Something feels wrong, missing. Even with closed eyes I can sense it is so. Sitting up, I allow my vision to adjust to the dimness of the cottage. The fireplace is just ash and shriveled husks of bark. The few candles scattered around the room and the small fire that had been burning in a wall sconce have gone out. There, the latch on the door, it's undone. I'm certain I remember Ross locking it before I went to sleep. Perhaps she went to fetch something.

The door opens and an elven woman enters carrying a crate of potions and oils. Startled, she drops it and falls to her knees, blubbering about what's happened and where I am. Most of what she says, Ross had relayed to me last night. She informs me that Cassandra awaits me in the Chantry shortly before she flees into the village. Muffled through wooden walls I hear her cry, "she's awake! She's awoken!"

I sigh, scrubbing a hand down my face. I'm a Vashoth, member of the Valo-kas mercenary band, not some divine object for Andrastians to blindly revere. My greatsword leans against the wall by the door and I gratefully sling it over my shoulder. The weight of the weapon comforts me, as does the knowledge that I could defend myself if need be. That said, Ross' weapons are tucked neatly away near a wooden shelf. It seems she is more trusting than I am. Strange, considering the both of us awoke imprisoned and accused of massacring Chantry officials.

It was surprising to have a human who, other than being understandably disoriented by waking up in shackles, had not first looked at me with fear or anything resembling distrust in their eyes. She was completely at ease with a battle party that barely knew one another's names, calm in the face of the chaotic unknown. I feel that we will become fast friends, this Ross and I. Gripping the handle on the door, I yank it open, determined that I will track down that Seeker, Cassandra.

Time seems to slow, every person within sight looks up, catches sight of the glowing mark and moves to stand in an eerie semicircle a good distance from me, leaving a narrow path to walk through. They cross arms over their chests, bowing respectfully and murmuring praise to the Herald of Andraste."What? What are you doing? Stop! I mean, stop. Please. You've got the wrong person." If anything, the muttering about modesty and miracles only getsworse. Ross wasn't joking? Is that why they dressed me like this? In a manner more befitting a prophet's messenger than a Vashoth?

I look down, not being able to stand the weight of their stares. The dirt is not uninteresting. Underneath the tracks one would expect from normal village life there are rather obvious signs of struggle. Wildly upturned earth in a relatively straight trail indicates someone was digging their heels in to stop assailants, presumably the sets of prints to either side of the center pair. It starts a short distance from my door and continues a good length before morphing into tracks more akin to that of an injured person being half dragged, half supported between two other people. A pit drops in my stomach as I realize the trail leads out of the village, through closed gates.

All signs point to one thing: someone was kidnapped, if not killed. And, if I had to hazard a guess, that someone is Ross.

Clenching my fists, I wander through the village, investigating firepits, the apothecary, a few shops, and the tavern. If anyone knows who I speak of, they call her by different names: healer, apothecary's assistant, or that woman who climbed on top of a Pride demon's head to shout orders at us. So few even realize that she is the same woman who fell from the Fade. I am hard-pressed to find people that even remember there wasanother person that fell from the Fade. I seek out Varric and Solas and, quite by chance, find them both around a cooking pot, partaking of runny eggs and dried jerky. Neither of them have seen Ross since yesterday.

"Come to think of it, she was telling me she'd gotten into a spot of trouble with some soldier. I'd talk with Curly if the Seeker can't help," Varric suggests.

Solas, having raised a long finger and closed his eyes, opens them once more, alarmed. "I do not sense her aura anywhere nearby. I do not think she could have learned to conceal it in such a short time."

"Aura?" I furrow my brow. "Isn't that only something that mages have?"

"In the Fade," the apostate explains, "some unknown event occurred, the result of which led to her receiving magical abilities. It is not so far-fetched. You now have the mark, after all."

"Yeah, she told me about that too. This shit keeps getting weirder," Varric mutters, looking at his plate like he wishes it would transform into a tankard of ale.

Thanking them, I decide to continue all the way up to the Chantry and meet with Cassandra. Thiswillbe addressed. Burning incense and an almost obscene number of candles fill my senses. Sisters mutter about being ignored by the even bigger Chantry in Val Royeaux. I hear the name "Chancellor Roderick" on many people's lips. Chancellor Roderick,I muse, I remember him. Kept telling Cassandra to retreat, that sealing the Breach was futile. Bullshit.

Speaking of, that's who's locked in an argument with Cassandra about me, if I'm not mistaken. Upon entering, the chancellor first tries to arrest me, and when that fails, he accuses me of purposely failing to seal the Breach correctly. I…think. It's difficult to keep up with his raving.

Cassandra rushes to my defense, at least. "Have a care, Chancellor. The Breach is not the only threat we face."

The redhead in the chainmail and purple hood, Leliana, steps in, declaring their intentions to hunt down whoever was really responsible for killing the Divine. Someoneclosewhom no one expected.

Roderick's face twists furiously. "I am a suspect?"

"You," Leliana narrows her eyes, "and many others."

Crossing his arms, Roderick scowls, "But notthe prisoners."

"They should no longer be viewed as such. I heard Most Holy call out to this woman for help. The other was in no position to do anything," the Seeker points out.

"So their survival? That thingon her hand? All a coincidence?"

"Providence. The Maker sent them to us in our darkest hour." Cassandra draws up to her full height. There is no questioning her belief in her own words.

Oh. No. No no. No. "You can't honestly believe I'm some sort of chosen one. I'm a qunari, Vashoth, a mercenary,if that's somehow escaped your notice."

Her dark eyes are warm, shining, sure of themselves. "No matter what you are or what you believe, you were exactly what we needed when we needed it."

Leliana's eyes, on the other hand, are sharp and calculating. "The Breach remains, and your mark is still our only hope of closing it."

Roderick objects to the Sister's claim, but before he can get very far with it the Seeker slams a massive book on the table. "Do you know what this is, Chancellor? A writ from the Divine granting us the authority to act. As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn." Advancing on the chancellor, she continues, jabbing a gloved finger at him to punctuate each point. "We will close the Breach. We will find those responsible. And we willrestore order. With or without your approval."

Roderick, sensing his defeat, storms out of the room, leaving the two women to fill me in on what exactly being an Inquisition entails. We have no Chantry support, no real financial backing, and no real allies. Their goals sound pretty reasonable from how I understand it: making all the weird shit go back to not being weird and maybe even making things less shitty than they were before. "That's something I can get behind, but there's still something I need to talk about."

"Go on," Leliana bids me to continue.

"Ross is gone. I've looked for her in the village. At best, no one has seen her since yesterday. Solas can't sense her aura, and there are extremely suspicious tracks outside my house."

"I had heard reports of three missing horses," Leliana murmurs, expression rapidly darkening. "I had not thought…"

"What do you mean, aura?" Cassandra leans toward me.

"Solas said something about her getting magical abilities in the Fade."

The Seeker shakes her head disbelievingly. "That is impossible!"

"It was the physical Fade, Cassandra," Leliana points out. "Who knows what is possible anymore?"

"Do you have any idea who could have taken her?" I ask.

Cassandra grimaces. "Even if I did, we have no way of knowing where they are going."

"That is not completelytrue," Leliana corrects, a cunning gleam in her eye. "We may not know who physically abducted her as of yet, but there is only one person who might have orchestrated such a thing." A slow smile creeps across her face, one that would make even the most despicable of men think twice before crossing her. "I think there are some things our dear Chancellor has forgotten to mention."