She hadn't quite expected the turn of events. Not after all she had already been through. At least if it all had been real. Surely it was though, wasn't it? Skyrim, the Civil War, Alduin...Freydis. It had felt real. Yet the thought of it being nothing more than just a dream saddened her. For all the trouble they had gotten into, Kasaanda had sincerely enjoyed the adventure she had shared with Freydis. There had been laughs and tears, wounds old and new. The bond between the dragon slayer and mage had become stronger than steel. It was after they had defeated the World Eater that the dream had come to an end. She and Freydis had exchanged their goodbyes and set off on their return from Sovngarde.
When she awoke, Kasaanda had found herself in a cell with her hands bound. The fact that she was wearing her original armor from both the destruction of the conclave and the beginning of her time in Skyrim should have been the resounding proof that she was back in Thedas. It was when she was being interrogated and yelled at about the destruction of the conclave along with the death of the Divine Justinia that it hit her that she was really back home. Not much time had seemed to pass - a mere few days. While she was relieved to be back in known territory there had been a small part of her that had hoped she'd merely go back to Skyrim. With her return to Thedas, the glowing green mark on her hand seemed to spark to life.
That mark would be the catalyst to a turn of events no one could foresee. She went from being a prisoner with the ability to seal the strange rifts in the sky to the Herald of Andraste, a divine being and revered savior that would heal the land.
It felt unreal. In the beginning she tried to deny the rumors that she was some God-sent hero. The pressure and title weighed heavy on her shoulders. If only she knew how much heavier it would get. Not everyone praised her though. There are numerous people that would call her a blasphemer and a snake. They still held resentment and the belief that she's the cause for the recent misfortune. Sometimes there's the nagging thought in the back of her mind that perhaps they're right.
Despite it all, she's got a small inner circle behind her so far that has given her nothing but support and encouragement. Commander Cullen was a brilliant fighter, eager to train troops and make the Inquisition flourish. Josephine Montilyet, a highly educated diplomat with perfect manners, beautiful penmanship and a refreshing deposition. Sister Leliana was a God-send when it came to obtaining information and handling matters in a discreet manner. Then there was Varric, a colorful storyteller, Solas, a mysterious though fellow mage and Cassandra, a headstrong seeker and determined warrior. There was no describing how grateful Kasaanda was to them all. Yet there were times when she felt like there was something, or rather someone, missing; a stubborn, fiery red-head with a love of gold and mead.
Dream or not, Kasaanda knew she couldn't linger on it. Not when the world was depending on her. So she'd suck it, put on a composed face and do everything in her power to end the impending chaos.