Cullen always hated these nights. He'd only been a templar at the Circle for a few years, but he'd never quite gotten used to the Harrowing. And tonight it was Ilaria, the petite little Tevinter mage that had shown up in Ferelden almost a month ago. Half a dozen templars, all in full armor, dragged her from sleep in the middle of the night, ordered her to dress, and then led her to the Harrowing chamber. Though she seemed disoriented at first, she quickly complied with the same grace with which she did everything else.
Her diminutive size masked a prodigious amount of magical power. He was certain that if she wasn't protected by Tevinter law that Knight-Commander Greagoir would have had her made Tranquil. Her impressive level of control was also a possible factor in that. Cullen hadn't seen any of the Circle mages able to cast elemental spells with the same kind of pinpoint precision. He wondered if her training in the Imperium was responsible for the differences in her from the other mages.
He was only half listening as Irving and Greagoir explained what was to come. He'd heard it all before. If she failed tonight, if a demon took her, he was to strike her down. His stomach was tight with a sense of dread that always settled on him during Harrowing nights. It was a relief each time a mage returned from the Fade, collapsing from exhaustion, still in possession of themselves.
His attention perked as Ilaria turned toward the pedestal in the center of the chamber. The lyrium gave off a ghostly blue glow that illuminated her face as she approached. She looked down into its shallow depths before taking a deep breath and lifting her hand. As her fingertips touched the blue liquid, tendrils of light crept up her arm. She looked alarmed for a moment before her jaw clenched and she gasped.
Cullen had seen a variety of reactions from mages after touching the lyrium. All of them seemed to experience some degree of pain as they entered the Fade this way. Ilaria's reaction was no surprise. There seemed to be a soft cry cut short as the eerie glow enveloped her body. She stood by the pedestal, motionless, eyes closed. A Harrowing generally lasted a few hours, though every mage was different. More powerful mages seemed to complete their challenge quickly. He wondered if hers would take long.
He settled in to wait and was unnerved to sense Ilaria's power swelling around her within the hour. She must be confronting the demon. But so soon? After several minutes, the ripples of power dissipated and she settled but remained in the Fade. As the moments passed by, Cullen grew concerned. If she didn't return soon, Greagoir was sure to assume the worst and he would give the signal. His gaze shifted between the mage and his commander. It had only been a few minutes but Greagoir was becoming increasingly restless. Suddenly, there was a massive swell of energy. It seemed as if it was being pulled from everywhere to coalesce around Ilaria's still form. Cullen prepared himself to make a killing blow when Ilaria's eyes flashed open, radiating blue light. He watched her jaw clench, her nostrils flared and her body shook.
"Now, Cullen!" Greagoir cried as the mage's body began lifting from the floor will pulsating mana. Cullen started toward her, sword raised. Waves of energy were rolling out from Ilaria. Cullen was only a few feet from her, moments from ending her life, when she cried out.
"NO!" A blast of power flung him back, almost knocking him off his feet. He looked up to see Ilaria sway weakly. Her eyes met his for a moment before she dropped to the floor.
"Andraste save us," Greagoir breathed.
Irving looked shaken, something Cullen had never seen, yet his voice was still perfectly steady as he spoke. "She is successful. Cullen, please, return her to her room."
"You cannot be serious, Irving," Greagoir barked. "You saw what just happened."
"I saw exactly what you did, Greagoir. I saw a very talented mage resist the temptation of a demon. She has passed her Harrowing." Irving's tone was firm. "We will keep our end of the bargain."
"She is dangerous! A force like that..."
Irving interrupted. "...Is in the best hands it could be. We knew from her testing that her connection to the Fade was greater than most mages and that it would make her more powerful. Whether as a result of her training or her nature, she has the willpower to resist whatever a very powerful demon can offer." Irving had approached the limp form on the floor as he spoke and he now stood between the young mage and the templars.
Cullen looked at Greagoir hoping that this wouldn't cause open conflict. They were here to protect the world from the dangers of magic but they were also her to protect the mages. Ilaria had proven herself in their test. Greagoir was alternately white and red. Irving had made a solid point and appeared unwilling to back down. The Knight-Commander's hands clenched, and there were several moments of tense silence before he spoke.
"You are correct, Irving. The mage has proved her will tonight. But I warn you... The slightest indication that she is a threat, and I will strike her down myself. I will not see this tower and its inhabitants fall to an abomination."
Cullen hoped his relief wasn't apparent. As he and his fellows carried the small mage back to her bed in the Apprentice Quarters he mulled over what exactly he was feeling. He respected this unassuming woman and the great power she was capable of. He was also a little bit terrified of what she was capable of. He reminded himself that this wasn't a choice that she had made but an accident of birth. It was unfortunate so many of his brothers and sisters at arms had forgotten that.
He'd heard templars talk of mages unique connection to the Fade before but didn't quite understand it. He wasn't sure they did either. What he did know is that "normal" people were connected to the Fade on very base levels. They entered only in their dreams and it was unlikely they would ever encounter a demon interested in them. Mages had a greater connection to the Fade, allowing them to manipulate the power drawn from it and within the mages, their level of connection varied. The greater the connection, the greater the power, and the greater the chance a demon would be drawn to them. Older templars who had developed their abilities could occasionally sense to what degree a mage was connected to the Fade. Judging by Greagoir's reaction to her, Ilaria must have been connected to the Fade on an impressive scale.
As the templars laid Ilaria in her bed, she whimpered slightly, her face contorted for a moment in fear. Many of the mages seemed to have nightmares after competing their Harrowing. Cullen turned and left the room where the apprentices slept, wondering at the protective feeling that had begun building in him since he met Ilaria.
The rumors were flying around the tower. Everyone seemed to be talking about Ilaria's Harrowing. The stories were, of course, growing and changing with each telling. Anders wondered how long it would be before they were saying that she had summoned a demon from the Fade and killed it herself. He was guessing that her Harrowing must have at least been a little impressive. Even the more mild stories were pressing that point. After waiting as long as his patience could last, he headed off toward her bed to wake her.
Anders and Ilaria had spent most of the last few days together. He was supposed to be her mentor, to teach her healing magic, but, he admitted to himself, they'd spent more of the week sharing stories and laughing than actually working. He found her to be sweet natured, and she loved to laugh. His flirtatious banter was getting him nowhere with her. Any sort of innuendo was always given an indulgent smile, and then she would change the subject. He'd found himself opening up to her, sharing things he generally kept to himself. Maybe it was because she seemed to resist his charm so easily. He wasn't sure. What he did know was simple: if he couldn't coax her into his bed... or against a wall... or whatever, he was content with her friendship. They bantered with each other easily, and he felt more content than he had in a long time.
She was still asleep when he entered the room set aside for female apprentices. He watched her sleep for a moment, charmed by the peaceful look on her face, before reaching down and shaking her shoulder. He'd barely touched her when her eyes flew open and he was pressed back by a mild shock of electricity.
"Andraste's flaming ass! What was that for?" he said in surprise.
Ilaria looked around the room for a moment, eyes wild, before calming. She met Anders slightly miffed expression.
"I'm sorry, Anders. I was having a nightmare. You startled me." She looked him over for a moment before a giggle burbled up from her chest.
"First you shock me - quite unnecessarily, I might add - and then you laugh at me. What is so funny?" he asked indignantly.
Forcing back her laughter, Ilaria stood and walked over to Anders. She reached up and began smoothing his hair down. "You might need to retie your hair. It's a bit... well, it's sticking up all over the place." She sniggered again.
Anders ran to the vanity, observing his reflection in the mirror with something akin to horror. The little jolt Ilaria had given him had caused small bits of his hair to stand on end, floating around his head. He sat on the small stool and tried flattening the mess. Still smirking, Ilaria came up behind him and untied the thin strip of leather he'd bound his hair with. She'd brought her comb with her. He relaxed and allowed her to run the comb through his hair several times before smoothing it back and binding it again at the nape of his neck.
"Ah, much better. You do that almost as well as I do. Maybe I'll have to hire you," he quipped.
She chuckled. "You couldn't afford me."
He grinned at her, rose from the stool and looped his arm over her shoulders. "Now, let's get you some breakfast and you can tell me all about your misadventures last night. If it's even half as good as what I've already heard this morning, you've got quite the tale for me."
Ilaria smirked and shook her head. "I can't imagine my story is much different from any other Harrowed mage. Into the Fade, fight a demon, blah, blah, blah. I can't believe they make everyone do that, by the way. Your Chantry is crazy."
"And this, dear lady, is why I love you," Anders smirked. "You and I have exactly the same thoughts on the matter."
She rolled her eyes, smiling, and together they set off toward the kitchen in search of a decent meal.