Before reading this, there are three things you should know:

This story is an AU Dragon Age Inquisition following the canon plotline (for the most part). It contains significant spoilers for both games, but you do not need to know a single thing about Wizard101 to read this story. Lastly, if you know about Wizard101, you should also be aware of the canon divergence I've taken from the original storyline, which will become clear throughout the progression of this story.

Also, a courtesy to make sure this story does not end up deleted from this website: I do not own Dragon Age, Wizard101, or any of its content described below. This disclaimer goes for the entire story and will not be seen again.

Octavia hates the cold of Xibalba.

She hates its bone-chilling hug that seems to embrace and burrow its way into her skin and her clothes, and her mind. She hates the way it bites into her, the way the air rushes against her flesh and raises goosebumps along her arms, crashing into her lungs as it continues to give her life and with that life - pain.

Her mind wanders restlessly as her eyes try to find whose watching her in the darkness. Her breaths shallow and weak. She winces as her muscles protest angrily to the heavy shackles that weigh her down. How her stomach cramps in hunger and shifts beneath her skin uncomfortably.

She hates the steady, constant skittering of the scorpions as they crawl on the ground. She hates the prisoners who moan and shout as stingers dip beneath their skin and inflict the most horrible of poisons on their minds, warning her of what she'll be reduced to soon enough.

She thinks if only she could see what was happening, she could ignore it. If she knew when they were approaching, she could prepare herself and that if she knew what lay in the dark, she wouldn't feel so afraid.

But the more time she sits in the dark, timeless space, a heavy chill weighs her shoulders down and steals the hope from her lungs. As she shifts against the wall, her chains scrape harshly against the ground as they pull against her wrists and drink from her veins. She bites her lip at the familiar numbing sensation of her mana being taken from her. It's a lot like losing blood. It makes her tired, cold, and terrified that soon they'll be nothing left for her to lose.

It is in this fear that she is tortured. In this knowledge, she is held in the underworld, in prison, that she knows she is not meant to escape.

And it's funny, in a sick twisted way, that the people that saved her life and gave her magic would also take it from her in the cruelest and most punishing way. It's irony, she knows, and it's a pathetic joke on herself that she finds herself in this position after everything she has been through.

Octavia hates that she can't help but let her imagination run free: she can't help but fear the worst that could happen and how she might react. She counts her knuckles as she presses against each finger, one by one, and feels the indentions of where the stingers last stung her. She counts the beats of her heart, a roar in her ears, and the aches in her battered body as the only company she has to keep her sane.

And she wonders how long until she breaks? How long until the only thing she can do is scream in agony and moan in anticipation that worse is coming?

She doesn't know.

But she doesn't think she can survive this.

And yet, that's all she can do now. To think of what crime she was sentenced here for and remind herself that they were wrong. She wasn't a traitor. She didn't do anything wrong.

She was innocent.

But knowing this didn't make a difference. It didn't change that she was here. That she was betrayed by the people, she loved.

And that was the truth that would surely kill her.

The darkness almost makes Octavia forget.

In a place where time has no meaning, an eternity could've passed already, and each moment taken from her makes it harder to remember a world of color. Without sight, she desperately remembers the green of the trees, living, breathing, and standing strong as they weather the storm. She thinks of the sky; orange, yellow, and red, as the sun begins to set. She thinks of the ocean, chaotic and unstoppable and layered in more shades of blue than she can name.

But the more she tries to name the things that are green, the more she thinks of her love, who punched a hole in her chest for getting in her way. The more she thinks of the sky; she remembers how an entire world died, and their history was lost. Their names - forgotten. And when she thinks of the ocean, she wonders if she too will be forgotten for who she was before the storm arrived on these shores.

When the sound of plates clicking arrived at her cell, Octavia forgot all about color as the scorpions crawled over her body and buried their stingers under her skin once more. It is when the pain seizes her body in uncontrollable tremors, and the shackles rub her skin raw as she fights to throw the creatures off that she forgets all the beauty the world has to offer.

And when she is paralyzed with poison moving through her bloodstream, she feels like screaming for all the world to hear. But even that is denied as her lungs seize for air. And in that silence, Octavia feels a wave of uncontrollable anger burn inside her heart, ignited by the fear people justified to use against her when they saw what she had become.

Maybe, just maybe, it wouldn't be so bad to let herself fall. To become that person Octavia was feared to be.

And maybe, her conscious voiced as she felt herself begin to fade...

Maybe it would've been better to have died.

Her state of unconsciousness does seem to last long, for as soon as her frantic heart is calm, a sun is forced against her eyes, and she screams as they are scalded in burning light. She slams her palms so hard against her eyelids it aches as her eyes flooded with tears in a desperate attempt to soothe the attack.

After a moment, the light seems to dim, but the pain does not. She knows that someone is in here with her now, but she's afraid to open her eyes. Too long has Octavia been comforted with the knowledge that she will never know what lies within the darkness. Now, confronted with the possibility that she can see, she is rendered terrified of what awaits her.

But past that fear is the raging of the blood through her veins and the adrenaline at the possibility that she has a chance.

And so she lets her eyes slowly open, let's the spots blink out of her vision as the presence catches her attention in the corner of her eyes. When she turns her face to see who stands before her, her heart is warmed by the golden projection of her mentor.

"My scion," Bartleby says quietly, and Octavia's lips quirk into a foreign thing as she smiles at the ancient tree. Even though she wondered if he was here for the worst, she couldn't help but hear the warmth in his tone and the sadness that lingered in his eyes. "You have suffered for a betrayal my eye could not see. For that, I am sorry."

His voice was sincere, and while it was nice to hear that someone was on her side, the platitude was empty as the reason she was here.

"My sister has revealed to me that I cannot protect you from her. A prophecy binds you to her influence in a way that cannot be undone." Octavia's voice hitched even though she hadn't spoken a word, her voice a scratchy, rough cage since she last screamed. At his words, she felt the warmth in her chest slowly die, and a chill lingers where it hadn't been before.

"So long as you are in the Spiral," his words trail off in emphasis, and her eyes widen as her mind sluggishly grasps at his meaning.

But, "what about my magic?" Octavia couldn't leave here without it. She couldn't let this place take one more thing from her.

Bartleby sighs, and a tendril of wind leaves his spectral form to severe her chains like butter. She stares uncomprehendingly at the sight of her broken shackles, the weight still heavy on her wrists, but she couldn't have felt lighter than that moment. Slowly, her eyes follow where her chains led to the ceiling and found an orb pulsing with her power.

Instinctively, she reached up and purred low in her throat as her magic returned to her, chasing the cold from her bones and replacing it with warmth. There was nothing else like it. Nothing else could make her feel so alive!

She laughed, joyous and happy, feeling indebted to Bartleby in a way that was beyond any words she could give.

But then his words from before struck her, and she felt weak as she moved her feet under her to stand. Her muscles were atrophied, and that was not something her magic could reverse. Her stamina was gone. And her hands still shook from the poison in her bloodstream.

She wasn't ready to leave. This cell, yes, of course! But the entire universe? Everything she had ever known?

Octavia grit her teeth as she used the wall to hold herself up and limped to where her things had been laid out like trophies. "Where can I go?" She stuttered, clearing her dry throat multiple times as she got the question out. She gripped her throat at the soreness speaking invoked but did not stop as she put away her things in her bag and dressed in her armor.

It felt loose and baggy in places it didn't before, and Octavia despaired at how much weight she lost while she was here. She felt hollow and was exhausted in a way she couldn't describe, willing and able to leave as she was, but burdened by something unseen and intangible.

"I do not know. It is somewhere beyond the Light of the Raven and the Shadows of the Spider. Beyond even my reach. That is what protects you," he said, leaving Octavia full of doubts of what lay beyond the Spiral. It was like considering the thought she would return to the place she was born - a place without magic - and it scared her.

But, anywhere was better than here.

She felt like a child again as Bartleby opened up the doorway between worlds. The air shimmered as if an intangible veil stood between them, and as she stumbled toward it on unsteady feet, she thought of how this was the last time she would ever see her mentor. How likely it was the rest of the universe would believe she remained on Xibalba paying for someone else's crimes. Would they ever look past their fear and point to the real enemy? The God who walked among them?

It doesn't matter, she supposed, closing her eyes as she took one step into the portal.

Her life in the Spiral had ended.

And a new one would begin outside of it.

Octavia woke to the smell of incense, wondering when she closed her eyes.

But that question was soon forgotten as she took in the lightness of her body and the distinct lack of shackles around her wrists and ankles. The feeling reminded her she was free, but as she opened her mind and took in the foreign place around her, she knew she was anything but.

Yet, even in the question of where she was, Octavia could not help but revel in the softness of the furs she was laid down upon. How the aches in her bones were absent, and so was the filth that had clung to her for so long. It was somewhat strange to wake to and know someone had touched her, but by the way she woke up, she knew it could've been far worse.

Better it happened when she was asleep than aware of it and restrained. She shivered as she felt phantom legs of scorpions crawling up her arms and gave her idle mind something to do as she checked her clothing for her hidden weapons that - yes, were taken. She sighed, although not surprised, and sat up as she scanned the tent for her things.

To her relief, her bag and shoes were nearby. While someone had probably been searched her things, she was confident in the knowledge that she had enchanted her back of every safety measure to keep whoever searching from actually finding the actual context of what a wizard's bag contained.

A shadow passed in front of the entrance, and she stiffened as a large man stepped inside. He was surprisingly human, something she did not often find outside Wizard City, and was dressed in typical clothing that reminded her of Avalon. She wondered how many other parallels she would see as the man identified himself as a healer but did not reach to inspect her now that she was awake.

"Where am I?" She asked, voice cracking under the dryness of her throat. To her surprise, the man handed her a cup that looked like water, but she made no move to drink from it, experience churning her stomach of what may have been mixed within it. Her voice didn't ache as bad as it did before, anyway. Despite her refusal to drink, the man seemed unbothered and answered with a stern yet passive tone. "You are in the Inquisition's forward camp, north of Haven."

The name was foreign to her ears and came across more ironic than it probably had any right to. She couldn't help but raise a questioning brow at the healer, who said nothing more to her chagrin and instead threw a couple of herbs she had never seen into a mortar and begun to grind it up as though she wasn't there.

Remembering her manners, she licked her lips and tried to steady her voice as she said, "Thank you for taking care of me," she trailed in hopes he would provide his name. He did not disappoint, but by the look in his eyes as he glanced over to her, he knew what she was doing. "Adan, and think nothing of it. You were unharmed when you were carried in here, but because of what you survived, people were rather insistent that I look after you."

She didn't voice her confusion, but it must've been showing on her face, for Adan sighed as he began to make a salve out of the minerals. "I don't know much about what they're saying about you or if it's true, and I don't much care. Whether you were blessed or just lucky, you survived something no one else did."

Octavia stared at Adan with wide eyes, unable to think of a response.

"Now that you're awake, I've been requested to escort you to the leaders, and I'd appreciate it if you didn't waste my time and actually survived that meeting, yeah?" Octavia had never felt so off-balance as Adan revealed her situation to her. She didn't have much of a choice, that much was clear, and while she could try and make a hasty escape, she'd be hindered by her lack of endurance. Furthermore, there's nothing worse than starting in a world with everyone as her enemy.

She would tread lightly here and see if she could make some allies in this new world.

Octavia grunted as she shrugged on her boots and strapped the leather tight around the cuff of her pants to block out cold. It hadn't escaped her notice that she was on a snowy hell, but at least she had her magic acting as a hearth to keep her body heat. She would take what pleasantries she could find and shrugged on her backpack, comforted by its presence on her back once more.

When she was ready, Adan gestured for her to leave in front. With a hesitant step forward, she left the familiarity of the healing tent and stepped into the outside world.

Octavia winced as she felt the rays of the sunlight graze her eyes unwelcomely. While her hand blocked out the light of a green sun, it did not take away the camp that its light had been illuminated to her. Beautiful red tents were raised throughout the area with elaborate gold embroidery and black banners as men and women walked by in similarly decorated armor. It was like a flashback to Avalon, seeing the knights and squires preparing for battle. The sound of hammers hitting against the anvils did not dissuade her from the similarities.

But as her eyes cleared of sunspots, she saw that it wasn't the sun that was bleeding green light but a crack in the sky itself, and the aura of death was thick in the air.

She turned to look back as Adan guided her forward, hoping for an answer to her unasked question about what was going on, but the healer had eyes only for the soldiers huddled to the side, blatantly staring at her. A warning grunt sent them all turning away as they sharpened their blades, but Octavia could still feel their focus on her, and it raised the hairs on the back of her neck.

It was a feeling Octavia could never shake - no matter how often she walked in the spotlight - the unease of having so many eyes on her. She didn't know what they were thinking and feared the answer. Adan's words only made her think of how she walked along the knife's edge. One wrong move and she'd nick herself on the blade, but no matter what, she'd always know who held the blade.

Her hands warmed as she remembered she had her magic back, and this time, she would not let others hold power over her life so easily.

Octavia decided to treat this like any other world. No matter what, she couldn't stop the worst from happening and what others decided about her; she couldn't control. But, she could choose who to help and how they would help her in return.

Already, she could tell there were four different species here. The tall and horned humanoids reminded her of Mooshu, the pointed ears of the warriors on Empyrea, and even the recognizable forms of the dwarves from Polaris. The humans, though, she wondered where they came from? So far, aside from the place of her birth, she had never been to a human world.

It was interesting, though, the way they acted in this world. It was subtle, but Octavia could see how the human species stood apart from the other races, looking down on them both literally and not. Their unusually tall height was apparently average here. If Octavia didn't stand apart before, she did now, and she could only hope she could cut through the crowds and hide among them if she wanted to disappear. Still, the only ones they didn't tower over were the Mooshu-like soldiers, and to them, they were intimidated by. She doubted they were even aware of it: their expressions screamed discipline, but their behavior said otherwise.

She sighed as she realized she was being led to the largest and most decorated tent where the leaders of this Inquisition no doubt awaited and steeled herself for what would come next. No matter what happens after this, first impressions always dictate how hard this will be, and after everything, she'd like for things to go easy for a change.

"They're expecting you," Adan announced as they came to a stop, breaking her from her thoughts. Octavia turned to look at him and acknowledged that this was as far as he went with a firm nod. She took a deep breath and applied the foundation of her composure as she exhaled, prepared for the conversation that would change everything.

Octavia was no stranger to using words as weapons. She was more familiar with the language of politics than she liked. Still, in this instance, it let her know more about the situation than is likely expected of her. Renewed with confidence at the thought, she stepped through the doorway only to bite back a grimace as her eyes adjusted to the candlelight setting.

Her eyes darted to the table, which was easily the most prominent thing in the tent. A man wearing black and gold armor pressed both hands against the table as he argued with an even taller woman with an aggressive short haircut. She had an intimidating aura, and the scar that cut through the side of her face amplified the threat she exerted.

The man wasn't deterred in the least, and the animal head serving as the pauldron of his pelt glared heatedly in defense of his soldiers' lives.

"Our soldiers can't hold the line forever. We need to pull back!"

The woman scowled, slamming her hand abruptly as she countered. "If we pull back now, we place a seed of doubt in everyone who looks at us to solve the breach. If we lose their support now, after everything-"

A soft, melodic voice cut through the argument taking all of them by surprise.

"Cassandra, our guest has arrived."

Instantly, Octavia found herself under the scrutiny of the three leaders. One of which seemed to materialize out of the shadows.

After a moment of silence where none of them spoke, the woman, now identified as Cassandra, stepped forward until she all but towered over her, then after a short moment, scoffed. Octavia tensed at the harsh sound but didn't break eye contact, meeting her dark, penetrating gaze that threatened to cut her down here and now.

"So you're the one they're calling Andraste's Champion" couldn't have been said in a more unimpressed tone. Her eyes were wracking up and down her emancipated form and finding her wanting of the title bestowed upon her. Octavia raised a brow at the scorn and folded her hands behind her back to keep herself from crossing her arms defensively.

"Whether or not I am her champion, the real question is what you want from me," she countered cooly, looking deep into this woman's eyes and then boldly stepping around her to face the others, careful to remain behind Cassandra in respect and out of her blind spot.

The hooded woman lifted her chin as she inspected her, humming idly before taking over the conversation.

"You survived what no one else did," her voice was icy as she spoke of loss. Her eyes were searching, looking beyond Octavia as she explained. "Our scouts found you unharmed and unconscious at the feet of the statue of Andraste, touched by fire that did not burn and everything around you in ashes. Over three hundred people, incinerated in an instant, and no one knows why."

Hearing the accusation, Octavia asked dryly, "and you think I'm responsible? Because I survived."

Cassandra growled as she began to circle her. "I think you survived for a reason." Either as the perpetrator or the savior went unsaid, and Octavia conceded that she couldn't fault that since she has been guilty of both accounts before. "And I want to know why. Why do you live when everyone else had to die? Even Most Holy, our Divine chosen in every way, died during the peace conference!"

Octavia dropped her eyes as her heart plummeted in her chest. Loss and suffering weren't new to her, but the pain never changed. All the wars she had been a part of, all the destruction she has caused, and the people she's killed to save lives would forever be a burden weighing on her shoulders. But what they were describing, the attack was sudden and without warning, and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it.

She hated how intimately familiar she was with the feeling.

"I can't tell you why I survived," she began, knowing she had to give them something if she was going to gain any sort of trust between them. But in the same breath, she knew better than to trust them with the whole truth.

She can't tell them why she survived, but she could give them something to find the truth themselves if they wanted it badly enough. As it was right now, she couldn't tell if they wanted it to have someone to blame and keep the peace - as her last trip to prison had been - or if it was to seek justice, no matter how much it cost them in return (and it would always cost them everything).

"But I can tell you what I remember," she offered instead, glancing from Cassandra to the man to the hooded woman.

The man looked to the hooded woman, and with a sigh, Cassandra backed off to return to the table.

"What do you remember?" The hooded woman asked, crossing her arms as she leveled an intense glare at her as if daring her to make up a story.

Octavia took the threat with grace. "It's not much. It felt like a dream. I was in a room with an urn, and there was fire was all around me. That statue you found me at? I think it was from there. One moment I was in that room, and the next, I woke up here."

"You cannot remember anything more?" The man demanded, hand noticeably clutched around the handle of his sword. Octavia spared him a glance, but the sole of her attention was on the women, who had commanded most of the conversation so far, and deemed them the people she had to convince of her innocence most.

"No, it is enough," Cassandra cut in with a long sigh. He looked at her with furrowed brows, and the hooded woman explained it for him with a contemplative frown. "You haven't been there yourself, Cullen, but she speaks of the Urn of Sacred Ashes. Her vicinity to the urn may be what saved her life when the temple exploded."

Cassandra pinched the bridge of her nose as their mystery was presumably solved. "I suppose if the urn was going to be destroyed anyway, I'm glad it saved at least one life before going to waste."

"Indeed," the hooded woman said curtly, but her eyes didn't lose their focus as they darted back to Octavia. "But that doesn't explain everything. She knows it too." Octavia's eyes widened as the woman drew one of her missing daggers and twirled it in her hands in front of her. "I know there's something you're not saying." Her eyes were cold and dark blue as they clashed with her amber-brown, and she swallowed down the automatic dismissal she wanted to voice at the accusation.

This woman knew what she was doing. She knew a half-truth when she heard one. Octavia didn't have a snowball's chance in hell in evading the whole truth with her around. But what manner of details should she give? How much could she get away with not saying?

Her eyes darted to the others to scan them for their reaction to the revelation, and what comfort Cassandra had in the presumed truth before was now taken with a tension that coiled in her shoulders in expectancy to hear the worst. Her eyes darted to the exit as she realized they thought she would make a run for it - and prove her guilt to them in the same instant.

Trying to quiet her nerves, she opened her mouth to reply, "I-"

The tent flapped open as a man ran through and quickly kneeled with their head bowed. "Apologies for the interruption - demons have breached our borders!"

Instantly, Cullen stepped out of the background and took command. "Report scout: what of our soldiers?"

"The Captain ordered a full retreat when we lost both squads on the north and west side."

Octavia swallowed as she heard the chaos outside the tent. The sound of soldiers going to battle was an unforgettable sound, and her magic pulsed deep in her veins in preparation for a fight. She watched as the leaders prepared for war, strapping on their weapons and armor from gauntlet to helmets to bows and arrows.

She realized then that she had landed in a world thrown into war and that she had two options in front of her. Join them and fight against an unknown enemy for a cause she knew nothing about or leave while they are occupied with their enemies to find her answers elsewhere.

Octavia had to leave. She would only get one opportunity to leave when everyone too busy to chase after her. If Octavia missed her chance, it would mean she would go back to being interrogated and likely lose whatever freedom she had only just gained. She didn't know a thing about this world, its history, or its people. Their fight wasn't hers' to bear.

"Brady, take our guest to the stockade and guard her," the hooded woman ordered. At that moment, Octavia hardened her resolve. No matter how pretty the words, she knew she was a prisoner, which meant this conversation was a waste of time. If they felt the need to watch her and keep her out of the fight, it meant they didn't have a shred of trust for her. Fine.

So be it.

"Leliana, is that wise? We need all the men we can to fight." Cassandra countered, and Octavia amended her last thought. At least someone was willing to trust her - however small this gesture was.

"I am not willing to risk more of our people's lives for someone I don't trust," Leliana stated firmly, leaving no room for arguing. Cassandra sighed but followed Cullen as he left the tent, shouting orders to the chaos happening outside. Octavia met Leliana's cold gaze as she strode from the tent, dismissing her worth, and took a moment just to embrace what that felt like.

Octavia didn't resist as the scout led her from the tent, feeling their presence like they held a knife to her back, and waited until all others were out of sight to act. It was then she turned, suddenly and without warning, and grabbed the scout by their sleeve. She barreled into them, hard enough to send them tumbling over her back to the ground.

The surprise of her attack didn't last long, and the scout wasn't green as she hoped as a knife was reflexively sent at her throat, narrowly grazing her cheek as she leaned back. Before they could retaliate further, she grabbed them as they tried to roll away and wrestled her arm around their throat, squeezing as hard as she could as they tried to throw her off with bony elbows.

She winced as those elbows jabbed her ribs but even as weak and hungry as she was, Octavia would always have the strength to survive. She held tight until the scout had gone limp - and then some just in case it was a trick. Once she was sure the scout was down for the count, she hid the body out of sight, safe as she could manage. The scary hooded lady - Leliana - seemed to be the closest thing in charge of this whole operation. It was clear that she valued the lives of her people - an admirable trait - whether out of necessity or belief. Octavia really didn't want to anger her any more than she already had by escaping while they were under attack.

The world blurred around her as she made her escape. People who once stared at her now barely paid her a glance as they rushed to battle. Carrying weapons, supplies, or orders. Preparing for battle was more important than watching her, whatever she meant to them, and as long as she looked like she had as much purpose as the rest of them - she wouldn't draw attention.

She held her breath as she snuck past the grounds where the animals were corralled and loaded with supplies. So far, she had only spotted a couple of horses, and none of them seemed to be used as a form of cavalry. It gave her hope that those who tried to track her wouldn't be able to cover much ground on her without one.

But when she finally made it outside of camp and stood upon the highest hill overlooking the valley, all thoughts of a safe journey vanished as she saw the actual state of the landscape and the threat that these people faced. At the end of the valley stood the highest mountain, and above it, the sky was all but split open by a haunted aurora of green. Meteors fell from the sky and exploded into dozens of creatures that stalked the valley where the land was charred and ashen.

There was a small army of those creatures flooding the valley, and they came in all different shapes and sizes. The people who were camped here were small in number in comparison to the threat. For a heart-stopping moment, she wondered how many of their soldiers were in the explosion that brought her to them.

It was one thing to be told she was the sole survivor of an attack that killed hundreds and another to see it. For a moment, it was as if she saw the fall of Azteca and its people stubbornly staying behind to meet their death rather than escape with her, for them to look at her as she ran to save her life, knowing that she had let them down... that they trusted her to help them and she failed. The pain she felt then followed her here at this moment.

The fact that they were not her people didn't change anything.

This Inquisition was the only thing standing between these creatures and the village that stood on the end of the valley. If the Inquisition ended here, who would protect the villagers? Who would fight for those who cannot defend themselves? Even if these people somehow survived such an overwhelming force, they would lose everything.

The darkness in her heart searched for weakness at the thought, reminding her that her mistakes can either continue to define her or change her for the better. Whether it was better for her or someone else, she didn't care because no matter how smart it would be for her to leave, her heart wanted something else entirely.

Octavia growled as she threw her backpack at her feet and gathered several crystals in her hand. Against all logic and reason, she was going to help them. Like hell, if she would make a cold and calculating decision like those fatalistic ice mages.

This was not her home, but having already lost her own, she does not wish to see another lose their own if she can help it.

Whatever happens next, at least she can say her fate was of her own making.