Chapter 1: Aftermath

It was such a beautiful day.

Atop the majestic Frostback Mountains, well-hidden by narrow paths through treacherous forests, lay the Temple of Sacred Ashes, once home to the last earthly remains of the Maker's Bride, Andraste. Before, it had been abandoned and forgotten, but now, it plays host to peace talks between two warring factions: mages, practitioners of magic, and templars, the regulators of magic.

Walking beneath the foliage of the woods behind the Temple, a scout called Sparrow smiled wryly to herself. Being in the employ of the Left Hand of the Divine, Sister Leliana, also called Nightingale, she had been trained to repress any personal feelings or opinions about a job, lest they affect her work, but being at a distance, hidden from sight, gave her freedom to shed these thoughts, at least once.

What would Andraste have thought of this conflict between mages and templars? Sparrow was not Andrastian, though she understood well enough the tenets of faith that shaped this religion, and had adapted to using some common expressions related to Andraste. They who professed themselves believers of the Prophet, however, found themselves on opposite sides of the coin, on different standpoints regarding the use of magic. Sparrow shook her head. Magic, which is a force that is as natural as the wind, but as complex as life itself, was a bone of contention between these two groups who simply understood a part of it.

This ignorance, this argument, nevertheless, had cost a lot of lives, a wildfire in which most innocent civilians found themselves caught helplessly in the middle. Kirkwall was the worst and the first burning stick thrown in the fire, and everything else were caught up in the flames. This chaos definitely could not continue, so the Divine called for a Conclave that aims once and for all settle the differences and grievances that led them to fight against each other.

At this important time, however, she had sent her Right and Left Hands, Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast and Sister Leliana, out in an errand only they knew. Not one to leave the Divine unguarded, Leliana tasked her scouts to watch out for the Divine's safety and seek out any potential threats that could ruin the peace talks.

It wasn't that hard, though, since the main characters in this Conclave, the Lord Seeker Lucius and Grand Enchanter Fiona, sent out emissaries to speak for them. Sparrow shook her head again at that. Who sends proxies at such an important event as this? Divine Justinia had a headache as soon as Sparrow reported that to her, and told her to send word to the Hands to force the Lord Seeker and the Grand Enchanter to attend.

Sparrow sighed. It truly wasn't her place to offer any comments about the Conclave, after all, being a lowly, insignificant scout in the employ of the Left Hand of the Divine. Nor would anyone be interested in what she has to say anyway, since at a glance at her pointy ears, if she wasn't donning the scout's hood that kept them hidden, people would automatically avert their eyes and pretend not to see her. Being an elf in this world means the humans would no sooner take notice of her than the dirt on their boots.

When once elves roamed and dominated this land…

Sparrow sighed again in resignation at that thought. Though she didn't wear a vallaslin, she had once lived with a Dalish clan before she came to Sister Nightingale and the Divine, and heard the stories of Arlathan and Elvhenan, and the mythology of the Dalish gods. Even if those stories weren't exactly true, at least they pointed to a time that elves once ruled the land.

How times do change.

So as a lowly scout, she instead focused on how beautiful the day is. The clear blue skies contrasted delightfully with the green foliage of the forests dusted with the white snow that eternally cloaks them, the sun shining brightly and easing the chill in these snow-laden mountains. The Temple stood tall amidst the crowd of people who gathered in its shadow, and under the watchful vigilance of Commander Cullen Rutherford, recruited by Seeker Pentaghast and now rendered impartial to either party in the Conclave, tensions between mages and templars were minimized to a slow hum. Before her tasks took her away, she basked in the beauty and warmth of the day.

It was a beautiful day…

…until a flash of green light shot out of the Temple, straight into the sky, and an explosion knocked her off her feet.

Chaos reigned atop the Frostback Mountains in the aftermath of the explosion that had destroyed the Temple of Sacred Ashes. There were no mages and templars anymore, just a mass of panicked people running aimlessly away from the ruins of the once majestic temple.

"Charter!" Sparrow called out at another elf woman clad in the same nondescript clothes she was wearing.

"Sparrow! Thank Mythal!" Charter shouted as she pushed her way through the mass of people between her and Sparrow.

"Tell the others to move any injured they can find to a safer place!" Sparrow ordered while helping up a heavily injured man. "Kirk's up at Haven; take them there!" Charter nodded and shouted orders at another with the Left Hand's colors.

Sparrow gripped the arm of a passing templar. "You – soldier – tell your captain, lieutenant, whoever, to take all injured to Haven!"

The templar seemed dazed still by the explosion. "I – "

Sparrow roughly shook the templar's arm. "Wake up man!" she cried out. "We don't have the luxury to lose our heads now! Come on, help me!"

Jolted by Sparrow's words and her grip on his arm, the templar stood in attention and readily replied, "Yes ma'am," and went into the maddened crowd.

After depositing the injured man she was helping up onto a wagon full of others like himself, Sparrow scanned the area for any sign of anybody who still had any authority to create a sense of order from this. A small knot in the pit of her stomach told her that most of those who can were inside the ruined Temple… including the Divine. Tears began to sting her eyes at the thought of the Divine, but she quickly wiped them off as she saw another of Nightingale's scouts.

"Miller!" she called out, and the man stopped to look at her. "Did you see Commander Cullen anywhere?"

Before Miller could reply, a voice behind her called her name. "Sparrow!" She turned, and saw Commander Cullen running to her, a relieved expression on his face that she was sure was on hers too. Seeing blood on her face, though, he asked in concern, "Are you all right?"

Sparrow wiped the blood on her face and smiled slightly. "Commander, we need templars to assist the women, children, and the injured to Haven," she reported. "Charter is on her way there."

"I'll see what I can do," Commander Cullen replied, and with a final glance at her, started shouting orders at any passing templar on sight. Sparrow sighed in relief at the not-so-small measure of stability that the Commander instilled with his presence.

Miller turned to Sparrow. "Have you heard from Sister Nightingale yet?" he asked, a hint of worry and panic creeping in his tone.

Sparrow shook her head. "I thought she'd be back by now, but now I'm hoping she isn't," she replied. "With so many dead… I'm really hoping she isn't one of them."

"She and the Seeker are the only ones left who can sort out this mess," the human agreed, "but I'm not sure if we're going to make it till tomorrow."

Sparrow gripped the man's shoulder reassuringly. "We'll manage," she said. "Let's keep the fort for the two Hands now that…" a lump formed in her throat as she thought about the Divine again. "Have you found her body… yet?"

Miller shook his head. "There's still fire in the center of the explosion, it's still too hot to enter. Mages and non-mages alike are still trying to put it out." He sighed. "Thank the Maker there's still good souls wanting to help out despite their allegiance."

Sparrow tapped Miller's shoulder once, then looked out to the direction of the still burning temple. "Come on then. Let's help out too."

Nodding in agreement, Miller followed Sparrow back into the chaos.

The Right Hand of the Divine, Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast, was left almost speechless at the sight. "Maker's breath," she whispered as she looked up at the ever-growing hole in the sky. The once clear blue was now marred by a gaping green hole with dark swirling clouds which every now and then cast down burning pieces of rock and energy.

The sight below was not much better, as the Temple stood, the once impressive Temple of Sacred Ashes, now a ruin still burning in places. People were running, some mindlessly, some assisting injured people, and some…

"Fighting demons? Demons in the real world?" Cassandra was aghast even as she unsheathed her sword and joined the nearest group of soldiers fighting shades that seemingly poured out of …cracks in the air?

"What is that thing?" she asked a nearby soldier as she slashed her way through another shade.

"A tear in the Veil, Seeker, or so the mages tell us," the soldier said in between blows directed towards another shade. "They said the explosion at the Temple opened that hole in the sky, along with smaller rifts like this." When the shade faded into nothing, he slumped to the ground in exhaustion. Cassandra knelt and offered her waterskin, from which the soldier drank gratefully. After a while, he stood and hitched up his shield again even if he still looked exhausted.

All around her, Cassandra saw the other soldiers pick up their weapons again and ready for another fight. "What are you doing?" she asked, confused at the grim determination their eyes had. "You just defeated the demons, surely –"

All confusion was cleared the moment the rift sparked behind her. She turned, and as she watched, the rift pulsed with energy and three shades and four wraiths spewed forth from it.

"We can't stop, Seeker," the soldier glumly said as he thrust his sword into a shade. "They keep on coming, we keep on fighting them, because we have no means of closing them." He raised his shield up to block raw energy thrown by a wraith. "This is an endless fight for us, my lady, and it will be a fight to the death if nobody can find a way to close these infernal rifts."

"Take this. It will help with the pain," Sparrow said as she helped an injured soldier raise himself up slightly.

"Is it… is it bitter?" the soldier looked apprehensively at the green colored liquid in the cup.

Sparrow bit her lip to stop the sudden laughter that bubbled up at his childish tone. Eighteen, a raw recruit. This was most likely his first fight. She smiled to conceal the sadness building in her heart and said reassuringly, "No. There's honey in it, and some mint."

The soldier sniffed at the cup. His unbruised eye visibly brightened. "It smells like my mother's tea," he said, and eagerly drank the liquid. When he finished, she helped him lie down more comfortably.

"Now rest for a while. You'll be good as new after," Sparrow said, and gingerly lifted the blanket to put it over his bleeding stomach. The soldier smiled at her. "Thank you," he said, and closed his eyes. Sparrow stood up, and as she walked a few paces from him, she closed her eyes and whispered, "Go to the Maker's side."

She sighed deeply and walked towards the large tent where she and Leliana's other scouts convened to give each other updates. She walked up to the big slateboard they used to tally the wounded, the missing… and the dead. She picked up a piece of chalk and brushed off the number written under the column "DEAD", and wrote a new one.

"One hundred and twenty-eight," a familiar voice breathed out behind her. Sparrow turned around and saw Sister Nightingale stare sadly at the number she just wrote.

"Sister Nightingale," Sparrow whispered before bowing slightly to the slight woman they call the Left Hand of the Divine. She was surprised at the hug she received from her.

"You've done well, Sparrow," Nightingale said as she released Sparrow.

"Thank you, Sister," Sparrow replied. "But it wasn't my doing alone. Charter, Kirk, Miller, Skittles… everyone helped out to make even a semblance of order during this tragedy." They both walked out of the tent and looked at Haven.

"What's the situation?" Nightingale asked.

"People who survived are still like mindless chickens running around because we can't get to them," Sparrow reported. "Some of the mages at the conclave already ran to Maker knows where, and Commander Cullen reined in some of the templars chasing them to assist in guarding the rifts." She sighed. "We're spread thin here, Nightingale. Unless somebody figures out how to close those rifts, those tears in the Veil, we're all just sitting ducks here waiting to be overrun by demons."

"Are there any mages left who know about these rifts and that… that hole in the sky?" Nightingale asked.

"There are a few, and the ones I've spoken to said they've never seen anything like this," Sparrow said. "The smaller rifts occur naturally every now and then, at some parts of the world where the Veil is thin, but it was supposed to be impossible to have a tear in the Veil of this magnitude. To have magic punch a hole in the sky, so to speak, was unheard of."

Nightingale sat on the ground and buried her face in her hands. "This... Maker..." For a few minutes she was rendered speechless. Still hiding her face in her hands, she asked softly, "Is Justinia…"

Sparrow looked away from Nightingale. "She was last seen at the Reliquary… which was near the center of the explosion," she replied in a flat tone. She heard a sharp intake of breath.

"Have you…"

The hitch in Nightingale's voice gave Sparrow an idea of what the spymaster tried to ask. She swallowed the lump in her own throat as she answered her, "A few mages and some soldiers are working on that now. It's still too hot in the epicenter of the explosion to make a thorough search, but…" she took a deep shuddering breath and bit her lip to stop the tears that threatened to fall, "one mage said… that this kind of fire… would render everything in its path unrecognizable." She closed her eyes and bowed her head.

Sparrow felt a hand on her shoulder. When she looked up again, she saw Nightingale's eyes glittering hard like diamonds. "Let's focus on what we have to take care of first, and that is everybody we see in front of us. When we've done everything else, then we mourn."

Sparrow took a breath and raised her head. "Of course, Nightingale. Forgive me." Both smiled at each other and went out together to return to order this chaotic mess they were in.

In an inner room of the Chantry, where the sisters would gather before the service, Commander Cullen Rutherford, Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast, and Sister Leliana hunched over the collective reports they have gathered regarding the explosion at the Temple.

"Three hundred forty-seven reported dead, and that's only from a hundred-meter radius from the Temple," the Commander reported. A small sigh escaped him, and he continued looking down on the pile of papers as he continued, "We don't even know exactly how many were in the Temple itself. That is, if we are going to assume…"

"We are," Leliana finished for him. "That is what we know of anyway."

"Chantry leaders, knight-captains and commanders… the Divine," the Seeker whispered. "Everyone who can end this blasted mage-templar war was in the Conclave…"

"The Lord Seeker and the Grand Enchanter weren't," Leliana said, a hint of bitterness in her tone. "They were clever to send emissaries in their place."

The three of them fell silent, with only the flickering of the candles to softly break the stillness.

Seeker Cassandra shook herself out of the somber mood that enveloped them. "Let's focus on what we can be able to do. Leliana," she turned to the bard, "what do we know about the rifts?"

Leliana glanced at the paper she held in her hand. "From what my scouts have gathered, the mages confirmed that the hole in the sky, which they now call the Breach, truly tore into the Fade, rupturing the weaker spots in the Veil and multiplying those rifts. Small wards and repelling magic can help manage these smaller rifts, but as you know, we're spread thin, and there's only a few mages left to help us." Leliana threw a sharp glance at Cullen. "Only a few mages who my scouts managed to protect from templars anyway."

Cullen frowned. "I've tried to keep these templars in check, from the little authority I still have," he said defensively, "but I can't make them all see reason."

Cassandra raised a hand placatingly. "Can we do anything about the Breach? Or even the smaller rifts? The soldiers can't last long if the rifts keep on bringing in all those demons."

"We're still working on that," Leliana replied wearily, "but as of now, nobody knows exactly what to do with them. The mages try with some wards on the smaller rifts, but they don't know what to do with the Breach."

"Does that mean, we can't do anything?" Cassandra waved her hands in despair.

"One of my scouts did bring in an elven apostate who offered his services willingly," Leliana said. "He thinks that the thing that caused the Breach, whatever it is, can be used to close it again. Otherwise, he fears that the Breach might grow bigger and swallow the world."

"The Breach can grow larger?" Cullen repeated, aghast.

"The mage observed that with every rift opening and spawning demons, the Breach opens wider," Leliana replied, nodding.

"And that mage wants us to find what caused the Breach? How could that thing have survived the blast?" asked Cullen. "Everything in the epicenter was incinerated beyond recognition! How does he think that anything could have survived that explosion?"

"I don't know, Cullen," Leliana said, rubbing her eyes. "Direct those questions to the apostate later. For now, it's the only plan that we've got right now."

Cassandra opened her mouth to say something, but was interrupted by one of Leliana's scouts who came rushing in the room.

"Sister Nightingale, Commander, Seeker," the scout hurriedly addressed the three in the room. "You have to come, quick!" he breathlessly cried out.

Leliana walked over to the scout. "What is it?" she asked urgently, and followed the scout out of the Chantry, with Cassandra and Cullen filing out behind her.

"It's the most amazing thing," the scout said, leading the three leaders through the path leading to the ruined Temple. "The mages said it's impossible… but she came from there!"

"Who came? And from where?" Leliana asked, but the scout simply shook his head.

"You'll see, Sister," he just said. Leliana and the other two threw questioning glances at each other as they followed the scout. When they neared the Temple, they were confused at the group of mages and templars forming a circle and keeping their distance around a small figure lying facedown on the ground.

"What are they doing?" Cassandra said, walking faster to reach the prone figure on the ground. She was surprised when a crackle of energy shot out – from the woman's hand, which was glowing green like the Breach that marred the sky.

XXXXX

A/N: Hello! Thanks for reading! This fic was thought up because of the wonderful dialogue I saw/heard on YouTube between the advisors and the messengers/scouts. I've always wondered what it would be like to be a scout of the Inquisition? So I tried to write in the POV of a scout, though as my outline of the story progressed, I couldn't help but include other characters' POV and several in-game dialogue because they're just too good. Also, I'd like to apologize if some things are off from the DA lore since I haven't read everything about DA yet, and there's simply too much, but hey, it's fanfiction, so might I be allowed a little creative freedom?

Read and review please!