When she awakened, she was blinded by light and the pure heat it exuded. For a few moments, her mind remained blank, only letting herself squint at the offending brightness.

Then, she truly woke up.

Fire, fire, fire, her mind screamed at her, instinct forcing her to let out a terrorized gasp and lurch away, her mind still trapped at Harvey's coffee shop, at how her body moved on its own, at the smell of burnt bodies, at the scorching of her own body. In her haze, she registered the feeling of cold fingers grasping her arm, and she could not stop herself from letting out a scream of terror at the contact, so loudly that it echoes off the walls.

"Silence," A voice, smooth as honey with sinister undertones unlike anything she had ever heard before, hissed at her. She squinted as the light faded away, taking the heat with it, blinking as her eyes tried to adjust to the sudden darkness. Her eyes catch sight of two men standing before her. The one who held the light - which happened to be a burning torch - in front of her face was dressed in strange leathers, something akin to what one would see in a Lord of the Rings movie. His face was entirely angular, with high, jutting cheekbones and a perfectly straight nose which looked like it had been broken many times, all framed by messy and short earthy brown hair which looked like it had been cut off haphazardly with a knife. His skin, a shade of dusky brown that nicely matched his hair was lined with scars, with freckles decorating underneath. His body language exuded danger and menace, a promise of death in his eyes if she so much as moved out of order. She gulped, her eyes briefly catching sight of the glint of a sword tucked away at his side. The other was a middle-aged man, scrawny and finely-dressed in robes that looked fit for some kind of fantasy noble. A slight crow's feet lined the edges of his hazel eyes which burned with barely contained impatience, his features dampened by years of age, as well as his long, dark hair littered with small lines of silver. Unlike the man beside him, he had a pale complexion, along with a neatly-trimmed beard lining his chin and upper lip. In one of his hands he held what looked like a staff, the carved wood making patterns up its spine and separating into three vicious snake heads at the top. His expression was a mixture of both fascinated delight and sinister, bushy eyebrows drawn together as a smile slowly graces his lips.

Where the hell was she?

She opened her mouth to speak, but only managed to get out a series of garbled half-words. The finely-dressed man just broadened his smile in delight at her apparent helplessness, edging forward as he used the tip of his staff to reach under her chin and tilt her head up towards them. "You are certainly no demon, nor a spirit. Tell me, how did you manage to fall out of the tear I created?" He asked, his voice both a mixture of calm and demanding, eyes rolling over her as he inspected every facet of her form.

She ignored his words, however, opting to search around the room for answers as to where the hell she was. Yet she was only left with more questions. Surrounded by walls of hardwood, decorated with a study and shelves lined with books, she was definitely in no hospital, let alone Harvey's shop. She briefly spotted the outline of trees outside a window, explicitly planted to match with the garden that decorated the outside of the room, ending at an iron fence. For a few moments, she watched as several people passed by, dressed in metal armor similar to what she assumed to be the man's guard, and servant's rags, heads bowed as they went about their business. That gave her one hint: that wherever she was, it certainly wasn't in Seattle.

A sudden tap on her chin startled her from her thoughts, "Speak, girl," the man commanded, his eyes glinting with a dangerous impatience. She could only manage a gulp in response.

It took her a few tries, coughing in-between, but she finally managed to wheeze out, "W-Where am I?"

The man only tilted his head, his posture remaining straight and proud. "The tenacity of you! Very well, I shall humor you," he replied, pulling his staff away from her. "You are in my estate, dear girl, just on the outskirts of Minrathous, in Tevinter. But," he paused, eyes appraising her once more, and she couldn't help but feel defenseless against his piercing eyes, "I suppose you didn't intend to come here, did you?"

Her eyes widen at his declaration, his words ringing true. She'd never heard of Tevinter or Minrathous before. This man so clearly knew more than she did, yet every time he spoke she was left with more questions than answers. "I don't understand what you're talking about," she replied, wary and uncertain.

At her words he tilts his head back and laughs, of all things, clapping his hands together in sheer excitement. "Oh, this is exciting! Spectacular!" He cried out. His sudden outburst set her further on edge, and she couldn't help but flinch away from him. But he was not so eager for her to get away, his laughter suddenly cutting off as he surged forward, bony fingers harshly gripping her chin as he inspected every detail of her face, forcing her head left and right. She squirmed in vain under his iron grip, unable to even get a coherent sentence out with how he pinched the skin of her cheeks together.

Finally letting go, his cold fingers lingered on her jawline, gently soothing the harsh red lines his fingers had left on her skin. Instantly, she turns her face away from him, petrified as the danger of this man sets in."Please, I don't understand," she managed to gasp out, feeling tears prick at her vision. "Where am I?"

Straightening up again, he only gave her another coy smile, as though he is aware of every secret she possessed. It unnerved her to the core. "You need not act coy, my dear. You are still in Thedas, worry not. I know this only a ploy. I will admit, I did not expect to find another person studying how to pass through the Fade physically." He smiles reassuringly at her; at least, she thought he was trying to be reassuring. Truthfully, it only fueled her panic further. She'd done pretty well in geography back in school, and she'd never heard of Thedas before.

"I don't understand. I've never even heard of Thedas or the Fade before!" She cried, growing more desperate by the second.

His excitement melts away at her exclamation, curiosity lining his features. "You are a mage, are you not? Unless..." He trailed off, tilting his head. Dread settled in her stomach at his sudden pause. "Unless you did not know."

"A mage?!" She screeched, mind whirling as she reached the peak of her distress. These people are crazy, she thought to herself. There's no other explanation.

He only continued on, unphased by her outburst. "Don't look so offended. I'll admit, 'tis rather odd that symptoms have shown so late, but alas." He shrugged, unconcerned.

"You're crazy," she accused, "Is this some kind of sick joke? If so, you got me!" She shrieked, wildly throwing her hands in the air. Her eyes frantically scanned the room once more, searching for cameras of any kind, and found her stomach dropping to the floor when she realized there weren't any.

"A joke? You think this is a jest?" He asked, furrowing his brow as offense slowly overtook his features.

She wanted to scream; he just didn't get it. "Quit it with the fantasy roleplay! I just want to go home! I've never heard of a Tevinter or Thedas or wherever the hell you think we are! What's going on?" she screeched.

His frown deepened at her anger, his expression shifting into something she would call a mix between sinister and impatience. "You were the one who entered the tear in the Veil, not me, my dear. 'Tis the only way you could have landed here, after all. If anything, I should be demanding answers from you," he snapped, clearly annoyed. She felt herself gulp in nervousness, watching as the man crossed his arms over his chest. Careful, Clare, she thought to herself, eyes drifting to the other man's sword that seemed too real for her comfort. You're not in control of the situation here.

"I- I'm sorry, sir," she replied, tone placating and gentle in a poor attempt to soothe the anger that was slowly overtaking his features. "I'm just... confused. Last I remember, I was in a coffee shop in Seattle..." At his blank look as she said the word Seattle, she questioningly continued, "Washington? America?

Slowly but surely, that ominous curiosity overtook his features once more as he pondered her words, "I have never heard these lands before. Wherever you came from, it is quite a long way from here," he replied, staring at her in a light of new interest.

His interest was the last of her concern, however. No, what truly rattled her bones was the fact that he had apparently never heard of America before.

Oh god, oh god, oh god. This is a bad dream. Please, please, please wake up.

It was a strange thing, panic. The way it overtook one's body and mind, whirling and frantically coiling inside her. Her fingers shook, goosebumps trailing up her arms, stomach twisting angrily as her thoughts spiraled out of control. How had she gone from escaping a fire to this? What had happened to her?

"Oh god," she breathed, looking down at her arms, palms outstretched as she scanned her body for burns. Yet there was nothing, not a single scar on her body. Nothing.

Had she gone crazy? Had the fire done something to her? Maybe she had hit her head? She wanted to believe those possibilities, for they were far more realistic than what she was currently experiencing, but she knew the reality of these people and her surroundings went beyond a delusional and deranged mind. No, whatever this was, it was no dream, no hallucination; it was real. And she didn't want to accept that.

And so, with that revelation, her body did the only thing it could to escape.

She fainted.

Clare felt like there was something pounding against her temple as she awoke, blinking as a gentle light shone against her eyelids, forcing her back into consciousness. Not entirely coherent, she only laid there for a few moments, simply taking in her surroundings. Her first realization is that she was in a bedroom; certainly not her own, for the furniture was far too extravagant and medieval, for a lack of better word. The bed beneath her was plush, her body practically sinking into it in content as though she were on a cloud. A gentle breeze blew silk curtains against an open window, the scent of flowers hitting her in a pleasant rush as she yawned. In that ignorance as her mind fogged the last few hours to her, she felt… tranquil.

Of course, her moment of peace did not last forever.

The creak of a door opening startled her from her reverie, a young woman, lithe and dressed in servant's rags stepping inside. Her eyes set upon Clare the same moment she saw her, both blinking in surprise at the other's presence.

The woman snapped out of her surprise first, bowing her head in respect and setting towards her form, still comfortably lying on the bed. "You're awake, mistress. Master Elias will be most pleased," she said, her voice a gentle whisper, so much so that Clare barely even caught her words.

She only stared at her for a few moments, unsure and lost as her memories slowly returned back to her. Harvey's shop. Grasping someone's hand in the fire. Waking up in some kind of study, surrounded by two strange men. Magic, Tevinter, Thedas. And then, fainting. And now, this place. This, strange, awful, unfamiliar place that wasn't home. Which confirmed one awful, terrible thing to her.

She really wasn't dreaming. Although, deep down, she had understood the reality of her situation the moment she set eyes upon those two strange men, she had still held out hope. Held out hope that perhaps she was crazy, dreaming, hallucinating; anything but this. But now, there was no doubt.

This place, her situation, these people. They were real. And right now, there was nothing she could do to escape that fact.

Realizing the woman was waiting patiently for her response, Clare cleared her throat, unsure of what she was supposed to say. "You said... Master Elias?" She asked, a frown pulling at her lips. She prayed that didn't mean what she thought it meant.

The woman's expression remained emotionless, even when facing a question laced with unbridled terror, only nodding in response. "Yes, my lady. Master Elias Villaneuva is the owner this estate, including several slaves such as myself."

Slaves. This woman, barely a year older than her, was a slave.

She felt her stomach turn at the realization, a lump forming in her throat as nausea swept over her. This man, who would potentially decide her fate, owned slaves. And from how the servant's rags barely fit this woman's form with how skinny she was, Clare doubted he treated them very well.

I need to get out of here.

She stepped closer, Clare pausing in her panic as she scanned her features; slender face, large doe-like eyes, freckles dusted upon tanned skin and... she gasped, catching sight of the elf ears her hair was neatly tucked behind.

"Your ears!" She couldn't stop herself from gasping out, hands covering her mouth in shock. She leaned forward, rubbing her eyes as she did so, but there they were; elf ears, pointed at the edges and drawn out, clear as day.

The only indication that the woman had heard her was the slight furrow in her brows, clearly confused. "Do they offend you, mistress? You needn't worry, Master Elias has given thought to... cutting them," she said, as though that were supposed to placate her.

Clare only managed a splutter in response, shocked that she could discuss the concept of cutting off her own ears so freely without as much as batting an eyelash. "What?! No, they don't offend me!" She cried out, shaking her head vigorously.

The woman didn't so much as blink at her. She only bowed her head once more, hunching slightly as though she were frightened. "I apologize, mistress. From your reaction, I had assumed my ears offended you. I did not mean to pass judgment so freely. Please, I beg your humble forgiveness," her words, as well as her expression, remained emotionless, even as she apologized for a fault that was never hers to begin with. Just who were these people, to make a woman hide her emotions so well, yet so fearful at the concept of someone raising their voice at them?

"Don't apologize, you didn't do anything wrong! I've just never, well, seen elf ears before. You are an elf, right?" Clare asked, her tone soothing as she pushed herself up and moved her body sidewards to sit at the edge of the bed, now facing the woman.

The furrow in her brow returned, obviously lost by her words. "Yes, my lady, I am an elf," she replied slowly, unsure. Clare only gave her a smile in response.

"Sorry, I just… I've never met an elf before. I never got your name?" She asked, stretching her back as it gave a satisfying pop. She could've sworn the woman winced at the sound.

"Elloril, my lady. My name is Elloril," she replied, bowing her head once more.

"Elloril," Clare tested the name on her lips, liking the way it rolled off the tongue. "That's a nice name. I'm Clare."

The woman's bewildered expression returned once more, as though she were unused to hearing compliments. "You... are most kind, mistress," was all she managed to reply with. Then, "Master Elias wishes to see you. If you would follow me..."

Clare's stomach dropped at the words, fear clutching her insides painfully as she thought of the man that had looked at her with a deranged curiosity. She debated running, trying to find a way out of the estate. But where would she go? She knew this place was somewhat guarded from seeing the man's bodyguard with a sword tucked at his side, and those similarly dressed men that lined the entrance of that iron gate around the land. She remembered seeing the meadow outside that gate, a path for what was probably carriages leading into the treeline of a forest. Even if she slipped past those guards, she was willing to bet those men were faster than her. They were guards, after all, probably trained every day to have their bodies at their peak.

Even then, where would she go? She didn't know this place - Thedas, wasn't it? - from the back of her hand, didn't know where the nearest civilization was. Didn't know what currency these people used, didn't know where she would find a place to sleep. Most importantly, she didn't know where she would find answers to the burning question that trapped her here: how did she get here, and how does she get home? The only person who may possibly answer that for her was this man, dangerous as he was. And so, she was left with no choice. She had to be cooperative, hope to get in this man's good graces, and get him to send her home.

I need to be smart. If I'm going to survive, I need to be smart.

Realizing Elloril was waiting for her to follow, she gave the she-elf a small, yet sad smile. "Okay, Elloril," she said, standing up and squaring her shoulders. "Let's go."

The air around her was thick upon being lead into the dining room, where the man - Magister Elias Villaneuva, she reminded herself - sat at the head of a table that spread across the entire length of the room, his dutiful bodyguard - an elf too, she realized as she caught sight of the protruding pointed ears - standing behind him, waiting in the shadows for any potential threat.

"My dear, there you are. How wonderful it is that you have awakened!" His prior impatience - although Clare did not doubt it would not return soon - was now replaced by an air of childlike excitement, his eyes shining eagerly as she slowly, hesitantly, approached. "Please, do sit," he continued, gesturing to the chair on his right. Unwilling to test his patience just yet, Clare obeyed, quickly setting herself down on the cushioned furniture.

The man gave her a beaming smile, the facade of a charming and gracious host not slipping, and lifted one of his hands to the air to snap his fingers in a direction behind her. For a moment, she thought he was signifying for her to do something, and furrowed her brows in blatant confusion, yet realized it was a command to Elloril, who still remained in the room. The woman bowed respectfully to Elias at his unsaid command, slipping out of the room quickly. It was stupid, but Clare couldn't help but feel fear creep up her spine at the woman's departure, the sense of loss heavy in her mind.

"Now, let us get down to business," he said as Elloril closed the door behind her, folding his hands neatly on the table. "I trust you slept well?"

She gulped, the edge in his tone indicating what he really meant was are you going to faint again before I get answers? "I slept well. The bed was wonderful, thank you," she replied, giving him the most charming smile she could muster in this awful atmosphere.

"Wonderful," he responded, "I do hope you don't mind, my dear, but I have several questions for you. You did, after all, appear from a tear I created within the Veil." Although his words were nice enough, she saw the threat within his eyes. One way or another, he would get answers from her. She knew that much.

As if she had a choice, she gave him another fake gracious smile, clutching the tablecloth under the table as her nerves crept up on her. "Of course, sir. Please, ask away."

If he was surprised by her cooperation, he didn't show it. "I understand you are rather confused. Your reaction when you first arrived indicated as much; you did not recognize the words Thedas, Tevinter or Minrathous. Am I incorrect in saying you are perhaps… not from Thedas?"

She debated, for a moment, lying to him. But she didn't know this place at all, didn't know how this place worked, and knew that sooner or later, he would catch her out on it; she almost shuddered when she considered what the consequences would be. She had no choice but to be honest. "I am not."

He tilted his head at her, a smile spreading across his thin lips. "How fascinating. You are beyond the sea?"

She bit her lip, debating the question. Residing on telling him the full truth, she replied, "No, I think… I'm from somewhere even farther."

He only rose an eyebrow at her words, his curious facade not slipping. "Oh? Then where, do tell, are you from?"

"I…" she trailed off, unsure where to begin. "I'm from a place called Seattle, on Earth," she replied, unsure how to continue.

His expression remained puzzled. "I have never heard of those lands before. Yet you said you did not think you were even from beyond the sea. Are you saying you are from another realm like the Fade, perhaps?"

She blinked at him, surprised how accurately he had hit the nail on the head. "I think so. It's the only possibility. Where I'm from, we've explored our… er, lands, very thoroughly. There isn't a Thedas where I'm from, distant land or not," she replied, refraining from using words like planet or globe. She had no intention of explaining geography to him, not when there were more important things that needed discussing.

"Fascinating. Then you came here by magic? Yet you seemed rather... surprised when I mentioned it," he ventured, raising an eyebrow questioningly at her.

She internally sighed; from the way he said it, it sounded as though he didn't know how she got here either. "I... was hoping you knew how I got here, sir. Where I come from, magic doesn't exist. It's only a myth, a tale. Nothing more. I've never heard of the Fade before, either."

He hummed at her words, eyes glazed as he appeared deep in thought. "You say magic does not exist where you're from, but I know a fellow mage when I see one. It is... raw, untamed, but 'tis magic nonetheless," he paused for a moment, staring at her, discomfort creeping through her veins at his words. "Perhaps when you traversed through the Fade, you made that connection. Yes, that would make sense," he mumbled to himself, trailing off as he muttered more words she couldn't hear.

"I- I can't be a mage. It's not..." She trailed off, unsure how to continue. It's not right, she wanted to say. It's not natural, she wanted to scream.

"You doubt me, my dear?"

She realized her mistake all too quickly, spluttering as she watched Elias' face distort into cool anger. "It's just… I don't feel like a mage,"

He only waved his hand at her, unconcerned. "Of course you don't. You don't even understand the concept of magic. You are, after all, well… dull."

His condescending remarks ignited a fire in her, toes curling as she gripped the tablecloth beneath her with a strength she didn't know she possessed. She had been forcefully taken from her home and forced to come to the realization she was no longer in her own world under the span of twenty-four hours, and this man had the gall to call her stupid. If only he knew what she went through, understood that she had burned alive in coming here. In the back of her mind, something - not her voice, she realized, but someone else's - shouted at her to calm herself, but all she saw was red, red, red -

She smelt the burning before she felt it.

She let out a gasp, terrified, as she felt the flames creep up from her hands to the tablecloth and closer to Elias, the source of her ire. She lurched back, her seat pushed to the ground as she stumbled backwards away from the heat.

Elias laughed at the display and, with a simple flick of his hand, the flames were gone, a burnt tablecloth the only evidence that anything had ever happened. "Impressive! I knew with a little push I might get a reaction out of you," he chuckled to himself. Clare, however, wasn't paying attention to him. She stared at her own hands, unburnt and unscarred, that had pushed flames from her own fingertips only moments ago. She felt herself shake, overcome with terror and nausea; what was happening to her, what was happening to her -

"Do not look so horrified, girl. 'Tis a normal thing here, magic," Elias' voice interrupted her out of her reverie, and by god, did she want to throttle him, with his stupid words and this stupid place and -

"Can you send me back?"

Elias paused for a moment, perplexed at her words. "Come again?"

"Can you send me back?" This time, her words are not a rush of desperation. No, each word was punctuated with a pause between, ensuring that he registered every single word. This was all too much. Magic, elves, the Fade. All of it was too much. She wanted to go home. She needed to go home.

"No."

That one awful, dreadful word rings throughout the room, and she swears she was unable to breathe in those short few moments. "No?"

"No," he repeats once more, his eyes no longer holding their previous mirth, but cunning, calculating.

"But… you… you made that tear in the…" What was it called again? "Veil. You made that tear in the Veil. Can't you do it again?"

He laughed - actually laughed at her - and she would have allowed herself the pleasure of smiting him again, had it not been so quick to speak afterward, "Only a fool does something for free my dear, and I have no intention of being one. You are an anomaly, my dear. You claim to come from an entirely different realm, untouched by this world. And your magic," he breathed, eyes appraising her, and she could've sworn she felt something, almost like an invisible hand, stroke a finger down her cheek, seeping into her pores, "Your magic is unlike anything I have seen. I would much like to study you further."

She felt herself shake at his words, anger and fury pulsating through her blood. "I'm not your experiment!" She realized her mistake too late once more, as his expression turned dark, raising a brow in question as though daring her to continue.

She gulped at the warning. This time, she thought her words through. "I mean… can't we come to some kind of deal? My cooperation for a way to get me home?"

He only hummed in contemplation, his hand coming up to stroke his neatly trimmed beard. "Yes, I suppose it could be done…" For what felt like an eternity, he only sat there, considering, clearly deep in thought, until finally, he turned to her once more, a glint of victory in his eye. "Very well, girl. I will do you a deal: Train under me and become my apprentice, and I will work towards finding you a way home. In the meantime, you and your magic will serve me and me alone."

She knew, deep down, there was a lot that could go wrong in making a deal with this man; this dangerous man, who was truly in control of her situation. But what choice did she have? She could try to negotiate with him, but really, he held all the power here. This was his estate, his world, his magic. She knew nothing, had nothing. This was the best she was going to get out of this man, she knew.

I don't have a choice.

The thought hurt her more than she wanted to admit.

"Well?"

Her head snaps back up to attention at the sound of Elias' voice, his impatient expression indication enough that she had to make a decision now. Briefly, her eyes flickered to the elven man standing guard behind him, the very same who had also been in the room when Clare made her first appearance. His face remained expressionless, void of any emotion, but his eyes... they conveyed everything. Pity and curiosity swirled around those chestnut orbs, and in those final moments as a free woman, Clare felt some kind of kinship to a person whose name she didn't even know.

"Okay," she finally replied, "It's a deal."

oh my GOD you guys have no idea how stuck i was on this chapter! i'm still not quite happy with it, but i thought i'd just get it out there for you guys! i just also want to give a massive thank you to my first two reviewers who motivated me to get this chapter out so quickly! blacklotusz07 and ghostly guest, your words meant the world to me! i'm so glad to hear you're enjoying it so far! i hope my future chapters don't let you down! the same goes to any who follow/faveorite this story! until next time, i hope you're all doing well!