Dissonance (Arc II)

Chapter 3: The Raggedy Witch

Disclaimer: I own nothing of Dragon Age or their characters or their stories. Bioware is to thank for bestowing us such amazing work. I only claim my own original character and any other made up character that I have created.

"In a world of monotonous horror there could be no salvation in wild dreaming."

― Richard Matheson, I Am Legend

His eyes slowly opened from their deep slumber only to find himself greeted by blurry low hanging curtains. He brought his hands to face and rubbed his eyes in order for his vision to clear. His arms fell beside him while his action only appeared to have aggravated his blurry eye condition.

Where was he? Who was he?

The last thing he could remember was waking up in a pile of leaves, covered in mud with his leg injured. After trying to escape, he just collapsed. Now he was on a hay stuffed mattress with a warm blanket concealing him. He took his time to sit up, being that he was injured he was in no rush. He propped his back against the head of the bed, feeling the tension in his leg as he did so.

A woman in armor entered the room with a bowl in her hands. She approached his bedside and placed the bowl down on the nightstand. Her gaze appeared stoic, "You finally awakened." She commented.

He only looked at her with perhaps the same expression until his gaze fell to his legs. She sighed lightly, "I found you unconscious near a landslide. I don't know how you found yourself ensnared, but I pulled you out and brought you here. Your leg took a heavy toll, but I was able to remedy it in time." Her voice was monotone, almost as if she lacked a soul or any emotions. There was no pity in speaking to him.

She gestured over to the bowl of porridge, "Eat this. You need your strength." The woman then left the room without another word.

As he stretched to reach the bowl, his muscles contorted in pinching pain. He cringed but managed to bring the bowl to him without clumsily dropping it. His senses were overwhelmed with the strong scent of herbal essence within the porridge. But food was food after all. He gingerly picked up the spoon in his pale hand and scooped the porridge. His lips parted and he gently exhaled through the steam and stuck the spoon in his mouth.

He could taste the medicine in it.

He had spat it out back into the bowl. But if this were to help his injuries, then he had to learn to stomach it. He took another try at the porridge but this time he forced it down his throat.

"Yuck."

An hour's walk through the woods of South Reach led them deep in the forest. Their first stop was to see if this "Witch" was in her hut. If she was, then Sin would have to speak with her and have his questions answered. But if she wasn't, then that would estimate more time for Marea and Sin to search. Sin's hope, and convenience, was that she was already at her hut.

His gentle light steps flatten the grass. The blades of green slowly returned to their position after he continued down his path. His natural grace resembled much of the wolf, stepping gingerly on the earth beneath its calloused paws whilst creating only silence in the intervals of its steps. The animal only steps with caution.

Marea's eyes followed his tracks behind him, watching as his boots did not crush the ground but only gently graze its beauty. Sin exhaled heavily, concentrating on his air escaping to calm his nerves. Ark was not specific in his directions to the hut and so far the two saw no one else in the forest besides a few Dalish hunters, but Sin had let them be. He was frustrated but he had to go on this course. There was no other way.

"What's that over there?"

Marea's words commanded Sin to see what she was speaking of. His eyes passed the tree to their right, but immediately returned. This tree was like its brood, but only one of its branches appeared to drop closer to the ground. On closer inspection, a small wooden totem hung on the tendril before them.

Sin's height allowed him to get a closer inspection of the totem. The object was carved from some type of wood to depict a doll-like appearance. It was faceless yet he felt eyes lingering on him as he observed the doll. On the other side of the totem was a white piece of paper stuck to its back. There was writing on the parchment. But the writing was written in a foreign tongue that he was not familiar with. Sin could sense no magical properties within this idol from his own instinct. But with no eyes, why does it feel like he was being watched?

Marea walked to his side, to get a look at the strange object he had found. Her eyes were glued onto the item as if she was familiar with its kind. Her gentle hands delicately maneuvered over his, feeling a brisk of warmth as her hand touched the totem. He had to let go, letting her observe the object herself. Marea observed the totem closely, but her attention went to the writing on the back.

Sin watched her as she perceptively investigated the wooden doll. Her fingers touched the writing as if she was reading the script. "It's Tevinter. I means 'Turn back'." Marea recited as she let go of the totem, watching as it swung like a pendulum. This Witch did not appreciate visitors, obviously. The path ahead of them seemed to have been frequently used judging by the steps. It could have only been used by one person. Sin motioned Marea to follow as he walked down the grass path.

The swallows communicated across the trees with mellifluous tones while the faint whistle of the wind traveled swiftly between the leaves. The forest felt ever-moving. Sin could feel it with his soul. With these subtle occurrences, he was able to detect and focus on his task.

As they walked further into the forest, more totems dangled by the branches. The deeper they got, the more they saw. Marea was diligent enough to keep track of what each totem had said. Most were just repeated, "turn back", while others were given names. At one point some of that sticky paper appeared on the trees. These said, "Thou spend fear and hatred until the cavity in thou body is depleted". Most of these messages were cryptic. From Sin's observation, these totems and messages were almost everywhere in this part of the forest. This would be their path to the Witch.

In the distance between the intervals of the trees, Sin could see a wooden structure of sorts. This was the hut. Sin nodded in the direction their destination resided, "The Witch's hut is over there." He informed Marea.

She clicked her tongue, "I wonder what she's going to do when she first sees us trespassing." She questioned. A part of Sin knew that it meant death, judging by the trail of ill omens behind them. But Sin wasn't superstitious; he did not believe in fables or tall tales. These totems and curses did not affect his mind or beliefs. But he wasn't sure if Marea believed in the curses either. They way she spoke suggested that she wasn't fearful but there was a hidden layer of concern.

Sin and Marea made their way down the path of the totems and the portents that greeted them. When they were only a few feet away, Sin could smell the strong stench of something revolting formulating to agitate his senses. Marea responded to the scent by covering her nose with both hands. The stench emanated from a skinned carcass of a cat or a rabbit hanging on a tree branch beside some twigs.

"To enter means death." Sin mumbled while averting his senses to the strong odor.

The two continue down the path until a wooden fence blocked their entrance to the hut's yard. On closer inspection, the hut was a livable structure built to surround itself around a wooden fence and miscellaneous plants. The odor still followed them unfortunately, but the distinct smell of the earth and flowers masked the horrible stench.

Sin's eyes wandered the perimeter of the hut in search for any living life. "Is she here?" Marea asked. So far, he had not seen any living being on the land. Perhaps she was not present?

But Sin was able to catch a whiff of another scent beside Marea's and the carcass. He turned to his right to only be jumped by a crazed man bearing a carving knife in his hand. Sin's back crashed against the wooden fence to only be cushioned by shrapnel of wood and a flowerbed.

The man's hair was stuck to his forehead while his maddening eyes had difficultly focusing on Sin's face. Judging by his clothes he must have been a villager in the nearby village. But one thing that struck him odd was the black thread wrapped around his neck like it was collar. The crazed man spoke with a trill in his voice, "You're with the Witch! You conspire with her! She killed my love, Reema. Die demon!"

Sin grabs the man's wrist and resists the man's urge to treat Sin like a training dummy. Who was this mad villager? Marea's hands emitted an orange blaze and just when she was about to attack the man, someone spoke.

"Becker."

The man's head turned away from Sin to hear his name being called. Sin turned his head to the sound as well. He saw a woman standing by the flower bed with a cloth doll in one hand. The doll was dressed like the villager, but remained faceless. In her other hand possessed a thin needle.

"I thought I told you, never to trespass here ever again." She coaxed in a sweet tone. The woman then slowly inserted the needle in the doll's abdomen. The villager dropped his knife and clutched his chest. He stumbled off of Sin while groaning in pain. His body began to jerk into spasms.

The woman pulled the needle from the doll and the man remained still, breathing heavily. The woman tilted her head, "Now be a good boy, and go home. Many will be worried of your sudden disappearance."

The man slowly stood on his feet, turned and walked through where he came.

Marea extended her hand and helped Sin get back up. Sin patted his coat down of the dirt and turned to the woman who had helped him in that strange predicament.

The woman had pale skin but bore a warm tint like she was a spring daisy. Her hair was dark like a starless sky that cascaded down her back and to her ankles like a rushing river bed. She wore rags that was definitely mended and patched over time. Her top looked loose while her skirt was tattered up to her knees. Her feet were bare to the eyes but were coated with mud and dirt as well as her delicate knees. She must have spent most of her time in the forests. But her face appeared to have carried years of wisdom but retained such a youthful appearance.

This was the so called, "Witch".

The Witch pocketed the doll in one of the loose patches in her skirt and pinned the needle through her sleeve. Before Sin could speak she abruptly spoke with anger in her rust colored eyes, "Look what you have done to my rue! You crushed them!" She jeered.

Sin was taken aback by her shouting as well as Marea as she took a step behind Sin. Before he could speak again she stopped him, "What makes you have the audacity to kill my poor rue? Get off my property before I result to drastic measures."

Sin stood his ground, "I am here to ask-" He began until he was cut off once again by the Witch, "Were you sent to kill me? Is that why you have murdered my plants and damaged my property? Who put you up to this? Was it that bastard Simon and his gang of villagers?"

This woman was difficult. He exhaled heavily out of frustration, "But I am not armed, nor is my companion. If we were sent to kill you, I would have done the deed already."

"Then you are just another hooligan, come to vandalize my property. I suggest you leave before I put a curse on you." She scoffed. With that, the Witch turned from the two and began to storm off to her hut.

Sin groaned in frustration while the thought rolled through his head, "Was this woman worth the trouble"? She refused to hear what he had to say and just brushed him away. He needed answers and Sin was not going down without getting what he had came for.

Sin hopped over the fence and landed on the grass of her yard instead of a bed of her precious flowers. She sharply turned to Sin with a glare of hatred, "I thought I told you to leave! I shall-"

This time Sin was the one to cut her off, "You are not the Witch of the Wilds."

Her rust colored eyes widened. He had caught her off guard. However he noticed her eyes did not just express shock, but as well curiosity. She brushed some of her hair over shoulder before turning to Sin, "What makes you think that?"

"It is because I have truly met the Witch of the Wilds, Flemeth on my journey with the Hero of Fereldan. And she is dead."

The corner of her lip curved upward in a satisfying smile, "You are not as stupid as you lead on. Yes, I am not the Witch of the Wilds."

Sin decided to let her infuriating comments slide. For now he would have to bottle his rage lest he does not get his answers. He continued, "If you are not the Witch, then why do you fool the village folk?"

The woman chuckled, "Believe me boy, 'twas them who started such ill rumors."

"Those totems you trailed do not aid your innocence."

She retrieved the doll from her pocket and tossed it to Sin. He caught it in his hand and observed the item up close. It was the same cloth doll she used to ward off that crazed man. But just like the totems, this felt just like a doll to him. He could not sense any magical properties lingering within the item.

The woman crossed her arms over her chest, "'Tis a doll dressed to accompany the appearance of that fool that attacked you earlier. The inside is only stuffed with hay and contains only a drop of his blood. Some may believe it is old blood magic, but 'tis only doll. There is nothing magical about it. The same goes for my totems."

It was just as Sin thought. These were definitely not enchanted or haunted by some spirit. This was just a doll. But why did the man believe he was being stabbed when she had used that needle?

Sin looked up from the doll and to the woman, "How did you manage to make that man go mad then?"

"You see, there is a certain power to words. Since the villagers saw me as a witch that could eat their children and turn them all into toads, they feared me. I only used that fear in my favor. I created those carvings and provided messages to ward them away. Writing in a foreign tongue helped smooth the process out as well. These dolls serve the same concept. That man you saw, Becker, he thinks I killed his wife. I used his anger and fear as the doll to ward him away."

She didn't know how much fear she induced in these people. If she used it against them, then these village folk must fear her enough for them to go insane. Was this how it felt to fear him as well?

"Do you want to hear the ironic part? I am no mage. I am merely an alchemist living in the forest, far from a witch." She chuckled with a small smirk in her lips.

Sin tossed the doll aside and returned his gaze to the woman, "So these people fear you, for nothing?"

Her head bobbed happily as if it was a joke. She had a sick sense of humor if she perceived this as such antics. But who's to say Sin did not have a sick sense of humor as well? Sin expelled his stress from this conversation through a long sigh before he spoke, "Why did the villagers think you were the Witch of the Wilds?"

The woman's smile slowly dissipated with an uneven stare. She studied Sin for a moment, noting his features before she spoke, "Venhedis, do you keep asking people these asinine questions?"

Sin only dignified that with only the hatred of silence. A small smile crept on her lips, "Then let me be the one to ask you such idiotic questions. If you are not here to kill me, then why are you here? You mentioned earlier about asking something, which is clearly something you have accomplished."

This woman was the rumored Witch of the Wilds in the tale of Lautlos Hallow. Only once had Sin heard the tale. An old friend of his told him his version when they were still children. He knew the bits and pieces of it. A part of him contemplated if the child in that story was him. It seemed to make sense in his mind. He had amber eyes and sharp teeth like a wild animal. But he never wanted to believe in such fantasies. He tried being realistic, always. But in this moment, he knew that why Vidar steered him in this direction. If he asked her the real story, then he would get answers to the questions that were left unanswered.

"I have heard the tale of Lautlos Hallow. And…I am to believe the child in the story, is me." Sin admitted hesitantly. Even his words sounded ludicrous now that he had said it. The Witch would no doubt think he was insane.

The woman raised her eyebrow at the statement. But instead of looking at him in question, she studied him again. But her eyes remained on his mask. She uncrossed her arms and took a few steps closer, "Take off your mask."

Without more hesitation, Sin gently removed his mask. Once he did, the woman's eyes softened and a small smile formed. It appeared his face revealed more to her than it did for him.

A small chuckle lightened in her voice, "Yes. You are. I would recognize your father's face anywhere." She smiled, "Except his eyes were of a different color, but you are the child in the story."

Sin could not believe his ears. His old fantasy was true. How could it have been? It seemed maddening enough to be a lycanthrope. Sin cleared his throat, "I was hoping…if I asked you of what truly happened then I could remember."

The woman averted her gaze for a moment, contemplating about the situation. Her eyes then fell back to Sin with a sigh, "Unfortunately I cannot tell you much. Do you still want to hear it?"

Sin nodded. The woman fixed her position, "Well then, let me state that 'tis a fable. This story has been told so many times that it perverted into a story everyone only wished to hear. And I will tell you what I know."

She continued, "To begin with, in the fable you heard I was portrayed as the Witch of the Wilds. Obviously that accusation is untrue. In fact, I was just another citizen. But at the time of the Templar's arrival, I was only twelve. My parents owned a bakery. At that time I was known as Amaryllis…"

The woman paused, looking away. It took her a moment to shake out of her daze, "But everything seemed to change when the Templars came to our small village. With the Bann's back turned, the Templars establish order. At first people did not bother to question the Templars to only make things easier on the villagers. But eventually the Templars began to root out the mages. When the Templars found out if you carried magic, they reassured any family members that you would be sent to the Circle and given proper training to harness your powers so you would not be a danger. This was the first lie they told. Some of us knew better. Little did we know they were taken to be killed, 'for their own good'.

"Eventually other villagers warned the Templars of the people whom they knew were mages. The community we had created was destroyed more than the Templars' need to fix us. My father had died previous to the Templars' arrival due. He was one of the luckier ones. My mother on the other hand was not. The Templars learned of her magic and took her away from me. But she was the first to try to escape, and the first to not succeed. They drowned her before she could even cross the bridge.

"But this left me alone. I was still young at the time and had shown no signs of magic yet. Nonetheless they had their eyes on me. There was no orphanage in the village and no one to take care of me, until your father was kind enough to do so. I was welcomed into his home by his wife. Both were very kind people. Camille at the time was anticipating your arrival so I helped her around the house and gathered any ingredients she needed for her alchemy. While I occasionally helped Isaac with his flock—"

Sin had cut her off with his question, "The names are…different than I am familiar with. My name is…Isaac."

The woman shrugged her shoulders, "One thing you can count on in a numerously told tale, are the names changing. But I do not know what your name is since I left long before you were born. She could have named you after your father for all I know."

"What does Cervantes mean then?"

"If I remember correctly it was your mother's maiden name, why?"

Sin shook his head, "Continue."

"Anyways, where was I…alchemy…flock, oh yes. Meanwhile, the Templars began to spread ill rumors about me, saying that I was a witch. The villagers began to whisper in secret about me. For a twelve year old girl, it was discomforting knowing people are calling you the monster your parents told you stories about. One night, Isaac had awoken me and told me that Lautlos Hallow was no longer safe for me. I had told him that he should not believe the rumors because I was none to suspect. But he had told me he knew the Templars, and that they would not rest until even the slightest threat is executed. He said my presence here alerted his current position and if the Templars were to storm their house, they would discover what they were looking for and kill Camille. He explained to me who the Templars were and why they came to Lautlos Hallow, to kill Camille. So he told me to run to the next village or anywhere that was safer than there.

"After learning about the Templars, I blamed him for everything, even my mother's death. I left with only anger. I ran into the woods and never returned. When I arrived at the next village over, even they called me a witch and threw stones at me. So I hide away here the rest of my life. Eventually I came to learn the fate of my hometown and the family that had once helped me when I was in peril, only through a tale. I do not know the true fate of your parents however. That is something you will have to seek out yourself."

Sin felt the emptiness inside of his body. His real name-the one thing he held close to him because it was apart of his lost past- was a lie. Isaac was his father's name and Cervantes was his mother's name. Was his surname a lie as well? Who was he besides Sin to every waking set of eyes? What else was a lie to him?

"Why were you angry when you left?" He asked with a calm tone.

The woman's eyes softened once again, "What was a young child supposed to understand at the time? I could only blame him for bringing the Templars to our village. If he never even came to the village in the first place, my mother would have been alive as well as the others…and I would not have to live the life as a pariah. I lived in spite for years. But as I grew and matured, I came to accept what had happened and that he stuck his neck out for me when everyone turned their backs to me…"

The wind whistled between the silence created by the two of them. Sin knew of anger, all too well in fact. He would imagine after his years as a warrior, that he would put aside anger to live his life free of the emotion. But how could he? How could anyone for the matter of fact? It was a burden to be mortal. He only wished he would not have to deal with such a weight. But what could he do?

Sin nodded contently with his curiosity sated, "I appreciate your coalition…" He carried on realizing that she never introduced herself.

"You may call me Fir, boy." She answered with a flat tone. Her lips then flattened as silence once again settled into the conversation. She then spoke, "If you wish to find out more, perhaps you should visit Lautlos Hallow. I am not sure if you will greeted kindly, but 'tis a straight gamble. I could mark it on your map if you wish."

Sin unfolded the map within his pack and handed the map to her. Without any writing utensil, she pricked her finger with the needle and used the blood as her ink. She circled the area on his map and handed the parchment back to him.

Sin nodded with gratitude, "I…thank you." He acknowledged. He then hopped over the fence and back to Marea as he pocketed the map in his pack. Before he could depart Fir spoke, "One more question from me boy, if you would indulge me."

Sin turned and waited for her to continue, "Who told you about me, if 'twas not the villagers?"

"It was Ark, the Qunari smith."

Sin noticed the small smirk that crept to her cheek and the softness in her eyes as she did so. A small chuckled escaped her lips, "He would."

Kadan.

His blade was returned—in its sheath—back into his own hands. Sin placed his hand around the hilt once again, but this time he could feel the slightest vibration within his own finger tips that would get his heart to beat quickly to catch up to the speed. There was much power emanating within now. He slowly pulled his sword out of its sheath to glance a peak at his blade. The obsidian blade glistened in light of the fire, reflecting the darkness within his eyes.

Sin sheathed the blade back into its home and strapped it onto his belt. He looked up to the Qunari once again before he would depart, "Why would you help the Witch? If you fear her, you could take refuge someplace else."

Ark turned his back towards Sin while picking up the tongs, "Then I would be leaving kadan."

Sin's mind began to piece together the events within his mind. His lack of the Qunari language never made him question the word, "kadan". But even in the darkest time of the Witch, she was given another title besides the one that was spat at her:

Kadan, someone of whom he keeps closest to his heart.