AN: Inspired by a Dragon Age writing challenge and then re-edited past the accepted word could to please my own expectations of my writing. All original characters set in the time directly following DA II. Enjoy.
The True Abominations
Snow fell, the tiny frozen stars, each a unique and beautiful creation drifting and swirling carelessly towards earth. A brief yet wonderful existence, every winter these icy sprites watched in bemused humor at the joys and toils of mankind as they floated through the crisp air. This particular chilly morning belonged to the holiday know to the people of Thedas as Winter Solstice, an occasion when the miniscule children of the clouds usually witnessed a brighter side of humanity on their journey towards the ground.
Even here, in the desolate air surrounding the lonely Circle of Magi, located high in the barren steps above Hossberg Anderfels, where laughter was a rarity and hushed fearful whispers were the norm, the day of Winter Solstice was one where both Templar and Mage alike would enjoy a short reprieve from the constant struggle between those who were cursed with the gift of magic and those who were supposed to protect the Mages from themselves. Every year on this day the pale rays of the morning sun that shown into the usually cold hallways of the Hossberg tower—known to locals as the Eye of the North, or just the Eye by those more intimately familiar with its unyielding stone walls—would be greeted with unguarded smiles and even peels of laughter from the various common rooms as the Eye's prisoners participated with the rest of Thedas in the day's traditions.
However, today was a stunning exception. For as the freshly fallen snow made its gentle trip downwards, its brilliance was already being dulled by the black of ash, and as it settled to the quiet frozen ground, it was stained crimson with the newly shed blood of the dead who used to occupy the towering spires, falsely claiming dominion over Mages and their Templar keepers.
As had happened in so many other towers across Thedas, the Mages of Hossberg had rebelled.
sssSsss
Little kitty, little kitty, little lost cat, where in the world is your home at...
Deep within the bowels of the Eye, Wyatt Snow stirred, his brilliant blue eyes slowly blinking as he awakened. It took him a moment to realize that he had actually opened them because of dark it was down here; as it was, the shaking boy couldn't see his own gauntlet in front of his face. Letting out a soft grown of pain, he forced himself into a sitting position, his armored hand moving towards his pounding temples as he tried desperately to remember why he'd been laying unconscious on this grimy stone floor.
As his fingers came in contact with the sticky mat of snowy white hair on the side of his head and he felt a small trickle of warm blood run down his cheek, the horror of the past few hours came rushing back to him.
He remembered being awakened abruptly in the middle of the night by one of his commanding officers who had informed him that the Eye of the North in Hossberg had joined the myriad of Towers across Thedas that had followed in Kirkwall's example and risen up against their Templar keepers. Wyatt and the rest of his order had been briefed in short grim tones that despite the increased number of men and women stationed at the Eye, the Mages had overpowered the Templar ranks and were quickly gaining control of the tower. It was also suspected that the Knight Commander Michael Roads had been slain by Blood Magic.
In short, the Right of Annulment had been sanctioned and just like that, Wyatt, a nineteen year old boy who'd only received his full knighthood two weeks prior, was being deployed into the spreading war against those who wielded magic.
He'd be lying if he said that march across the barren steps towards that eerily smoking tower hadn't been one of the most terrifying moments of his life, but that was nothing compared to what he witnessed inside those desolate walls. The atrocities committed by both Mages and his fellow Templars as they fought tooth and nail for survival against an enemy they loathed and feared more than anything else would haunt him for the rest of his days; that is, if he even lived to see another sun rise...
The Mages' desperate bid for freedom reduced them to nothing more than rabid wild dogs scrabbling against the tower's stone walls, killing anything that stood between them and the key to their cage without a second thought. And though Wyatt, unlike many in his order, knew that the current state of the Mages' behavior was to an extent brought upon by the degree to which they had been oppressed, it was obvious that the time for negotiation had long since passed leaving killing as both sides' only recourse.
Wyatt shivered, he remembered it all much too clearly. He didn't want to think about it anymore, but unbidden, the blood soaked memories of his battle with the Force Mages flooded into his mind.
Himself and a group of four others, including his best friend from recruit training, Alex Whitewood, had been ordered to descend into the lower regions of the Eye which were spread out into a veritable maze of passages and rooms that made it nigh impossible for even the residents of the tower to navigate successfully without a map or a locating spell, neither of with was possessed by Wyatt's scouting party. That's when they'd met their first group of Mages that were more than just frightened little Apprentices or wet-behind-the-ears Enchanters that had just made it past their Harrowing. And while it was true that some of the Mages in this group were only wearing the robs of an Apprentice, their leader must have been one of the Eye's Senior Enchanters because Wyatt's men hadn't stood a chance.
Though Wyatt tried to shut his mind to the past, the flow of memories refused to stop. He held his head as the images raced around his pounding head; the wicked smirk of the face of the Senior Enchanter as she held him and the rest of his party firmly against the wall with her magic and calmly instructed one of her wards in the proper way to increase the amount of outward pressure around Alex while decreasing the reciprocating inward pressure resulting a sickeningly slow implosion that caused Alex's armor to crumple like a tin can. With a terrible crunching sound and a blood chilling scream, a river of blood to flowed from every crevice of the armor that Alex had been so thrilled to dawn only two weeks ago.
The only thing that had prevented Wyatt from being the counter example of an explosion was the appearance of a hoard of Abominations and Shades that seemed to appear out of nowhere. The monstrosities had set upon the Mages who had once boon their cohorts with every intent of either ripping them to pieces or forcing them to join their horrific ranks.
Instantly Wyatt had become a thing of the past as the Mages unleashed all of their magic upon the creatures that displayed more hate, malice, and inhuman violence than Wyatt had thought the Maker would ever allow to exist on this earth.
Wyatt had tried to come to the defense of the remaining two members of of his group but his attempts had been in vain as he'd be caught in a spell meant to push back several of the Abominations, the sheer force of it sending him crashing down the stairs into the black oblivion where in now lay.
Well, at least that explains the splitting headache, he thought in a useless attempt at humor. He didn't even want to think of what had become of Rodan and Quint—the other two recruits that had been put in his charge. He wanted to believe that they had somehow made in out in the confusion that Demons had caused, but he somehow doubted that such an outcome was very likely.
It was then, cringing in the dark, trying to think of a way out of his current predicament that Wyatt heard the singing that he had unknowingly awoken to a few minutes ago. It was the first notes of a song that would haunt him long beyond his death and voice that he would never forget.
"Little kitty, little kitty, little lost cat, where in the world is your home at?"
The woman's voice was hauntingly sweet and childlike but somehow very wrong, almost as if he was hearing it not only with his ears but also echoing throughout his mind. It was very reminiscent of the voices you heard about in ghost stories around the campfire that told of forgotten spirits of lost children.
"I know where your home is, I know where you're hiding at..."
Wyatt wasn't exactly sure why his pumping heart had turned to ice, but if there was one thing he had learned in his training as a Templar recruit, it was not to ignore strong gut feelings like this one.
Immediately he reached around his back to his scabbard only to find it empty.
Dammit! I must have dropped it when they knocked me down the steps! Gloved hands scrabbling across the ground, Wyatt began the desperate search for his claymore.
"So jump into my arms, my poor little kitty cat!"
At the last words of the spine tingling song several things happened all at once. Wyatt's frantically searching hands located the familiar always slightly warm hilt of his sword and tightened around it, quickly bringing it up and turning to face his best guess as to where the echoing words had originated. At the same moment the room suddenly became illuminated by a soft red light that was everywhere, yet at the same time, the source of which could not be located.
The crimson glow lit up a whole host of horrors, not the least of which was a small army of demons and shades hovering in the shadowy corners, their ghastly semitransparent forms seeming to mesh and blend into the surrounding darkness.
The room itself was filled with cages whose occupants were all long since dead, save for the small prison directly in front of him. The iron bars held within them a small bedraggled woman covered in dirty black rags that at one point would have been a quite beautiful velvet robe, which now hung like curtains from her emaciated form. She looked to be about his age though the deep shadows cast by her long black tresses across her face made it difficult to tell.
"Who are you?!" Wyatt shouted, trying to keep his voice from cracking with fear, his claymore pointed directly at her cage door which seemed locked, but one could never really be sure. He could feel magic pulsating all around him and he was somehow convinced that the caged girl before him was both the source of the power he felt and the greatest threat in this dungeon.
"Shh!" she hissed, eyes darting towards the shifting circle of Fade creatures who had seemed slightly agitated by the Templar's words but had kept their distance. "This One doesn't want the creatures to come over here."
Prompted by her chilling words, Wyatt glanced over to the undulating mass of shadows around them.
As if sensing her chance, the caged girl lunged forwards, pressing her unhealthily slender body against the iron bars like she was trying to grab him.
Without thinking, Wyatt thrust his sword forward in an attempt to impale her, but somehow the wisp of a girl managed to just dodge the blow, imposing herself against the cage bars, inches from where the blade had been shoved through.
The strange girl wrinkled her nose, seemingly not the least bit perturbed by the razor sharp blade that had nearly skewered her. "This boy isn't very nice." She cocked her head to the side. "Doesn't he know it is polite to introduce himself first when coming into someone else's house?"
House? This prison? "Are you a Mage?" questioned Wyatt, his voice shaking but but his blade remaining steady as his eyes darted from the strange girl to the ever circling demons. "Why are you locked up in there?"
All his training told Wyatt that the answers to his questions were, "yes," and, "you'd rather not know." Protocol said he should kill her now, not talk to her, not let her trick him, but something about her felt so familiar, like he'd know this imprisoned woman for years. Maybe that was her twisted magic already at work, but he couldn't bring himself to just end her existence. It felt like he'd be killing a caged defenseless animal.
She looked slightly disappointed in his response. "This One is a girl locked in a cage for reasons she cannot understand. This One is not dead like the others for similar reasons." She sighed and looked almost as if she would turn away and head back into the recesses of her cell when her nearly glowing downcast eyes fell upon his sword like it was the first time she'd noticed it. Instantly her mood changed from downtrodden to exceedingly happy and curious.
"The boy is scared to tell This One his name yes? Scared that she will cast a nasty spell on him?" She began running her long fingers gingerly over the blade and it was almost as if it glowed where she caressed it. "But will the rude boy tell This One the name of his claymore? Surly a blade so grand would be christened with a name, and This One likes it so very, very much!"
"M-my sword?" questioned Wyatt in a baffled sort of way. She's insane, she has to be.
"Claymore."
"What?"
"Specifically it's a claymore. Are you going to tell This One or not?"
"Um...actually I'm a little more concerned with this hoard of circling demons," he returned somewhat heatedly.
She giggled. "True, the Faded Ones can be quite nasty but the wards on the ground," she gestured to the faded weakly glowing ruins that made a large circle around the ring of corpse filled cages, "they will prevent them from entering as long as the rude boy doesn't make such a loud ruckus."
Wyatt remained unconvinced in the validity of her words. He had no reason to trust her and those wards looked exceedingly weak, like they hadn't been attended to in months. However, Wyatt was able to see the exit from here and that he was completely cut off from it by the shifting crowd of monsters.
"Pretty please with a heaping pile of glistening sugar on top?" she begged actually bouncing with excitement.
Now Wyatt could only stare in disbelief at her. He hadn't heard such a childish request since the last time his little pig-tail wearing sister had... He shook his head. No, don't think about her now.
Wyatt looked down at the sword that had served him so faithfully over the past three years. It had been a gift his father had given him when he'd suddenly announced that he was leaving to join the Templars. He then glanced back up at the girl who was still looking hopefully between his claymore's blade and Wyatt's impassive face. He really couldn't see the harm in telling her. It was a sword, not a person. She couldn't bewitch him knowing his sword's name, at least, none of the other Templars had ever said anything like that. Come to think of it, he was fairly certain that Mages didn't require someone's name to bewitch them anyway.
He consented "The blade's name, it's-"
"Cheshire's Red Moon." She finished for him, her hands gently caressing its slightly red-tinged surface.
"H-how did you know?" he gaped in shock.
"Because it's mine," she practically purred.
Wyatt immediately pulled the blade back, miraculously not cutting the girl's fingers.
She waved her hands innocently in front of her grinning face. " Sorry, sorry! 'Was.' This one meant, 'was.'"
"Clarify," he stated icily.
"Cheshire is a Bladed Staff, staves that are made for mages who can wield a blade. This One's father made it for her, before the Bad People came and killed Mother and took Sister and her to the North Eye." She glanced to the rotting copse in the cage to their right. "Little Sister died last month..."
For an instant he softened before catching himself. A dead younger sister? That's a little too close to home to be mere coincidence... Not to mention that her whole spiel on his sword was absolute rubbish. Bladed Staves? He was fairly sure the Templars would know of such thinks. Although...his father had said that he'd gotten the blade though unconventional methods, and Wyatt knew that it conducted his power better than any other weapon he'd ever used.
Doesn't matter, he assured himself. The one important piece of information that I got from her was that she confirmed she was a Mage... "'The Bad People,' you mean Templars?" he inquired cautiously in an attempt to confirm his theory.
She blinked at him quizzically "Not always. Bad people can be Mages, or Templars, or blacksmiths, or even bakers!" She laughed and smiled at him.
"Right...those evil bakers. Might give a you bun they dropped on the floor." Why the hell am I joking with her?
She frowned. "That would be pretty mean, unless you were a Mabari Hound that is." She then waved her hand dismissively. "But anyways, a favor for a favor, yes?"
He was about to decline any sort of favors. Wasn't that how Mages got possessed, accepting favors from demons? He wasn't sure if the same could be said of Templars with Mages, but it was better not to take a chance.
Seeming to see his negative reaction to her offer, she she pressed on before he could finish shaking his head. "Chess."
Wyatt blinked in confusion. "I don't want any 'favors' from you so you come back with wanting to play chess?"
She laughed. "I like chess."
"But we have no board, no pieces." This was ridiculous.
"Huh?"
He sighed. "To play with."
More laughter. "Why would we play chess when the tower is falling down around our ears? You really are a funny lad."
Now he was really confused. "But you said-"
"This One's name is Chess, short for Cheshire, Cheshire Redmoon like the cat. But I really do like chess, shame we don't have some pieces..."
Did she really think he'd fall for it? Or was she just absolutely crazy? "Sorry, but that's my sword."
"What is?"
He was actually getting a bit angry now. "Look I don't have time for your silly games! You know damn well that my sword's name is Cheshire's Red Moon! Hell, I told you not two minutes ago!"
She jerked back a few steps cringing as if he was going to hit her. Once she was sure there were no imminent blows she nervously started tapping her two forefingers together in front of her downcast face before muttering, "Yes, This One knows that...but This One told him that the sword used to be her's. Is it not so far fetched that This One's father would have named it after the little girl whose essence he put into it?"
Even though Wyatt was sure she was lying and she was probably a very dangerous Mage, he couldn't help but to feel sorry for her.
"The boy is angry with This One now isn't he? Is he going to hurt her?" She suddenly froze and looked almost a bit hopeful. "Or...is the rude boy going to finally end it? She once again pressed herself against the cage bars, her breast directly in front of the tip of Cheshire's Red Moon. "This One wonders if he will make all the torture stop and end it quickly with the sword This One never got the chance to use."
Wyatt pulled back appalled. "No!" he shouted. "I'm no one's executioner! I only killed those Mages before because they attacked first! I never wanted any of this!"
He never wanted any of this, that was a truth that he hadn't been able to voice for years. And now that it was out in the open, everything else came pouring after it.
"I joined the Templars to protect Mages like you! I joined it to protect mt sister! I gave everything up so I could see her again and keep her safe! She was just twelve years old when they took her! And then three months into the training they tell me they had to kill her because she used blood magic and then transformed into an Abomination! She'd never do something like that! Ever!"
He collapsed shaking to the ground ignoring the agitated way the Shades were congregating around the barrier. Wyatt didn't know what had come over him. He'd never told anyone those things. It was like the festering dilapidated dam inside of him had just broken and everything had come spilling out.
He laughed, but there was no humor in it. "I'll be damned before a kill a helpless girl in a cage..."
Cheshire stared at him for a long time before finally speaking kneeling down on the cage before him so that she was on his level. "You called me a 'helpless girl.'" Her voice was suddenly clear, not containing any of the overtures of madness and childishness that it used to. She smirked sadly. "No one has seen me as that for a long time. All they see is this." She slowly reached out and touched his claymore gently stroking its surface before gripping it tightly, the blade digging into her hand.
"Hey!" he yelped in surprise. "What are you doing?!"
"Look," she prompted him, holding out her bleeding fingers before him.
As soon as he consented Wyatt froze in shock, the glistening red liquid flowing down her arm wasn't blood. Blood didn't glow like that or ooze such a strong magical pulse that was irresistibly tantalizing to Templars. This girl was bleeding raw Lyrium.
"H-how...?" he gasped.
She laughed coldly. "I don't pretend to know how they accomplished half the things they did to me," she stated icily, pushing her dirty black hair out of her face so that he could really see her for the first time.
What Wyatt saw was almost enough to make him get up and run for the door regardless of the mass of Fade creatures between it and him. Her face was gaunt and had a deeply haunted look that was completed by a set of prominent scars, two of which cut diagonally across her cracked lips and a third that sliced its way down the left side of her face rendering the coinciding eye white and useless. However, as terrible as all these things were, it was her intact right eye that caused him to freeze. The glowing crimson orb staring out at him from the dark circles and grim surrounding it was vertically slit like a cat's.
Cheshire wasn't human anymore, not even close.
Noticing the fearful way he was staring at her, Cheshire looked away sadly. "I don't know how people can justify capturing little children, killing their families, bringing them to this terrible place and then the others here, who are supposed to protect them, run horrific experiments on them for reasons the children can't ever possibly understand; feeding them Lyrium...locking them in the Fade..." she winced, "...making them fight and devour demons... and then call This One, and all the ones like me Abominations."
She reached out and ran her bleeding hand across his face, cupping his cheek in a warmembrace.
He should have pulled away, but he couldn't, he couldn't even move, so drawn was he byher eyes, her unnatural mismatched eyes peering out from all the girt, all those layers of dirty hair, all her scars...they glistened with truth, sadness, and fear.
"Can you tell me who the real Abominations are?"
Wyatt thought this strange moment in which he was face to face with his greatest enemy and, at the same time, the person who understood him better than anyone else in this world would never end. Truth be told, he wasn't even sure he wanted it to. However, like everything must, this strange encounter too came to a close, the moment shattered by the loud urgent footsteps echoing down the stairs Wyatt had fallen down what seemed like a life time ago, but was really only a few minutes prior.
Wyatt almost yelped as he felt Cheshire shove him backwards towards the circling procession of otherworldly beings."Go," She whispered quickly. "Hide in the shadows, the Fade creatures are scared of me, they dare not to touch you."
Driven by her urgency and spinning from her earlier question, Wyatt obeyed, and true to her words, the shades parted before him, leaving a small clearing around him as they continued their shifting dance around the room.
Once she was sure that Wyatt had been adequately hidden by the pulsating black curtain but not being consumed by its greedy claws, Cheshire once again pulled her dirty mat of hair in front of her face and allowed her eyes to take on their haunted blank look of before.
Not a second later, a group of Mages swept into dungeon, among them the Tower's First Enchanter Stephen Grendel.
Wyatt almost felt himself breath a sigh of relief. He wasn't sure why but if a mass of Templars had just ran through those doors he would feel compelled to protect this strange Abomination that terrified him so. But these were Mages. Surly they would see what injustices the Templars of this tower had done and then release her. Wyatt wasn't sure he himself could save her, but he knew he could turn a blind eye and allow her to escape. Maybe then she might get a chance at the life that she up until this point had been denied.
"Hurry, we don't have much time," the First Enchanter hissed to the other's around him. They nodded and, working together, proceeded to banish the congregation of shades and lower level demons from the room.
The rate and ease at which these Mages were able to dispatch the creatures around him proved to Wyatt that these were all extremely powerful individuals and he blanched when he recognized the now very bloodied Force Mage that had murdered his friend among their ranks.
As the mass of shades and demons shielding him from the Mages' eyes continued to thin, Wyatt silently moved into the deep shadow's provided by the cage Cheshire had implied held the rotting body of her younger sister, keeping Cheshire's Red Moon at the ready in case he had to defend himself.
Once the otherworldly horde had been dispatched, Stephen advanced on the cage containing the girl claiming to be called Cheshire or This One, depending on the sentence.
"Is the Bad Man going to kill This One?" she asked in her strange child-like manner that may or may not have been an act.
"Unfortunately yes," sighed the First Enchanter.
Wyatt froze. What?! This was not at all what the young Templar had been suspecting.
"You're continued existence in this world has proven very promising to our research," the First Enchanter continued somewhat boredly, "but as you can see," he gestured around at the tower walls, "our time is up and to prevent the Templars from figuring out what we're doing you have to die, Dante Redmoon."
Cheshire glared. "This One's name is Cheshire! Not Dante! Dante is the demon This One is possessing..."
Stephen chuckled. "Still touchy about that I see? Well I suppose it doesn't matter now does it, my little Abomination?"
Wyatt didn't even pretend to understand what the two Mages were discussing. Was possession of a demon by a Mage even possible? He shook his head. It didn't matter, what did matter was that it seemed as if these Mages were going to kill Cheshire and moreover, he was considering interfering with her execution.
Cheshire's eyes remained narrowed. "You can call This One whatever you like, but she is still the same little girl who came to you looking for a savior and found only a devil. And it will still be the little girl you are killing to cover your tracks. Just like you killed This One's sister."
Stephen laughed mercilessly. "I believe that you'll find it was a demon who killed Alice...more specifically, it was you, Dante."
"No!" screamed Cheshire, shaking uselessly against the iron bars with all her might, her right glowing red orb practically burning with hatred. "This One will kill you! You will regret what you made This One into! And even if you destroy her mortal body, This One will find you in the Fade and show you the true meaning of hell on earth. That is a promise you, you, Abomination!"
If Stephen was the least bit put off by her threats he didn't show it. "Try saying that to a mirror."
Wyatt felt his heart wrench inside his chest. How could a Mage turn on their own like that? He'd thought the Circle was a safe place for Mages. He himself had never actually been stationed at a tower before, but what if they were really as bad as the rumors said? What if the towers were really prisons and their Templars only there to torment the Mages trapped within them?
What if something similar had happened to his sister?
"Open the cage," Stephen commanded on of his Senior Enchanters. "Don't worry, the bonds on her will prevent her from using any of her powers."
A few moments later Cheshire was brought out and forced to kneel before the First Enchanter. "I'll try to make this a quick death. Do you have any last words, Redmoon?"
She nodded slowly. "Just one." Then her sad eyes looked over to where Wyatt was hiding in the shadows "Goodbye."
Something inside of his snapped at those words, and it was as if all the training, all the lies, all the truths, everything the Templars had thought him just flew out of him. "Chess!" Without a second thought he'd drawn his sword, had crossed the distance between him and the bound girl, and had imposed his shining claymore between Cheshire and the descending staff of the First Enchanter. Focusing all his energy into his weapon he managed to disrupt the Mage's death spell and redirect the remaining magic into the binds on Cheshire's hands and feet, shattering them as if they were made of glass.
He couldn't let it happen, he couldn't let them kill this helpless bound girl. He saw too much of his innocent wide eyed sister in her, too much of every terrified magic bearing child who should have been protected by the Circle and the Templars but only found fear and death within the towers and their impenetrable walls.
"Thank you." He felt the words whispered warmly in his ear and suddenly Cheshire's arms were around him, grip almost suffocatingly tight "I will take care of things from here."
Then she was gone and he felt as though white hot flames were coursing though his body consuming him entirely. He couldn't move, couldn't speak. Then he felt a hot breath that had not been pumped out by his own frozen lungs pass though his lips.
The flames ate away at his vision, and he knew no more.
"God no!" gasped Stephen as the wickedly grinning creature before him rose to its full height. "The wards! Bring them up! Contain her!" yelled the First Enchanter, his voice cracking with pure unbridled panic.
In an instant the She-Devil had seemed to teleport right beside him, her un-natural voice hissing in the First Enchanter's ear. "Too late Stephen. Now you pay for everything you did to This One and the rest of the little ones." She laughed, her grip tightening on Cheshire's Red Moon. "I hope you like receiving pain as much as you enjoy giving you sick bastard...because payback's a real witch!"
The screams that echoed up from the depths of the Eye could be heard all the way up on the surface and traveled out into the flurries of snow dancing throughout the howling wind, adding to the demonic melody.
sssSsss
"So jump into my arms, my poor little kitty cat..."
The next thing Wyatt knew was the soft winter's sunlight beaming comfortingly down on his face through the gently falling white flakes, warm hands softly untangling his sweat and blood caked hair, and the melodic notes of a song he heard ages ago mixing with the quiet babbling of a nearby ice capped stream.
Then it all came flooding back.
The tower, the blood, the girl, the First Enchanter, and then...nothing. What happened after that?!
Wyatt jerked upwards looking for his sword but the sight that met his eyes told him it wasn't necessary. He was sitting in the middle of an empty field, cold wind gently blowing the brown wintering grass, the smoking tower miles away, silhouetted against the horizon.
Wyatt turned to the softly humming girl sitting a few inches from his claymore, which for some reason was soaked in a ungodly amount blood, the tiny red rivers streaming out and soaking into the dry blighted ground.
"W-what happened?" Wyatt questioned almost fearfully of Cheshire who was staring calmly up at him from the ground, long nailed hands folded neatly across her lap where his head had been moments ago.
"You saved us." She answered, smiling warmly up at him. "If it wasn't for you..." she trailed off looking almost embarrassed, "well, I'd be dead, and I don't think that you would have it made it back to the surface alive."
He shook his head trying to clear it. "I still don't understand. All I remember is cutting your bonds and then...nothing." That wasn't entirely true, he remember blood, a lot of it...too much... And so much rage. He stopped himself from recalling anymore. He didn't want to think about it, it scared him too much.
"Wyatt..." she hesitated fear flashing across her unnatural eyes. "Don't be angry with me but...I was too weak to defeat them on my own, and the wards on me prevented me from drawing more power from the Fade using my own body so..." She looked absolutely terrified now and the combination of her expression and her words were beginning to have the same effect on the young Templar. Cheshire took a deep breath. "I possessed you."
His heart froze beneath his chest. "No..." he whispered, terror clenching its dark clawed grasp around every inch of his body.
Everything suddenly made perfect sense, they way the other demons had avoided her, the way her voice had echoed in his mind, her blood being pure Lyrium—something that would tempt a Templar—the way she knew his name and fed into his weakness for his sister. She wasn't a Mage, she wasn't even an Abomination. Cheshire was a demon. And the flames...the feeling of being consumed... I let her in...I let her possess me...I...
"No!" he screamed, as if he denied it load enough it wouldn't be true.
Out of pure desperation he dived and grabbed for Cheshire's Red Moon and then swung it so that the tip of her blade was resting against Cheshire's throat. "What the hell do you mean you possessed me?!" he bellowed in a demanding voice as a small trickle of Lyrium dripped down her throat.
The girl before him cringed holding her hands up submissively, tears falling down her dirt caked cheeks. "P-please, Wyatt. T-This One had no other choice. This One couldn't let you die! Please don't kill This One now...now that she finally has a chance to live. She is...I am s-so sorry. I-I didn't know what else to do... P-lease...please don't hate me...please don't be afraid of me..."
Wyatt's hand was now shaking. Why? Why couldn't he just end her? Why did he want to protect her? To forgive her? To hold her in his arms and tell her it would be okay now?
Wyatt looked away. He couldn't stand to look at the sobbing creature in front of him whose hurt ran deeper than he could ever hope to imagine. In a desperate attempt to find something else to fix his slightly watering gaze on, his eyes fell upon his faithful claymore and locked on to his reflection in the blades dripping red surface. But it wasn't the sheer amount of blood the was covering every inch of his body that caused all hope inside of him to vanish. It was the sight of his eyes, they weren't his own. Where once had been a perfectly human gaze, his reflection now looked back at him with a pair of icy blue vertically slit pupils.
"I'm an Abomination..." Wyatt whispered the last words in utter despair falling to his knees, his sword dropping harmlessly to the grass beside them.
It was then that he felt Cheshire's tentative inhuman grip around his shoulders and heard her voice in his ear as well as in his mind. "No you're not. You're the savior of a scared defenseless girl who no one remembered and had lost all hope. If that's what an Abomination truly is, then I don't mind at all being one at all." She buried her face in his neck causing shivers to run up his spine. "Please let me stay by your side. If you say yes I promise that I will protect you from all the real Abominations out there...always. I will never abandon you and I'll never betray you. I promise... So please...don't make me leave."
Wyatt placed a gauntlet bearing bloodied hand over her trembling arms. To never be alone. How bad of a fate could that be anyways? Not bad at all...in fact...to never be alone, to always be needed, that sounded...safe, warm. And if that made him an Abomination...so be it.
"Yes."