There is a flash of green light and I jump up from my seat at the desk. The hot drink I had been cradling falls from my hands as a woman appears on her back in the center of the circular room. I see red, taste the iron in the air immediately. I shout out in alarm and run to her, my heart pounding.
Blood falls freely from her many fatal, deliberate wounds. My eyes trace the openings made to her porcelain skin. The blood is already forming a shallow pool around her body. The kindest thing to do would be to put her out of her misery. It is unlikely she will be able to survive this.
Damn them and their 'sacrifices', I think to myself bitterly. Sacrifices were common, even demanded at times amongst my brethren, to appease them, to reassure them of the People's continued and unwavering faith in their false godhood. And the subjects went so eagerly, with promises of favor at the right hand side of their god in the Golden City.
"Ar tel nuvena dru," I call out pleadingly, to no one in particular, but I am frustrated and saddened by this unexpected loss of life.
She is blindfolded, the only piece of cloth on her body, which is different from the norm. Most of the servants watch the entire process hungrily, waiting desperately to enter death and be raised up in status. Perhaps this one could not stomach the sight of the blood. I gently remove the fabric to see her amethyst eyes frozen straight ahead. A spell, then, to keep her still. This is unusual. To cry out or react at all is to show unworthiness. No one would ever use such a spell during a proper sacrificial rite.
She is not a willing participant in this.
In that instant of realization, my mind is changed. I must act quickly.
A flash of white-blue magic pulses through me, releasing her body from the spell. The effect is instantaneous. She is not yet unconscious from the blood loss, and her back arches high off the ground, pulling the wound on her belly open further as fresh blood pours out. Her mouth opens and emits a blood-curdling scream, raw with agony.
I inhale, and as I breathe out, I pass my hands over her body, urging the flesh to knit back together, using every spell of healing I know, murmuring words to nudge it along. I allow the magic to flow into my body freely, to use me as its vessel. I direct the torrent straight into the woman's body. At first, it seems that nothing is happening, but finally the damage begins to undo itself and relief washes over me as the last wound finally closes.
The woman sighs and submits to unconsciousness.
She is safe, for now.
NOTES:
Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think! I won't be posting any other POV chapters for a while, only here and there where it fits. I tried to offer unique perspective so it didn't feel like you were reading the exact same thing twice. Next chapter will build more relationship between Solas and Lavellan, and possibly introduce a familiar (to us) character!