Chapter Five

Evelyn had known the day would come, had anticipated it, actually. From those on the outside looking in, they might think her valiant for being so willing to risk her life to close the breach. They might sing her praises or conjure ballads of heroic deeds, passing tales down to their children and grandchildren of her selfless sacrifice.

And they couldn't be any further from the truth.

It wasn't altruism that allowed her to scale the destroyed remains of the Temple of Sacred Ashes. It wasn't compassion that had her heart racing with ardor, causing the mark on her hand to flare with green light through her leather gloves.

No, it all boiled down to one thing and one thing only—death.

For years, she'd spent endless nights alone, contemplating her existence. Life had never before been very kind. Long before the telling signs of her powers came to be, she'd been crushed under the weight of her family's impossible expectations. She'd never been close to her older brothers, and even more distant from her parents. When the truth of her powers came to light at the tender age of thirteen, no one had batted an eye as they'd shunned her, allowing those strangers in templar armor to drag her from her room, unknowing what was going to happen to her. She remembered screaming, begging for her mother and father to help her, crying and apologizing over and over for being a 'bad girl', even though she had no knowledge of what she'd done to warrant being taken away from her only home.

Shortly afterwards, she'd been forced to take a long journey beyond the Free Marches, courtesy of her parents paying extra to have her removed entirely from their lives with no way of ever returning home. That was when she'd landed in Ferelden, a young, terrified girl with no understanding of the outside world, no family to reach out to, no familiar faces, not even a coin to her name.

When the fear and sorrow had subsided, the anger came. Then, acceptance. She'd learned to let go of her past, of the only life she'd known and embraced a new one. She'd become friends with the other mages in the Circle, some of them getting close enough to her that they'd become her new family. She'd loved them.

And then it had all come crashing down. Days, perhaps even weeks of an unending nightmare, screaming until her voice had gone hoarse, terrified of any and everything that moved, painful claws and blades ripping at her flesh over and over…and the whispers… Silent taunts and hushed promises beckoning her to give in, to allow her very being to be free from all the pain and horrors around her. And just when she'd been pushed to the brink, the absolute edge of succumbing to allow her mind to be corrupted, she'd snapped.

It had taken years and years to recover, to try and move on. She'd had to learn how to perform the most basic functions all over again. She'd been too blinded by her fury toward both the mages and the templar Order to trust anyone ever again. It had gotten to the point where she'd pleaded with the knight enchanter in Ostwick to be turned Tranquil, though much to her dismay, her request had been turned down and she'd been forced to endure. Just when she'd finally started to heal, to somewhat put it all behind her somehow, she'd been thrust into yet another seemingly endless nightmare—the destruction at the Conclave.

She was more than ready to let it all go—for good this time. She was no Herald of Andraste. She was no uplifted figure claiming to speak for a higher power. She was nothing more than a tormented mage on a path of self-destruction. Too cowardly to put a blade to her own skin, yet eager to allow the breach to claim her once and for all.

Tears stung the corners of her eyes, a mix of buried sorrow and hope. At last, it would all be over soon. Her one true wish was that she didn't fail. Though she had no desire to continue living, that didn't mean she wished the world would continue suffering if she didn't succeed.

Evelyn, Cassandra, Cullen, and Solas made it to the summit. She had to crane her neck to see the breach, a bright glow in the sky that would every so often flare, as though whatever was hidden on the other side tried to break free. As the templars took up position in a semi-circle above them, Solas turned to her. His expression was bleak, though she didn't miss the slight flicker of concern behind his blue eyes.

"Are you ready?" he whispered, low enough to where only she could hear.

Evelyn was more than ready. She was almost free. A serene smile curved her lips as she nodded.

As though reading her mind, Solas frowned ever so slightly. It was ridiculous, for she knew he didn't possess such power, but the elf was incredibly perceptive, she'd learned. More than anyone she'd met, he seemed to be able to read her with ease.

She turned away from him, only to meet Cullen's amber eyes. He watched with a focus that made her chest flutter, though she had no idea what that might mean. Nor did it matter, since it would be the last time she saw him. She stared at him for long moments, doing her very best to commit his face to memory. She was once again struck with a niggling familiarity, a sense of dejavu that she'd met him before. Not that it would matter soon, but still…

He approached her, apprehension evident in the molten depths of his eyes. "Herald, I…" She watched his throat bob as he gave a hard swallow. "I pray you prove victorious once again."

Evelyn had no idea what to say. He knew what would happen in just a few moments, as did Cassandra and Solas. Despite her attempts to not allow any of them to get close to her in the past weeks, she'd developed a small attachment to all of them. She hadn't expected such an outcome, nor did she welcome it, but there it was. A tiny flame of adoration that tended to form at the beginning of new friendships. She almost regretted not seeing where any of it went.

Almost.

And so, she didn't say anything. Instead, she gave Cullen a sad smile with a small wave before turning her back.

Drawing in a deep breath, she glared up at the swirling pattern of the breach. "Let's do this," she signed to Solas.

…

…

A sense of dejavu overcame Solas as he watched over Evelyn's sleeping form. Though it had only been little over a month, barely a wink in the wrinkle of time, it felt like it had been so much longer since the first time he'd been charged with overseeing her recovery when she'd fallen from the Fade.

She'd been successful in closing the breach for good. The skies were scarred, yet they would heal. As would she.

He recalled those tense moments at the temple. She'd bared her teeth against the pain caused by the mark as she'd channeled her power—and the will of the templars—into the breach. She'd planted her feet as the magic caused by the breach fought to keep from closing. Her body had been shaking while her arm had remained strong. The color had drained from her face, sweat sliding down her temples, and veins threatening to burst beneath her skin. Her very life had been slipping away from her as the breach sucked it in, as though desperate to claim the force seeking to destroy it.

And then, a blast of power had exploded all around them, sending everyone falling to the ground as the green portal vanished before their very eyes. In its place was Evelyn on her knees, panting and exhausted, but still very much alive.

Once again, she'd done the impossible and lived to tell the tale. However, going by the desolate look in her eyes, such had not been the outcome she was hoping for. Solas had seen that look far too many times in all his years. Lifeless eyes of someone who'd given up and welcomed the endless void of nothingness only death could offer.

She'd wanted to die. He'd always known it was odd from the first day he'd told her about her low chances of surviving. Where most would resort to sorrow or hysteria, all she'd done was tilt her head to one side in contemplation. She'd hadn't asked if there was any other way, hadn't so much as flinched. She'd just accepted it right on the spot.

His suspicions had been confirmed in the brief moments before sealing the breach. That smile she'd given him had told him louder than any words could that she was ready to be free.

It was in that very moment, that tiny little gesture had filled him with a crushing amount of disappointment in her. He'd admired her determination to live in the beginning, had mistakenly thought it was her own strength that willed her to keep pushing through despite the madness of the world. It had been inspiring.

But no. Once again, he'd been wrong about her. She'd given up in fighting, perhaps even long before the Conclave's explosion. He could not comprehend how someone with so much potential would just throw it all away so easily.

Peeking just above the furs of her bedsheets, he spotted a ridged scar over her collarbone, and that brought back the memory of seeing dozens more marring her skin. His anger lessened the longer he stared at the imperfection. The scars were so old that he wondered at what age they'd been inflicted upon her. She was so very young compared to him, but he imagined life had barely begun for her before she was thrown into whatever living hell she'd suffered through.

With a heavy sigh, he took a seat in the chair next to her. He did not have a right to be so furious with her for not wanting to live. As he reflected on his emotions, he realized he was more upset with himself than her. He'd placed a bit of hope into her—a human who'd undergone far too much tribulation in such a short span of time. She carried herself so proudly that it was easy to forget she wasn't just a mortal who'd been granted a power so monumental that to others, it was nothing short of a divine blessing.

He would not make that mistake again. Seeing that wounded look on her face after realizing she was still alive had hurt him more than it should have. The burdens she carried weighed more than any one person should have, and placing his faith in her was yet another crushing stone on her fragile shoulders.

Still, sealing the breach was not the only threat the world faced, and so long as she continued to bare the mark on her hand, he knew she was the key to stopping the real war that was about to begin. His friends in the Fade had been warning him for quite some time of the dangers on the horizon, and even now he could feel a dark power rising.

Evelyn stirred in her sleep, fighting the effects of the sleeping potion he'd given her the previous day in order to regain her strength. He stood and strolled toward the exit, knowing she would wish to be alone when she awakened. She'd have to come to terms with her survival and decide on her own whether or not she wanted to keep fighting.

He hoped she would, for the fate of the world would once again fall to her. She just didn't know it yet.

…

…

Night had fallen hours ago, though that didn't seem to matter to the inhabitants of Haven as they celebrated Evelyn's victory of closing the breach. Below the stairs leading to the chantry, music was playing and drinks were shared as everyone laughed and danced and sang in merriment. More than once, Evelyn had been invited to partake in the celebrations, though she'd politely declined, choosing instead to watch the festivities from afar. She was perched on the stairs, knees drawn and chin resting in her hand in thought.

A piece of her was in denial that she was still alive. It seemed the Maker was so against letting her die, though no amount of silent threats or curses would grant her answers as to why. Her life had to be a game to him. He'd created her simply for his own twisted amusement. That had to be it. No matter what happened to her, no matter how many times she'd come close to death, he just would not let her pass.

It was starting to piss her off. She glared up at the velvety night sky and promptly gave it a rude finger.

"What have the stars done to warrant such an inappropriate gesture?" came a sarcastic drawl from behind her.

She didn't need to turn to know that deep voice belonged to Cullen. His was quite distinctive, holding an imposing tone that almost had her standing at attention like the soldiers would when he barked out an order.

He moved to stand in front of her, hands resting on the hilt of his sword in a way that might look threatening, but she knew was simply comfortable for him. "You should be celebrating with the others. You've earned it."

Evelyn raised a dubious brow. She certainly didn't feel the same. If anyone knew the true reason why she'd been so eager to risk herself to close the breach, they'd be quick to reconsider just how triumphant she was.

Cullen regarded her with an unreadable expression as he studied her right back. "You don't think so?"

She lifted one shoulder in a stiff shrug.

His eyes suddenly turned hard, transforming his appearance from casual nonchalance to downright menacing. "Is that because you were hoping you wouldn't make it out alive?" When she parted her lips in shock, he scoffed. "I've been in the Order long enough to know when someone has a death wish. I saw that look in your eyes back at the temple. You didn't agree to seal the breach to save anyone. You did it for your own selfish gain. And to think I actually—" he cut himself off when his voice started to rise with his growing anger. "All these people and our soldiers think so highly of you. They're even throwing this party in your honor, but it's all for nothing, right?"

Evelyn brought her hands up to respond, but she realized it was pointless. Even if he could understand her, what could she even say? His words were true. She didn't deserve anyone's praise, but to hear the venom in his voice cut her deeper than any blade ever could. All she could do was drop her hands in defeat.

Her lack of response made him sneer in disgust. "I spent all this time thinking you were someone worthy of respect. I'm rarely ever wrong, but when I am, I learn from my mistakes. I won't let it happen again. Enjoy the festivities, Herald." With that, he turned his back on her and strolled away with tense shoulders, the only sign of his rage.

Evelyn watched him go. She hadn't cried in ages, yet he'd left her feeling so small and crushed that all she could do was cross her arms over her knees and bury her face in them.

He was right, of course, and he had every reason to hate her for her motives. She had wanted to die. Still did, but why was that so bad? After all she'd been through in life, what was the point in trying to go on? Pain and destruction followed her everywhere she went. She'd seen only the worst the world had to offer, and every blasted time she tried to move on from her past, it just came roaring back to life. Why was it so wrong to be tired of it all? Why was it so unacceptable that she just wanted to be free, to finally feel nothing but that eternal bliss the chantry taught came after death?

And why in the Void did it matter that of all people, Cullen's low opinion of her hurt so much?

She'd cried for help, and no one listened. She'd begged and pleaded and done everything imaginable to try and gain just a shred of peace, only to come out empty-handed every time. The chantry always taught that the Maker was watching over everyone, that he loved all beings equally and would bless those who believed. Well, she'd believed, and what had that gotten her? Absolutely nothing but a shitload of ugly scars and a mark that was slowly killing her.

Snow crunched around her, though she didn't lift her head, not even when she heard the shuffling of someone taking a seat next to her.

"I heard what the commander told you," Cassandra said, her tone uncharacteristically soft. "I have to disagree with him."

Evelyn didn't so much as move a muscle to indicate she was listening, but the Seeker continued. "Regardless of your intentions, you still closed the breach and saved us all. Not only that, but I was with you in the Hinterlands and Therinfal Redoubt—Cullen was not. More than once you went out of your way to help the refugees, even going so far as to journey well beyond our encampment to get medicine for one woman. You planted flowers on a grave for a stranger in Redcliffe. You even found and returned the ring to that elven widow. Those are only a few of your selfless deeds."

Raising her head a fraction, Evelyn stabbed Cassandra with a questioning look, unable to figure out what was the point of her bringing up those things. They were trivial tasks, small favors anyone with a decent mindset would have done.

Understanding her confusion, Cassandra fixed her with a small smile. "When we went to speak with the templars, you didn't have to stay to help them fight off the demons and the corrupted members, yet you did. Though I do not know what you have been through, your actions speak louder than your words. Over and over again you've proven that you possess a good heart. You care for those in need, and you protect the ones who cannot defend themselves. I've seen it with my own eyes. You are worthy of respect, Herald."

Evelyn stared Cassandra for a long time, a range of emotions warring within her. Despite the pain she felt and her reluctance to accept praise she didn't feel like she deserved, she was…touched. More than she thought she could be, but she didn't dare let herself think doing a few favors for strangers earned her any kind of reward.

She sighed and turned her gaze to the ground. She didn't have her quill and paper, but even still, she signed, "Cullen was right about the breach."

Though she knew the Seeker didn't speak Nortualism, she must have understood Evelyn's words as she nodded. "Yes, your intentions were…concerning. However, I'm sure you had your reasons. All that matters is that you are still with us. The way I see it, the Maker has a job for you to do. I truly believe you are meant to be here. The Inquisition is far from reaching its goal, but thanks to you, we still have a chance to fight to bring peace to Thedas. And…we need you. Will you stay and help us?"

Evelyn thought it over. Though she was still weighed down with regret and a million other things, Cassandra's comforting words had a positive effect on her spiraling emotions. It reminded her of just how lonely she'd been all this time. She'd forgotten what it was like to comfort and be comforted by a true friend.

Not that she had any illusion that the woman was being anything more than kind, but fighting alongside her had allowed a seedling of trust to grow in the past weeks. As much as it terrified her to allow herself to grow close to anyone ever again, that tiny sprout was enough to make her see that if the blasted Maker wasn't ready to let her cross into the afterlife, the least she could do was make use of whatever time she had left in the world.

Straightening her shoulders, she turned to the other woman with the first genuine smile she'd had in a long time. She nodded.

Cassandra returned the gesture with her own smile of approval as she stood, waiting for Evelyn to follow suit. "Then I have your word. Commander Cullen was right about only one thing. This celebration was thrown in your honor. Let us make the most of it while we can. With all the rebuilding we have to do, it may be a while before we get another chance to enjoy something like this."

Just then, distant bells began to ring, causing both of them to stiffen in alarm. They shared a look of concern. "Spoke too soon," Evelyn signed before they took off toward the outer gates.

…

…

A chain of lightning flew from Evelyn's staff and shocked a handful of mages long enough for Cassandra and Blackwall to cut them down. Huffing, she ran forward and turned a corner at the sound of another villager screaming for help. Before she reached the two women holding each other in terror, an arrow pierced one through the chest while one man ran his sword through the other.

Panic filled Evelyn as she came up short, drawing in deep, shaky breaths. The sounds of battle filled the air and everywhere she looked there were bodies and blood. For a moment, she wasn't in Haven anymore. She was ten years into the past, swarmed by enemies and flanked by devastating horrors. Fear gripped her heart as she was powerless to do anything but watch yet another villager fall to their death.

"Herald, we must get to the chantry," Cassandra called. Though she was standing in a defensive position just a few footfalls away, her voice sounded distant, nearly drowned out by the pounding in Evelyn's ears.

Too much blood, too many bodies. It was all too much. The enemies were getting closer, far too many in number for them to fight off. It was a losing battle, made even more so with that dragon-archdemon thing flying around.

"Herald?"

That voice was deeper, likely from Blackwall, but she barely heard him. She was too lost in her trance as a loud buzzing filled her ears. For each body she spotted lying lifeless in the courtyard, her anger grew. For every rebel mage and foe that jumped the walls and ran toward her position from all angles, the mounting rage had her clenching her teeth and sliding one foot backwards to steady herself. A sizzling heat bubbled beneath her skin, growing hotter and hotter with each passing second.

"Herald, we cannot fight them all." That was from Solas, but his words were also ignored as the searing burn of her powers begged to be unleashed after years of suppressing it.

When more than a dozen assailants charged forward, fire flew from her staff and fingertips, erupting in a massive wall of flames the engulfed every last one of them. Multiple cries of pain echoed through the air as half went running in wild directions, and the others dropped to the ground in failed attempts to put out the flames.

It wasn't enough. It would never be enough until not a single one of them remained standing. They deserved to suffer the same fate they'd inflicted upon countless others who'd only been seeking shelter under the Inquisition's protection. Gritting her teeth, she conjured the flames to grow even brighter, scorching everything in its path as it stretched ever upward.

She made to step forward to unleash another attack, but two sets of hands grabbed her by the biceps and hauled her away. She growled and kicked and flailed to get Cassandra and Blackwall to release her, but their grips were unyielding as they dragged her inside the chantry. They didn't release her until the doors were slammed behind them.

She rounded on them with a dark glare, struggling to go back outside while a handful of soldiers held onto her to keep her inside. When her attempts failed, she shoved away from them to seek solace in an unoccupied corner, though her struggle to collect her thoughts were swiftly interrupted.

"Herald!" Cullen called, running toward her, his expression grim. "Our position is not good. That dragon stole back any time you might have earned us. There has been no communication, no demands. Only advance after advance." He was sweating profusely, and several droplets of blood were splattered across his face, though a quick scan revealed he wasn't injured.

Unfortunately, she couldn't say the same for many others in the chapel.

She was panting, though there was no time for rest. Not when the dragon was still out there, along with the sounds of the entire village being under siege. It was a dire situation, one that was all too familiar to her. She paced along the floor, hoping to leash her spiraling emotions, but when that proved useless, she shoved her hands through her hair.

She listened to Cullen's proposal that they bury Haven, only to be shot down by Dorian's suggestion that such should only be used as a last resort. Their bickering was driving her insane, though it was drowned out by her own beating heart. The attack had been so sudden. None of them had been given warning, and as a result, far too many bodies lay scattered on the ground. Soldiers, pilgrims, and refugees of all ages. Dead.

As though sensing her panic returning, Solas approached her with a calm stare. "Now is not the time to lose focus," he said gently, though sternly. He grabbed onto her wrists, no doubt in an attempt to calm her.

In the midst of the chaos around them, the steadiness in his passive voice was soothing, breaking through the pounding in her head and making her release her grip on her hair. She didn't blink as she peered at him. It was mystifying how he always managed to make her feel…relaxed. Whether it was the suave resonance of his voice or the confident assurance in his eyes, it was simply easier to gain control over herself the longer she focused on him.

When her breathing became steady and the images of death outside no longer made her want to scream, he gave her a slow nod of approval and released one of her wrists. Heaving a deep sigh, she peered at Chancellor Rodrick as he wheezed out a suggestion of taking a hidden path through the mountains.

Evelyn turned to Cullen at the same time he faced her, casting a brief glance to where Solas' hand was still on her wrist. She tugged free and signed, "I can launch the trebuchet, but do you think it will work?"

"Possibly," he replied after Solas translated. "If he shows us the path. But what of your escape?"

Several pairs of eyes landed on Evelyn. She looked at the ground, thinking it over. However, her lack of a response confirmed what they were all thinking. Cullen grunted, though there was no mistaking the bitterness in that sound. He assumed she was just trying to get herself killed, but such was not the case. Not anymore. Whatever the consequences, all she hoped for was to get the people out safely. It wasn't another suicidal attempt—she'd made a promise to help the Inquisition, after all. Though she may not have had the best intentions at first, she did not go back on her word. She would continue to fight no matter what.

"Perhaps you can surprise the Elder One," Dorian remarked with wonder as Cullen stormed toward the soldiers waiting for their orders.

"Inquisition! Follow Chancellor Rodrick through the chantry. Move!"

There was no hesitation as the soldiers gathered everyone and swiftly did as told. Cullen returned moments later, his face set in ominous lines.

"I'm going with you," Cassandra declared, drawing her sword.

"As am I," Solas said. "You cannot fight through all the mages on your own."

"I owe them a beating," the Iron Bull said, cracking his knuckles. "Those bastards made me spill my ale."

Two separate soldiers sprinted in the opposite direction toward the courtyard. At the three of them mentioning they will aide Evelyn, Cullen's expression relaxed ever so slightly. "They'll load the trebuchet. Keep the Elder One's attention until we're above the tree line."

Evelyn nodded in confirmation and turned away to follow her companions, but at the last minute, Cullen grabbed her hand, making her turn to him with surprise. "If we are to have a chance—if you are to have a chance—let that thing hear you."

Despite the angry words he spat at her earlier in the evening, his gaze was soft. He wanted to apologize, she knew, but she didn't give him the opportunity. Instead of signing, she mouthed the words, "I'll be back." Doubt flickered in his amber gaze, but time was running out. She squeezed his hand in reassurance before slipping from his hold and darting off back into the war zone.