The skies above Frostback mountains were lit by a dim green light which shone calmly and steadily, reminiscent of the sea after a storm. No more green surges or blazing meteors of Fade fire.

She did it.

Well… mostly anyway.

The mage managed to stabilize the Breach. The pulses were gone and 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 sigh as he carried her down to their forward camp. 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 surrounded only by a few of his men.

They all have been precautious about her. How were they supposed to believe that all of it was a coincidence? Yet everything pointed out it was so. Even though he wholeheartedly wished to believe this too, there was a good 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 woman, sent her out of the Fade, and gifted her with that mark to save them all. It was strange how quickly people's minds shifted.

But 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 mage in his arms was quite a remarkable 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 apostate Solas. He and his men were ready to guard their flanks if there were any difficulties.

And when it came to fighting demons, he knew that difficulties always occurred.

Cullen winced at the sight of a huge pride demon that materialized itself before their eyes. This 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 its 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. He and his men were surprised by several 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 its spiky claw grudgingly, throwing The Seeker aside and roared with a blood-chilling vigor. She landed a few meters away with a thud and a groan. Before Cassandra was able to get up, the demon turned to charge in a direction where Solas and The Prisoner were. Cullen shouted a few desperate orders at two of his warriors who were stationed closest to the two of them. However, there was nothing more he could do to help, the only thing left for him to do was to watch the charging demon in desperation. Both he and his soldiers were too far to intervene. Collision was inevitable.

And then, in a matter of seconds, The Prisoner lifted staff above her head, and a huge cloud of charged purple plasma surrounded her small form, the gust of pure energy it created caused some of the long tresses of her hair to loosen themselves from her bun, and they were 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 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.

A 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 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 its legs as it struggled to free itself. Meanwhile, another shower of bolts flew from Varric's crossbow finally sending the huge beast to its knees and it impaled itself on the lightning glass surrounding it, completely motionless at last.

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. The thundering sound echoed through the air and then there was silence. The 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 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. Do we have any lyrium potions? She needs to rest and we need to trust her." Solas noted and a smirk with a hint of admiration played at his lips. "I believe there might be more tricks that our friend here holds up her sleeve."

"Darn good job, Specter…" Varric mumbled as he stood next to Cassandra, and Solas who were kneeling by the Prisoner's body.

"We need to get her to Adan," Cullen stated resolutely as he joined the rest of them.

Cullen felt her slipping in his arms, so he adjusted his grip on her motionless body.

She looked several years younger than him, maybe somewhere around her thirtieth year. How did someone of her age 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 was a powerful mage, there was no room left to doubt considering her lightning glass trick. Cullen has never seen such use of storm magic. He frowned absently. Why didn't he 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 almost gave her an aura of fragility. Her heart-shaped face was framed by dark brown hair that was gathered to a bun earlier, now one big mess. The 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 a sudden acknowledgment. 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 or if the lack of 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? Blue?

Cullen gulped and tried to ignore the ghost of her warm breath over his neck where her head rested on his mantle. Despite the recent occurence, there was a faint smell of roses lingering on her, mixed deliciously with ozone-like crispness.

Her body fit perfectly in his arms and he could feel her warmth through his breastplate.

Cullen felt a tingle of excitement and his heart picked up at a faster pace. He tried to chase these thoughts away quickly as he carried her down the mountain path, feeling ashamed of the primitive reaction his body had to the closeness of the woman.

There is no way he could allow himself to think about her like this. He no longer was a fatuous boy dressed in a templar plate. That boy was long gone.

Moments after they arrived to forward camp he looked for the patrol of soldiers who were supposed to head to Haven first. They directed him to the wagon which was supposed to be loaded with supplies. Cullen quickly instructed a few of his soldiers to make a makeshift bed out of cloaks and tarp for The Prisoner. He carefully lowered her on the cloaks and stroked a lock of her hair gently out of her face, tugging it behind her ear. She was still soundly asleep, her breath shallow and her skin pale. Cassandra and Leliana joined him in a moment.

"Do we send her with the patrol? Is it safe, Lady Cassandra?" Cullen asked.

"Despite her little… uhm… quirks, she was cooperating willingly and I definitely think she is no threat to us. We envisioned a strange reflection… or memory… or something like that at the rift. She interrupted whatever was happening at the conclave. There was a strange voice ordering someone to sacrifice Justinia… Justinia screamed at her to run... to warn us. She did not cause the explosion. Seems like there was no vile intention on her side. "

Leliana and Cullen watched Cassandra worriedly.

"Sacrifice the Divine?" Leliana's voice sounded grim. "This is worse than we thought… At least we know that the original plan was disrupted by our lady here." She looked at Grace. "Who would have thought… Enchanter Graciella Trevelyan."

Cullen looked at Leliana confusedly. "Isn't that a noble family from the Free Marches? Is she an apostate?"

Leliana nodded "Yes. She is a noble. Not an apostate however. A Circle mage of noble origin… I don't know much about her family yet, but they are quite well connected to the Chantry…"

"Would that mean that they were involved?" Cullen frowned and measured sleeping Grace with his eyes as if he was trying to see through her.

"Hardly. From what I know, they lack the motivation for such a deed. There would be nothing for them to gain." Leliana smirked. "My contacts have provided enough information to say this much with confidence already."

Cullen felt a small wave of relief. He did not let his eyes off the sleeping mage. "I'll walk with the wagon... just in case. And that apostate... Solas. He should come with her as well."

...Graciella. It suited her.

——————-

Grace woke up to the crackling of a fire coming from the fireplace not far from the bed she laid in. The lack of light outside suggested she must have been out for a few hours. 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 the village of Haven.

However, there was nothing to complain about so far. 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 to me way too often lately," Grace grumbled to herself. Well… at least this time there was no mead, wine of other spirit involved… and most likely no moral hangover to accompany the usual one 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 assumed that her involvement in the Conclave's destruction would be far harder to deny if they knew who, and how powerful she was. However, the situation forced her to act. There was no way she wanted to end up smashed by a roaring Pride demon, so when Cassandra's metal-clad body was tossed aside by the beast, there was no time to think.

Grace smirked as she couldn't help herself but feel a little proud. Storm magic and unorthodox use of it have always been her expertise. She has been exceptionally good with lightning ever since her magic manifested, and despite her 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…titles… sooner or later anyway, Grace pondered. I'm just an Enchanter after all. No Senior Enchanter, no First Enchanter… does it matter anyway? The Circles are gone... Our Circle is gone… And after the Conclave I am the only one remaining. At least the only one of the higher ranking who decided to represent the remainder of her Circle.

And your friends are dead… A small spiteful voice in her head mocked.

Blood so much blood everywhere. The screams as the crazed Templars chased the helpless smitten mages through the Circle halls… Grace 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. Grace looked carefully around the room, relieved to spot a small pile of clothes, a big warm grayish 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 usable state anyway, considering all it has been through recently. With a sudden realization, she lifted her hand to her neck to find out her choker was gone. Grace jumped out of the bed and 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.

As soon as she secured the choker safely back around her neck, Grace 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, Grace noticed a small mirror and a comb on the bedside table. "Great", she mumbled to herself. "I'm allowed to fix my hair too! I wonder when the metal cuffs and dungeon will come back… Mother dear would be satisfied however - whatever the situation, you need to look the part…"

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 underneath her own 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 under the normal colored parts, from some angles her hair looked completely normal, except for a small streak of silver in her bangs on the left. However, a good amount of hair down from her ears was silvery white. She lifted the hair up and examined herself in the mirror. The streaks of white mixed with her brown hair and it stood out much more than when it was let down.

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 overgrown bangs which parted in the middle escaped the braid to frame her face.

She nodded in quiet approval. Whatever happened, she figured she'd better get used to the hair. There's no way to change it anyway.

She peeked outside the window to see that the sun was rising, and Grace 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 Grace reached the door it suddenly opened before she was even able to touch the knob. There was a confused-looking elven woman standing in front of her, who widened her eyes at Grace the moment their eyes met.

"He… Herald! You're awake!" She stuttered, looking almost... frightened?

Grace stared at her just as confused. "Wha- Who?" What a weird nickname...

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!" Grace 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.

Grace 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 mountain. The whole place was impressive, she admitted to herself and pushed the Chantry door open.

The otherwise quiet Chantry hall was resonating with distant voices. They were arguing. Grace 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 she never grew to like the association and most of its people.

She stopped in front of the door in the back of the chantry, where the voices were coming from.

"Are you completely mad?! She should be chained and taken to Val Royeaux to be judged by whoever becomes the new Divine!"

"I don't believe she's guilty."

"But the mage has failed! The breach is still in the sky! For all you know, she must've intended it this way!"

"I do not believe that!"

"That is not for you to decide! Your duty is to serve the Chantry!"

"My duty is to serve the principles on which the Chantry was founded, Chancellor. As is yours!"

Alright. That was just enough. Grace took a deep breath and entered the room. Cassandra was frowning at Chancellor Roderick from behind a huge wooden war table, which was covered in parchments and a huge map of southern Thedas. The red haired rogue was there too, standing at Cassandra's side, her arms folded in a defensive posture.

The room was not big, so the number of people in it made it look almost crowded. She noticed a hum of lyrium behind her and glanced back to see two Templars who were guarding the door.

All faces turned to her and Chancellor jumped in eagerness.

"Chain her!" He barked at the Templars. Grace took a step back to the table and shot a startled look from left to right, assessing the Templars distance. They did not move however.

Cassandra's authoritative voice rang through the small room. "Disregard that. And leave us." Which made the Templars salute to her in respect and much to Grace's relief, they turned around and marched out. Chancellor's eyebrows formed a thick grim line as he frowned at the Seeker.

"You walk a dangerous line, Seeker." He sneered at the black-haired woman.

She took a few steps towards him. "The Breach is stable, but it is still a threat. I refuse to ignore it."

He glared at Cassandra again. The air was thick with anticipation.

"Ehm… So… Am I still the suspect?" Grace broke the silence confusedly.

"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?" Grace blinked in disbelief, holding herself from reminding the prick that she was still standing right there, next to him.

"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 Grace.

"Great! So you finally realize that I am anything but a suicidal heretic. And I still remember next to nothing…What a blast! I mean… literally…"

Cassandra rolled her eyes at Ella's remark, deciding to ignore it.

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 onto 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."