HAWKE
Patches of red cloth tower in the distance as Varric, Fenris, Serena, and I near the infamous Dalish camp of Sundermount.
Serena has acted more oddly than usual, ever since we arrived at the mountain. Within the past half hour alone, I've seen her rub at her arms about forty times. Not to mention she seems to be trying to hide her face within her hair and is taking careful steps to stay in my shadow, even if it nearly risks taking out a bush to do so.
It's taken all of my willpower—and apparently Fenris's and Varric's as well, based on their incessant fidgeting—not to confront her about the strange behavior. All in an effort to ensure she can't use our questioning as a form of excuse to flee back to Kirkwall, unannounced.
As we make our way around another bend in our trail, however, my attention's sidetracked.
The camp comes into sight. Wooden aravels, sporting brilliant red cloth, stand tall in a clearing past a collapsed, stone archway. Red flags wave atop both sides of the arch, while two armed, elven guards block the entrance. Their green and silver, leather armor compliment their darker features. Beneath their windswept fringe resides faded, swirling tattoos; the brandings so stark and expansive across their skin, it's almost like they're trying to signify the vast difference between our races.
The male guard raises a gloved hand at us upon our approach. "Hold shemlen," he says in a harsh, accented tone. "Your kind is not welcome among the Dalish."
"Yes, I know this," I answer. "But I promise you that I'm here for a good reason."
"There is nothing here for any humans." He flashes me a forbidding scowl. "Be gone or you have sealed your fate." He grasps tightly onto his bow, and the female guard does the same.
I step back and almost trip over Serena, but she quickly evades and zips out in front of me.
"Let them pass, lethallin," she says, and the two guards look at her. "They're with me."
The two elves crinkle their brows, and then their jaws go slack. "Serena? You . . . You have returned . . . ?" The male guard gawks at her for a long moment, yet even after speaking, his own words don't appear to register in his head.
"No, not for good," she insists with an emotionless glare. "Let us skip the tearful reunion and move straight to business, shall we? I'm not expecting tea and cakes. Where may I find the Keeper? We need to speak with her right away."
The two guards pause, both of their jaws still gaping open and closed. The woman recomposes herself and motions for us to follow her into the campsite. "This way," she says, and we enter the camp. Our first obstacle behind us.
Serena leads our group beside the female guard. She doesn't even look back at us, not in so much as a quick, acknowledging glance.
Well, at least this answers one question. But . . . Something's not quite right here. Is this really her clan? If so, why isn't she happier to see them? And why were the other two so shocked? What happened between them?
My thoughts spiral and only grow more confused as we enter deeper into the camp. Every elf we pass stops what they're doing to trail behind us. Like a horde of whispering, star-struck followers, tracking a beacon. The female guard leads us up to an older woman with grey hair, who's standing behind a central campfire, facing away from us.
"Keeper," Serena addresses the older woman.
The elven elder jolts and turns to face us. Sweeping, gold tattoos cover her wrinkled face; the color a perfect match to the yellow elaborate trim decorating her embroidered silver robe. Her long, gray hair's tied up in a neat, elegant bun, the likes you would expect from nobility, hardly from a traveling Dalish elf.
The Keeper's green eyes widen and scan over Serena with noticeable surprise, her pink lips slightly open, barely apart.
"Before you jump to conclusions," Serena holds one halting hand up to the elder, cutting off her opportunity to try to speak, "allow me to explain the purpose of my visit. I have not come to return to the clan. I have a few guests I've brought here to see you. That is all." She waves for me to step forward.
I close the distance between the Keeper and I and pull out the hidden amulet in my chest pocket. "I was told to bring you this amulet," I explain.
The Keeper takes it and examines it, then looks up at me. "Andaran atish'an, travelers," she says with a slight bow of her head. "Let me look at you."
She steps closer, craning her neck, and focuses on me with a judgmental stare. Kind of like Mother, when I was a kid, and she was suspicious if I might've been getting into trouble. The intensity of her gaze pierces through me, like a rage demon ripping through the Veil. It makes me feel vulnerable, exposed, as though she's somehow looking into my very soul, my fate, seeing things others cannot.
The thought elicits a nervous shiver that tingles down my spine.
"There is a light in your heart human," the elder says, at last stepping away again. "Don't let it go out. You will need it, just as our Serena did."
I glance over at Serena with curiosity, and she immediately looks away, crossing her arms.
I guess that's another question that's out . . .
"Tell me how this burden fell to you, child," the Keeper shakes me from my thoughts.
The memory of our escape from Lothering floods my mind. Even the minor details, such as what the weather was like and what I had for breakfast, all appear so vividly clear, as if it were only yesterday.
Unfortunately, the memories that stand out the clearest aren't the breakfast portion.
Before I can allow my grief for Carver or our home to resurface, I look down at the ground and try to shrug it off. "A dragon fell from the sky, charred some darkspawn, then asked me to bring you this amulet. No big deal. But why did the witch tell me to bring this to you?"
The woman's eyes gloss over. "I am tied to Asha'bellanar —just as you are—by a debt that must be repaid."
"Asha'bellanar," Serena gasps. "Hawke, why didn't you mention this?" She directs a fierce glare at me.
"I didn't think it'd be important?"
And I didn't remember the name.
"Creators." Serena lifts a hand to her head. "And what debt is it that you speak of Keeper? What debt must you repay?"
"That is none of your concern, dahlen," the Keeper answers. "You need not worry."
"Too late," Serena scoffs then pinches the bridge of her nose.
"Exactly what have I been carrying around? Is it magic?" I ask, a tad disturbed by Serena's reaction.
"It is a promise child—made by one who's words still hold weight," the Keeper explains. "And therefore, it has terrible power. There are few things in this world stronger than a promise kept. Remember that."
The Keeper purses her lips and looks down at the ground for a moment.
"The amulet must be taken to an altar at the top of the mountain and given a Dalish rite for the departed. Then, return the amulet to me. Do this and your debt will be repaid."
She hands me back the amulet, and I slip it into my pocket again, the amulet feeling heavier now than earlier. But just as daunting.
Serena holds up her hand in evident protest. "Oh no. Keeper, if you are suggesting what I think you are, you are unleashing a terrible power back into this world. Moreover, you're doing so willingly. Why? Why would you do such a thing, at the risk of our own people?"
"We have no choice. The promise must be kept or all will be lost."
Serena curses under her breath. She whips away and digs her fingers furiously into her hair, as if threatening to pull the strands out by the roots.
"I will send my First with you," the Keeper persists. "She will see to it the ritual is done. And when it is complete, I . . . must ask that you take her with you . . . when you go."
Serena twirls back around, her eyes widening to size of saucers, alarm replacing her prior anger. "What? But why? Why are you sending Merrill away?" she asks.
The Keeper's gaze softens. "Merrill . . . has chosen a new path. It is her wish, and I must grant it. Please, guide her safely from here."
Serena bites her bottom lip, and with slumped shoulders, heaves a conceding sigh.
"You will find Merrill waiting for you on the trail just up the mountain," the Keeper directs at me. "Dareth shiral. Safe journey to you and your friends. Let Mythal guide your path."
"Andruil's bow, I can't believe this . . . " Serena mutters as we make our way up the dirt path, leading toward the top of Sundermount.
"Neither can I," I add. "Although, it'd probably be a bit easier to believe anything if I had full insight as to what exactly is going on. You know, just a few minor details, such as who this witch is, why you're so worried to hear about her, and what exactly this ceremony entails that makes you so ungodly nervous beyond belief. Nothing too major. Just a thought."
Serena shakes her head with annoyance at me. "I'll explain everything later," she says. "But for now, let's focus on the task at hand and get this over with. Can you agree to do that?"
"I suppose so." I shrug. "That doesn't seem like too hard a task. At least, for the moment."
Serena chuckles and suddenly halts.
The rest of us follow suit.
I watch as her pointed ears perk up and twitch, similar to Titan's, and then her eyes widen, fixating off in the distance. I follow her line of sight and notice a young, elven woman with short black hair rounding a nearby corner up ahead. She peers around at us, then hurries to close the distance.
The woman resembles most of the other elves at camp. The only differences: a yellow scarf wrapped loosely around her neck and a tall staff sheathed behind her back. Her facial tattoos also appear slightly darker, more stark, than the others. But it's such a trivial difference, it's hard to tell for certain.
"Serena, it's really you," the elven woman cries and swiftly wraps Serena in a hug, with her arms around her neck. "I was so worried. Mythal's mercy, I thought I might never see you again!"
Serena embraces the stranger back. "Merrill, I'm glad you are well," she whispers. "We have much to discuss. But for now . . . " The two separate and glance at me.
"Yes," Merrill nods. She pauses to face our group. "Aneth ara. You must be the one the keeper told me about." She freezes up and stares down at the ground. "I-I'm so sorry. I didn't ask your name. Unless . . . it's not rude to ask a human their name, is it? I'm Merrill, which you probably knew already. I'm rambling . . . sorry."
Serena laughs and pats her sister elf on the back. "You mustn't be so nervous, Merrill! They're not the Dread Wolf come to take you. They won't harm you."
"Yes. But they're only the second humans I've seen up close. Last time was not a happy memory."
Serena's playful smile vanishes. The mirth they both emitted a moment before is suddenly replaced with an unspoken tension. The two avoid making eye contact with one another, the awkwardness almost too painful to watch.
I clear my throat to catch their attention again. "You'd have to work harder than that to offend me. My name's Hawke." I smile at the elf.
Merrill grins. "Thank you. I'm afraid I'm not very experienced with your kind."
She glimpses up at the sky.
"The sun will set soon. We won't make it up the mountain before sundown, but we should go now. Your task is for Asha'bellanar. It's not wise to make her wait."
"You have no idea," Serena groans and, with a dramatic roll of her eyes, resumes her trek up the winding trail. "Come. Let's get this over with before I change my mind and do something even more careless that'll infuriate the Keeper. I do not miss her scoldings."
