Chapter One
Solas studied the sleeping woman who'd been dubbed the Herald of Andraste by the people of Haven. After temporarily sealing the breach, the power of the mark on her hand had proven to be too much for a mere mortal to wield. She'd been unconscious for three days now. In that time, he'd dedicated himself to seeing to her recovery.
Of course, his intentions weren't entirely pure. It wasn't compassion that had him staying by her side every hour of the day, forgoing his own need to rest. It certainly wasn't fear of the Seeker's threat that if he didn't keep the woman alive, he'd die by her sword. No, it was curiosity, plain and simple. She should have perished along with all the others who'd attended the Conclave. The mark had spared her life in a way that it had allowed her to physically pass through the Fade to avoid being caught in the fatal explosion, which even then should have been impossible in so many ways.
And yet she'd survived.
Even after awakening as a prisoner, the mark had spread, seeking to corrupt her living form. Using its ancient power should not have been possible, yet when he'd taken her wrist and commanded her to channel her focus into sealing the first Fade rift, she'd successfully done so with seeming ease. She'd been in pain, of course. That much had been evident going by the way her face had been twisted with agony and a fine sheen of sweat had lined her brows. Just closing that much smaller rift had taken so much out of her, but she had persevered, fighting alongside him and the others until they'd reached the remains of the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Body weak, unarmored, and wielding a half-broken staff against dozens of demons. He'd been certain that she would perish before that.
And yet she had survived.
Upon reaching the temple, fighting more demons, and finally sealing the massive breach, her body had gone limp. Hours of over-exertion, obtaining a collection of wounds, using her magic to attack demons, and having to pour her very essence into the mark had been far too much for her mortal body to handle. She'd fallen unconscious. Once again, Solas had been so sure that she would never awaken. Even at full strength and years of training, no living creature could have had the physical capacity to endure so much drainage, to take so much internal damage and live.
And yet she had survived.
It was remarkable. So curiously remarkable.
As he watched her sleeping form, he continued to take notes of her progress. The potions and poultices he'd used had healed the wounds she'd suffered. Normally, it would only take minutes or no more than an hour for the herbs to work their wonders, yet hers had been a slower process. He blamed her sluggish healing on the mark. After sealing the breach, the magic had ceased to course through her body at an alarming rate, but it was still present. She should consider herself lucky that it didn't pose a threat on her life.
Not yet anyway. He could only guess that so long as she didn't attempt to open another massive breach, she may have years to live. She would just have to employ caution whenever they came across the smaller rifts.
The Herald shifted slightly in her sleep. It was the first movement she'd made in days, and he documented it in his notes. That was a good sign. It wouldn't be much longer before she finally managed to wake up. He had so many questions, so many things he wanted to ask to get more concrete answers on her condition, yet he knew he would have to put a leash on his eagerness. He wasn't the only one who would wish to speak to her, unfortunately. The Inquisition was still a new force, so small and infant in its existence that they had much work ahead of themselves if they truly wished to bring peace to a world gone mad.
And with the woman's new title as the Herald, something told him that she would be at the center of it all. He'd simply have to wait for matters to settle down and watch her from a distance.
Until then, he had work to do. The Seeker had asked that he run tests on the sleeping herald to determine if she had any ailments relating to her other condition.
Their meeting hadn't allowed much time for exchanging pleasantries beyond introducing themselves. When Cassandra had first arrived with the prisoner, Solas had taken immediate notice that she wouldn't speak. Instead, she would only bow her head in greeting or nod in response. He'd first thought that she was simply afraid or annoyed with being forced to help them.
However, it soon became apparent that she wasn't talking to anyone, not out of spite, but because she couldn't. The nods and hand gestures had been her way to communicate in lieu of verbal responses. She was mute. He'd been asked to determine exactly what caused her lack of speech, be it a physical anomaly or something more.
The door to the Herald's cabin was pushed open without so much as a knock. He spared only a minute glance as both Cassandra and Leliana entered. "Any news?" the Seeker asked. Or demanded, rather. Such was her way.
"She is beginning to stir, although it could be quite some hours before she comes to. However, she has made a full recovery, and the mark has…slowed."
"Slowed? You mean it didn't stop completely?"
Solas shook his head and passed his clipboard of notes to her. "I'm afraid not. Sealing the breach contributed to slowing its progress. It is still there, as evident as any internal organ."
"Is she going to live?" the spymaster asked, folding her arms behind her back. "We still need her to close the breach for good."
Solas returned his attention to the sleeping human. "Closing the breach is going to take far more power than she alone wields. As for the mark, only time will tell whether or not it will grow or fade. For the time being, she seems to be in excellent health."
Cassandra gritted her teeth, clearly wanting to threaten him once again to get a more concrete answer, but he was surprised when she refrained. Instead, she flipped the first page of the clipboard and continued reading before passing the notes to Leliana. "What about her speech? Have you determined the cause?"
"There are no injuries anywhere on her throat that suggests a physical prevention, nor does she show signs of a previous illness." He picked up a leather satchel from a nearby table and removed a booklet. "I also found this journal signed with her name, and assuming she is, in fact, the one who wrote in it, she has the academic intellect to read and write in the common language. Also, if you two can recall, she was able to communicate via Nortualism."
At Cassandra's confusion, Leliana elaborated before he could. "It's a silent language once used by a cult of mages who'd cut out their own tongues and ruptured their hearing as a way of showing their dedication to studying magic, without being distracted by outside noise."
She blanched. "Why in the Maker's name would anyone—"
"A question many have been asking for years," Leliana said with a snort of humor. "Much speculation revealed it was also thought to prevent demon possession. Their methods were extreme, yet affective. Of course, when the circles were founded, the language and self-mutilation were abandoned, as their practice was no longer needed. It's not a popular area of study these days."
"I can see why. Is…" Cassandra's words faltered as she shifted her weight from one leg to the other. "Is her tongue… Is that why…?"
Solas hid his amusement with her discomfort by shaking his head. "Her tongue is still there, Seeker. Deafness was the first to be ruled out, as you both saw how she was able to hear and respond to her surroundings well. She's also capable of basic sounds—grunting, whistling, groaning. This suggests that she is capable of speech—"
"So, she's faking it," she cut in. Her eyebrows suddenly drew together in a deep frown of annoyance.
"Not at all," he countered smoothly, unfazed by the woman's quick temper. "The Herald's condition is genuine, albeit psychological. Something in her mind is preventing her from speaking verbally. A past trauma, most likely. Whichever the cause, there is nothing I can do for her."
Leliana, still reading over the notes, spoke next. "Could this past trauma have anything to do with these scars you documented?"
Solas fell silent for several moments. He'd hoped they wouldn't ask about those. Upon first having two assistants bathe the sleeping mage to clean her wounds, they'd all frozen in shock. Shock, and more than a little discomfort. "It…is possible, but I do not know for sure."
The spymaster's eyes narrowed in contemplation as she picked up on his evident unease. "Show me."
He faltered, though more for the Herald's sake than theirs. A single scar for even the most hardened soldiers was always a sensitive subject. Some might boast and spread tales of the scars being a badge of honor from a victorious battle, but he had a sinking feeling that the Herald was not one of those people. Hers were more…intimate. Even without knowing her he knew her scars were from a painful occurrence in her past. It felt wrong to put them on display for anyone without her consent.
Even so, he was gentle as he rolled the Herald onto her side and after only a brief moment's hesitation, he lifted her shirt.
The shocked silence that followed was ironically deafening. Leliana's face retained a blank mask that he'd learned was customary for her, while Cassandra stared with unblinking eyes at the multitude of old scars crisscrossing the Herald's back. It was certainly unsightly. Some were short and straight, likely from a blade or a whip. Others were long and jagged—animalistic, even, though he'd wager they were from some kind of creature's claws. The deeper ones were raised flesh that was so pronounced that they could be spotted through a cotton shirt if she didn't wear armor or a cloak over it.
It was clear that not a single one of them were from a battle or a nasty fight. And judging by the way they'd healed over, they hadn't been inflicted anytime recently. "There are more," he commented softly, "on her torso and along her arms and thighs, but they're similar." As gently as he'd shifted her, he laid her back down and pulled the bed furs up to her chin. "I'm certain I do not need to tell you how she got them."
"She was tortured," Cassandra said, her voice gentler than he'd thought her capable.
He gave a solemn nod. "Long before the mage rebellion began."
"I need the names of the ones who assisted you," Leliana said, moving to set his notes on a short table. "I would like to have talk with them."
Secret meaning, she intended to see to it that they kept their lips shut. Though Solas couldn't decipher what her intentions were, he was inwardly pleased that such personal knowledge about the Herald would stay safe. He didn't know how she would feel about the entire village knowing that she'd had such a barbaric thing done to her, but he personally would detest having that bit of privacy stolen from him had their roles been reversed.
After answering a few more questions from the two women, they left the cabin, once again leaving him alone with his thoughts and the sleeping Herald. Her face slowly began to show subtle signs of a nightmare taking place. Eyebrows pulling together, mouth curled into a frown. Every so often, her lips would work as she tried to say "no" or "stop" or "please", but her words were silent.
Unable to stop himself, he placed a soft hand on her forehead, feeling chilled skin beneath a sheen of sweat. It was odd, the sudden feeling of wanting to comfort this stranger. He had little tolerance for mortals and even less love for humans, but in the brief amount of time that had passed since meeting her, he'd developed a shred of respect.
Not necessarily for her personality, as he had yet to have a conversation with her to gauge what kind of person she was, but solely for her determination and strength. He'd watched her push through pain and exhaustion to fight off vicious demons and still forge onward to pour her very last ounce of vigor into sealing the breach. By all laws of Fade science, she should be dead, yet she continued to fight for her life.
A life that had apparently been vastly unkind to her.
Such willpower was admirable.
He stroked the loose strands of dark hair away from her forehead. "Rest easy, Herald," he murmured to her. "You're going to need it. I fear you have a long road ahead of you."
…
…
"Maker," Cassandra breathed when she and Leliana exited the cabin. She scrubbed a hand over her eyes, as if that could possibly wipe away the sight of the Herald's scars. Despite Solas' warning before lifting her shirt, she hadn't been prepared to witness such a brutal thing.
"I know," Leliana murmured, exhaling a deep breath. "Some of them were so deep I'm shocked she is able to walk at all." Shaking her head, she led Cassandra away.
"Have you learned of who she is?"
"Her name is Evelyn Trevelyan from Ostwick's Circle. Josephine's family was once close to the Trevelyans in the Free Marches, though she says she doesn't recall meeting or even hearing of her. As far as we know, Evelyn could be a distant relative, yet so far no claims have been made."
"In other words, we know nothing about her." Sighing, she rubbed a hand through her short hair. "She looks so young. From the way she fought, I have to assume she's passed her Harrowing, yet I have my doubts that she became an enchanter. It makes me wonder exactly when she'd been tortured. And for what purpose if we're assuming she's been a standard student."
"Perhaps we should begin to look into the possibility that she wasn't an attendee at an early age like most others. Although rare, there have been cases when mages are hidden when they show signs of magic. It's likely Evelyn could have been an apostate for years before joining Ostwick. I'll have to send a scout to fetch her documents to confirm this theory."
Cassandra nodded in agreement. "Until then, let us try to keep this investigation under the table. I wouldn't wish to give the chantry further cause to try and shut down our organization."
"Agreed." With that, Leliana gave a small dip of her head and made her way toward the tavern, presumably to find the two girls who'd assisted Solas.
Cassandra wringed her hands together, doing her best to not overthink the matter regarding Evelyn. While her initial impression of the Herald was that she was guilty of murder and treason, she no longer believed the woman had been behind the explosion. She also wasn't so calloused that she could ignore the sympathy welling within her that Evelyn had undergone something so vicious in the past. At a young age, no less. While Cassandra tended to be quite coarse and thickheaded most times, she had a heart—and within her heart, she prayed to the Maker on Evelyn's behalf.
She couldn't even begin to imagine what horrors the other woman must have faced.