Chapter 5:

Unveiled

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Valora was practically radiating exhaustion the next morning. She hadn't slept at all; instead, she had been talking to Cole until the sun rose above the mountaintops. They talked about whatever subject was stumbled upon: likes, dislikes, wars, the Inquisition and its members, the future, the past . . .

He filled her in on what the Inquisition was up against. From what Valora could gather from Cole's habitually enigmatic speech patterns, there were wars between rebel mages and rogue Templars that the Inquisition needed to put an end to. But the biggest threat was an evil magister by the name of Corypheus. Valora didn't like the sound of that name; the name itself sounded like a threat to engulf the world in flames. She was more than eager to change the subject once she'd heard that he may be in control of a potential archdemon.

She had asked about his past, curious still from the talk with the Inquisitor and Solas just the night before. She wanted to know how he came about; how a spirit could materialize as a human with no possession involved. She received no answers. Cole wasn't quick to talk about his past; however, he did mention having a friend back at the White Spire. Valora recognized the place's name from a book she had once found hidden away under a pile of rubble at the alienage. The White Spire was a Circle of Magi and Templar stronghold positioned in Val Royeaux. The massive tower was viewable from any point in the capital of Orlais. Valora didn't recall the Spire being a friendly place, especially for the mages who lived there. When she inquired why he had residence in the Spire, with him not being a mage, he shrugged his shoulders and changed the subject.

He wanted to know about her instead—more than he already knew, at least. That gave Valora pause. There wasn't much to tell. But she obliged, telling him whatever came to mind. She told him about her life back at the alienage; how shambled and desolate it was. Most of the elves had fled the alienage after the blight, but few families returned to the wasteland they called home. Valora's family included. She told Cole about her father, who was more content to scream about justice for the alienage than actually be a father. The man was angry all the time, and Valora did not trust him enough to be too close to him. He had found a way to support his family even so, and Valora could not disregard his fulfilled responsibility.

Valora smiled as she mentioned her mother. She was always gentle and kind, helping anyone that was in need, even if she was the one who was in need most. Valora recalled many times when her mother would read to her as a little girl. In the dark, her mother conjured just enough firelight in her palm to see the words on the yellowed pages. She would read until Valora fell asleep, almost every night after her father retired to bed. There was something secretive about their parent's relationship; Valora had never even seen them smile at one another. In fact, her mother frequently held fear in her eyes when she looked at her husband . . . Valora did not want to know why, but judging by the bruises and scrapes that constantly tarnished her mother's skin, she believed she already knew.

Cole visibly flinched, hearing the vague memories of screams that were repressed in Valora's mind. His heart ached. She didn't know she was hurting for her mother, still. She couldn't remember the old pains; they had been buried, bottled-up behind a strong wall of denial and drowned out by the wounds that the death of her sister left her with. Cole was not going to break that wall; he did not want her to feel the aches of the past rushing in all at once, but he still wanted to help. He frowned, knowing he was unable to heal a hurt that she was unaware of.

Valora moved on to talk about her sister. Her sister was the most radiant girl in her life. Each time Valora was upset, Anariel would be there to pick her up. There were times when Valora believed her younger sister was stronger than her, unbreakable. Ana always smiled, always gave hope to anyone she spoke to. She was positive about everything, loved everything. Valora wondered how such a forsaken place as the alienage could give a small girl so much confidence and life. The alienage was crumbled, yet Ana would always point out the bright blue flowers growing through the cracks of concrete lying on the ground. When their parents were angry with each other, screaming and thrashing about, Ana would be the one hugging Valora, trying to make her feel better. "They'll stop being angry, Val. They just forgot they love each other. They always remember after a while," Ana had said then, wiping Valora's tears away with a dirtied sleeve.

Cole could see it all. All it took was a mention, and he had the full picture. Valora didn't know her thoughts carried all of these memories, yet they still weighed her down. He had an urge, a silent call beckoning him to embrace her. To wash away every bad memory from her broken mind. He resisted, however, trying to focus on what she was saying rather than what her mind was harboring. He didn't want to startle her by being too close; her heart would beat quickly enough just when he looked at her.

Before she felt she had spoken all she had to say, Valora ended on a cheerful note about how she and her sister used to play dress-up with abandoned clothing the other elves had left over from the blight. Ah, I'm rambling . . . Feeling as if she had spoken too much about herself, Valora asked Cole about his interests, which offered her much amusement. He talked about helping people, of course, but also about an array of different things. His particular love of rabbits and hats made Valora chuckle. She discovered that he never took his hat off, and on further inspection, if anyone tried taking it off of him, he reacted like a desperate mabari trying to wrestle back a bone from grasping hands. He liked the color green, which made the elf's face heat up when she realized he had been intensely staring into her vibrant green eyes when he'd said so. He had a friend in Solas and Inquisitor Lavellan, and he respected all of the other members of the Inquisition a great deal.

When she asked about his dislikes, however, he only offered one word: Despair. He hated the pain that rested in people's hearts, loathed the people who inflicted such feelings on others. The elf agreed with his every word, understanding his hatred for the wicked all too well. She admired his kindness. No one was like him: helping without having to think; caring deeply even for strangers who wouldn't remember who had lent them such endearing support. You have a heart of gold, Valora thought, and couldn't help but smile. Cole really was what Solas said he was. But speaking to Cole then, Valora realized he was much more than just Compassion.

Cole was a real person with his own complex thoughts and emotions, even if he didn't fully recognize it. He was a beautiful person on the inside, and she couldn't help but feel a flutter against her heart when the rising sun gleamed brightly across his face. Beautiful on the outside, too . . . He had a look all of his own, and Valora couldn't help but admire the way his hair gently swept down over his restless crystalline eyes, trailing down his masculine neck. His cheeks were gaunt, and his skin retained a constant ghostly glow, but Valora found the mysterious phantom-like look he possessed very appealing. There was just something about his intensity that made Valora want to be closer, to know more about him. Her eyes traveled lower to rest on his slight frown, and her stomach flipped. His sulky lips looked so soft and sweet in the sun's rising glow, even if they were permanently set in an eerie scowl. She wondered exactly how those pouting lips would feel, just before she saw those lips turned up in a subtle grin.

"I'm not pouting," he had insisted. Valora's cheeks could not have flushed any faster as she realized he had been peeking into her thoughts. He tilted his head slightly at the sight of her face beginning its transition to a bright red. He wondered what he'd said to make her turn colors. Cole hadn't seemed to pay much attention to any of her other embarrassing thoughts, which relieved Valora only a little. I need to be more careful with that, she had thought, and then immediately sighed when she saw Cole nod in amused agreement.

Valora had never spoken to someone like she did then, uninterrupted for hours, never running out of things to talk about. She realized she had gotten carried away talking to the boy just when she noticed how high the sun had reached in the sky. She insisted that she needed to retire to her quarters for sleep, giving Cole a grateful smile before she said her farewells. He said his own goodbyes before rising to stand and roam wherever his feet would take him. It was almost unbelievable, Valora felt, that simply talking to him could remove the burdening weight from her mind and leave her feeling indefinitely lighter.

She stayed awake in her room for just minutes after Cole left, thinking about all of their conversations and wishing she could have said even more. There was so much more to learn about him, but there would be plenty of time for that.

Just as Valora was drifting off, there were three noisy raps at her door. She groaned loudly and forced herself up and out of her bed, which had conveniently seemed like the most comfortable furniture in existence at that moment. She reluctantly traveled over to the door, each foot dragging the ground lazily in protest, and opened it to see Solas standing there. He held two staves, one in each hand.

"Solas?" Valora wiped her eyes then gave him a questioning look. He tried to contain a smile at how grumpy she looked with her eyes squinting and her hair knotted in several different places. It was odd how only a few minutes of attempting sleep could make the girl look as if she'd been rolling around in the stables for hours. A result of all the tossing and turning, one would suspect.

"I am here for your training, lethallan. You are a part of the Inquisition now, correct? I can sense you are a mage, and there can always be use for more magic."

Valora only stared at him for a few moments, blinking several times until she could open her eyes wider. "Me? A mage? I don't know any magic," Valora stammered unconvincingly. Maker, I'm bad at this. Valora tried not to lie much, and she definitely wasn't fooling anyone now.

Solas let out a hearty chuckle. Why was he so amused when she made a fool of herself? He stepped back, allowing her room to exit her quarters. Apparently Valora didn't have a mabari in this fight. She sighed, raising her hood up over her head, and followed Solas out of her room.

They traveled out of Skyhold completely, not a bad idea since casting untrained spells could cause many injuries and architectural disasters. They walked for nearly half an hour before they came to an open stretch of land covered in a deep layer of snow, but lacking in any other major obstacles. This was as good a place as any for training. Valora hadn't even considered the other staff Solas had been carrying was for her until he handed it to her expectantly.

She had never held a staff before, never able to show her powers for fear the Templars would come and take her away. Her parents had always demanded her to hide her magical abilities as much as possible, which frequently led to domestic accidents with fire and, of course, the occasional migraine. Magic wasn't meant to be pent up in such a way. A few dozen singed curtains and several burn scars across her hands and arms were proof of that. Her power needed to be trained and used frequently to prevent outbursts—which is why Solas had taken her in for training so early—lest she burn down Skyhold by trying too hard to swat a fly.

Valora hesitantly took hold of the staff, gasping as it sparked to life in her hands. Solas stepped a safe distance away from the girl before giving the first order: "You must learn to control your abilities. Think of fire. Focus on your willpower, draw from it, and transfer it to the staff in your hand."

Valora took a deep breath, steeling herself. She had never willingly performed a spell, other than the night she broke free from the Venatori. Even then, it hadn't truly been something she wanted to do; she was conquered by the raw power that Wisdom had poured through her veins. She felt she needed to relieve that power then, but as she stood here, she was tired and anxious about magic. Why shouldn't she be? She had been told all her life that magic wasn't appropriate to possess, much less use.

Fire. Think of fire. Valora's eyes closed tightly as she struggled to build up her will, feeling the strength of her magic tingling across her fair skin. The orb—which was wedged in between two dragon carvings at the top of the etched staff—glowed dimly, flickering before steadily brightening up to produce a shining red light. Valora felt an overwhelming amount of power trickling deep within her, filling her with euphoric energy. The energy seeped through her body, racing just below her skin before she released it. With a grunt of effort, a blinding flash of blue energy burst from her body and surrounded the training grounds, heaving piles of snow up high into the air.

Solas' staff was ripped away from his hand and he shouted in surprise, his arms outstretched to maintain balance as he was shoved back several feet by the explosive willpower that Valora had managed to detonate. He was suddenly grateful he had procured a safe distance between them, or else he would have been up in the sky with the snow, which had began its descent back to the ground, caking the earth unevenly. A large pile of snow landed gracefully on Solas' head, and he stumbled about blindly before it tumbled off of him and onto the ground. Once he regained his footing and his staff, he raised his frosty eyebrows and stared at Valora incredulously.

"Spirit? You called on a spirit?"

Valora gulped and her emerald eyes widened, like a ram standing face-to-face with an archer's deadly arrow. She could hear the blatant astonishment in his deep voice and hoped he hadn't uncovered her secret. The last thing she wanted was to be accused of being an abomination, especially around all of the incredibly skilled warriors of the Inquisition.

"Is that bad?"

"No. It is just. . . What you are holding is a fire staff. Most beginners take well to fire, not being able to cast any other spell so readily, but you have somehow conjured a spirit's power. That is no easy feat for someone with little experience, such as yourself. How could you have managed to cast such an advanced spell if you have yet to control your power?"

Solas seemed to be asking a question that he already knew, carefully eyeing her as she gulped nervously once again. Something was definitely suspicious about the young elf in front of Solas. She seemed to be harboring more power than she knew how to use, and there were a limited number of explanations for this situation. She must be . . .

He cautiously stepped toward her and proceeded to circle around her, attempting to gather any information that her magical aura produced. There was nothing. She seemed as powerless as she looked standing there, her teeth chattering and body shivering. Whether it was from the cold or from something else, Solas could not determine.

Solas suddenly stopped in front of her once again. His face contorted into an expression of frustration, his lip curling up to bare his teeth. Valora could see the gears turning in his head, knowing what he was planning before he had the chance to act. She dropped her staff and raised her hands up in defense.

"Wait!" she screamed, but he would not hear her. In one swift movement, he raised his staff and pointed it at her, a large shard of ice erupting from the tip of the weapon and aiming straight for Valora's heart.

Author's Note: Thanks for the review FearaNightmare. That made my day. (: Hope you continue to enjoy this story as much as I enjoy you enjoying it.