Pinterest wall: pin .it/4wKqcdW
She did it.
Well… mostly anyway.
The mage managed to stabilize the Breach. The pulses were gone. Their scouts reported no newly formed rifts. This was more than they could've hoped for, given the situation at hand.
Cullen glanced down at the unconscious woman in his arms and let out a frustrated sight as he carried her down to their forward camp where they were supposed to meet up with the remaining soldiers and leave for Haven. Leliana and Cassandra were far in the front with the majority of the troops and he walked being surrounded only by a few of his men.
They all have been precautious about her. How were they supposed to believe all of it has been a coincidence? Yet everything pointed out it to be so. Even though he wholeheartedly wished to believe this too, there was a tiny part of him trying to grasp at any rational explanation possible.
There were rumors of what happened at the Breach already spreading between their soldiers. They started calling her the "Herald of Andraste". The same people who earlier believed her to be the cause of the explosion now actually swore that the Maker's bride herself blessed this mage, sent her out of the Fade and gifted her with that mark to save them all.
Who was he to discourage them after all. Cullen recalled the events which took place not more than an hour ago. He had to admit that the young woman in his arms was quite a powerful one...
A monstrous otherworldly crystal structure was pulsing with surges of green light in the middle of the Breach. The Prisoner charged into the fight along with Cassandra, Varric and that elf Solas. He and his men were ready to guard their flanks if there were any difficulties.
And difficulties there were.
Cullen winced at the sight of a huge pride demon which materialized itself before their was not the first fade beast of this kind for him to encounter. He remembered the fight which took place at the highest room of Kinloch Hold a few years ago and closed his eyes tightly for a moment, breathing heavily to regain focus.
He opened his eyes again to see Cassandra holding the beast's attention as best as she could, while Solas and the Prisoner rained spells down at it's huge form. Varric's crossbow Bianca was showering the demon with sustained hails of bolts, Leliana's archers doing just the same. This tactic has proven itself effective for a moment.
Cullen lost sight of the battlefield for a good while. He and his men were surprised by a number of lesser wraiths and shades which poured out of the Breach suddenly. He ordered his men to station themselves around the perimeter as they destroyed one demon after another to keep the group fighting the pride demon covered.
He did not know how many they destroyed. The moment he finally got to glance in the pride demon's direction, he froze.
The beast, now crippled by the constant attacks, waved it's spiky claw grudgingly, throwing The Seeker aside. She landed a few meters away with a thud and a groan. Before Cassandra was even able to get up, the demon turned to charge in direction where Solas and The Prisoner were. Cullen shouted a few desperate orders at two of his warriors who were stationed closest to the mages. However, there was nothing more he could do to help them, the only thing left for him to do was to watch the charging demon in desperation. Both him and his soldiers were too far to collision was inevitable.
In a matter of seconds, The Prisoner lifted her staff above her head, and a huge cloud of charged purple plasma surrounded her small form, the gust of pure energy it created causing some of the long tresses of her hair to loosen themselves from her bun, now flying around her head like a solar crown.
She stood there for a few seconds as some kind of storm goddess, though it seemed like an eternity to him, lightning gathering and sparkling around her staff. Then a scream of exhaustion and desperation left her lips as she smashed the stave's blade to the ground in one swift move, lowering to one knee to support her stability, sending the potent lightning charge flying at the demon. She knew the beast was resistant to the lightning, but that was no problem for her.
Crackling huge violet sphere encased the demon, while lightning bolts hit the sandy ground around the demon, crumbling it and turning it to the petrified glassy lightning structures, which caught the demon's legs, stopping its momentum immediately.
The Prisoner got up on her legs again, leaning on her staff for balance, panting heavily as she tried to recuperate from the powerful spell.
The demon roared in pain while the static cage created more sharp lightning glass crystals around it, impaling it's legs as it struggled to free itself. Meanwhile, another shower of bolts flew from Varric's crossbow finally sending the huge beast to the ground completely lifeless.
The Prisoner, despite her obvious fatigue did not hesitate a moment, rushed closer to the fade rift and pointed her marked palm towards the unstable Breach. She screamed in pain as power surged into the rift and she fought to stand still while the air around them was filled with otherworldly sounds of The Veil being pulled shut.
A sudden shockwave followed by a flash of bright light swept everyone off their feet. Thundering sound echoed through the air and then there was fade rift, which caused the Breach to expand and pulse angrily, was gone.
Cullen rubbed his face and looked up. The Breach was still there, however it looked stable. When he got up, the first thing he saw was Varric along with Cassandra and Solas, all of them already dashing towards the motionless woman on the ground. Cullen's heart picked up a frantic pace. Even though she has been a lead suspect, the young mage did everything in her strength to help them so far. She has been their only hope to deal with the remainder of the rifts… this could not end like this. They were so close.
"She's alive!" The sigh of relief escaped his lips when he heard Cassandra's shout. Solas was already at her side and a cool blue light shone from his palms as he tried to sense whether there had been any serious damage.
"She's given out a massive amount of her energy. There is nothing I can heal right now… All I can do is to keep her asleep. She needs to rest and we need to trust her. I believe there are more surprises that our friend here holds up her sleeve." Solas noted and a smirk with a hint of admiration played at his lips.
"Darn good job Specter…" Varric mumbled as he kneeled to join Cassandra, Leliana and Solas by the Prisoner's body and brushed a silvery white lock of her partially discolored hair out of her face.
"We need to get her to Adan." Cullen stated resolutely as he joined the rest of them.
Cullen felt her slipping in his arms a bit, so he adjusted his grip on her motionless body.
She surely was several years younger than him, and definitely did not pass her thirtieth year yet. How did someone so young end up at the Conclave, he pondered. It indicated that she was either exceptionally talented or brought along by her superior.
No... the latter was not a probable option. She definitely was a powerful mage, there was no room left to doubt considering her lightning glass trick. Cullen has never seen such use of a storm magic. He did not even know her name yet. She's been "The Prisoner" to him so far and he also heard Varric calling her "Specter" a few times. Ashamed, he noted to himself to correct this mistake as soon as they got her to Haven.
It was hard not to glance down at her from time to time while he carried her. The mage was undeniably attractive. Her delicate pale skin gave her an aura of fragility almost. Her heart shaped face was framed by dark brown hair that was gathered to a bun earlier, now one big mess. Good part of her hair has somehow lost its color, making her appear even more ethereal somehow.
Ethereal. Spectral. A small smirk tugged at his scarred lip in sudden acknowledgement. So that's how Varric got her the nickname - it made perfect sense to him now. He wondered whether her hair had been like this all her life, if the lack of the color was caused by some kind of backlash of the mark or by something she encountered in the Fade during the recent events. Her eyelids were hooded by dark fans of elegant lashes and he found himself struggling to recall the color of her eyes. Was it grey?
Cullen gulped and tried to ignore the ghost of her warm breath over his neck. Despite the recent events there was a faint smell of lilac lingering on her, mixed deliciously with ozone-like crispness. Cullen felt a tingle of excitement and his heart picked up a faster pace. He tried to chase these thoughts away quickly as he carried her down the mountain path.
There is no way he can allow himself to think about her like this. He no longer is some fatuous boy dressed in a templar plate. That boy was long gone.
Charlotte woke up to a crackling of a fire coming from the fireplace not far from the bed she layed in. The lack of light outside suggested it must have been just before dawn. She tried to stretch her legs and arms carefully. Luckily there was no pain. And to her surprise, no guards either as she looked around. Well inside the cabin at least.
It was a small simple cabin. This must've been somewhere in Haven.
However, there was nothing to complain about. This was a far more pleasant way to wake up, compared to being chained and in prison.
"I swear that this "waking up to find out I'm not sure how I got here" happens way too often to me lately." Charlotte grumbled to herself. Well… at least this time there was no mead or wine involved… and likely no moral hangover too.
She frowned a little as she remembered the fight.
A huge pride demon. Her little show of power. Not that she planned to do that… she wanted to hide most of it, trying not to draw any more attention. She figured that her involvement in the Conclave's destruction would be far harder to deny if they knew how powerful she was. However, the situation forced her to act. There was no way she wanted to end up smashed by a roaring Fade beast, so when Cassandra's metal clad body was tossed aside by the demon, there was no time to think.
Charlotte grinned as she couldn't help herself but to feel a little proud. Storm magic and unorthodox use of it has always been her expertise. She has been exceptionally good with lightning ever since her magic manifested, and despite her young age, she spent the last years in Ostwick Circle mentoring the apprentices. That lightning glass was one of the best she conjured up so far.
Well... maybe I'm just overthinking… They would find out about my title sooner or later anyway, Charlotte pondered. I'm just an Enchanter afterall. No Senior Enchanter, no First Enchanter… does it matter anyway? The Circles are gone... Our Circle is gone…
And your friends are dead… A small spiteful voice in her head whispered.
Blood so much blood everywhere. The screams as the crazed Templars chased the helpless mages through the Circle halls… Charlotte shook her head, closing her eyes tightly in an attempt to stop the tears that began pooling in her eyes. No. Not now. She forced her attention to focus on something else instead.
She lifted the sheets that were covering her, to find out she was dressed in a light blue loden wool shirt and her smalls. Charlotte looked carefully around the room, relieved to spot a small pile of clothes, a big warm greyish brocade shawl and knee high boots, hopefully prepared for her to put on. Her old clothes were nowhere to be found. Not that it would be in a useful state anyway, considering all it has been through recently. With a sudden realization she lifted her hand to her neck to find out her loose choker was gone. Charlotte began to frantically search through the pile of clothes sighing in relief when she found said choker hidden underneath all of them. It was a thin black samite ribbon and there was a small silver pendant with a raw amethyst crystal hanging in the middle. She never took it off for this long.
As soon as she secured the choker safely back around her neck, Charlotte got dressed into simple black leather leggings and a surprisingly well fitting, thigh length sleeveless, brown leather overcoat that matched with the boots. Before wrapping the shawl around her neck, Charlotte noticed a small mirror and a comb on the bedside table. "Alright", she mumbled to herself. "I can fix my hair too. Looks like there will be no need for awkward messy hair."
As she lifted the mirror to her face she stared at the reflection in disbelief for a good while, struggling to recognize the person staring back at her.
"Maker's holy buttocks..." she cursed breathlessly and her hand mindlessly lifted to touch the long silvery locks which lingered on the left side of her face. The other side remained dark brown.
How is it white… for Andraste's sake!
She examined it for a moment. It was not that bad… Most of the white hair was in the front, and it slowly faded in highlights and blended with her own color in the back. More than two thirds of her hair still held its natural dark brown.
With a sigh she brushed her long tresses back and braided it into a long french braid which she styled to lay over her left shoulder. Few shorter locks in the front and her side swept bangs escaped the braid to frame her face.
The sun already began to rise, but she suspected that the village would not be busy at this hour. With that she decided to leave the cottage and find anyone who will be able to explain how she got there.
As Charlotte reached the door it suddenly opened before she was even able to touch the knob. Before her stood a confused looking elven woman who widened her eyes at Charlotte the moment their eyes met.
"He… Herald! You're awake!" She stuttered, looking almost... frightened?
Charlotte stared at her just as confused. "Wha- Who?"
The elf hastily dropped on her knees and began to bow. "I didn't know you were awake, I swear! I beg your forgiveness! And your blessing! They say you saved us all! Everyone's been talking about it for the past three days! They say you hold the storm within! I… I… please don't zap me! I am just a humble servant!"
"For Maker's sake! Get up… please!" Charlotte stared at the elf in disbelief and helped her up, raising a brow at the elf quizzically. "... past three days you say?"
"Lady Cassandra is already in the Chantry. With Chancellor Roderick! You need to see her there. She said 'at once!'... 'at once!'" and with that the elf turned sheepishly around and ran away.
Charlotte sighed as she watched the elven woman before she disappeared behind the corner. If this was how the people are going to treat her now, she'd rather get back to being "The Prisoner" any day...
With that she began to make her way through Haven. The village was still quiet - just as she suspected, except for a few soldiers on their duty.
She felt the looks fixated on her as she made her way to the Chantry, which was situated right at the foot of a huge rocky mountain. The whole place was impressive, she admitted to herself and pushed the Chantry door open.
The Chantry hall was resonating with distant voices. They were arguing. Charlotte recognized Cassandra's resolute voice and prude tone of Chancellor Roderick. Even though her family had close ties to the Chantry and she had been educated before her magic manifested, to join the Chantry as a sister, Charlotte never grew to like the overzealous priests… and Roderick was definitely one of them. She was sure of it since their first meeting at the forward camp before. In a few minutes Chancellor demanded her immediate execution and managed to insult everyone around him in the process, including the recently deceased Most Holy Justinia. A mischievous grin formed on her lips as she heard Cassandra shout at him.
"...MY duty is to serve the principles on which the Chantry was founded Chancellor. AS IS YOURS!"
Char side eyed the Templars who were stationed on either side of the arcway. They did not move. She proceeded to pass next to them and open the door to the War room.
The Chancellor was standing on the farther side of the room, looking flushed with anger. The moment he noticed Charlotte enter, he barked an order to the Templars.
"Chain her! We need to transfer her to Val Royeaux for trial!"
He glared furiously from Charlotte to Cassandra, who was now propped against a huge war table leaning forward, her both hands supporting her weight. She spoke calmly.
"Disregard that. And leave us." Ordering the templars away. They saluted and took their leave, completely ignoring Chancellor's advances.
"So… Am I still the suspect?" Charlotte broke the silence hesitantly.
"Oh you absolutely are." Chancellor hissed loathingly only to be interrupted by Cassandra.
"No she is not." she said, as she walked around the table to face him, followed by Leliana.
"Someone, who most Holy did not expect, has to be behind the explosion at the conclave. They might have survived, or might be already dead… Maybe they pulled the strings from afar…" Leliana purred sinisterly in her Orlesian accent.
The Chancellor stared at her in disbelief. "I… I am the suspect now? But not The Prisoner? Was that all a coincidence then?" Charlotte stood there, holding herself from reminding the prick that she was still standing right there.
"Her mark is the key to closing the rifts. The Maker sent her to us in our darkest hour. We heard the voices in the Temple. The Divine called out to her for help!" Cassandra looked at Charlotte.
Great. So they finally managed to realize that this is not my doing.
Leliana pulled a huge book out of the velvet casing and smashed it on the table in front of Chancellors eyes. There was a silver blazing eye symbol shimmering on its cover.
"You know what this is? A writ from Divine. Granting us the authority to act."
Cassandra walked towards the Chancellor and stabbed her finger on his chest, making him back up. "We will close the Breach and find those responsible. And you, Chancellor can do nothing to stop us. As of this moment, I declare The Inquisition reborn."