Hi everyone! Welcome to the adventures of my magequisitor Trevelyan!
This is the first story I decided to share with anyone... and as you will surely notice I am no native speaker by any means, so I'm sorry for any mistakes or weirdness! I'd love to hear what you think and if you'd like to read more. Thank you for your time, I hope you'll have fun!
Faceclaim and moodboard: https/pin.it/1AxwGlu
Drip, drip... drip, drip... the rhythmic sound of water hitting stone stirred her from the gentle embrace of unconsciousness. A ragged exhale left the young woman's lips and her eyelids fluttered open.
Where am I?
Her small form curled on the cold stone floor was surrounded by a faint smell of dampness and mold which contrasted strongly with the smoke of a single torch mounted to the wall nearby. It was not bright enough to light the entirety of the dungeon. A feeling of a cold metal cuff wrapped loosely around her slender wrists made her shiver in disgust, summoning some of the ghosts of her past. Acknowledgment of dull pain in her limbs crept on her and her breath quickened a little matching the pace of her heart which was pounding in her chest.
What happened?
She tried to remember how in the blighted fade she ended up in here.
The Temple of Sacred Ashes. Divine Justinia's Conclave. The mass of bright and sickly green light around me. I'm climbing up to the brightest light. The skittering sound behind me urges me to climb even faster. Fear. Crippling fear...
"Ahh!" The sudden pain accompanied by a flash of green light surged through her body, made her groan and hiss, and forced her eyes completely open to determine the cause of it. She examined her left palm where a strange flashy mark dwelled, flickering and sparkling as if it was angry at her for trying to recall the recent events.
Well, shit... no, no... not good. This is definitely NOT good.
The mark felt completely different from her own magic. Her magic felt somewhat foggy, electric and potent like summer air and skies, whilst a deep purple thunderstorm gathered on the horizon. This mark felt almost parasitic. Not in sync with her nature at all, just sucking the energy out with every pulse. Even though spirit magic and ancient arcane were her fields of expertise, it felt like nothing she ever came by.
Her thoughts were cut short by the thundering sound of a door being forced open. It echoed through the prison hall and she was able to recognize two pairs of boots rushing her way.
The black-haired warrior and a red-headed lithe woman approached her with confidence.
"Tell me why we shouldn't kill you now?" The direct question asked by the warrior rang ominously through the prison.
Well look at you Ella... another pile of druffalo shite and yet again, it looks like you are the one to end up stuck in it... how ironic.
—————-
So… if nothing else, the mark has proven to be useful at least.
Grace glanced incredulously at her hand where the green light flickered and then back at the space where a fade rift had been just seconds ago. She already closed some of the rifts on their way here, still, she couldn't help herself not to be amazed by the sheer power radiating from the mark.
The bald elven mage seemed to know how to use it to their advantage. Luckily for her.
At least someone did. She made an inside note to thank Solas later. He basically saved her life by preventing the mark from consuming her and draining her power completely. Still, the bigger the gaping hole in the sky got with each pulse, the more painfully the mark tugged at her forearm.
Another pulse followed with a dull thundering thud. She fell on her knees to the frozen, snow-covered ground with a groan, clasping at her left wrist in a sudden urge to hold her hand in place as the pain felt almost as if it was about to tear the hand away from her body. This one was particularly strong.
A metal glove reached her arm and urged her to get up again.
"We need to get to the breach as soon as possible. There's no time to dally."
Piece of cake, sure. Close the breach and survive. Do your job. And hopefully survive the following trial as well. If I live to partake. And here I thought the Circle times were over!
Grace scoffed internally and narrowed her eyes at the black-haired woman who spoke just a second ago with that pragmatic tone of hers. The mage had a feeling this was Cassandra's tone of choice regarding anything and couldn't help herself but wonder whether the stern Seeker is going to have her executed right after her purpose is fulfilled.
She was the only survivor. The only one to end up alive after the Temple went boom... It sounded painfully similar to Kirkwall's chantry fate. No wonder they suspected this mayhem to be her doing… She was A MAGE after all.
A blonde dwarf dressed in an open chest shirt standing beside Grace apparently noticed the look she shot at the warrior. A mischievous grin appeared on his face. "Don't worry about Seeker's brooding Spectre. She's all warm and welcoming once you get past the interrogation bits." Then he added with a chuckle. "What Seeker Pentaghast here meant to say, was that we value your help and we realize the mark is nothing pleasant."
Seeker's serious expression twisted to an annoyed smile as she proceeded to lead the way again. "Not now, Dwarf. This is not the time for Your banter. The prisoner is our only hope to sort this mess out. We can dwell on formalities once this is over."
"It's okay master Tethras", Grace mumbled towards the dwarf and rubbed her palm as they regrouped and rushed up the mountain path leading to the Temple. "I'm feeling most welcome here. Pampered even," she added, as she smirked ironically.
"Already told ya, Spectre. It's Varric." She sneered at the curious nickname the dwarf gave her as she followed Cassandra and Solas who were leading the way.
"Already told ya Varric. It's Grace. Or Ella. Even 'Hey you' would do a better job, really…."
"Yeah, sure. Let's go, Spectre." Varric shrugged as he fastened his crossbow he lovingly called "Bianca" to his back.
As they advanced closer to the remains of the temple, her feeling of unease grew stronger. There were scorched bodies everywhere, charred and forever petrified in their horror and vain attempts to run away from the explosion. Smoldering debris covered the ground around them. Apart from the charred bodies everywhere, strange red crystals were growing from the ground. They sang… the song felt almost similar to one she already knew very well - blue lyrium, however, this one felt somehow twisted. Corrupted. Evil...
All of the Conclave dead. All the mages and templars. All the envoys, elven, human, even qunari. All dead. Everyone except for her. She shook the thoughts off. There was no time to delve into the grief which threatened to take over her.
Not now. She can allow herself to grieve later.
If there actually IS a later. A small voice in her head whispered.
Another rift. They managed to kill the shades and a rage demon that poured out of the torn veil.
With the last of the demons dead, Grace held her hand out and a stream of greenish light surged towards the rift. She gritted her teeth and focused on patching it up, her mark's power acting as if it was some kind of magical thread, sewing the rift close.
The rift disappeared with a throb. Solas rushed to her side as Grace gasped in an attempt not to fall and to steady her breathing.
"Lady Cassandra!" An unfamiliar voice rang from the other side of the small opening in the ruins."You managed to close the rift. Well done. Leliana is awaiting you with her men at the Breach."
Grace shot a glance in a direction it came from. There was an armor-clad man with a huge fur mantle hanging around his shoulders.
Lion's mane. Proud. Regal. Quiet voice in the back of her mind whispered.
A small scar splitting the corner of his upper lip, dark blonde of the slightly undercut hair, and a determined expression in his amber eyes were the next things that caught her eye. There was a notable aura of nobility in his warm voice and one could definitely tell that he fought his share of battles by the way he held his posture. His messy slightly curled hair, droplets of sweat on his forehead, and a slight hint of tiredness on his face suggested that he and his men had been fighting out here for a good while. Yet he stood there ready and in complete control. Control... Her heart skipped a beat under sudden realization. So that was the quiet clear hum she felt in the Fade around her - she knew a templar when she saw one. The song of lyrium was unmistakable to her.
"Don't congratulate me, Commander," Cassandra replied pragmatically and nodded in Grace's direction who had just been trying to fix her messy bun, standing not far from them. "This is the prisoner's doing." Cassandra's proclamation made her raise an eyebrow in surprise.
Now, that was new, Grace thought.
She did not expect any word of thanks anymore. Not that she ever did since waking up with cuffed hands to an interrogation extraordinaire a few hours ago - the life of a Circle mage taught her better.
The man turned his gaze towards her and their eyes met. The power of that small moment made her magic stirr in her veins and a small unexpected shiver of electricity ran down her spine. Oh yes. Definitely a Templar.
"Is it? I hope that we're right about you. We lost a great number of men to get you here." He noted pragmatically, his investigative gaze fixed on her.
Right. As if I didn't feel bad enough already… Grace frowned a little and let out a small sight. His statement sounded almost arrogant. Oh well... what else am I to expect from his kind anyways.
"Well… I can't promise anything." she shrugged while putting on an ingenuine smile, never breaking eye contact. "At least there will be no need for a trial if I don't live through this. Plus my passing might finally prove me innocent, so… silver linings, right?" she continued with a hint of sarcastic bitterness in her voice.
The Breach sparkled angrily above their heads. Without waiting for his answer Grace turned on her heel to hurry towards Temple's central part, clenching her fist and trying to hide the painful huff which escaped her mouth as the Breach stirred, leaving the others behind her.
"Hey! Stop! You can't just…" Cullen frowned and shot a concerned look at Cassandra. She shrugged in response.
"And now you see, what I have been dealing with the whole way up here, Commander."
Her comment made Varric chuckle, but he stopped quickly, while her hawk-like eyes shot a warning look at him.
"Do not dare to comment."
"Seeker! Your mistrust wounds me." Varric chuckled again as Cassandra rolled her eyes.
Grace ignored the group she left behind. She was so done with this. No more suspicious looks and accusations. No more contempt from anyone, especially from stuck up templars and seekers. She's closing this thing now, not caring about whether she lives or not.