Finley sat in the largest Chantry she'd ever been in, staring up at the largest statue of Andraste she'd ever seen. The stained-glass windows were bright and intricate, and the statues that lined the pews leading up to the altar were massive and expensive.
The whole of it felt like wasted wealth.
She still didn't have a good grasp on coins—never would if she could help it—but she did understand how one statue could equal a certain number of bags of grain.
She didn't see how there could be starving people in Orlais—or anywhere—when there was clearly more than enough wealth to make things like this.
Starkhaven was so different from anywhere she'd ever been.
Kirkwall had been a maze, but Starkhaven was laid out so perfectly. The roads were mostly straight, the houses lining up along them like massive ants in file. The places that weren't affected by the rifts seemed to move along as though nothing was amiss, while the places with rifts were simply abandoned with perimeters around to keep people safe.
While she had intended to travel with her eyes concealed, somehow there was always someone present at a rift in Kirkwall when she closed it, and word had quickly spread that she was there.
From there, she'd had to meet with so many people.
First the nobles had wanted to yell at her. They'd accused her of all manner of things—things that were ridiculous like her wanting to take over their sordidly hot home—but that had been interrupted by the crowd of commoners who had rallied outside the viscount's manner to know what the hell was going on.
Finley had introduced herself, a bit worried she might have to make a run for it, but—as she was noticing again and again—the regular people seemed more accepting of her than those in power. It wasn't long before half a dozen people were vouching for her having closed a few rifts and her promises that she had no interest in taking over had been met with wary hope.
After all Kirkwall had been through, it seemed that they were hesitant to hope or trust.
However, they had left her to do what she could, some even coming and watching her. There were a few little old ladies who critiqued her rift closing, commenting on when she should have ducked or dodged a demon attack, and one over the moon when Finley had saved her from a rampaging Pride demon.
She really didn't like having an audience for closing the rifts.
However, her efforts to shoo the people away were generally met with shouts of, "Get on with it already!"
And so Kirkwall's rifts had taken about three weeks to close. It would have gone faster without the people needing to see every one go down and murmuring among themselves.
She'd tried to ask a bit about the people going missing, but those she'd talked to had assured her that she needed to stay with what she was here for and not get entrenched in politics.
People going missing hardly seemed like politics to her, but Varric had assured her that he was handling it.
At three weeks, Finley could say that her job in Kirkwall was done, and with that, she'd turned her attention to Starkhaven.
There were eleven towns total in the Free Marches, and Starkhaven was apparently a key to getting the rest of them to let her be there.
While she'd thought she had avoided this mess by coming unofficially, she had promised Prince Vael that his city would be next, and so she and her group headed north from Kirkwall.
She wasn't sure what she'd expected, but upon reaching the first of the rifts near Starkhaven, she'd been met with the guards who had been told she might be showing up. None of them seemed to believe that the inquisitor was actually there until the rift was closed, and once that had happened, they were gone, scattered so quickly that it made her dizzy.
When she reached the second rift, Prince Vael had been waiting, with a small entourage. When he'd seen her face, he'd laughed and assured her they were there to protect him, not watch her.
Cassandra had let out a small hmph at that, though she'd said nothing else. It made Finley think that the guard was for both reasons, especially because there were templars in the mix.
She'd closed the rift, same as with all the others, but when she turned to make sure that everyone was alright, she'd found that Prince Vael and his entourage had all seemed mystified.
As though they hadn't believed what she could do was really possible.
He had smiled and offered her a hand to shake, something she'd taken without thinking, though Ser Rodrin had warned her to be careful later. He and Cassandra explained that if she wasn't careful she'd put herself on the same level as the wrong person and get them all in trouble.
Finley thought that was ridiculous, though it soon became clear with how the guards treated her that they found her to be someone high-ranking.
Hadn't she left that behind when she stowed away?
"You shook hands with a prince like you were his equal," Cassandra had murmured. "He did it to make sure they would treat you with respect, but you must be careful. Anyone from another city may take accepting such a gesture as arrogance."
She and Cassandra agreed that it was foolish, at most.
From the second rift, Prince Vael had escorted them into the city proper, stopping by one other rift to close before making it to the Chantry. He'd offered them places to stay there and told them that he would be back to talk about strategy for closing the rest of the rifts around his city.
They had been welcomed surprisingly warmly in the Chantry.
Some of the original guards, as well as the ones from Prince Vael's entourage had already begun spreading the word of what was going on, and people were considerably more excited at the prospect of having a demon free city than those of Kirkwall had been.
"Shouldn't you be closing rifts?" The accent was a strange one.
The voice came from behind Finley. She glanced back enough to see that two Chantry mothers had sat directly behind her, and chose to keep her back to them. "Prince Vael is bringing maps so that I can see how to close them in the most efficient way possible."
"So you sit and do nothing while you wait?" came that same critical voice. "Or are you praying?"
"I'm thinking things you probably wouldn't like," Finley replied, annoyed. She knew she needed to be careful, even without politics, there were templars about and she could feel more than a few gazes upon her.
"Oh?"
"I dislike your statues," she said simply. "They're too big."
"Does Andraste tell you to tell us such?"
"No," Finley replied. "Just a personal preference."
"You must prefer smaller, less flashy things." When the second mother spoke, Finley felt a warning bell go off in her mind.
She couldn't be sure, but the voice sounded familiar.
Older, but…
She turned in the pew and found Revered Mother Genevieve sitting there beside her first interrogator. Like Ser Caudry, the years had been more merciful, and she sat there strong and proud, the lines of age marking her features as gray pooled at her temples and highlighted her hair.
The two of them stared at one another for a long moment before the mother slowly brought her hand up to her chest. "It is you."
Finley didn't respond.
She wasn't sure how to. Of all the things…was this why Leliana had been so against just heading up to the Free Marches? Had she known?
By why not say anything?
"Ser Caudry said you died," Revered Mother Genevieve said after a long pause.
"An apostate saved me," Finley replied, unthinking. She didn't know what to do, to say. Should she say it was good to see the woman? That was a thing that many people said to one another, whether they meant it or not. At least the nobles at Skyhold were keen on such monotony.
But then…Mother Genevieve had always yelled at Ser Caudry and the others when she caught them in a lie. How she'd known had baffled Finley when she was little, as she had never been able to tell the difference, and now she found herself almost certain that the woman would know if she uttered an unmeant pleasantry.
Silence fell back over them.
Revered Mother Genevieve stared at her, hard. "The demon never found you, then?" When Finley's brow pinched together, she added, "The one that was in your mother. The one that attacked Ser Caudry. It knew you were going to be a mage before your magic came in. It came for you."
The world screeched to a halt.
Finley's eyes widened as she stared at the woman, completely at a loss.
She'd known the damned thing had come for her, time and time again. It had taken over so many people…
But it had been her demon that had hurt Ser Caudry? Her demon had left him dying, had made her magic come out when she healed him?
Pain, sharp as a knife, flickered through her.
Just when she thought maybe she could come to terms with that damned thing, there was more damage that it had done.
If not for its meddling her life could have been—
No, that was a fool's thought.
Her magic would have come in eventually anyway.
She finally refocused her attention on Mother Genevieve.
Just seeing the woman…stung.
She could remember lessons with Mother Genevieve, yes, of the woman teaching her to brush her hair and how to feed the chickens. She could remember them all sitting together for meals and the mother explaining parts of the Chant to her as they recited it, teaching it to her slowly, but surely.
But more than that, she could remember the look of repulsion on her face when Finley had healed Ser Caudry, the panicked screams.
She felt like she was facing an executioner rather than a loved one.
"It wasn't blood magic," Finley said, finally. When the revered mothers both looked surprised, she added, "I didn't heal Ser Caudry with blood magic."
Before either could respond, footsteps sounded from down the hall, and Cassandra came sweeping in with Prince Vael. He offered them a bright smile. "Grand Cleric Merrin, Revered Mother Genevieve, I see you've met out guest, Inquisitor Finley."
"They were chastising me for doing so little," Finley murmured, annoyed when Revered Mother Genevieve seemed surprised by the name she went by.
"It is my fault, ladies," Prince Vael assured them, taking her words as though they were in jest. "I thought it would be best to talk strategy somewhere more comfortable." He tapped a few scrolled up papers under his arm and then motioned for Finley and the others to follow him to one of the antechambers. Even that was larger than Finley would have expected.
As he repeated the names he'd said earlier, Prince Vael looked at Finley, still smiling. "May I present to you Grand Cleric Merrin of Tantervale and her right hand, Revered Mother Genevieve."
The grand cleric gave Finley a fake smile as she nodded her head. Finley bowed. "I am surprised you would leave your following behind to come to us. You must feel defenseless."
"You've never met Cassandra, I take it," Finley replied and motioned to Cassandra who had taken a stand beside her. "She was the Divine's right hand."
It was petty to one up Mother Genevieve's position with Cassandra's, but if they realized that's what she was doing, none of them made a comment of it.
Cassandra gave the two women a short bow. "We have met, though not in quite some time."
For the first time, the grand cleric's face resembled something genuine. She gave Cassandra a regretful nod. "We were sorry to hear of what happened to Divine Justinia."
"As were we," Cassandra replied. "We are trying to stop her killer now."
"Ah, you mean the ancient darkspawn magister?" There was skepticism in her tone now, the moment of comradery passed.
"That's what he says he is," Finley said. When they looked at her, surprised, she took the chance to keep talking. "I don't know that I've ever believed in legends or the literal interpretation of the Chant, but we are fighting a cult, and their leader certainly believes that he is a darkspawn magister who breeched the golden city. So do his people. He killed the divine to try to go back."
"So we deal with a madman."
"We do," Cassandra agreed.
"And you are not holy," the grand cleric added.
"Not that half the people I meet listen, but no."
The grand cleric nodded, even as mother Genevieve tried to say something. "This makes more sense than the rumors we have heard." She nodded again, pleased. "We will be in contact again, once you have finished your dealings with Starkhaven."
"Grand Cleric," Finley called out to her and paused when the woman gave Finley her attention. "The venatori was sacrificing people to bring demons into the world without rifts. If you have people going missing, they may be operating here."
"I will keep that in mind, inquisitor," the woman said, voice sharp with something Finley didn't recognize.
Did she think Finley was trying to get a bid to bring the inquisition north?
Mother Genevieve followed her out, pausing once to stare long and hard at Finley. For a moment, Finley feared she might say something, do something in reference to their past. Perhaps call the templars down to end the abomination daring to walk in the house of the Maker.
Instead, she finally just turned away and hurried after the grand cleric.
Finley hadn't been able to help but glance after them another time or two before managing to commit her attention to the task at hand.
That her reunion with Mother Genevieve had gone as it has was…something.
A precursor for what might happen when she found Ser Ross and Ser Caudry perhaps?
If they hadn't bene consumed by the red lyrium yet.
No matter how she tried, she could dredge up no positive feelings after seeing the revered mother, and found herself struggling to listen to Prince Vael's eager tone as he carefully laid out paths that would be more efficient for reaching the rifts.
After looking over the maps for almost an hour, the prince left their company in high spirits. As Finley readied to go to the chambers she doubted she'd be able to sleep in, Cassandra caught her attention. "I'm surprised you would downplay what we are up against."
Finley hesitated before shrugging. "They want a reason not to believe us, and I don't want to give it to her—them." She paused again, thinking about the encounter before Cassandra had come in. "And anyway, Mother Genevieve has always had trouble dealing with bigger pictures. Ser Neill used to say she got lost in details far too easily—"
"Ser Neill—Maker's breath, you knew that woman?" Cassandra searched her memory quickly. "I should have recognized the name from the reports and…"
She trailed off, brow furrowed.
Finley stared blankly down at the maps on the table. "Do you think Leliana knew about her?"
"It is possible," Cassandra replied, pacing to the side a few steps and stopping. "She did not mention it to me, if she did."
"If she's the right hand of the grand cleric, do you think it's safe to go to Tantervale?"
Cassandra stepped back over to her, appraising her carefully. "Do you?" She motioned toward the exit. "I imagine you know her better. I was barely in a room with her a few years ago."
"I haven't seen her in two decades," Finley argued. "And the last I saw her, she wanted me dead."
"This does muddy the waters considerably." Cassandra shook her head. "We will remain vigilant and be on guard for what may come. If things threaten to go poorly after Starkhaven, we will return to Skyhold and seek an audience with Ostwick or another city first. After we have the neighboring cities defending us, it will be harder for Tantervale to seek your head."
Finley ran her fingers through her hair, closing her eyes. "Lovely."
…-…
The next two weeks went by in a blur, with Finley and her party traveling from rift to rift to rift, closing them as quickly as they could. At least some of the fanfare was absent, as the guards did a good job of keeping the curious few back from watching the scenes play out.
They had made better time than they'd expected for the day, with one rift being particularly weaker than they'd expected, and had reached camp early, when Cole had said that he could feel the person who had hurt him nearby.
And so, with little else to do, she, Solas, Varric, and Cole had gone to confront the bastard.
As much as she had wanted to side with Varric and tell Cole to get vengeance upon the monster who had hurt the 'real' Cole, she'd ended up siding with Solas, if only because he understood spirits better, and she didn't want Cole to become a demon by having his purpose corrupted in the way that Solas' friend had been.
Varric chose to sulk rather than talk to her after that, muttering something about ruining the boy's chances at growing.
Cole had stayed near Solas, talking to him of Fade things, and Finley had wandered along a bit between the two groups, with Varric in the back and the other two a bit ahead. At least Cole wouldn't fear being bound anymore.
Surely Varric would see the benefit of that?
Though…if Cole was more spirit like, perhaps he would be bound easier.
Or would the charm work now?
She'd tried not to think on it too hard after Cole paused in his conversation with Solas to look back and tell her everything would be alright.
Of course he could hear her fretting.
She dismissed that as best she could, instead trying to focus her attention on their surroundings.
The plants were different here. Some were similar to the ones she knew, but they varied, their leaves fuller or shaded differently.
And many of the song birds sounded different as well. It made her want to travel the world, if only to hear every song sung beneath every canopy. The noises the birds made were beautiful here, though she couldn't help but miss her song birds.
Just as she was thinking that surely there were people here who loved these birds as much as she loved hers, she saw something flit in the shadows a bit away from their path.
Her gaze narrowed, mind whirring with thoughts of different creatures that might be there. She'd found a 'monster' almanac in Varric's library in Kirkwall and had perused it, curious to see what sort of wildlife might be around, and had been a bit annoyed by how the entries had painted each and every creature as a ferocious beast.
Just because something had claws or fangs didn't mean it was going to go out of its way to tear someone apart.
People were so melodramatic when it came to stories of wildlife.
Even as she thought to ask Varric if he knew what sort of beast might be wandering just out of sight, undeterred by human and dwarven presence, the world descended into chaos.
The woods were alive with spells, and the trees seemed to be coming to life to fight.
Even as Finley noted that she recognized this sort of magic, her world went dark.