aaah i meant to put this in earlier, but warning for gore (just a bit?)
Part VII
"This is it."
His fists flexing at his sides, Fenris glared at the entrance to the cave, ready to pull the sword from his back should the need arise.
Hadriana.
His bare toes curled into the sand, the name conjuring a flash of a cold blue gaze in his mind—he could remember the cruelty, the vicious glee as she taunted and tormented him time after time which glinted in her eyes with such clear ease, as if they were steel itself.
He'd be lying if he said he didn't feel the slightest amount of the very same glee at the thought of repaying Hadriana for her… hospitality, all those years.
Fenris moved, stalking towards the entry. He had only taken three steps forward before someone was calling him back.
"Wait a second, Fenris."
Hawke's call was a quiet one, but questioning and insistent. It had him pausing, only the slight turn of his head indication that he had heard her request.
Slowly, he exhaled, the air passing through his teeth with a soft hiss. "We must be careful," he told them after a moment, still staring hard at the entrance. "These caves were designed to protect against raids by fellow slavers. No doubt why Hadriana had chosen them in the first place." Finally, he looked over his shoulder, taking in each of his friends' faces—Hawke's carefully blank expression; Isabela's uncharacteristically serious; Varric's watchful gaze.
He could detect neither protest nor reluctance for the fight he was about to lead them into, and he felt indebted toward them for the fact.
Perhaps this is a sign, the elf thought as he turned back to the caves. For Hadriana to come… Does this mean Danarius is close behind?
If so, then this would also be a test. To face Hadriana and win would propose that he was that much closer for when he faced him again and finish this once and for all. It meant he'd be that much closer to being ready to do so.
Hawke nodded and gestured towards the caves. "Hadriana won't escape us," the mage promised him, and the small smile she gave him was confident and encouraging—though it was not by much, Fenris breathed easier at the sight of it, her reassurance, her loyalty, somewhat a balm on his fraying temper. "We'll follow your lead, Fenris."
Grateful, Fenris returned her nod and started for the entrance once more. "Let's hope this isn't a waste of time…" he muttered.
.
.
.
If she had the chance, the time, the opportunity to, and it wouldn't get her killed—Kagome would laugh at how quickly things turned to shit.
Upon entering the caves, it became apparent that they weren't like the usual tunnels she'd ventured into before; these were more sophisticated, more structured, not unlike those of the deep roads. Caves such as these meant the traps were just as advanced. It would be pressure plates that she'd need to watch out for here, not tripwires.
The hall was clear of any guards or slavers; only a door at the other end had greeted her, and upon further inspection, there was another leading out to the left. She took the one closest to her, the latter—was intent on slipping through and keeping to the shadows as long as she possibly could.
When the door locked automatically behind her the moment it shut, however, it was then that Kagome began to feel the uneasy impression that it was only the first of many things that would happen to her.
Still, she forged on towards the next room.
Two guards waited for her, both human—a female warrior and a male rogue that were easily dispatched with them being too distracted talking to each other and their backs facing her to notice as she strung her arrows and released them. The rogue was the first to die, with an arrow neatly severing his spine at the back of his neck. The warrior, too slow to react, was swiftly next.
Closing her eyes, Kagome gave a shuttering exhale. After a moment, she crossed the room towards the next door.
Not once did she glance at the two she killed with barely a breath of hesitation.
The next room was empty with only a couple of pressure plates to obstruct her path, which took only minutes to disable. It was past the door after that had posed a greater problem—as half a dozen undead and a mage patrolled the corridor leading to the next room.
Immediately, they noticed her entrance.
"Shit."
.
.
.
"Everything all right there Broody?"
At Varric's voice, Fenris paused in his pacing. They were waiting for Hawke and Isabela to finish looting the corpses and find the key to the next room, the dwarf content to remain stationary as he leaned against a column and watched the other man attempt to wear a hole in the ground. "Do you honestly expect an answer other than 'no'?" the elf wondered, truly curious.
After all, they were in a cave potentially holding the apprentice of his once-master. After said apprentice launched an ambush in an attempt to capture and drag him back to Tevinter.
Varric shrugged. "I was hoping you'd surprise me. Guess not." He straightened his posture, pushing away from the column he was relaxing against and drew nearer. "But more seriously, I don't quite like that look on your face; the murderous, angry part—that's fine. It's the touch of confusion that's worrying me."
"It's just…" The warrior trailed off, eyeing the dead slavers that lay feet away. His shoulders slumped, and he reached up the thumb the bridge of his nose. "I expected… more ," he murmured, pensive. "More resistance, and stronger at that…"
"Hey!" Isabela straightened as she turned to face him, a hand curled on her hip while the other, which still held a small pouch—of pebbles, most likely—wagged a finger in his direction. "Maybe we're just that good."
Fenris snorted. Could it be so? The thought had occurred to him, but it seemed presumptuous; that, after all these years and all the hunters he had cut down, Hadriana would not be foolish enough to mount an ambush that was so… meager and halfhearted as it seemed to be.
"Perhaps," he eventually allowed as he shook his head, but he was not entirely convinced. Maybe, with the others fighting with him, it was not as difficult as he had first expected it to be but it should not be this easy.
Something, whatever it was, felt off.
.
.
.
Sneaking in was all well and good, but Kagome ran into a small issue with keeping to the plan that came in the form of what looked to be about a dozen slaves, nearly half of them already dead.
The rest were huddled together on their knees, their fear apparent in the width of their eyes and the trembling forms; one of them, a young girl just barely into her adult years if even, had her clasped hands pressed against her breastbone, crying out and in tears just as another elf, an older male, was dragged up in the air by some unseen force.
Kagome's stomach turned at the unnatural sight he made—back bent in a sharp arch, head thrown back with his mouth open and eyes blown wide.
An ominous aura snaked out and washed over the miko, familiar and murky. Though all magic had an aura that reminded Kagome of… of ozone, in a way, sharp, somewhat metallic, and dangerous—each type also possessed its own unique signature to distinguish between them; blood magic itself had a darker, headier feel to it. Often it was tinged with hints of a sinister nature, a reflection of the caster's intent.
She felt her skin prickle as she recognized the magic, this particular brand of casting sending the fine hairs at the nape of her neck rising in turn.
Blood sacrifice.
Hastily, Kagome threw up a barrier that encompassed those that still lived and shot an arrow at the nearest slaver. They went down with a thud just as the elf was released from the spell holding him up, startled gasps and shouts rippling through them all.
"What?!" came a furious screech, though from whom Kagome couldn't be certain—the ground around her began to boil and smoke, clouding the air as demons surged from the floor—"They're here already?! Retreat, retreat, I do not have enough!"
From behind the demons, Kagome could see people slipping through the door on the other side of room and disappearing, leaving only a couple of fighters and a mage behind.
They? Was Kagome's first thought, before she quickly realized.
There're more slaves.
Panicking, Kagome took her bow and sliced the air with it at the demons, purifying energy pulsing from the weapon in an arc that decimated the summoned creatures within seconds. The attack left her panting, feeling the steep drop of energy it had cost her.
It worked to her advantage, however; the slavers left behind staggered to a stop in their shock, never having seen such a thing before. Kagome managed to take out the warrior with an arrow thanks to the distraction, before the rogue and mage were spurred back into action and she had to trade her bow for her daggers.
Dispatching them took longer than Kagome liked, and she fretted to think what the time had cost—how many more lives would be sacrificed before she could get to them.
Sheathing her blades, Kagome strode towards the remaining captives, a limp to her step courtesy of the rogue slipping through her guard earlier. Most of her injuries since then had been shallow cuts save for a few, but the woman had managed to get a hit in on her left leg's outer thigh that was deep enough to be debilitating if left unfixed.
By the looks and feel of it, the one poultice she had left would probably only heal it partially—not exactly what she'd prefer, but at least it wouldn't hinder her ability to fight then.
Pushing the hood of her cloak away from her face, she allowed the barrier to fall as she approached the captives. She felt the energy it took to hold it slowly flowing back to her and she exhaled lightly in relief, trying to ignore the half dozen pairs of eyes that watched her in a variation of fear and apprehension.
"T-thank you," the young elven girl from earlier wept as Kagome paused before them, holding tightly to the man who had almost been sacrificed.
Said man was wet with sweat and breathing laboriously, but looked to be otherwise alive and unharmed. But blood magic sacrifices, Kagome knew, begun with internal damage.
"Y-you saved Papa." Trembling, the young woman looked over to what fate awaited her father had Kagome not come in time, face ashen.
The miko followed her gaze and nearly gagged at the sight that greeted her, swallowing back the revulsion and the bile it threatened to bring with it.
She had seen the bodies upon first entering the room, but was not close enough to see the specifics—empty eyes, tangled limbs, and cuts so jagged and deep carved into skin and even bone that viscera had actually spilled out onto the floor.
Emptied of the blood needed for the sacrifices, the bodies were left in a pile as if they were trash tossed to the side and it made Kagome equal parts disgusted and furious.
"I—I don't know why Master did this, we tried to be good!" The blatant dismay in the young woman's voice had the archer's eyes shifting away from the bodies to find wide, watery green eyes boring straight into her. "We did everything we were told, but…" The elf's thin frame gave a shudder, her head shaking in confusion.
Though not all, Kagome felt some of her fury ebb. "Oh, sweetheart," she whispered, somber and sympathetic, and gradually turned to take in the rest of them.
Most were dressed in the same plain clothing of ill-fitting tunics and trousers, but the girl, her father, and another were dressed a little better, and were cleaner as well. Most were elves but a lone a human woman completed the group. "Are… are all of you slaves?" she quietly asked, bringing her pack over to the front to begin digging into it.
All save the girl and another elf, a woman perhaps only a couple decades older with pale brown hair streaked with silver, shook their heads.
"Gods," Kagome muttered, carefully pulling out three health potions—the rest of her stores. There was no time to heal the girl's father with the others in danger, but the potions would heal the damage just as well. "Alright, I can't stay but I will come back, okay? There… there are others that need help, I think." Gently, she pressed all but one vial into the girl's hand, preserving the last for herself knowing she'd likely need it soon.
"Give this to him and he should be alright," she instructed, slipping her own vial into the pouch at her hip before reaching back into her pack for her last health poultice and a couple strips of cloth.
The girl nodded quickly through her tears, thanking her profusely before starting to do so. As she did, Kagome made quick work taking care of her own injury, swiping the blood from the wound before pouring the mixture straight it.
It drew a hiss from her, the poultice stinging sharply as its healing took effect. After a moment she checked it once the stinging had settled, clicking her tongue in irritation when she found it didn't heal as much as she thought it would.
Shifting, she tested her weight on her leg before she sighed and begun wrapping it with the clean strip of cloth. It didn't hurt as much at least, and what with the current predicament she was in she knew to count her blessings when they came.
"Are you our new master?" the older elf, the one who was also a slave, tentatively interrupted with a rasping whisper just as she finished tying up the bandage.
"No," Kagome said with a quick but firm shake of her head, readjusting her pack before taking up her bow once more. "You guys are all free now. You can leave now if you want, but the way I came through is blocked and I'm not sure the other way out, wherever it is, is safe," she said, glancing over at the only door still shut in the room. "If you want to wait, I'll be sure to escort you to Kirkwall—the nearest city."
"You're going after them alone?" a young, male elf asked, blond, skin and bones, and incredulous.
Kagome nodded shortly. He couldn't be older than twenty, she noted, and the fact he was this close to becoming slave rekindled the miko's anger. "You heard her—there are others, like you, aren't there?"
The blond shook his head at her, staring at her in total disbelief. "Yes, but… these… these people, they're strong. This magister," he spat the word with vitriol, "You should have seen her and the other mages bleed everyone else for—for power! All because she thought someone was coming after them. Going after them alone is—is insane! And stupid! You'll die for sure!"
"Wait, someone?" Kagome repeated, the remark throwing her off. But who would… She paused, hope catching fire in her chest. Fenris…?
Confused, she shook her head. "D-did any of you guys happen to see another elf?" she hastily asked, fighting to remain calm. Did that mean the ambush had failed and he was still free? "He has white hair, he'd… he'd probably be in armor?"
When the answer she got was no, Kagome couldn't help the wave of relief that washed over her. That meant Fenris at least would be safe.
But the others …
Maybe it is stupid; hell, coming into these caves was a horrible idea from the start. But I saved you guys, and if it means I can save a few more from becoming slaves or even worse, sacrifices… then screw it, I'll do it.
Someone has to.
The thought sobering her, Kagome steeled herself and reached over to slip an arrow from her quiver, and quietly told the others to stay safe.
Just three more to go, at least.
She was tired, and aching, and had only so much energy left to fight against magic and demons, but if she was smart about it she might just scrape out of this alive and with all her limbs accounted for.
When it looked like the blond elf was about to protest once more, she stopped him before he could start. "I can't just leave them to die if I can help it," she said softly, watched as his face fell and gave way to shock, and then she left in the direction the magister and two slavers had gone.
She was not done fighting just yet.
.
.
.
"It's quiet," Fenris heard Varric mutter as he worked on the trap blocking them from going through the exit. With each room they cleared, the closer they inevitably became to confronting Hadriana, he felt further vindicated in his feelings of how wrong something was, and now he wasn't the only who felt it either. "Too quiet. I don't like this."
"What's not to like? Less people for us to cut through. I'm all for less work!" Isabela cut in as she came to join them, finished with the usual round of looting. Hawke trailed behind her, scanning the room.
"It's more how there's less work that concerns me," Varric insisted, pausing in disabling the trap to look up at them. "Two rooms we come through to find out they've been cleared for us."
"Maybe their demons turned on them?" Isabela's voice sounded disconcerted. "Or they disturbed some undead that were waiting around. It's happened before."
"Sure," Hawke said flippantly, a grim quality to her voice. "It's possible. Except there are no signs of either surviving."
"And it doesn't explain why the corpses that were left behind all had arrows in them," Fenris griped as the two approached.
"I know that," Isabela bit out, coming to a stop before them. "Balls. You guys just can't let a girl hope, can you?" She shuffled between each foot. "So, what? We've got an ally?"
Fenris snorted. "Or someone trying to steal the slaves as I said before."
"We'll find out soon," Hawke murmured, just as they heard the click of the trap disabling.
Varric stood and dusted himself off, gesturing to the door. "Warriors first."
Fenris rolled his eyes and shouldered the door open, leading them into a small chamber with a door on each side and almost walking face first into a fireball if not for Hawke's barrier blocking the spell.
Spitting a curse under his breath, Fenris' markings lit up as he phased through the barrier and the remaining flames to run down the slaver closest to him—a rogue, and a startled one at that upon seeing the blade impaled through his gut so suddenly before the life flickered out from his eyes.
With a short grunt, Fenris yanked his sword out and turned to the remaining slaver—as fortune would have it, the mage.
One look at Fenris' face, however, had the woman throwing up a barrier and turning tail, escaping through the door closest to her.
Snarling, Fenris and the others gave chase, following the woman down a short hall into the next chamber connected to it. Alarmed shouts reached his ears, and his heartbeat quickened along with his steps.
They entered the room just in time to see three elves and a human in the usual cloths of a slave backed against a wall, another two doing their best to drag an unconscious elven man away from the mage. The mage herself had her hand held up in the air at them, a red mist gathered and swirling around her arm.
The youngest of the three elves, a girl in her teens, was scarcely even lifted from the ground before a bolt had found its home in the back of the mage's head and the woman crumpled into a heap.
Fenris glanced back at Varric to see him giving a grim nod, before he was quickly approaching the three elves on the ground. "Are you alright?" he asked quickly, looking them over. "Are any of you hurt?"
They all shook their heads no.
"You're here to help?" the blond young man beside the girl asked. When Fenris nodded, he relaxed, as well as the others against the wall. "Thank Andraste…"
The sole human of the group, a young brunette, stepped up. "Is… Is the way clear? To leave?" Tears built up in her eyes, her lips trembling. "I just want to go home…"
"You mean you aren't slaves?" Hawke asked, confused. The woman shook her head tremulously.
The elven young man closest to them snorted. "Only Orana here," he gestured to the girl beside him, the one that almost became a blood sacrifice, "her father, and Dera back there," he nodded first to the man Orana's small, shaking hands clutched at, and then to an older elven woman who was watching them silently, "are slaves. The rest of us, along with most of the others, were only captured or tricked into being sold just recently," he explained, spitting that last part, anger coloring his tone and clouding his face.
"Illen…" one of the elves against the wall whispered, "It's over," and the blond turned slightly—after a moment, he pursed his lips, his eyes falling to the ground as he shrugged, conceding.
"Yeah, yeah…" Illen muttered under his breath, his fury ebbing away, "I know."
"Well," Varric chimed in, breaking the tension, "if you guys wanna head out, don't let us stop you." He gestured to the door they went through. "Just follow the trail of dead bodies and you should be all right."
That seemed to be just what they were waiting for, as all but Orana, her father, Dera, and Illen had remained; the rest exclaimed their thanks and praises to the Maker before rushing out, eager to leave this place and their brush with slavery behind.
Shaking her head, Hawke turned back to the four that remained. "The magister? Is she still here?"
Dera, who moved away from the wall to approach Orana as the others had left, nodded. "She should be," she murmured, her voice raspy. "If nothing else, then the other woman that came by should have waylaid her."
That had Hawke and the others pausing. "Woman?" the mage repeated, confused. "So, there was someone else here…"
"S-she saved Papa," Orana finally broke in, still trembling, hands fisting her father's tunic even tighter. "The magister—she was about to—about to…" She trailed off with a shudder, shaking her head rapidly. "She came in just as the magister was about to bleed Papa, scared them off. We—we would have been next. She loved Papa's soup! I don't understand why…"
Dera rubbed a comforting hand over Orana's back, shushing her softly. "The magister was, is, frightened," the older woman said after a moment, peering up at them solemnly. "Especially when the woman interrupted the ritual. Whoever the magister believes is coming after her, she does not think she is strong enough to face them without…"
Fenris' gaze fell to the ground as Dera's voice trailed off into meaningful silence, and he clenched his eyes shut.
"She went after them alone," Illen cut in, looking up at the four. "I told her it was stupid—her against that magister and her people?" He scoffed, harsh and bitter. "But she insisted—said that the other captives and slaves were still in danger and she couldn't—couldn't just let them die. So she just gave Orana's father some potions and told us to wait here so she could escort us back."
At his side his fists clenched and Illen gave them a beseeching look. "Please—you guys look strong, and there's four of you. You can help her before she gets killed." He exhaled loudly, his gaze falling to the ground as he shook his head. "I'd… I'd like to help, to say thanks, but…" He gave a frustrated shrug.
"Don't worry about it," Hawke murmured kindly. "We'll take care of it. You guys should get out of here too, just in case."
"But… but, where?" Orana whispered, "Where can we go?" She looked up at them, green eyes wide and imploring, tremulous as they moved between the four of them. "I can cook," she hastened to offer, "A-and clean… And Papa, he's a much better cook than me. He can even bake, too! Dera's very good at gardening. Please, I don't…" Her gaze fell, lithe fingers curling tighter into her father's shirt, her voice dropping to a tiny, vulnerable whisper. "I don't know what else we can do…"
Hawke bit her lip, rolling on the balls of her heels and sharing a look with the others—the only advice any of them gave being a helpless shrug—before she sighed heavily and made her offer. "Look," she said, stepping forward, "How about this. If you guys go to Kirkwall, I can help you out."
Fenris' felt his neck crack, his head snapped over so fast.
Orana seemed to sag in relief and Dera sighed as well. "You will? Oh, thank the Maker…"
"I didn't know you were in the market for slaves, Hawke," Fenris growled, advancing towards the mage.
Said mage looked at him as if he'd gone insane—he managed to catch a glint of hurt in her grey eyes before she had lifted her chin and stared squarely back at him.
Behind her, Varric had palmed his face, shaking his head, and Isabela cocked an eyebrow at him, unimpressed. But it was Hawke's voice that resonated most with him, slow and soft and disappointed, a tone he'd heard few times before and it still cut into him with ease as she spoke in it.
"I'm offering them a job, Fenris."
His eyes widened before they quickly closed.
Damn.
"I…" Words failed him then, the shame hot on his cheeks also burning whatever reply he had prepared, any excuse he 'd thought to give, because that was what they'd all just be—excuses. It was his temper that got the better of him, that had him jumping to conclusions when he should have paused and gave thought, and nothing else.
Hawke, of all people, was undeserving of such an accusation.
"I see," he demurred instead, gaze slipping to the ground.
He heard Hawke sigh, the whisper-shuffle of her booted feet scuffing against the ground, before she spoke again. This time, her voice was softer and weary, and with that he knew she was letting him off the hook. Something, he knew, he did not deserve.
"We should keep moving."
Fenris nodded but said nothing, following her and the others as they crossed the room.
Just before they could go through the door, however, Illen called out to them.
"Wait!" They turned and found Illen staring directly at Fenris. "The… the woman who helped us? I think she came looking for someone. She asked us if we've seen an elf—with white hair and wearing armor. Maybe it's nothing, but…" The young man shrugged. "You're the first white-haired, armored elf I've seen all week."
Fenris felt it as the others turn their stares onto him.
.
.
.
Just as Kagome thought, a wretched feeling tearing itself through her chest, she was too late to prevent any more deaths.
By the time she'd caught up to the magister, having had to take care of her remaining men, two rogue-assassins and the few undead she left to delay the miko, the mage was well into sacrificing her third victim—Kagome had burst into the room just as the drained body dropped to the ground.
Damn it. Kagome threw up a barrier around those that remained, cursing as tears prickled her eyes. Too late. Damn it.
The magister whirled to face her, but what she saw clearly wasn't what she was expected. If anything, she seemed… pleased. Relieved, even.
"Oh, now what have we here," the mage drawled, painted lips curling into a cruel, wicked smirk. Soft footsteps echoed as she stalked towards the weary miko. "A little lost lamb separated from her herd? How… fortuitous."
Kagome's fingers tightened around the wood of her bow, her eyebrows furrowing. "What?"
The woman canted her head to the side, appraising. The way her blue eyes roved up and down her, it felt predatory and it left Kagome unsettled, made her wonder if she had the strength, the power to back up her behavior or if it was arrogance.
"Oh? So you're to tell me you're not with him?" she asked, curiosity lining her tone, and her blue eyes trailed over to the weapon in Kagome's hands. "No… I don't recall any of his female companions being an archer. You are the one who interrupted me earlier, however. A treasure hunter, then?" The mage chuckled, slow and dark, a slinking sort of sound. "Oh my, I'm afraid you've stumbled into the wrong den alone."
Kagome's eyes narrowed. Is she… talking about Fenris? Lifting her chin, she allowed her grip on her bow to shift, preparing to grab an arrow from her quiver. "No, I'm just a friend."
The woman blinked, her forehead wrinkling. "A friend?"
Kagome's lips curled into a deadly smirk of her own. "You work with Danarius, yes?" she inquired, just to make sure.
The mage tensed, the predatory expression on her face slipping as apprehension bled into its edges. "You know of my mentor."
Kagome paused, her smirk fading. Mentor. "So you're Hadriana?" she ventured faintly. Anger began to flicker under her skin once more and with it she felt her fatigue burn away.
"Sometimes I wondered who I hated more—Danarius, of course, but there were times... There were times I believed Hadriana to be worst. Perhaps because she would intrude on my reprieve, because she... as one would say, poured salt in an already sweltering wound."
Kagome was not lying when she said she felt compelled to continue her pursuit of this magister to save the innocent people her and her soldiers had captured, but that wasn't the entire truth.
Fenris had only told her a few stories of Hadriana, the apprentice his old master took on when he was a slave, but it was enough.
And it was enough to want the head of the woman herself.
The mage's eyes grew wide upon hearing her name from the archer's lips. "Who are you?" she demanded, her fists beginning to glow.
Perhaps she didn't find Fenris himself; saving the sacrifices at least made sure that her venture into this cave wasn't a total loss, but this, her, made it a victory.
"A friend," Kagome repeated, harsh, and she felt her lips curl once more, felt as the cut across her cheek stretched and sting because of it. And idly, she wondered if the smirk looked as threatening as she really hoped it to be. "Of Fenris'."
.
.
.
"Sure are popular today, Broody."
Fenris sighed, eyes shuttering in annoyance, not breaking his stride to look at the dwarf currently pestering him as they briskly crossed the corridor. "I don't know what you're talking about, Varric."
"So, what, you're saying this mysterious lady doesn't ring any bells? You're sure?"
"No," the warrior griped, "It doesn't. As I already said before."
Kagome does, came the traitorous thought, insane as it was seeing as Kagome was dead.
"An armored, white-haired elf isn't exactly much to go on," Hawke said, for once the reasonable one, their earlier confrontation seemingly put behind them. She was a much better person than him when it came to such things, Fenris thought as he voiced his agreement via a grunt, and he was sure he didn't deserve it. "Plenty of people can fit that description. Mostly older people, sure, but still."
"Mm, if anyone was looking for Fenris, surely the first thing they'd go with is his markings," Isabela chimed in with a drawl. "That Fenris could match whoever this woman looking for is just coincidence."
Varric grumbled, not convinced. "Lot of coincidences today," he pointed out, sounding suspicious. "Lady comes in arrows flying looking for a 'white-haired elf in armor' the same day just before a white-haired elf in armor comes strolling in to confront the Tevinter magister after said white-haired elf in armor. But sure, let's just ignore any possibility that it could all be connected."
"Gladly," Fenris groused as they reached the next door, pushing it open with a little more force than necessary.
What greeted them was another four-way chamber containing the bodies of two slavers and undead, some littered with arrows and others with deeps slices.
"She's efficient, you gotta give her that," Isabela mused, giving a slow whistle.
"Let's just hope she's still alive," Hawke remarked quietly, observing the bodies.
"Hear that?" Varric said, stepping closer the door on the opposite side of the room. Listening closer, they could hear the dying shrieks of demons and even fainter, the sound of voices. "Sounds like she is."
"Let's go before that changes, then," Hawke urged.
Just as they started for the door, a livid shriek filled the air.
.
.
.
Kagome threw her hands up, her bow slicing the air as an angry cry left her lips—pink light flickered and pulsed out in a wave. She may have been out of arrows, but arrows weren't exactly necessary when it came to demons. Three rage demons and two shades all fell to dust and the sound of Hadriana's fearful gasp was like music to her ears.
"Call as many demons as you wish," the miko snarled, glaring, her eyes like flames as she traded her bow for her daggers. Fatigue was beginning to wear on her once more but Kagome ignored it with ease. For Fenris. "You'll find they'll be no help to you here."
A wild scream tore from Hadriana's lips and Kagome felt the surge of magic before the floor around her quavered, knocking her off balance. Just as she caught herself by the palms, both her blades skittering away from reach, the surface broke open and bodies began to rise with jerky movements.
Kagome grunted, annoyed. "Undead," she muttered under her breath. Demons she could turn to ash with very little effort. Undead, unfortunately, were something that she discovered needed to be taken care of like any other living foe the first time she stumbled into a cave of them years ago.
Hadriana panted heavily but she was grinning triumphantly, a wild look to her eyes.
The miko glared and was about to push herself up from the ground when suddenly, they heard the door slam open.
Their heads snapped over towards the noise, and the triumph sluiced off from the mage's face like water; instead she looked pale and stricken as a party of four ran in to join them, weapons at the ready and a familiar elf in the lead, glowing and pulsing angrily.
The sight of the fallen archer on the ground had them all reeling to a stop, however, and Kagome felt her breath become stolen at the sight of him.
"Fenris…"
aaah! and finally, after almost three long years, (and like five long chapters) they finally see each other once more! (thank fucking god lmao)
but the fight isn't over yet! (cue ominous laughter)
haha, anyway, anyone ever play da2 with the face morph ageing mods? that changed some of the characters looks when you progressed into the next act? bc i diiiid. lmao. i found one for orana that had her much younger when you meet her in act 2, and idk, i kinda felt it more fitting? i just liked the idea of orana being really young then, like a teenager, so in here she's say.. 16/17 ish.
and i also have a couple announcements here-namely, more fanart! lmao, kagomes-lover and beautiful-phantom both drew some amazing pieces that you guys should definitely check out! since outgoing links are still down here on ffn profiles, please head over to zefyre. tumblr. c-o-m/directory for the links on where to go (they'll be marked new!)
i think that's it? (i hope that's it lmao) thanks for the reviews last chapter everyone, it means a lot! and i really hope you all enjoyed this chapter! :D
