I guess, I should be happy, I guess I should feel lucky, considering the way it all turned out. I guess...

I got my sister back. And not a second too late. For month, long month, I thought her burden had finally been passed on to me. But no. The time came again, that I was powerless, that my will was not enough. And once again she was there, she stood up. A mage standing up to templars, to the knight-commander, in the middle of the circle. I forced her to, with my cowardice. Perhaps a year ago, or two... perhaps I'd have felt cheated out of my glory. But the truth of the matter is, I do not know if I could have taken that glory. Since the fighting is over, ever since I'm able to gather clear thoughts again, I've been listening into myself, with growing desperation, trying to find out what I felt, back in that moment. I wish I could claim that if my sister had not acted, I would have gladly played her part. I wish I could. That I could claim I did not stand idle, while they took poor Bethany away. That I did everything in my power, to save her from the mark.

But no matter how maddening the search of my intentions becomes, I can not find that answer. And perhaps... perhaps without my cowardice, the uprising... all that bloodshed could have been averted. Perhaps we'd all still be sitting in the circle, alive and unharmed. Would that have been for the better? Or should I have long gone along with the plans of that mad ginger apostate, should I have tried to free my sisters, month ago?

And even worse grief clouds my mind. The loss of so many lives, of templar and mage alike, is no doubt regrettable, but we managed to save a lot. Almost half of the mages still remain, however much shaken or wounded, and many templar joined our cause, even in the midst of battle. Many more then I dared to hope. More importantly – her and me and Bethany, we're all still alive.

But the blood toll, that was payed today, may be nothing, next to the things that are about to come. To the price that is left to pay. The chantry will not let an incident like this go unanswered. The noblemen may have been swayed by my sisters silver tongue, and perhaps she, and Orsino may even sway the grand cleric to join our cause. And still, while we all agreed that we had little choice in the matter, that we needed the city for now... I cannot help but feel, that in turning them into means to achieve our ends, we have all but doomed the city, that I was almost ready to call a home. Is saving the lives of the wounded worth for now, worth throwing an entire city at the mercy or the templars that will undoubtedly come? A question for another day, if Maker wills it that we all see one.

For now, we returned to our grandparents estate, to our estate, as alien as that still sounds to me. By the time, it returned to rightful hands, Bethany and I were already at the circle. Another thing, that sister managed, while I couldn't.

Right now, she's down in the dining hall, with Bethany, with uncle Gamlen, with those friends, those comrades in arms of hers, filling them in, no doubt keeping closer to that little elf mage, then two women should.

Maker, here I go again. Even when writing these lines, I can't keep my tongue in check. Even now, part of me is jealous of what little happiness she's managed to find. And the maker knows, she needs it worse then I do. It is her fate, more then even that of this city, that I fear for the most. Her physical, her visible wounds are one thing, but while cut on her face has proven resistant to magical healing, none of them are deep enough to prove fatal. That's what the healer at the circle said, for what it's worth.

But I fear, the price she has to pay for standing up in face of my cowardice might go far beyond physical scars. I have become too much of a templar, and lost too much of what ever innocence might have been within me, to not know.

I've seen her, scorching Templars that should all but shrug off spells, with unnatural ease, worse yet, with no sign of restraint or mercy. I do not know, what deal she had to strike, to save Bethanys life. Maker, I'm not even sure I want to know. But even now, as she's down there, even as she's among the circle of those dearest to her heart...

I can feel the seed of darkness that has taken a hold. And I fear, gaining freedom from templar chains, might have send her into the claws of a far worse captor.

Maker, when all is said and done, with all that's happened... it is childish to still hope for mercy. And I do not pray for myself. I stood up to divine law, maybe even too late, but of my own free will. But Maker, at least save her. Please at least save my sister. From the magical gift that you cursed her with. From the price she's paying, to be strong where I was not.

-Taken from "Redemption of a Templar" by Ser Carver Hawke, first published 9:41 Dragon, declared heretic by the chantry 9:42 Dragon