Dragon 9:29, Bloomingtide 3

Amell

Though the day was warm, a chill crept up Solona's spine as she saw the first enchanter hand her bracelet to Cullen. Glancing at the templar, the hurt and disbelief that shone in his eyes pierced her to her core. She dragged her attention back to Irving to give him the reply he already knew the answer to.

"Yes, First Enchanter. The bracelet is mine."

She forced her eyes away from Cullen, certain that if she were to see the undeniable pain swirling in those hazel depths she would break down and end up babbling out incoherent explanations for her actions. Realizing that the first enchanter was appraising her once again, Solona chanced a glance at the templar, feeling the sting of unshed tears prick the corners of her eyes.

"I – I'm sorry, Ser Cullen," she managed to whisper after a deep, shaky breath. Why she felt this badly about the pranking, she wasn't sure – she'd never had this level of remorse for any of the other tricks she had pulled over the years.

The templar coughed lightly, and moved as if to reply, but any words of his were cut off by Irving. "Be that as it may, child, this cannot go unpunished." His dark eyes considered her kindly, even if his tone was rather stern. "I hardly think, though, that you were able to pull all of this off on your own. Were there others who helped with your plotting?"

A cold sweat broke out on her brow. I can't let the others be punished for this! Anders practically just got done with his punishment from his last escape attempt, and Neria would be mortified if any of her wrongdoings were exposed.

"No!" Solona blurted her denial out too quickly, and backpedalled at seeing the first enchanter's eyebrow quirked in disbelief. "I mean – I may have gotten some ideas from friends, but I will take full responsibility, First Enchanter."

Her heart sank. Solona had no doubt that she could handle whatever punishment they decided to throw at her, but she was certain that the haunted look on Cullen's face would be forever etched into her memories. She gave herself a shake, and resolved to speak with the templar sometime when she had a chance. She looked up in time to see Senior Enchanter Clay skid to a stop and, bent over and clutching his knees, he gasped out the last words she wanted to hear at that moment.

"Anders is gone."

Solona stood rooted to the spot as Cullen, followed by the first enchanter, rushed over to where the boys were gathered.

Well, this isn't good. I get caught for pranking, and now Anders is gone from right under the noses of the templars. Again.

She still hadn't moved by the time the knight-commander stormed down to the beach, his lips drawn together in a tight line and his fist clasped around a small, glass object. Another templar rushed along in his wake carrying two bulky rucksacks that had undoubtedly been packed in a hurry. A slab of dried meat fell out of the top of one of the bags, and the loose sleeve of a tunic had escaped the confines of another. Cullen and Warren rushed to meet him, with the first enchanter following at a slower pace. He beckoned Solona as he passed, and she fell in step with him.

"Ser Warren. Ser Cullen." Greagoir addressed the younger templars curtly with a nod at each of them. "Explain yourselves."

Warren began to babble off excuses to his superior, and Solona fought the urge to laugh at his pathetic efforts. She chanced a glance at Cullen, and fought the upward turn of her lips and quelled the giggle that threatened to break loose when the templar actually did roll his eyes at the scene.

Well, well. It seems that the templars have a sense of humor after all! This one does, at least, even if he was less than amused with the pranks we pulled.

"That will do, Ser Warren," Greagoir said with no small amount of impatience lacing his tone. "Regardless of who is at fault, our top priority now is to retrieve apprentice Anders immediately. As you two are directly responsible for this, you will lead this particular mission. Ser Bran will accompany you, as he is already familiar with how to handle these situations." He nodded at the templar who carried the rucksacks before pressing the small, glass vial he had been holding into Cullen's hand. "You have been trained on how to use a mage's phylactery to track them, and Bran has all of the provisions you should need. Anders cannot have gotten far – leave now, and you should be able to find him with little delay."

Warren, Bran, and Cullen all bowed and turned to leave. Before they had reached the dock, though, Solona saw Cullen glance back one last time, his eyes locking on to hers for a scant moment. Although she couldn't make out any expression for certain, she could have sworn that he smiled, and her chest filled with warmth again as she let out the breath she'd been holding.

As she watched the men clamber into the boat, Irving cleared his throat and she whipped around to face him and a very grave knight-commander.

"Apprentice Amell," Greagoir began, "I am afraid we must now discuss the consequences of your actions."

Solona hung her head, the breeze that had picked up tugging strands of her dark hair out of its confining knot. "Yes, ser."

"We had initially decided that you would serve in the kitchen every evening for the remainder of the month." A charged pause told Solona that he was not finished speaking. "However, recent events must be taken into account."

She lifted her eyes in confusion. "Ser?"

The knight-commander folded his arms and his gaze turned steely. "Apprentice, I am going to ask you directly, and I expect an honest answer. Is that understood?" He waited for her nod of agreement. "Did you or did you not plot to distract the first enchanter and Ser Cullen in an attempt to aid Anders in his escape today?"

She was shocked. She considered the faint scowl on the normally cheerful first enchanter's face, and the knight-commander's accusing stare burned through her in accusation.

How could they think such a thing? Anders has been making escape attempts for years on his own – why would this time be any different? He might be one of my best friends, but I would never do something as outrageous as helping him leave the tower!

She met his intimidating glare and swallowed hard before answering truthfully, praying that they would believe her. "No, Knight-Commander. I had no knowledge of Anders' intentions today."

There was stagnant silence which Irving broke. "I believe you, Solona. However, the knight-commander and I have agreed that it would be best if you are kept in solitary confinement until Anders is returned to the circle and can confirm what you've told us."

Solona's mouth went dry, and her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. "Solitary confinement?" she repeated thickly. Every horror story that she'd heard from friends and acquaintances who had been locked away in the bowels of the tower rushed to the front of her mind. Even Anders, who had frequented those pits more than anyone she'd ever met, could not fully hide his distaste for the cramped cells behind layers of carefully constructed indifference and dry humor.

Irving's gaze was somber as he nodded. "I'm sorry, child. It should not be for long, and I'm sure that you'll agree if you were in our position, you'd see the wisdom in this decision as well. Greagoir will accompany you into the tower and downstairs. I'll arrange for your books to be brought down to you."

Solona simply nodded and followed the knight-commander into the tower. As she looked up at the sun-bleached stone façade and moved into the hollow entryway, she thought for the first time that the solid walls of her home felt like the prison Anders always described.

Greagoir led her past a locked door and deep under the main floor of the tower – the solitary confinement cells and repository were strictly off-limits to all but the first enchanter, knight-commander, and select templars who were sent to check on any incarcerated mages. The floor was uneven and small, shallow puddles were everywhere. A draft of cool, humid air blew around Solona, and she shivered in her damp clothing – she hoped that her regular, heavier robes would be sent down to her.

Down a hallway lit sparsely with sputtering torches, Greagoir stopped and drew a ring of keys from a leather pouch at his side. He selected a large, brass one, and slid it into the lock. With a click that echoed throughout the corridor, the door swung open with a creak. He held his arm out and Solona stepped timidly inside. There was a straw-filled mat in one corner of the room, and a small desk and rickety stool along one wall. A bookshelf that was empty except for a steel chamber pot on the bottom shelf and several cobwebs completed the furnishings of the room.

Greagoir pointed to the desk, and when he spoke his deep voice was surprisingly gentle. "There is a small ration of candles in the top drawer of the desk. Use these sparingly, as they are only replaced every week. You will receive meals under your door, and can just put the empty dishes back out once you have finished. Finally, though you can use some magic while you are here, I would discourage it. The walls have been imbued with corrupted lyrium, which, as I'm sure you've learned in your lessons, is highly effective at leeching away mana. If you use too much in this area, it will sap your strength. Some of the mages who have been kept here before you have attempted to either escape or harm their guards using magic, and the consequences have been… unpleasant. I would advise you against trying."

Solona glanced at the nondescript stone walls, unsure of whether the knight-commander was telling the truth or not. Before she could ask any further questions, though, he turned his head to the end of the hall, and moments later echoing footsteps approached the cell. One of the Tranquil mages had been sent down with her books, and Solona almost cried out with relief when she saw a neatly folded set of warm robes on top of her entropy text. She accepted the items and thanked the woman, whose eyes remained glassy and emotionless as she bowed and walked mechanically back to the main floor.

"I will leave you here now, apprentice. As soon as Anders has been found, we will speak with both of you to determine the best course of action." Greagoir turned and walked away. The door shut with a dull thud, the torches waved with the gust of air, and Solona was left in silence.

Giving herself a shake, Solona turned to consider her cell. The surface of the desk had a fine layer of dust, and glancing at the bed, Solona decided that shaking out the blankets that had been provided might be prudent before she even thought about lying down. After spending far more time than was necessary arranging her books by alphabetical order and aligning their spines with an exacting hand, she changed into her warmer robes and realized that she was already out of ways to pass the time – short of studying, that is. She glanced at the unassuming walls that she had been warned about, and curiosity getting the best of her, walked slowly closer.

She held her hand out when she was only about one pace away from the edge of the room, and felt her fingers tingle. She wrenched her hand back in shock – the sensation had been very similar to the feeling of directing powerful magic through her hands, almost as if the mana were being leeched out of her system.

Well, it looks as though the knight-commander was right.

She stepped to the center of the room to try out a spell, just to see how powerful the dispelling effects were. She conjured a small ball of fire in her right hand, and found that even this simple spell that normally drained an unnoticeable amount of mana was more taxing than it ever had been. With a scowl, she extinguished the flame and flopped down on the makeshift bed, a barely visible cloud of dust billowing in her wake.

Dragon 9:29, Bloomingtide 6

Based on the meals that she had received, Solona figured that she had been in her lonely cell for two or three days. She'd attempted to talk to the armed templar who delivered her meals, but her words didn't appear to be even acknowledged. She'd had a hard time focusing enough to study much of anything, and she had already burned through well over half of her candles. As she wasn't even able to efficiently practice any of the theory that she read about, Solona didn't see much point in staying diligent with her work.

She'd been sleeping more than she ever did under normal circumstances, and as a result her mind and body were keyed up for action but with nothing to do. She paced her small cell impatiently. She'd just eaten a meal, and knew that she wouldn't see another living soul – aside from the occasional black rat that wandered through – for some time. She wondered idly if that cat Anders had told her about actually lived down here – Maker only knew she could use the company! She knelt down next to her mat and began to fluff the stuffing in an attempt to make it a bit more comfortable when she froze.

She held her hand next to a small crack in the wall that she hadn't noticed before, and felt a cool draft hit her skin. Her heart beat faster with excitement, and as she pressed herself to the floor to peer into the fissure she was certain that she could see light at the end of a small passageway. She jumped up and checked the hall for any signs of guards, then knelt down and worked at the stones that she found to be loose.

Several scrapes and bruises later, Solona regarded the opening that she had uncovered. There was certainly a passageway there, but it didn't appear to have been used frequently – if ever. Shrugging, she decided that exploring was certainly more entertaining than lying on her mat or attempting to read about spells she already knew the theory to.

She shrugged out of her robe, and wearing only her lightweight shift Solona pressed against the floor and crawled into the small tunnel. The smell of raw earth permeated her senses, and a small light not far ahead was her only indication of where she was going. Cold dirt seeped into the thin clothing that she wore, and she wondered if she'd be able to hide the stains that were no doubt forming until she had a chance to clean them herself.

Her progress was measured in inches, and she felt her already scratched hands become raw from seeking purchase on the dirt and rock of the passage. She lifted her chin off of the ground, and saw with relief that the tunnel opened up and, from the shafts of light on the ground, she figured that there must be some sort of grate as well. She squirmed forward, anxious to stand again. Just as she prepared to pull herself into the larger tunnel, her hips caught fast in the tight area she had just pulled her shoulders through. She froze, and her breath caught in her chest. She tried to pull herself forward, and when that failed, she attempted to scoot back – she was caught tightly in the grip of the earthen tunnel.

Forcing herself to take deep, calming breaths, Solona pushed the bile that was rising back down and focused on getting herself loose. She felt around with her toes and hit the hard, rough surface of an embedded rock. Bracing her feet on that, she reached forward with her hands in an attempt to find anything to grab hold of. She pushed and pulled simultaneously, all while attempting to wiggle her hips back and forth, and finally popped forward. She tumbled off of a short ledge and landed in a shallow stream of water, panting for breath and massaging her sore hips.

When she got her breathing back under control, Solona looked around. Right above her there was a metal grate. Iridescent beads of moisture accumulated on the underside of the metal slabs, slowly swelling in size until they broke free to land with a soft plink on the ground below. She stood and crouched under it, peering into the room that it led to. As her eyes adjusted to the bright light that streamed from the lit wall sconces, she could see several towering bookcases and enormous cobwebs that suggested that the room was rarely used. She pushed experimentally on the grate, and with a groan of protest, it lifted free from its setting. Solona set it aside and hoisted herself into the room. Listening around, it was evident that she was alone.

She sucked in a breath as she began to explore. There were enormous statues and relics, many of which held ancient runes and writing that she could not decipher. Books written in every language imaginable were piled haphazardly on the multiple bookcases and in heaps on the floor. She sifted through the contents of several chests, and found various pieces of ancient armor and weapons that were in different stages of disrepair, and old robes in a color scheme that she did not recognize as being of the circle in Ferelden were folded neatly along the bottom.

She wandered over to one of the bookcases and traced her fingers along the aged leather of the covers. Many of the embossed titles had peeled off or were aged beyond recognition, but one book in an ebony cover with silver lettering caught her eye.

Forgotten Magic from Tevinter

Solona knew little of the Tevinter Imperium – she had learned that it was located in the North, and that the magisters were historically blamed for the existence of the creatures called darkspawn and corruption of mankind. She had been fascinated by the morbid tales that surrounded that elusive area of the world, and after only a moment of hesitation, plucked the book off of the shelf to take with her.

After looking around for a moment longer, Solona dropped back down through the floor grate and into the channel below, realizing just then that she was likely standing in the drainage system used to prevent flooding in the tower. She cocked her head, thinking of all of the possibilities for exploring the tower that could open up were she to find other entrances to these tunnels. She eyed the narrow passage that she needed to traverse again with trepidation. Chewing on her lower lip, she held out a hand and used a weak force spell to carve the narrow space a few scant inches wider. Another wave of her hand drew the resulting debris out and into the shallow stream of water that she now stood in, and she grinned with satisfaction now that she would not have to worry about becoming stuck again.

Back in her room Solona brushed off as much of the dirt on her shift as she was able, then slipped her regular robes on and stepped out of her wet boots. She carefully replaced the stones that she had shifted out of the way to get into the tunnel, and sat down to read the large tome.

The pages were yellowed with age, and the musty scent of mold clung to the paper. Solona lit a candle with trembling fingers and moved the feeble light closer to the page.

The Tevinter Imperium is a land of mystery to those who have not lived under the Archon. Though it is widely known that, unlike the rest of Thedas, Tevinter is ruled by a powerful mageocracy, most of their methods are shrouded in secrecy.

Solona chuckled, thinking that Anders in particular would be fascinated by this book. Though he'd never actively spouted about mage supremacy, he'd made no secret of the fact that he was strongly pro-freedom for mages.

The magisters are revered throughout Tevinter, even into the current age. They are perhaps most infamously known for their widespread use of blood magic, wherein a mage taps into their own life energy (with the aid of a Fade demon) to supplement their own power. Although blood magic is officially banned in the Imperium, it is no secret that most of the magisters still abide by ancient tradition. Indeed, it has even been documented that those in line to become magisters are coached by their mentors on the best possible ways to conduct business with the creatures of the Fade.

Throughout most of Thedas, blood magic is a taboo subject, and those who use that power are hunted and eliminated by the ever-vigilant templars of the Divine. The power that a mage is able to draw with only a few drops of blood is indeed a terrifying sight to behold. It is this power that has allowed the magisters to maintain such a tight grasp over the Soporati class of citizens. The magisters have mastered the art of "dream-walking," which allows the mage in question to actively visit and influence non-mages in their subconscious dream-state. This controversial practice is strongly frowned upon outside of the Imperium – and with good reason. The length to which the magisters have gone in their dream-walking to exert control seems to know no bounds – men have murdered family members who merely voice concerns over the rule of the mages, merchants have given over their entire life-savings to fund the project of a magister without question, and parents have handed over their children to live as slaves to serve the every whim of their master.

The blood magic that has been used is not limited to control of the mind, either. It is common knowledge that slavery is still legal in the Imperium, and various ports throughout the rest of Thedas – aided by money-hungry hands – transport elves and humans alike to serve the magisters in Tevinter. The atrocities that have been committed against these poor souls are not easily described. Augmented by blood magic, particularly malevolent masters have been known to keep slaves trapped in excruciatingly painful telekinetic cages for days at a time. Slaves have also been bled to death as sacrifices to power particularly taxing spells. More recently, however, reports have come through that some of the more powerful and wealthy magisters have been importing vast quantities of pure lyrium for some unknown purpose. All that is currently known is that numerous slaves are brought out dead days later, and some seem to go missing without explanation.

Although most of the rest of Thedas has at least heard the rumors of these horrific acts, it is difficult to justify going to war against the Imperium. They have been fighting for centuries against the Qunari of Par Vollen and Seheron, and it is the belief and hope of many that their current preoccupation with that situation will ultimately lead to their fall. Additionally, the Qunari are renowned fighters, and even the nations that are most vehemently opposed to slavery and blood magic are hesitant to involve themselves – either as allies or enemies – with the followers of the Qun.

Solona stopped reading, her hands trembling as she shut the book. Her stomach rolled at the vivid imagery of the book's descriptions of the magisters' use of blood magic and the helpless people that it was used against. Although she had often felt shackled in the tower, she could not deny that it had helped her to develop her talent in a safe and supervised environment. She, like all of the rest of the apprentices, had heard terrible stories of mages who had fallen prey to demons and had to be struck down. Though she had never seen an abomination personally, she shuddered to think that if she had grown up in a society like the Imperium, chances were very good that she would already be caught in the grasp of a demon, bent to its twisted desires like a puppet on a string.

Perhaps the circles really weren't as bad as Anders made them out to be. She certainly knew that no matter what the temptation, blood magic was never worth any offer. The mages of the Imperium clearly did not think along those lines, and from an outsider's perspective, the power that they had been granted ages ago was clearly not in the best interest of all of the regular citizens who served the mages.

Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him…

The familiar line from Transfigurations floated through Solona's head, and it rang more true to her than it ever had before. Clearly, if the Tevinter Imperium could be taken as an example, magic serving over man had the very real possibility to cause widespread corruption, pain, and fear.

Shocked at her revelation, and more grateful than ever that she lived in a place as secure and supportive as Kinloch Hold, Solona resolved to tell Anders what she had learned as soon as he was brought back to the tower. Perhaps this could change his mind on the purpose of the circles.

Dragon 9:29, Bloomingtide 8

Solona woke with a start as the heavy door at the end of the hallway slammed open against the wall, the sound reverberating throughout the narrow stone passage. She had fallen asleep reading more of the book, it's undoubtedly morbid contents holding a strange fascination with her. Truly, there was no doubt as to why the first enchanter had hidden this book away from prying eyes. She hastily slid the tome underneath her mat and sat up, running her hands through her hair. It was a lost cause: she'd been allowed a brief bath two days before, but the harsh soap that she'd been given hadn't adequately cleansed her thick tresses, and even keeping it tied away from her face and in a knot at the top of her head hadn't prevented knotting.

As she wiped the sleep from her eyes, she heard a familiar voice echo down to where she sat.

"You know, boys, I really thought that I was going to make it all the way to Denerim this time!" Anders was being as cheeky as ever, even though Solona knew that his magic would have been stripped from him from the moment he'd been captured. The sensation was not a pleasant one – Solona knew from experience. "Have either of you been to Denerim? No? I've heard the most marvelous things about a fine little establishment there called The Pearl. Ah! Solona!"

Anders and his guards had reached her cell and he caught sight of her. He was wearing some sort of green tunic over plain cotton britches, and both arms were restrained behind his back. Although he sagged in the tight grip of his captors, his eyes hadn't been blackened, and his tone was cheerful as he spoke.

"I've been trying to tell these three the entire way back to the tower that you had nothing to do with my latest adventures traipsing across the Ferelden countryside. You should have seen all the flowers in bloom this time of year, Solona! Alas, they don't seem to care about anything I have to say." He turned his head to call back to her as he was led further down the hall to one of the far cells. "I'll talk to you more as soon as they've dumped me off!"

Solona couldn't help but giggle at her friend's antics. He'd always managed to be so blasé, even when facing the wrath of the first enchanter and templars alike. She was about to turn back to sit at her desk under the pretense of studying when the templar guards marched past again. She cocked her head to the side as one of them faltered almost imperceptibly in his stride. She took a hesitant step forward, and as they swept out of view, she saw something white flutter to the ground just outside of her cell door. She knelt down, and picked up a folded piece of parchment. As she unfolded it, a silvery object fell to the ground with a soft clink – it was her bracelet. She'd forgotten that it had never been returned to her in the chaos of Anders' escape out by the lake.

As she slipped the trinket onto her wrist, smiling at its return, she turned her attention to the note. With a smile and laugh, she read the exact words that she had once left in a note to someone that she'd taken notice of. The handwriting was bold and each character on the page was drawn with precise lines.

You shouldn't leave something like this just lying about… Anybody could find it!

-C