Chapter 2

I watched as demons moved about the room, shifting the corpses scattered around me. I remained on the stone slab in the centre of the space, still weak and shaken as I was. I felt odd; this body, my body, was different from that of my, I suppose, previous life. It felt awkward, unfamiliar. I slowly flexed my fingers, watching their movement, and had the startling sensation of staring down at the hands of another. The nails were perfectly sculpted, befitting of nobility, the skin smattered with an alien pattern of freckles.

I let my gaze wander over to the mage, the man responsible for all of this. He stood hunched over a bowl of water in the corner methodically rinsing the blood from his hands. He then brusquely dried them with a cloth that a demon held out to him. He moved closer to me not even paying attention to the dead bodies in his way, occasionally treading on the hems of clothing, or outstretched hands.

"It is good to see you awake." He gave a smug smile, clearly pleased with the outcome of his ritual. Another demon approached with a bundle of folded fabric and handed it to me. I reluctantly accepted it after realizing that the Shade wouldn't leave until I did. There were three other shades here, dragging some human and even some elven bodies out of the room, with all the care of a street vendor lugging a heavy sack of potatoes.

Victor's training kept me on edge; my heart drummed in my chest, and I felt the familiar buzz of adrenaline in my limbs, yet my hands remained steady.

"My name is Baron Aldric, you are to serve me." I stared at him blankly, unsure how to respond. I nearly attempted to throw a spell at him, but my situation gave me pause. I was at a disadvantage; my body couldn't move the way I wanted it to. My limbs were weak and wouldn't respond the way my training allowed until I put it through the motions. I also recalled Gwen stating that, without demon intervention, I would have full control over my actions once in the physical plane. It's likely he still thought I would follow his will. "Perhaps you do not understand me." He said. I watched his hand drift languidly to a dagger at his belt. I sat up straighter. Opening the fabric bundle that was handed to me and finding that it was a robe. I slid from the stone slab, stumbling awkwardly on new feet, before slipping the robe on.

"That is unnecessary. I can understand you." Even my voice was foreign and strange. It felt unused and my throat sore. He looked surprised at my co-operation, and put the dagger back into its sheath.

"Good then, you appear to be smarter than my previous experiments. Perhaps you will actually be useful. I have intentions to remove the Chantry from its seat of power, and I will use you to do so." He looked pleased. "We will begin tomorrow." This man, there was really something wrong with him. I felt that there were pieces of the puzzle missing. There had to be more to him. What could drive him to this senseless slaughter? All of it for a drone of a servant to follow his every whim, with no regard for their autonomy.

"What do you intend to do to those that run this Chantry?" I needed more information, something to explain his blatant disregard for life, something to alleviate the twisting chill that had settled in my stomach at his complete, frigid cruelty.

"I am glad you asked. The Chantry is an idea, and ideas are carried by people, thus they must be eliminated, their chains on our lives broken. I have a few ways of going about it, but demonic possession seems the most sure-fire, and is particularly fitting for the Divine." He once again fixed me with that terrible smile, a grimace of unrepentant glee. I stared back coldly. He continued to muse and mumble over the kinds of things he would inflict onto the clergy of the Chantry for the next several minutes. I attempted to tune him out and began to plan my escape.

"I need time to make this body function to my needs." I said, interrupting his rant. "It is weak." This much was true, I did need time to rehabilitate. My limbs felt wooden, neglected, unused, but it could have also been that I hadn't actually had a physical body in Maker only knows how long.

He seemed to ponder my words and nodded after a moment.

"I suppose I could put a hold on my plans. After all, you are the key to my success, and I need you at your most useful state. How long do you need?"

"Two months." Truthfully, I had no idea, but I hoped that it was enough time to regain my strength, then get out of dodge before things got bad.

Five minutes later I found myself sat on the bed that I was to call my own for my stay here. Two shades had guided me here, like horrifying, silent footmen. I let out a long sigh, and closed my eyes, trying to calm my thoughts. They ran in a dizzying, endless loop, leaving me anxious and exhausted.

This baron was clearly a psychopath, chillingly cold, and deeply deluded. Or maybe the number of demons he had summoned and the consequent deals he had made had caused him to be this way. Nonetheless, I didn't know how to help, magic or not. I didn't like blood magic personally, but it didn't make the user 'evil.' Regardless the Baron was not good news. He blatantly wanted to kill, enslave, and torture. I couldn't accept that.

I stood, a little shaky, and looked out the window of the room I was staying in. Dense forests lay beyond the garden walls, and what appeared to be a lake beyond that. Then again, in my life before, I grew up near a great lake. I think they would look more like an ocean to these people. However, there looked to be blinking lights on the other side. Perhaps a city. Maybe even Val Royeaux. If it was, I would be happy. No way a blood mage would go into Chantry central, not without using magic at least. I felt the beginnings of an escape plan.

As the weeks went by, I began to come to terms with this body. In fact, it took less than two months to get up to par with Victor's and Adelaide's training.

And maker did it hurt.

Pain was not a welcome experience. It was something I could feel in the Fade, but it wasn't the same. Muscles ached and bruises swelled, a few times I had scraped and cut up my knuckles while training, but it was different here; in the Material World, it was so much more…real.

At first, I had felt strange and clumsy, now I could juggle more than three items at a time with ease. I do admit though, while learning, that I had bumped into a lot of things, and bruised my legs and toes more times than I could count.

Having basic needs again was also strange. Hunger was something that I didn't think I missed in the Fade, but the food was so good. Other basic needs such as bathing and sleeping were familiar but strange to do again.

It also seemed that getting out of this hell hole was going to be harder than I thought. He had random spots for demons to appear if you got too close to them. Even outside. As soon as you triggered it, he would come running. Usually, I would have dealt with the demons by the time he got there, so started to make a game out of it. More powerful demon traps appeared, and in different spots. I quickly learned how to recognise the signs of the traps and summoning circles, a shimmer on the ground, slight distortion in the air above. Nonetheless, triggering them only took one false step.

This day had gone by in a blur of intensive training, but it was late now, and the Baron was snoring soundly. Moonlight trickled through the tall windows in slanting beams, casting looming shadows in the corners. I edged down one of the mansion's many winding hallways, stepping around a much older summoning circle. This place was truly trapped to the nines. I had never explored this area of the house, and it looked to be virtually abandoned.

I looked at the circle for a moment, studying it. Finding his newer work was harder to spot and much more refined. This was old, the blood used in making the circle almost black with age, but the power still flowed from it. This circle must have been one of his first, it was messy and unpractised.

Moving through any part of the manor was slow going because of the traps. Detecting and avoiding them took all of my concentration. I didn't want the Baron to know I was lurking around the halls of his home. Granted the dust trail might be a tad noticeable. But I needed things to aid in my escape plan, and abandoned wings of the manor were useful. They might contain valuable, magical items, and, left untouched as they had been for so long, it was likely they wouldn't be missed.

I had largely been very lucky with my exploits; the Baron had a schedule that he stuck to like glue to paper, which made him easy to avoid. That way, I only had to deal with his retinue of shades.

He woke up at seven. ate breakfast and expected me to eat with him. I didn't like these times as he expected to have an update on my progress in rehabilitating my body. He then would be in his study for the rest of the day until evening when he would have dinner in the library. I wasn't expected to have lunch with him, in fact he didn't want to be disturbed if it could be helped, but dinner was also mandatory. He would discuss the plans he was crafting in his study. I learned the most about him during dinner. He wouldn't talk about his family, but, strangely, expected me to act like a son, of sorts.

He expected things of me that made little sense, given my apparent role in his plans. He expected me to spend time in the library to study magic, or to be out in the yard. I found it unsettling, it was almost as if he was trying to remember a different time. Then at around eleven in the evening he would retire for the night. Now, just because he had to sleep didn't mean the shades patrolling the halls had to. I had no desire for them to spot me sneaking around the manor at one in the morning, poking my nose where I shouldn't.

I reached the end of the hallway with a sigh of relief, only to be faced with a dusty, old, oak door. Small scraps of gold filigree still clung to it, though most was rubbed away by time. I tried the handle on a whim, and the door swung silently open.

The room beyond was, small, dark, and cramped, a storeroom of some sort perhaps, but the only thing inside was a tall, rectangular object shrouded in a sheet. Maybe a mirror, or a painting? My curiosity getting the better of me, I reached up and tugged the sheet free, suppressing a sneeze at the clouds of dust it shed. I gasped as I saw what lay beneath.

A family portrait.

A beautiful woman and the Baron stood side by side with a little boy between them. Immediately, questions flooded my mind. Who was she? His wife? Was that their son between them? Where were they now? Was he practising blood magic when the painting was made? The Baron looked much younger here and the fashion of Orlais had clearly changed since then. His face was in full view. I sighed. I didn't need to see this. All it gave me was more questions than I had answers. I hastily replaced the sheet, my hands trembling slightly, then I all but fled. I left barely any sound as I went.

Curiosity was the bane of my existence. I couldn't get the painting out of my head. There was just something about it I couldn't put my finger on. Whoever the other two in the painting were, there was no sign of their existence within the manor other than a few items here and there. Of those few that remained, most were packed away in hidden crates; I assumed the rest had been destroyed. It seemed that the Baron didn't want to see reminders of them.

One such forgotten item that I discovered on another of my night-time explorations was a bedroom vanity. It was old and covered by a sheet like most of the abandoned things in this place. It was white and ornately carved. A variety of things remained on it: a jewellery box and an assortment of makeup and perfumes. One curious sniff told me they had gone horribly sour. The stool was still intact as well. This was the first time I saw any hint of the Baron's wife having existed at all outside the painting. I sat down at the vanity and took stock of what I could see. She had enough to be a lady, that was for certain. I looked up at the mirror, it was tarnished and dusty, I picked up the sheet that had previously covered the vanity and wiped some dust off the mirror. Upon seeing my reflection, I froze, staring awe-struck into horribly familiar eyes.

The person staring back at me was unmistakably an older version of the boy in the painting.

I sat stock still, unable to drag my gaze away, until the foyer clock chimed, startling me from my trance.

New questions buzzed through my mind like angry hornets; was this truly the body of the Baron's son, or was it simply a simulacrum? Had the boy died, or had my mind been forced into this body, destroying his? Still, it explained many of my odd interactions with the Baron, his insistence on spending time together, his stories, his reminiscing, his… My heart pounded roughly in my throat, and I felt sick to my stomach. I had to leave this place, and soon.

By this point I had managed to gather quite an arsenal of items useful for my escape, which I had then stashed in my living quarters. I had collected a change of clothes—a simple white collared shirt, leather pants, and some soft soled leather boots. I also snagged a black jacket and scarf; I didn't need to be spotted in the middle of the night thanks to the luminous outline of a white shirt.

I had managed to gather two maps, one I had created myself, and the other was torn from the pages of a dusty, historical account of Orlesian noble houses, in which I had managed to pinpoint the Baron's mansion. The first was a crude etching of the manor with markers showing the locations of the current most dangerous demon summoning circles I had found. The second was a map of the local area. It may have been a bit outdated, but I found out the nearest town was Val Firmin not Val Royeaux, as I had originally thought. My plan was to reach that city. However, it was also the most obvious choice, so I would have to lay a false trail leading elsewhere, otherwise the Baron would be on my trail in mere hours. Unfortunately, this would mean a long trek through the thick woodlands, so I had some basic outdoor supplies: fire starters, matches, and a hatchet.

I had fashioned a crude bag from a sheet to hold everything. It wasn't ideal, but it was something. I had also snagged a couple daggers from some suits of armour in the less used parts of this place, as well as some thread, and a collection of marbles, perhaps once a child's playthings. I quickly turned my mind from that thought.

Now, after almost two months of scavenging and my plans were almost complete. I began hurriedly gathering my supplies together, messily bundling everything into my sheet. I tucked the map of the area into my jacket's inner pocket and snatched the other off the nearby bedside table. I muttered a brief incantation below my breath and flames leapt from my fingers, crumpling it to ash. I slipped the two daggers into my belt. It was time to make an escape, but first, there was the necessary matter of a little subterfuge.

I slipped through the door of my quarters, pleased to find the hallway clear of shades. I turned right, padding down the grand, entry staircase, my soft-soled boots near silent on the worn carpet. At some point, thick clouds had obscured the moon, leaving the foyer eerily dark. The shadows clustered in the high ceiling, an inky pool of black. I couldn't help but imagine glowing, demon eyes observing me from within it. I shuddered at the thought and turned my eyes to my more immediate goal.

The clock in the foyer was going to be a big help for the first stage, a distraction of sorts. I placed my bundle on the stairs, fishing through it until I found my thread, and little pouch of marbles. I looped the thread around the neck of the pouch in a loose hitch, before winding the remainder around the bannister leaving the marbles suspended over the foyer floor. I tiptoed down the rest of the stairs, looping the thread between the railings as I went, careful not to dislodge the marbles.

I moved softly towards the towering grandfather clock, the true centrepiece of this room, and levered the glass door open, thankfully the baron hadn't thought to lock it. I made a small noose, then slipped it over one of the chime pins, and pulled it tight. When the clock chimed the next hour, it would pull the thread, releasing a chaotic rain of marbles plummeting to the floor then bouncing and rolling every which way. This would be quite enough to activate at least a few of the summoning circles around the room. A simple but effective distraction.

The next part of my plan was to deliberately activate one of the more deadly summoning circles at the edge of the Manor grounds, kill the demon and set off into the woods as fast as possible. Granted, I needed to make it look like I was going toward Jader and possibly Ferelden.

I gathered my belongings once more, and slipped through the front door, leaving it ajar so I would hear the chiming of the bells. The clock currently read quarter to three, leaving me fifteen minutes before all chaos erupted.

I circled around the side of the house at a gentle jog, then came to a stop beside my target circle. It was large and elaborate, the power of the enchantment setting the hair on my neck on end with my proximity. I just hoped that it wasn't going to spit out a Fear demon. They were enormous, and incredibly powerful, and I had no desire to face one on my own.

Instead, I closed my eyes, breathing deeply and steadying my thudding heart. The night was eerily still, and I found myself straining to catch any sound of a disturbance. So it was that I all but jumped when the familiar chime rang out through the dark. I took another deep breath, dropping a hand to the dagger at my belt, and waited till it finished sounding, before stepping forward onto the circle.

The calm was instantly shattered by a bone chilling scream, and I cursed under my breath. A terror demon. I turned myself invisible with a flick of magic, remembering Victor shouting at me to face my fears, but It had always been more metaphorical then. Still, it seemed I had little choice. I straightened my back, taking a poised stance, readied my daggers, and sent a surge of electricity crackling down my hands, setting the blades alight in a halo of purple energy.

The terror certainly lived up to its name, with its slack, toothy maw, cluster of beady black eyes, and wickedly sharp claws. It moved with a painful, stiff shuffle, its twisted forelimbs hanging nearly to the ground.

It shrieked again, sending a spike of fear twisting in my stomach. I circled carefully around it, after all invisibility didn't render me silent, yet it made no sign of turning as I moved. Once I was safely behind it, I sucked in a final deep breath, dropped to a crouch then hurled myself forward, jumping onto the back of the terror plunging the daggers in as far as I could.

It immediately began to thrash, scrabbling with its clawed hands in an attempt to remove its unwanted passenger. Black ichor spewed forth from the wounds, coating my hands and leaving my grip precariously slippery. All I could do then was hold on for my dear life.

It let out another howl. I knew just my enchanted daggers wouldn't be enough to kill it. I clenched my teeth, and yanked the blades free from its back, dancing a few steps away from it, not enough to warrant it teleporting to me, but enough for me to cast a spell.

I took slow breaths as I thrust my daggers back into my belt to free my hands.

Inhale gradually, exhale gradually.

Energy began to build within me, tingling its down my arms. The hairs on the nape of my neck stood upright.

Inhale gradually, exhale gradually.

I scrunched my eyes closed, locking the position of the Terror into my mind.

Inhale gradually, exhale gradually.

And the power of the storm burst forth from me.

The blinding purple beam struck the terror square in the chest, briefly paralysing it, before erupting into a crackling cage of light. It shrieked once more in fury, but I had no desire to wait around to face its wrath, so I turned on my heel and fled, dashing madly for the woods. There was no way that I would be able to kill the demon on my own in time to leave before the Baron saw me. Once far enough away from the manor I began the process of fade stepping to the ocean.

The amount of mana that fade stepping to the lake drained from me was ridiculous. As the adrenaline wore off, the trembling set in, so it was with great relief that I found myself stumbling from the treeline onto a sandy shore. I would need to rest here, but not for long. First, I needed to make some simple preparations.

Thankfully, there was an abundance of dry driftwood, and with little effort I was able to coax a small fire from it, with minimal smoke. I had no desire to set up a beacon leading directly to my location.

I needed rest and food. I was not prepared for the amount of effort required to cast magic in the material plane. The fade moved to your every whim and with so little effort once you knew how to command it. Magic in the physical plane drained mana so quickly, and it was so slow to return. I now fully understood why lyrium was so important to a mage now.

I cast my gaze back across to the trees stretched out behind me. I could see the manor from here, a speck of a shadow perched on a hill buried within the forest. I swallowed. The screams of the terror still echoed in my mind, and when I closed my eyes the Baron's pallid face flashed before me, replaced with a younger, kinder version of that face, standing beside a young boy…I shuddered. Now was not the time for contemplation.

I quickly changed my clothing from stiff noble attire to the black jacket, white shirt, leather pants and soft supple boots. The other clothes I threw into my fire.

I stuck to the beach on my journey to Val Firmin. I didn't trust the roads right now, with the manor so close. As the days ticked by, I began to enjoy my time in Thedas. The night sky was a sight to behold. The two moons were bright and there were so many stars. It took my breath away when I actually paid attention to it. I felt a sudden desire to paint what I saw, for a moment I thought the idea strange but shrugged it off for now, maybe now that I didn't have to worry about a blood mage breathing down my neck I could dabble in more creative fields. For the first time I began to imagine a future beyond just surviving.

Val Firmin was a quaint port town, permeated by the shouts and chatter of merchants and dockworkers alike, as well as the far less pleasant stench of fish.

I was exhausted and thoroughly sandy by the time I made it to the centre of the town. It was busy, very busy. People dragging carts of fresh produce, merchant stalls with wondrous goods being sold: everything from fine silks to wine.

"Two sovereigns, lad!" One of the merchants gestured enthusiastically at me. "Two sovereigns for a bolt of finest satin! You won't find a better price anywhere in Thedas!" I brushed his offer aside with a weary smile, but then my heart sank.

What had I been thinking coming here? I had no money to get a place to stay. I was tired and hungry, andI must have been swaying pretty badly because someone placed a hand on my shoulder while my eyes were closed. I opened them as soon as the person did and started at the figure before me.

Peering down at me from within an ornate helmet was the concerned face of a templar.

"Are you all right, sir?" They spoke in Orlesian, not much of a surprise. "You look as if you haven't slept in days." Now that I had gotten over my panic of meeting a templar face to face, I smiled sleepily.

"I am afraid I haven't. I was robbed last night and had just enough time to leave before the bandits took my life along with my money." I got a sympathetic look in return for my lie. Apparently, it was believable. Perhaps I looked the part of a merchant or at least his son.

"The Chantry here has plenty of space if you need a place to stay." I forgot about the Chantry. How stupid could I be! I said my thanks to the templar. I know that I, myself have magical talents, but if I kept them to a minimum, I should be fine.

It didn't take me long to find the chantry in question, I simply had to look for the biggest and most ornate building in the town. Despite feeling all the strength leaving my limbs, I managed to open the door. Orlesian architecture sure was something. I admired the statues and carvings on the walls of the religious building as I walked. Eventually, I came to the pews and sat down. I sighed at how comfortable they were. I must have been pretty tired indeed if this hard, splintery bench felt suddenly like the height of luxury.

I looked around the room. A few others were sitting in the pews praying quietly, their lips moving silently in worship. I mimicked their movements and pretended to pray. I didn't close my eyes, I didn't exactly feel like falling asleep in a pew. After a few minutes, I leaned back to stare at the ceiling. It was utterly covered in ornate paintings, depicting various tableaus of Andraste's story.

"Child, are you in need of help?" A kind looking older woman came into my field of vision. She wore robes of the Chantry, not that of a sister, but of higher rank. I sat up and faced her.

"Yes, I am afraid to say that I was robbed just last night and have no money to purchase a bed from a local inn."

"Then you are more than welcome to stay with the Chantry, child. I am Revered Mother Annette. Come. I will show you to a room you may stay in as long as you like."