Chapter Seventeen

"What a load of nugshit," Bull muttered, his voice nothing short of the same growls echoing in the distance. "Fucking demons. Fucking Fade bullshit."

Evelyn, Hawke, Alistair, and all five of her companions who'd fallen through the Fade stared in trepidation over the graveyard with each of their friends' names. Alistair's fists were curled as he stood over a headstone with Yelena's name, along with her greatest fear: failure.

Solas' expression was blank as he eyed his own: dying alone. Evelyn peered at him, wondering what exactly that meant, but she knew it was not a topic of discussion he—or anyone—would want to have. The fear demon was trying its hardest to get under everyone's skin, and damn the Maker if it wasn't doing a fine job at it.

"Why is your name not here?" Hawke murmured, her eyes a mix of sorrow and anger. "Why are you the only one excluded?"

Evelyn gave a helpless shrug, because she had no idea what sort of twisted game the demon was trying to play. Even upon entrance when they'd all heard the demon's dark voice provoking them, he'd taunted everyone except for her. It was almost as though she were invisible to the creature, for which she hoped could be used to their advantage.

"Let's keep moving," Alistair suggested, his tone curt and quiet. Seeing Yelena's headstone must have really gotten to him. Losing her was his greatest fear, so it made sense. The mere idea of her death had to be eating him alive.

But they needed to focus. They were so close to the exit as they followed the spirit embodying the Most Holy. "This way," the spirit said, leading them through a wide tunnel. "We are nearly there."

Evelyn and her comrades ran forward, but she slowed her steps when she heard a tentative, "H-hello? Is anyone there?"

Glancing around for the source of what sounded like a frightened young girl, all she could see was the empty dark tunnel.

"Inquisitor?" Solas called, startling her.

"Did you hear that?" she asked. At everyone's confusion, she shook her head. "I thought I heard—"

"No, leave me alone!"

There was the voice again, sounding vaguely familiar and followed by ominous growling. A cold bead of sweat slid down her temple when a ghostly apparition ran past her. Ignoring her friends, she followed the spirit toward the end of the tunnel, coming up short when it disappeared through a mirror.

Slowly, she edged toward the mirror, though she came up short in horror when she saw a child-like version of herself in the reflection. The young Evelyn clung to her mother's skirts as two templars stood nearby. "Mama, don't let them take me! Please," the girl cried. "I'll be good. I swear."

With a sneer of disgust, her mother buried sharp fingernails into young Evelyn's hands, prying her small fingers away. Lady Trevelyan shoved her daughter aside, green eyes burning with fury. "Unhand me, girl. You are no child of mine. Take her away."

Each templar took hold of young Evelyn's arms, dragging her from the room while she cried and screamed and apologized to her parents. "I'm sorry! I'll be a good girl! I'll—"

The mirror rippled as the memory ended. Evelyn stood still, staring unblinking as another memory began to unfold. Around her, her friends were just as silent.

Crying in the back of a wagon for weeks, arriving at a Circle and being surrounded by strangers who would soon become her new family. However, instead of the mirror showing all the good times she'd had in Kinloch, all it showed was a speed-through of the horrifying events that would later haunt her for the next ten years.

"Maker," she heard Cassandra whisper as she and the others could only watch in shock of what had happened to her. One by one, the templars who once protected them were slaughtered. The mages she'd come to love unconditionally were turned into abominations. Young Evelyn ran and hid. And ran. And hid. Over and over until one day, she was finally found.

Behind her, someone—Hawke, perhaps—breathed a curse as they all watched what seemed to be an endless cycle of her undergoing the brutal suffering no one should ever have to go through.

All the breath in Evelyn's body froze as her past was put on display for everyone. Tears welled in her eyes, yet she couldn't move a muscle. She was simply stuck in place, unable to react as her heart thrummed in her chest. Watching her younger self from a distance brought forth all the feelings she'd been trying to keep buried. As the harrowing screams of fear and pain echoed from the mirror, that sinister voice from the nightmare demon chuckled as the mirror vanished.

Her friends went on the defense, yet she still couldn't move.

"I've longed for this day, Inquisitor," it said, its voice low and deep and full of malicious glee.

Slowly, Evelyn blinked up at the gaunt creature, a demon with tentacles for eyes and six spiderlike legs protruding from its back. However, it wasn't its grotesque appearance that caused shivers to inch down her spine and her heart to become lodged somewhere in her throat. It was the fact that as she peered up at the demonic entity, all she could see was her former broken self staring back at her.

The demon's minions—monster-sized arachnids that chittered eerily—crept around them. "You have every right to be afraid," it said, something that could only be described as a grin curling what she assumed to be its mouth. "Even now I can taste it. It weakens you, yet it has fed me well. I should be thanking you."

Evelyn was only distantly aware of her friends calling out to her, begging her to move as dark tendrils of magic coiled toward her.

Time seemed to slow down as she closed her eyes.

For years, she'd suffered what seemed to be a never-ending nightmare. For years, it had consumed her, making her become so withdrawn that she could hardly recognize herself in a mirror. She'd shut herself off from the rest of the world, unwilling and unwanting to allow anyone to see the ugly truth of what she'd faced.

She'd blamed herself for the deaths of her loved ones. If only she'd been stronger, she could have protected them.

She'd blamed herself for her family's hatred of her. If only she'd tried harder to please them, or if only she hadn't been born with a latent affinity for magic, maybe they would have actually loved her the way they had her brothers.

She'd blamed herself for ever being born. If only she hadn't been, she would have never undergone such devastating horror and pain at a young age.

Guilty thoughts all stemming from the deep-seated fear that she was simply cursed to live a life of sorrow and pain and regret.

A tear fell, because the longer she reflected on her painful past, the more she began to realize not everything in her life was just full of suffering.

Yelena, who was pure and beautiful in every way. She'd taken Evelyn in and never once treated her as though she were anything but a beloved younger sister. Irving, who'd been terribly strict, yet fatherly in his own way. Cassandra, who was a bit rough around the edges and yet had a heart of gold. Dorian, who was casual and witty and always made her laugh. Solas, whose unending wisdom and thirst for knowledge challenged her in every way, helping her to become more accepting in who she was. Sera, whose mischievous ways made her see the world had more colors than black and white. Bull, who pushed her past her physical limits, allowing her to grow stronger than she thought herself capable. Vivienne, whose grace and calming manner motivated her into becoming a confident leader. Her advisors, who were all so different from each other yet supported and uplifted her with every decision. The Inquisition soldiers and followers who looked to her for guidance and made her want to do everything to protect them.

Those were just a few of the good she'd found in a bitter life. On her worst days, they were there for her. Despite her fears and shortcomings, they helped her grow from the frightened, jaded girl she was prior to meeting them all. She loved them for it.

And that was something no amount of fear could ever take from her. Not again.

"You're right," she muttered aloud, hearing her own voice—in real life—for the first time in ages. "Fear can make us weak."

…

…

Solas and the others stared in wide-eyed shock at Evelyn. Her voice was just as beautiful as he remembered in his dreams. More than that, determination mounted in every word. He could feel his finer hairs standing on end, similar to how it would shortly before lightning struck.

She opened her eyes, and at the same time, her fiery magic snapped forth, searing the dark tendrils that had been closing in on her. The demon's underlings screeched as they were scorched, unable to stand a chance against the furnace surrounding her. A rope of magical fire circled the fear demon, making it growl as it was rendered immobile. "But through fear, there is courage. Determination. Strength." She stepped forward, her narrowed eyes ablaze as the creature struggled to break free from her magic. The rope's glow burned brighter. "And thanks to that, we are stronger than you will ever be. Everyone—attack!"

Snapping from his stupor, Solas launched a ball of magic, then swiftly threw up a barrier when more demons began to appear.

The battle was long and tiring, yet in the end, they proved victorious when Evelyn released one final fireball that engulfed the demon until all that remained of it was chars. Unable to take the time to celebrate, they dashed forward, only to stop abruptly when the massive nightmare demon loomed before them.

"Go!" Hawke said, her eyes wide, yet her lips set in a line of grim determination. "I'll cover you."

"No," came Alistair's sharp retort. "You were right. We were the cause of this. A Warden must—"

"A Warden must help them rebuild. They need a leader, one who will not lead them astray. Not again." Her upper lip curled in disgust as she glared up at the demon, drawing her dual daggers. "And I am no Warden."

Evelyn reached for her staff. "If anyone stays, I must—"

"NO!"

The unanimous shout from every one of them had Evelyn biting off her offer to sacrifice herself. Solas, unable to bear the mere thought of losing her, took hold of her wrist. "Evelyn, more than anyone, you are needed to set things right. The Inquisition cannot stand without you."

Her nostrils flared, and he knew deep within her heart it pained her to have to lose anyone else. And yet, she must know there was no other choice. Without her, the Inquisition would fall apart. More than that, he would fall apart. He simply could not allow her to do such a thing.

Tears welled in her eyes as everyone looked to her to make the heartbreaking decision of who must stay.

Before she could, Alistair, sword and shield in hand, darted forward. Much too quickly, however, Hawke used her dagger to slice through his shin guard, just enough to cripple him for her to run ahead. "Say goodbye to Varric for me!" she pleaded. Then, in a much quieter voice that carried on the wind, she murmured, "I'm sorry, Fenris."

"Hawke, no—"

Too late, Bull tossed Alistair's arm over his shoulder and all but dragged the man past the nightmare demon. When they reached the top of the stairs, Evelyn's anchor flared with light, making her cry out in pain as she opened the portal. Solas and Cassandra carried her through, and when the last of them made it out, the Fade was sealed behind them.

…

…

Evelyn kneeled on the platform, her eyes cast downward. She had no idea how long she sat there, staring at the ground as she struggled to absorb everything that had happened. And Hawke…

She closed her eyes and stood. Around her, the Wardens and her soldiers gathered, waiting for her next command. She struggled to gain control of her spiraling emotions, reaching deep for any shred of restraint less she took her building anger out on everyone within her vicinity.

The anchor was a crippling pain, making her want nothing more than to curl into herself. Yet she couldn't. Not when there were so many eyes upon her. Not when she still had to deal with the wardens.

The wardens, who were the very reason they'd lost Hawke and so many others in the first place.

Anger and disgust over their actions made her want so badly to hurt them the way they'd inadvertently hurt others. To lock them up or send them so far away that the devastating effects of what they'd done would never again touch southern soil.

And yet, through the burning rage in her gut, through the pain and hatred she had over what they'd caused, she was able to conjure a shred of reasoning. The warriors had fought at their side. And she knew they weren't truly responsible for nearly summoning an entire army of demons.

More than anything, the Inquisition still needed arms and influence in order to stop the threat on the world. Though Corypheus had the power to possess them, there were other ways they could assist the Inquisition's ultimate goal of bringing peace to the world.

With that thought, she drew in a deep, shaky breath as everyone gathered around her. She clutched her left hand to her chest, trying to withstand the pain for a bit longer.

"Wardens, you all chose to follow Clarel down this path, but I cannot ignore the fact that you also chose to turn against her. Though you are still vulnerable to Corypheus and possibly his Venatori, you have the means to help. This war is not yet over, but if we stand together, we can and will be victorious. You will fight beside us and do whatever you can to right the wrongs of what took place here."

Evelyn didn't need to look at her friends to know most of them disapproved of her decision. Solas gave a disappointed sigh, and when more than one person made to voice their opinion, all it took was a cold glare on her end to shut them up. She was exhausted and in pain, so much so that she didn't have it in her to do any more fighting. Especially in-house. All she wanted was to lay down and sleep for the next three days.

Stepping down, she ignored everyone and limped away, willing her legs to allow her to make it to her tent outside the fort. The journey seemed long, and her friends followed in reluctant silence. It'd been a vastly long battle, made even more so from the turmoil of once again entering the Fade.

She wanted to weep and scream all at once, but she refrained. Still holding her hand to her chest, she breathed a sigh of relief when she made it to the Inquisition campsite. Using the anchor to both enter and exit the Fade took every last ounce of strength she had. She was so exhausted that she couldn't even muster the energy to change out of her battle attire.

Just before she made it to her tent, Cullen called out behind her, "Inquisitor, a word please. Now."

Without even waiting for her response, he turned on his heel and stormed toward his private tent, shoulders tense. Evelyn heaved a deep sigh. As much as she longed to simply decline, she supposed he'd want to hear what had happened after she and her companions disappeared from the battlefield. It was his job, after all, to know every single detail of what had taken place. No matter how badly she wanted to put it off for a few hours of rest, she reluctantly admitted that this was what she'd signed up for upon accepting the title of Inquisitor. Work would always come first.

Still aching and lost in her thoughts, Evelyn was taken by complete surprise when she found herself pulled into the tightest embrace. Cullen wrapped his arms around her as though she were the last lifeline he had.

"Maker's breath," he breathed, his voice breaking. "I thought…I thought you were gone for good. Please never, ever do that again. I can't bear it."

Whatever resolve and shock Evelyn had left evaporated as the tears began to flow. With her good hand, she curled her fingers into his cloak and sobbed for all she was worth.