust flaked from the ceiling's corners and oak beams. There must have been another floor above me, which meant I was most likely in some kind of cellar. Perhaps even a prison cell.

It was alright, though. I was not dead, yet. All I had to do was figure a way out.

I enclosed my palms and muttered a quiet incantation. I drew my strength from the cold air, from the whispering wind that came through the cracks and then the pools of ice in the furthest edges of the chamber, and weaved them into a channel of magic that penetrated the shackle's locks and froze it in place. The ice glistened against the fire's light, but as soon as I tried to pull the shackles free from their bolts, the ice began to melt and the chains remained the way they were.

For a time, the shackles were bound in green light, but it was only momentary, and the spell inflicted on it faded into the previous grime-stricken grey. Runes. Of course. Magic would not help me with those in affect. How clever of them.

The voices outside had grown louder as time passed. Footsteps, some heavy and some light, moved closer to the door. I heard the rasp of the door bolt and then the handle fell flat.

Immediately, there was movement within the room. It was sharp, quick and purposeful. The movements belonged to a human woman with dark hair, an angular face and sharp eyes. Pale scars ran along her jawline and cheek; an indication of her dealings with others and that she was not one to cross. Her skin, tanned yet rugged, portrayed many sleepless nights over the course of many months and the worries only few could imagine. Despite this, I knew it would be wise to be cautious around her.

Behind her was another, but that woman kept close to the shadow and hid herself from view.

The first human began to circle me like a wolf at its prey. Her gaze never left my form and only seemed to grow colder as she explained, "You enter Skyhold under the false pretense that you are a mercenary willing to fight for our cause and then you go and fatally injure my guardsmen. Some have wounds that will never heal. Explain yourself. Why have you come here?"

I refused to answer, but recognised her as the woman from before. The harsh and assertive nature behind her voice was unmistakable, as was the thick accent.

Her expression was as hard as a sword's blade and, without any warning, she locked her arm around my wrist and held it up high for all to see.

I steeled myself against the pain and pulled back successfully. "Do not touch me!" I yelled as my other arm wound round it protectively.

The human scoffed. "You have no power here. Tell me why we should spare your life."

Fear struck within my chest. "You're going to kill me?" I whispered.

"Only if you do not speak the truth," she said as she continued her patrol around me. "Answer the question."

Lying would be of no use, but I had no intention of telling her anything that lead to who I was. I remained silent for a few moments and thought over my answers carefully.

"I came to seek aid," I said.

The human's strides came to a swift end and, slowly, she turned. "Aid? What you did to my men was not aid."

"That wasn't my fault. Your men were told to stay away. They did not and suffered the consequences. I could not control my power."

Her voice sharpened. "What do you mean your power?"

I lowered my gaze. "Where do you think the energy came from that hurt your men? It wasn't by choice. I came here having heard that you could help me." I raised my head, hoping my face had stayed blank. "To stop this." I nodded to my arm. "Your foolish men just got in the way."

"There are many rebel mages outside of the Inquisition. Go to them to learn to control your magic."

"It's not my magic. It's..." I hesitated.

She leaned in closer. "It's what?"

"I don't know. It's not controllable. I've tried, but it's not like my ability to cast spells."

"Explain."

"I can't. Look, I didn't purposefully hurt your men. It's not like I came here to end your cause. If I did, I doubt I'd be here in this... lovely place."

The human pulled back and rested her arms against her chest. "And if I were to believe such nonsense, who told you of us?"

"Now that, I cannot tell you."

"Under what reason?"

"He's dead."

"You're lying."

I bit my tongue, hard, until I tasted blood. The fear of their judgement weighed heavily on my mind, but I could not show weakness. Could she not see that I was innocent?

"That still doesn't explain why you expected us to help you," said the woman from the shadow. She took a step out. A hood covered the majority of her face, but strands of red hair came through. "Why did you really come here? Where did that power come from?"

"There's no use, Leliana," replied the other human. "Either way, her fate is not our decision. That belongs to the Herald."

"That doesn't mean that we can't gain information from her, Cassandra," Leliana said and looked back at me. "Speak. Plea your case while you still have our attention."

"It's a long story," I admitted, "but I was told of your Inquisition. You are trying to close the breach, yes? This power, magic- whatever you want to call it, it's killing me, or was. I'm not sure why it isn't reacting now but it's like poison. I was told that you had someone at your disposal who knew old Elven history. I thought maybe he could help me."

"You mean Solas?" said Cassandra.

I frowned. "I don't know that name. All I know is that I need help and I have nowhere else to turn."

Both humans exchanged glances. They seemed less cautious then before, but that did not mean that I had gained their favour.

"That still does not make your actions forgivable," said Cassandra.

"And you still believe I'm responsible for it," I muttered under my breath. "If Jaras was here, I'm sure-" I paused. "Where is Jaras?"

Leliana raised an eyebrow. "Who is Jaras?"

"My friend. He's elvhen," I said and touched the shell of my ear. "But he was the one who brought me here."

Cassandra nodded in understanding. "Ah, him. He is with the wounded, but will soon be brought into custody."

"Talk to him," I said. "He'll tell you that I'm innocent. He has evidence of what we found, of what caused this."

"Go and find this Jaras, Leliana. I'll talk to the Herald," said Cassandra. As Leliana left the chamber, Cassandra looked back. An expression crossed her face; impossible to decipher. "For your sake, you better be telling us the truth."

"And if I'm not?"

"Then you'll know about it."

...

"Worry fills her heart and mind - she covers it with a stone face and few words," whispered a solemn voice. "Darkness. Alone. What is this power? Why hasn't it killed me? He promised it would. Voices. Voices in the dark. A boy? A man? Confusion fills the void."

I looked above and around, but found no trace of the voice. "Hello?" I whispered in the slight hope that it was my imagination playing a cruel, cruel trick.

It was not.

"You're the cause for their suffering," it said again. The flames of the sconces flickered and the shadow of a man shivered across the ground. My gaze followed the shadow to the boots it was attached to and, slowly, I looked up.

It was a slim, motionless figure that the voice belonged to. He allowed part of his pale face and body to be shown, but the rest remained in the dark. "I hear them call," he continued. "Feel the burns they suffer. See the flashes of light before their eyes. Hunched. Pain. So much anger. Blasted knife-ear. Demand justice. Should never have let her in."

I raised an eyebrow. "Are you... alright?"

The Voice nodded. "Yes. I believe so."

"How did you get in here?" I asked. There was no entrance apart from the one door and had not been used for hours.

"I walk within the shadows," he said. "Most don't see me. It wasn't difficult to get here."

"I see," I said, though I couldn't help but be surprised by the stranger's appearance. What he said made little sense to me, unless he came through the walls. I did not sense any magic from him, nor did I see a staff, but I did feel something. He was no ordinary man, that much I was sure. There was a connection to the Fade within him, but it was faint.

The Voice tilted his head to the side, as if studying me. "Was it your fault?"

I frowned. "Was what my fault?"

"The pain caused to the men."

"Oh." I shook my head. "No."

"How do you know?"

"I just do," I said and looked back at the ground. I had grown bored hours ago and had began to draw symbols into the dirt with my finger.

"You feel no remorse for them. No despair."

"Why should I? I don't know them." Before he could answer, I said, "Why are you here?"

The Voice lowered his head for a moment, as if thinking. "I don't know."

There was a sadness behind his answer, though I wasn't sure why. It almost made me feel for him. Almost. "Then leave, unless you're willing to help me out of these." I shook my arms. The chains clashed together.

The Voice looked at it thoughtfully. He waved his arms out and shook his head. "Cassandra would not be pleased if I did that."

"She wouldn't have to know."

"I can't."

I narrowed my gaze. "Then we have nothing further to discuss."

Footsteps began to lead away from me and over to the door. They slouched against the ground, but the sound ceased for a moment and the Voice spoke, "I am Cole. I didn't say that before," he said and waved his hand in goodbye.

I closed my eyes. When they opened, the stranger was gone; left without a trace.

I blinked, unsure of what had just happened.