Sorry for taking ages to put this one up folks. Just a short one (but I'll be posting a couple). An exercise in the the descent to madness. Anders POV.
OoW
Chapter 55
One hundred hand written copies of his manifesto, completed and sent to all the Circles of Fereldan anonymously.
Each one telling the mages that read them they didn't have to continue to live as oppressed prisoners because of their Maker given gift. They didn't have to continue to be slaves to the corrupt desires of their Templar overlords. They didn't have to continue to live in fear of leading lives like any other free person of Thedas, disallowed from having love from fear it would be taken away or used against them. Children, babies, ripped from their mothers' arms and sent to the Chantry, either to return as a mage or force fed hatred and fear about magic and turned in to yet another terrorising Templar.
He called for them to rise, when the time was right, when the sign was given, to take back their lives, to show the Chantry, the world, they were not uncontrollable animals to be locked away.
Anders knew there was no going back now, he had spent the last three years planning for this, and there was an end in sight, justice would be served to every man, woman and child in his way, there was a... Wait... What? Justice? Was that the spirit talking now?
Anders came back to himself, when did he send those manifestos? He couldn't remember. And why did he want the world to suffer? Innocent people to die like all those innocent mages who had died at the hands of The Chantry... Because they deserved it! Because no one was innocent! Only the mages! We have suffered! He had suffered! Six times in isolation, beatings till he thought he'd die, till he wanted to die. Torn away from his mother, only a damn cushion to remember her by. He'd already forgotten what she looked like, all he remembered of her was her crying and screaming as they took him away. All because he'd accidentally healed a man who been crushed under a tipped cart. They all shouted mage, called for the Templars, and they'd taken him away in chains, a nine year old boy, as far away from his homelands as they could take him, to Fereldan.
Yes, they all deserved to die! Everyone that stayed silent in the face of injustice! They were just as bad as those who murdered, raped and tormented in the name of the Maker!
Anders ran a hand through his hair. Where was Hawke? He'd said he would be here today. He was a mage too. He would understand. Not now, no, but afterwards, later, when the deed had been done, when there would be no returning to the days of subjugation. When the Chantry and Templars would see they'd gone too far, had pushed too much, had committed too many wrongs! Vengeance to rain down upon them in slaughter and... STOP! Stop! This was not him. This was not the man he was before Justice, before Vengeance. Maker, what was he becoming? What had he become? He no longer heard Justice or Vengeance in his head as before, there were no conversations like there had been six years ago, just a complete amalgamation of Anders and the spirit. Thoughts and words spoken in his own voice.
Anders didn't even remember it happening. Truth be told, there were often hours, sometimes days he couldn't remember now. He was afraid. But he had no will left to fight it. Him. Justice. Vengeance. Who was he now? Who was he, but... An end to a reign of terror. That's what he was now. His name a call for the mages to turn against the tyranny of the Chantry. Yes. Yes, he would be a light, a bright, blinding light, to cast the world along a path of righteousness, a path of justice, a path of vengeance. A light no one could hide in the shadows from. They would either be with the mages, or against them. And if they were against them, they would suffer just as every mage had, as he had.
He was no longer Anders. He was Justice and his right arm was Vengeance and the world would shake before them.
