A Tale of Tevasta

by Iscophora

Tevasta, a human from Hossberg, Anderfels: the land of the Grey Wardens has moved to Orlais to flee from his familial restrictions. He is 25, and what first was a trip to visit his childhood friend, becomes a tale of the great Inquisition.

4. Undeserved

Undeserved

9:41

Friday

I sit in the plush armchair, the velvet molding around my body. The soft fabric is warm and soft, enveloping me in a blanket of comfort. I prop my elbows on the armrests, and proceed to massage my temples. The cold wind from the open window, streams in, cleansing the stench from the putrid corpse. My eyes are closed, avoiding the dead baron's gaze. A strong gale rolls into the room, making the thin drapes dance in its wake. Papers ruffle as books and documents are blown around in the small gust. The crisp smell of mountain snow and pine trees floats into the room like the aroma of lit incense. The soft howl of the wind is accompanied by the lyrical hymn of the papers and pages as a soft knock echoes from the door in the corner. Without warning or bidding of welcome, the knob turns and clicks as the door is pushed in. There is no warning of this newcomer's approach as suddenly, without delay, a purse is slid in front of me. I do not move, as the presence of this newcomer has not alarmed me in any way.

"Five hundred royals, as promised." The warm, deep voice of the newcomer said. "Our client sends his regards and his thanks. He also pays his compliments for finding such a beautiful tefi."

I raise my head, the ache slightly better and reach for the envelope. Gripping the leathery pouch, I heft the weighty pouch as I look towards the newcomer. His figure is silhouetted against the pale autumn moon, revealing only a muscled, wide frame, and long flowing hair.

"He was here tonight?" I ask, genuinely intrigued.

"He was. Count Shinrah thanks you for the hard work.

I open the pouch to see the stack of gold coins in the purse. I shovel out the coins, inspecting them each in turn.

"You know," the newcomer's voice said, "you are not often this sloppy with your kills. What happened to infuriate you so?" He asked, pacing around to walk around the desk to stand behind me.

My fingers pause in their counting as my eyes switch focus from the royals to the person in front of me briefly. I conceal the panic in my eyes with an ease of practiced conversation.

"It was nothing," I said dismissively, my fingers continuing the monotonous process of counting coins. "He put his hands on me and I lost my cool for a second."

He notices the brief pause in my counting and senses the brief pause of hesitation.

"Oh really?" he says ominously, slowly pacing his way around the table. He leans in close to my ear, and takes a long sniff. My breath is stuck in my throat, fear hollowing a pit in my chest. "And this…has nothing to do with it?"

He caresses a strand of my white hair lightly, sending shivers down my spine. I jump, agitated, clearly disturbed and whirl around to face him. Nothing. Nobody is behind me. I turn back around and see that he is crouched over the corpse of the baron, his smile illuminated by the rays of moonlight. He stands slowly, walking towards me again.

"T… oh poor T, don't you ever learn? You can talk to me about these things, after all, I am the king of thieves. If I didn't know these things, what kind of thief would I be?"

His arms drape lightly over my shoulders, bringing me in into a one-sided embrace. He kisses my cheek, and walks over to the window. Draping a leg over the side, he turns back to me.

"Oh, and T?" he asks. "Be a darling and clean up this mess please. It'd be terrible if someone pinned this all on you now would it?"

And with that, he was gone. Having jumped out the window, he left no trace, the only thing left to prove he was here were the goosebumps on my arm from his intrusive salutations. Stuffing the coins back into the pouch, I walk over to the corpse and all I see is blood. It had stained the entire floor a deep rich plum, making the design of the carpet unrecognizable. The whole floor seemed to be swallowed up in its clutches, as if the abomination that was the baron was now everywhere in the room. Bile rose into my mouth, the unmistakable nausea washing over me. Paying no attention to what I had on, or if any blood was stained on me, I fled the room, the door slamming behind me in a loud thunderous clap.

A concussive sound echoed through the living quarters, jumpstarting my heart and making me jerk awake. The leisurely nap that I had taken was rudely interrupted by the sound of a door being slammed loudly and the unmistakable sounds of fighting from a cabin next door. A group of four or five people were animatedly speaking, shouting almost. I rolled over to grab another pillow to try and silence the noise, but to no avail. I groaned, extremely annoyed, as the squabbling seemed to get closer and closer to the Chantry tent.

'For fucks sake, couldn't anyone get a few hours of sleep without interruption?' I thought.

As the voices became more distinct, I could identify the Divine Justinia's voice, but the other voices surrounding her were new voices to me.

"Having mages here unchecked, human or not, is not the wisest decision, Most Holy. I cannot condone the thought of having…them roaming free even if we are here to talk peace. We merely want to ensure your safety and…"

"No. I will have no further discussion on this matter." Divine Justinia said flatly.

"This is precisely how the war started in the first place! You Templars and your hubris; you think you can keep us locked away in towers for the rest of our lives? We deserve the freedom of life and the ability to live as we see fit!

"Your quarrels are not pertinent to thi-"

"Enough." Divine Justinia's voice cut through. "I will hear no more arguments. All of you are here because of my personal invitation. This is a peace summit with the aim to perpetuate peace amongst all races. The main problem we must deal with is the war between mages and Templars, yes, but the repercussions of interspecies diplomacy is an essential tenet of this summit. Please. Have patience, and have civility. This is the first time in ages we've had a peace summit of this scale. We have a full fourteen days of deliberation to achieve all of our goals. Now, if you will excuse me, there are issues that require my attention. Good day."

I could hear Divine Justinia's footsteps as she marched away.

A few seconds passed before a string expletives, obscenities and cruses were professed almost consecutively as the different parties dispersed, their hurried footsteps, waning out to a small murmur in the background.

'Great.' I thought to myself. 'Not only am I stuck here in the mountains for the next week, but I have to watch my step around dignitaries from every side of the mage/Templar conflict. Who knows what kind of war I could start with a misdirected joke or snide comment.'

I rolled over, to stare at the ceiling of the drab cabin, marveling at how fascinating the cedar planks of the ceiling could be when boredom set in. When Arielle approached me to be her escort for The Grand Conclave, I never thought that I would be stuck in the mountains in a field of bear traps with every interaction I commence. Damn Arielle and her lucrative ways of getting what she wanted. Leave it to her to exaggerate just how grand this Grand Conclave would be. She could sell you a fennec and convince you it was a halla, and ten years down the line, you'd still be convinced.

I dragged myself out of bed, not wanting to sleep for the entirety of the trip while smelling the awfully delicious food next to Arielle's cot. Oh, how I wanted to open up a bag and dig in, but if I knew Arielle, she would have my head on a pike if I ever touched any of the food she prepared without her permission. She had the memory of an old seer and the temper of an angered dragon.

'Well,' I thought to myself, while sitting on the edge of the bed, 'I should probably pay a visit to the Temple Proper while I'm here. Besides, I have to get the lay of the land if I'm going to do any body guarding around here.'

And with that, I pushed the door open, heading out into the living quarters to find my way down to the Temple of Sacred Ashes.

9:32

The harsh summer sun bore down on me, waking me from my tortured sleep. Pain and aching had plagued me the whole night keeping what little sleep I could get away from me. Not wanting to face the reality of my situation, I keep my eyes shut, attempting to fall back into an unstable slumber. The memories of the night before had not left me. They hung over me, like a shroud of steel, weighing down what little hope I had left in my heart. The ghost of the screeching bird-wraith still burned in my memory, reminding me of my deaf state.

The light, harsh and intense, made ghosts of light dance in my eyes. Blinking furiously, I open my eyes, the summer heat sending waves of warmth, distorting the images I was seeing. A silhouette of a wing flashes before my eyes. Half expecting the bird creature to be crouching over me, I instinctively cringe, shutting my eyes tight. I attempt to raise my arms up in defense, but my body will not listen to me, the pain overriding all commands. I stayed like that, eyes closed shut, lying helplessly on the ground, for what seemed like ages. The only sound I could hear was the pumping of blood, the quickening of pulse, and the shortening of breath as fear gripped me. When no new fatal wound was inflicted, I opened my eyes slowly again: grass, embrium, elfroot, Orlesian tulips, Arbor's blessing, oak trees, and a sparkling lake. The bird that had frightened me was on a low hanging branch, hopping and fluttering around a nest of slumbering chicks. My eyes glanced over each chick, envying their uninterrupted sleep. Their miniscule, fluffy, sapphire chests quickly rising and falling to the tempo of their mother's fussing. In the periphery of my vision, I could see the mountainous slopes of the Vimmark Mountains. Their snow white peaks glistened like polished glass as the summer sun reflected off the summits. I blink my eyes again, trying to process this dream-like fantastical vision in front of me. For a brief moment, nothing seemed to be at fault. Nature was thriving at her own pace, welcoming in the vernal sun and the Eastern winds. However, I inhale a deep breath, trying to clear my head from the dull ever present drone of ache and pain being sung in my head. I was met with the rancid odor of metallic blood. I gag, trying not to trigger anything too violent. A memory of the beast's teeth and oozing black pus flashes across my memory, making me shudder. All-encompassing pain, radiating from…everywhere held me captive, preventing me from raising my head or moving my body. The waves of fear and disgust the darkspawn memory had conjured left me breathless as every part of my body ached and stung. The clothes I wore were caked in blood, stained a dark black from the wound in my upper arm. I prop myself up, my body protesting immediately. My right arm gives out easily, the wound screaming out in desperation. I collapse again, on my left side, cradling my right arm.

"FUCK, Aaahhhhh," I hiss, scrunching my face in agony. There I laid, ankles twisted, back bruised blue, and right arm punctured with a deep wound, panting from the radiating pain and the thirst that had plagued me since the night before. The throbbing came in waves, resonating with the aching in my lower back, nearly sending me into another black out. I bite my lip, hard, so as to keep myself awake. Wetness snaked its way down my chin to my neck.

'Am I going to die here?' I think to myself, 'Is this The Maker's way of punishing a lazy pompous asshole like me for doing nothing these past years?'

Time escaped me as I laid as motionless as possible, trying to stay conscious. As the waves of pain ebbed, I managed to slowly drag myself to a nearby apple tree, and sat up cautiously against its trunk. I take my shirt into my mouth and rip a thick strip of cloth using my teeth and my left hand. Gingerly, I manage to loop the strip under my right arm and tie a knot over the wound in my right arm, stemming the now, trickling flow.

I wipe the sweat and blood from my face, panting and struggling to stay awake. The exhaustion and weakness was overpowering my will to stay awake and alert. My eyelids droop, threatening to close as sleep beckons to me, her warm arms embracing my weakened limbs, inviting me into the warm light. The hypnotic drowsiness pulls me under, relaxing all my spasming muscles. My head lolls, back, as I lapse temporarily into the void, only to hit my head on the tree behind me, jolting me back into reality. My eyes fly open and a splash of crimson paints my vision. Curvy, glistening apples, like ruby drops flecked with the midday's kisses cross my vision. They are hanging low on the branches of the tree, tantalizingly close, but just out of arms reach. I smile weakly at the irony of the situation.

'What a bastard,' I thought to myself. 'The Maker makes the cruelest of jokes sometimes."

I scrunch my face in effort, summoning what energy I had left to throw my left arm up in an attempt to swipe an apple. I miss, my fingertips inches from the luscious fruits.

I laugh, loudly, the sound sounding more like a rattle than a chuckle. I blink. My eyelids are heavy. Sleep has become impatient, her temper flaring out hard. I open my eyes one last time. The last thing I am able to see is the red Ostwick apples hanging above the trail of my own blood. The thick curtain of my eyelids droops, as I freefall into a deep sleep.

9:41

Stepping outside of the cabin, I inhale deeply. The crisp mountain air drove away the drowsiness I felt after the nap, making me feel refreshed and alert. I yawn widely, stretching my arms above my head, working out the cramped joints and muscles from my few hours of slumber. My eyes, squeezed shut, shed tears that well up and blur my vision. Wiping them away with my sleeve, I begin to stroll around the living quarters, turning my head this way and that, looking for anyone who might have been going to the Temple Proper. As my boots crunched on the dirt and grass, I scanned the living quarters thoroughly. The almost desolate place was silent, the usual hum of conversation and activity was gone. Most of the inhabitants had lingered around the Temple Proper after the afternoon rites. The anvils and smithies to the north were unmanned and silent, the braziers and campfires in the south were unlit and unused.

Only a few of the people had come back to the living quarters, making the scene before me a little lonely, to say the least. Frowning slightly at my predicament, I try and reorient myself so as to try and find my way to the main temple. Looking around, I could see that while the Conclave was a meeting of peace and restoring order, there were signs of a battle already starting to brew. Scorch marks peppered the southern fields where mages had been practicing magic unattended by the Templars in the North. There, weapons were being polished and ground into perfection.

Smiling slightly, I look at my dusty boots, shaking my head slightly. The grand scale of this whole convention was getting to me. From being personally invited by one of Divine Justinia's advisors to finding myself in the middle of century-old warring factions, I became very aware of how small I was in comparison to the events happening around me.

With that sobering thought, I continued down the gravel path, a concerned look plastered on my face. My right arm was outstretched, touching the Crystal Grace lining the path on either side of the path. The turquoise blossoms and violet anthers were swaying in the wind, creating an ethereal mirage of lavender waves in the breeze. The sweet and crisp smell like a waterfall's icy aroma mixed with the fruitiness of a fresh spring plum blossoms. I inhaled deeply, eyes closed, smiling at the pleasant aroma that wafted from the blossoms. Though the path to the Temple Proper was a good mile and a half, time seemed to stop as I strolled my way there. At least for now, the sweet exterior was palpable and able to hide the bitter and complex webs woven underneath.

The cobblestones that paved the path morphed slowly into polished marble, the peach, white, and slate hues flecking the smooth stone. As I tread on the now smooth polished surface, the road widened into the Temple grounds. Hedges and rosebushes populated the square, the crimson and orange blossoms joining the lavender chorus of the Crystal Grace. The inhabitants of the living quarters were now gathered here, socializing and talking. I could see Templars off to a corner speaking quietly as did the mages in a separate corner. The only group spread out evenly were the Chantry Mothers and Sisters. Their entourages were intermingling, conversations abounding in pleasantries and light-hearted conversation. I could see the Temple Proper on top of the hill now, and what a grand sight to behold. This pantheon to the Maker and Andraste was a huge structure, spanning nearly a league in length and width. The entrance alone looked like it cost a fortune. Four pillars of solid white marble supported the gilded entablature. Each pillar was four hundred feet tall. The entablature that sit on the pillars was a grand piece, a triangular capstone standing on top of the pillars, embossed in rose gold. From the edges of the entablature were figures of demons and wraiths, minions of the Blight, their clawing hands and festering sores vividly sculpted, climbing over each other, reaching to the figure in the center. The object of the demon's fascination was none other than Andraste herself, crowned in an aura of light. In one hand she held a shield, and in the other, she held a ball of fire. She was clad in a sheer cloth, baring her features and the Maker's mark on the center of her chest. The demons closest to her shielded their eyes, their faces contorted in pain and agony.

I stood there in rapt silence, as I took in the enormity of the monolith before me. The rest of the world blurred away as I stood transfixed on this grand architectural phenomenon. The din faded in the background, and my eyes tunneled into the only sight my fascination was drawn to. My eyes stung and tears began to well up as I stood there in rapt awe.

Suddenly, I felt a swish of lightness on my arm as a figure waltzed by me, their flowing robe, grazing my arm. I ripped my eyes from the Temple, watching as a lithe hooded figure seemed to float by me. Her robe was silky and white, streaming with the wind, weaving with the breeze, just like the Crystal Grace in a hypnotic dance. She turned her head slightly, revealing locks of silver hair that cascaded down her head. Her eyes were hazel woven with emerald, and her smile was warm. Her skin was luminous, white almost. Her eyes seemed to pierce into mine, her gaze electric and binding. Her jawline was very pronounced, the arched line climbing and ending with an angled ear. In her left hand she held a hefty package wrapped in parchment. The wind blows another gust, exposing a knife belt with multiple sheaths belted to it. Time seemed to freeze as we locked our eyes, unable to break the shared connection.

"TEVY!" a voice exclaimed behind me.

I ignored the voice, unable to take my eyes off of the figure in front of me. The wind picked up yet again, the breeze kissing my face, and forcing me to squint. The figure's white locks of hair bounced in the wind and danced about, obscuring her face. Her smile deepens, a light pink coloring her cheekbones. Her hand rises to her face, to hold back her hair back as she closes her eyes, in amusement. Her eyes open again, and she turns back towards the temple again, and continued to float away.

"TEVY!" the voice rang out again.

I ripped my eyes from the entrancing figure and whirled around to see Arielle pink in the face and huffing incredulously. Her eyebrows were knit in her version of a pout and sweat was beaded on her forehead. I look at her, gazing up and down in confusion at her exhausted state.

"You know, I leave to go do the Afternoon Rites for half an hour and I lose you for a whole half a day! Where were you?" she asked incredulously.

I look back towards the Temple, scanning the many faces in the Temple grounds, unable to find the hooded figure in white silk. A second passed as I tried to desperately look for the woman.

"Tevy, what do you have to say for yourself? You know you have to arrive earlier to get your uniform. And who are you looking for? You only know two people here and the one you know best is interrogating you right now!" Arielle exclaimed.

"Uhh… Sorry, Ari, I got lost on the way here." I said nervously, trying to brush her off. "I just wanted to pay my respects to the Maker and make an offering."

She looked at me, scrutinizing my half smile, trying to analyze the true motivation behind my words. Seeming satisfied for the time being, she continued on with the discussion.

"Well alright," she said, deciding to let the matter drop. "The incense is in the drawer on the left, next to the golden brazier, and the candles are over by the cabinet next to the banners…"

As we walked together towards the Temple, the long lecture from Arielle seemed to fade into the distance. The sea of habits and stoles was endless as Mothers and Sisters from all over Thedas were speaking in a hushed drone. I scanned the crowd thoroughly, trying to catch a last glimpse of the hooded woman. But nothing met my eye except the blur of red and white habits and stoles as I began the trek up the Temple stairs.

9:32

I was conscious, barely. Locked in a prison of an unmoving body, I was aware of everything happening to me, but I couldn't say anything or move. It was as if I was encased in glass, just watching everything that happened to me.

I was lying down on my stomach, chest bared. I was being prodded by multiple fingers and instruments all along my arm and my back. The slight twinge of pain and cold metal made me twitch a few times, jerking my arms and fingers ever so slightly, like a desperate involuntary cry for help. Hurried footsteps echoed in the room, distorting how the number of people I could perceive in my pitiful state. Hushed whispers were heard throughout the room, some of disgust, some of pity and sympathy. I could hear the unmistakable sobbing of my mother, and the worried tone of my father.

"How could this have happened," my mother manages in a whisper. "The Ostwick Plains aren't supposed to be dangerous."

"I'll ask Lieutenant Tari when she comes back from her reconnaissance mission" My father says in a low voice.

"Healer, h-how is he? How is my boy?" My mother managed through the choked sobs.

"Lady Travelyan. He's lost a lot of blood. I don't know how long those wounds have been festering, but I need to tend to your son's wounds. I do not suggest that you remain here, Lady, this could take a while and the procedure could prove to be…graphic." The doctor replied. A pause.

"Darling. I'll stay behind and watch for the both of us. Please, head back up to rest." A deep voice, one of serene authority, my father's.

I hear the ruffle of skirts and petticoats, the swish of silk fabric, and the unmistakable clack of high heeled shoes as my mother stands to leave the room. I hear her mutter to my father, her sobbing reaching a crescendo as she rushes out of the room. The sounds of her sobbing grew softer as she hurried down the hall. Silence filled the room as all the attendants and present parties waited out of courtesy for the Lady to make her exit. The doors shut, the booming sound resuming all frenzied activity within the room.

"Get me some embrium and death lotus. Now. I need to fix his arm and then his back. He's been bleeding internally for a full day now. I don't know how long he's going to last." He says to another person in the room. Hurried footsteps. The doors are flung open, the echoes of the wood slamming the wall reverberate through the manor. The healer puts his hands on me again, feeling the areas of damage and surveying the depth of my wounds.

'Has it been a day? Damn. Time moves slowly when you're dying.'

I feel someone's arms on my body, rolling me over to my back. Pain lanced through my hip as my leg unconsciously convulsed and connected with someone's face.

"AHHH. Come on! Hold him tightly. I don't need him seizing as I'm trying to heal him. Seriously…"

I am on my stomach now. Vulnerable and exposed, I feel the clothing being removed from my body as hands are run down my back. Prodding. Poking. The dull ache of pressure radiates from my back as people are shuffling around me constantly.

"Ok. We're going to begin. We have to sew up his internal bleeding and fix any organ damage. Let's begin."

I feel a cold metal razor tickle the hairs on my back. The light pressure from the healer's hand stabilizes the blade and applies pressure. As the cold light sensation evolved into heated stabs of pain over the entirety of my back, I lost what little hold on consciousness I had and slipped back into the welcoming arms of darkness.

9:41- Friday

As we made our way up the marble steps, the true grandeur and splendor of the Temple revealed itself. From the four pillars towering over us, to the true detailing on the entablature, the entire building seemed ethereal and otherworldly. The landing at the top of the stairs was just as breathtaking. On the walls, the gemstone mosaics were mounted, exhibiting a kaleidoscope of colors and hues, each as radiant and exquisite as the next. They depicted the creation of the Chant of Light and the genesis of the Templar Order, the victorious Wardens over the Blight and the indoctrination of the first Circles. The granite braziers were lit with a white flame that danced in the reflection of the gems, bringing the mosaics into life. The actual entrance into the Temple was fifteen feet tall, flanked by oaken doors half a foot thick. As we made our way into the Temple's interior, I was again, pulled into rapt silence as the design of the interior captivated my awe. On the far left wall that faced the West, an enormous collection of shelves were angled towards the wall, holding endless volumes of books. I could see a many a scholar leafing through the pages, or unfurling scrolls from the collection. The entire wall was made of stained glass, the multicolored display vivid against the floor. On the right, facing the East, the incense burners and braziers were alight, with many worshipers and disciples gathered around the furnaces, praying and presenting offerings to the fragrant flames. Many of the people gathered were Chantry Mothers, their practiced hands tending the flames and leading the chants. As we walked down the main aisle towards the altar, I stretched my hand to touch every pew that lined the aisle. I could see that there were three columns of pews, with four walkways separating them. Each was tiered slightly lower than the next, making it seem like an auditorium more than a temple. The varnished maple wood shone in the descending light, their honey finishes glinting in the afternoon light. Looking up, I saw a dome, at least five hundred feet up, lined completely with glass so as to allow the sun to illuminate the interior. Being as it was late afternoon, the sun's luminance was hovering right over the western wall where the vast collection of books were.

"You know Arielle, this place must have cost a fortune to build. How did they get the money to do it?" I asked, not taking my eyes off of the visual spectacle.

Arielle giggled slightly and leaned in and whispered: "There's a reason Empress Celene is still in power and supported by the Chant, you know."

With that, I broke into unabashed guffawing, my laughs echoing off the floors and walls. Arielle punched me hard in the arm, her face bright with amusement. I looked around to find that everyone in the Temple had stopped their activities and were looking at the two of us in incredulous disbelief. I stood there, apologetically, attempting to regain composure of myself. A second passed before the Mothers restarted their chants and the scholars went back to their leafing of books.

I looked at Arielle with accusing eyes, as she shrugged in a matter-of-factly manner. We continued walking up to the altar, pretending that our little faux-pas didn't happen.

We both knelt at the altar, bowing our heads and saying our prayers. A few moments passed as we both offered our prayers.

In those seconds of silence, a cold wind seemed to drift across the room, as if a whisper of a breeze were let in. I open my eyes to see the tail of a silk white robe flutter by me, and the unmistakable sheen of locks of white hair bouncing in the wind. I stand, quickly and turn around, trying to find the woman I kept seeing. Nothing. She is nowhere to be found. As I turned back around, trying to get her out of my mind, a whisper drifts into my ear, crystal clear above the din of the chanting Mothers.

"He is coming. Beware."

A chill ran down my spine, making me shudder and convulse. I turn back around but no one is there.

"What's wrong Tevy?" Arielle asks, her inflection mirrors the concern and confusion she feels.

"Nothing." I say dismissively. "I just haven't been feeling to well lately. It's probably the altitude."

"Well if that's the case, then let's go, you have to prepare for tonight's opening statements from the Divine. Every delegate will be present."

And with that, I was shooed towards the door back to the living quarters to prepare. I put on my nice clothes: a fitted white shirt and beige breeches. With my laced boots, I was more than ready for this peace talks to start, but apparently, "getting ready" was Arielle's definition of a military operations. The next few hours were a blur to say the least, with people bustling about, and papers flying left and right. I could see Chantry mothers mitigating and breaking up fights between mages and Templars. Tempers flared as fires had to be put out. Literally. Mages were setting fire to Templar cabins and Templars were doing the same to the mages. I saw a few fist fights being initiated near the Chantry tents as the people standing in line to talk to the Chantry mothers became impatient and pushy. And if that weren't enough, Divine Justinia was nowhere to be found in the living quarters, so the free-for-all was ready to erupt into a full scaled war. If the talks weren't held at a temple I swear the scene I experienced would befit a battlefield more than a peace talks.

A few hours into the pandemonium, an unspoken ceasefire was reached between all parties, resulting in the general shepherding of all the delegates from the living quarters to the Temple grounds. Albeit, the trek took more than two hours, all of the delegates were able to find and fight their way into the Temple proper. Of course, being the last one in, I able to see just how divided this whole meeting was. Each group had their own column of pews reserved for themselves. Just like the living quarters, the mages were separated from the Templars by the Chantry Mothers and Sisters in the middle. At the very front, I could see Divine Justinia V, in all her sagely demeanor. While the general din was charged, electric, and chaotic, all it took was her approach to the main altar that silenced the entire congregation present. As the full moon began to slip into place, the rays of light beamed down through the glass dome and settled on Divine Justinia in a serendipitous flourish. She looked around the room carefully, taking in everyone's face in great detail. She paused, took a breath, and began to address the entire congregation gathered:

"Welcome, to each and every one of you to the repurposed Temple of Sacred Ashes. I am Divine Justinia V, the leader of the Chant of Light. A century of war has torn us apart. Across Thedas, the war between mages and Templars has rent this continent into a fragmented land. Families have been torn apart, civilians terrorized and the very fabric of our society put at stake. Our world has now seen the gifts that the Maker has given us as a bane to existence, the pinnacle of demonization. This Conclave is the first step of many towards a peaceful resolution. The abuse of power has become rampant and the system we currently have is deficient. Change must be implemented. Remember, we must all sacrifice for the betterment of our world, and it starts here. It starts now."

A general applause swept through the room as The Divine took her seat. A general air of peace radiated through the area, however, it did not last long as the delegates began to bring up motions and bicker about prospective actions. As the general din rose to a roar, people began to stand up and shout at each other from across the room. The Mothers and Sisters and even the Divine tried to quiet the mob, but nobody stopped arguing as the crowd grew into a chaotic mob. I made eye contact with Arielle as the shouting became deafening and I motioned that I'd be outside. She nods, understanding my message. As I cracked open the oaken doors to step outside, the cool air rushed in, clearing my lungs from the stuffy sweaty air from inside the temple.

I stepped outside, and closed the door behind me as quietly as possible, not that it mattered. Taking a deep breath of cool evening air, I stretch my arms out to release some tension from my back. I look up at the sky and marvel at the starlit view. Down in the city, one can't get a view this clear of the stars.

I felt a familiar breath of air on the back on my neck. The familiarity sent shivers down my spine, forcing me to duck my head and cringe. Whirling around, I saw the woman with white hair and the silk hooded robe.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?!" I scream at her, partly from fear, partly from surprise. "Why are you haunting my dream? And why are you haunting me in my every day?"

She floats there, hovering just above the snow, her silver hair streaming in the wind. Her eyes stare right into mine, unchanging.

"Who are you? Why are you here?! What are you doing to me?!" I scream again.

Her face is motionless, staring directly at me. Ragged breaths rack my chest from the uncertainty and fear this figure instilled. A few seconds pass, the silence awkwardly hanging in the air.

She raises her arm slowly, pointing behind my shoulder right at the moon.

"He is here."

9:32

The sunlight from the bedroom windows streamed in, illuminating the entire room. Despite having my eyes closed, the rosy glow of light shone through my eyelids, beckoning me into the reality of pain and recovery. I open my eyes and I could see bandages everywhere. From my arms, to my feet and back, there were enough bandages to wrap around Ostwick Manor twice. Wincing, I try and move my arms, which are wrapped tight, only to elicit a pang of pain in my back. I hear the sound of the door latch click open as the healer walked in with my father.

"…His recovery seems to be making good progress. We did not expect his wounds to heal so quickly. When we operated on him, we patched up a lot of the major bleeding and the procedure was successful, with any luck, your son should be able to begin walking today." The healer said.

"What of Alabaom?" my father inquires, his voice steely and quiet.

"We… do not know Master Travelyan, his condition is graver than your son's. We believe that he may have been poisoned by the Blight wraith. My team is with him now caring for him."

I shift, slightly, not wanting to disrupt their discourse, but Master Healer missed nothing, as he saw my attempt to reach for the pitcher of water.

"Master Travelyan. Your son is awake. I'm sure you'd like to see him now."

The two men approached the bed, each concerned in their own way. The healer proceeded to check every inch of my body, prodding and poking, while lifting bandages here and there, while my father decided that the best course of action was to begin an interrogation of what transpired in the woods two nights prior. The result was an invasive questioning session peppered with wincing and gasps of pain here and there.

"Why didn't you stay near the manor? You know the foundations were blessed against the Blight," my father posed.

"Father, we had to find food and firewood. The wind was strong enough to freeze any of us in that night and there wasn't any to be found near the manor." I replied.

"Don't get smart with me, son," my father's voice boomed, "If you were this smart as you are now, you would have known that the forests to the north hold more food than the forests near the Vimmark Mountains. Son, if you had paid any attention at all during your tutoring you would have known that!"

His voice echoed through the room, his anger as palpable as the bulging veins in his forehead. I look down, hiding my livid face as he continues his rant.

"And splitting up? Whose stupid idea was that, son? Yours?" my father pressed.

"Master Travelyan, please, your son is traumatized and needs to rest. I'm sure under the circumstances, he made the decisions he though were logical and the best for everyone in the group. But please, sir, we must let him recover. We can have this discussion later when he is fully healed" the Master Healer interjected.

"NO. Stay out of this, healer. This is between me and my son. If he is to inherit my estate in the future, he will learn the lessons I deem required regardless of what he decided was 'right.' So son, tell me, was it your logical thinking that thought splitting up was a good idea?" My father pauses, clearly waiting for an answer.

I still avoid eye contact, trying to keep all of my emotions collected.

"We had to find clean water fast, as well as build a fire. The best wood is in the south, near the Vimmark Mountains and my plan was to split the jobs so that we could finish the jobs easier and focus on survival," I manage to say, hiding the building rage and exasperation behind a neutral voice

"Well it wasn't a good idea was it? Because of you, the counts of Arafel, and Rinzfeld are up my ass because YOUR decision killed them. You and Alabaom are the only survivors and Maker knows how long Alabaom is going to last in the condition he's in right now. If I had any sense, I'd disown you right now." His booming voice hissed, spittle flying from his mouth.

My father whirled around, his cape unfurling in full volume as the clack of my father's boots echoed through the room. The door opened and slammed, leaving me with the healer alone.

"I'm sure your father is just very agitated right now. I'm sure he didn't mean it," the healer said cautiously as he lifted more bandages and applied more ointment.

An uncomfortable silence filled the room as I tried to fight back tears of shame and disappointment.

"Arafel, and Rinzfeld… are dead?" I whisper. Emotion burst forth as I was unsuccessful at holding the tears back. "And Alabaom is going to die from poisoning?" The last question triggered something in me, making double over and lose my breath.

The tears were endless now, streaming down my face. I bite my lip, trying unsuccessfully to contain my emotion.

It had been only a few weeks of knowing the three, but we had experienced so much together, and we had become close. Knowing that my decisions had killed them all was too much for me to handle.

The healer sighed, slightly patting my arm in sympathy. I looked at the healer, beseeching him for an answer, searching for solace that would never come: "Healer, tell me, they're dead because of me, right? Arafel, Rinzfeld, Alabaom…Roderick. They're dead because of me…right?"

The healer shifted, uncomfortable, unable to answer. But that was answer enough for me. I closed my eyes, dry sobs racking my chest, as the unspoken confirmation buried the hatchet into my heart. I curled up in the bed, burying my head into my knees as the healer got up and headed towards the door.

"I'll let you have some space, Tevasta. Try and get some sleep, though. Your wounds were extensive and requires you to rest."

His soft padded footsteps tread lightly as he made his exit. The double mahogany doors shut quietly, leaving me alone with my dry sobs and the foreboding silence of accusation.

9:41

I spin around, able to catch the shadow of a winged creature fly overhead. Its speed was incomparable, flying so fast for me to only catch a glimpse of it. A screech pierced through the evening sky, rippling through the mountain pass. I turn back around, confused, a myriad of questions burning my mind. My heart is pounding, completely locked into terror as I run towards the entrance to the temple. Yanking the double doors, I run inside to warn the delegates.

"We have to run! A demon is here!" I shout, half expecting the arguing delegates to not hear a word.

The entire hall was silent, everyone peering through the dome above the temple to see the dragonoid shape hovering right above the glass. Time seemed to freeze as the dragon-like figure remained hovering there. None of the delegates seemed to understand or comprehend the amount of peril they were in.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE? RUN!" I shout. In the next second, all pandemonium broke loose. People climbed over each other in an attempt to get to the main door. Pews were knocked over, book shelves were toppled as the exodus of people began. Templars, mages, Chantry; none of the distinguishing markers meant anything as people flooded through the doors. I stepped aside and ran to the West wall of the temple as the horde of people stampeded out of the antechamber. I was running around trying to get a better perspective of the dragon-demon. It was at least a hundred fifty feet in length, mottled black with skeletal features. Its wings were bat like, leathery and scaled. Its head was at least twenty feet long, its skeletal structure defining its brow and jaw with ridiculous detail. Demonic horns branched from its skull, angling back and arching towards its wings. As it hovered in the air, each wingbeat sheared against the temple, creating a harsh grating sound against the temple's stonework. Like a deadly heartbeat, the scraping sound beat continuously, the wind from its fallout creating snow flurries around the temple. Between its first and second spine, I could see a humanoid figure sitting on a saddle. It seemed to have an elongated figure, its arms disproportionately longer and his torso disproportionately elongated. His head was covered with crimson shards of stone that reflected the moonlight in an ominous way.

A sharp splintering cut above the chaotic clamor, drawing my attention from the dragon-demon. Gazing down, I could see the faces of scared, terrified people beating against the stained glass Western wall. Backing up slowly at the enormity of the people behind the wall, their faces were distorted, like a kaleidoscope view into hell itself. Again, the splintering sound was heard, as a visible crack crept its way along the wall. I turned and ran towards the nearest tree or bush as an explosion of sound echoed and the Western Wall blew out. Colored glass flew everywhere peppering the ground as the waves and waves of people poured out of the Western Wall. People were climbing over each other, trampling each other, clawing, and shoving people in their attempt to escape. Yelps, cries, shouts, screams, and curses flew around the temple as the dragon-demon turned its head towards the Western Wall. My eyes widen as I see the figure point its finger at our direction. I turn and sprint as fast as I can to find cover. Launching myself over a boulder, I glance back. The dragon-demon's mouth opens and a crimson flame leaps from its mouth. Evaporating the mountain snow instantly, I could see many people engulfed immediately in the flames. Lightning crackled from the dragon's mouth, joining with the flames and giving it a live appearance. The screams increased as I saw endless people running, on fire, their flesh melting off of themselves. The smell of burning flesh and hair wafted around the temple, making me gag, and retch.

I close my eyes and huddle behind the boulder, willing the bout of nausea away as I try and compose myself and figure out this whole situation. As the screams and wails of pain died down, I peered back over the boulder to see that the dragon-demon had descended onto the temple, breaking the dome, and shattering the roof. It reared onto its hind legs, and let out another piercing screech, knocking me flat on my ass from the pure pressure of the roar. Laying there, dazed, I recollect myself from being swept of my feet and I ran towards the temple, carefully stepping over the incinerated people, trying not to look down. The ringing in my ear from the roar left me deaf and disoriented but as I peered into the broken Western wall, I could see the extent of the destruction. Gone were the extravagant statues and gemstone mosaics. Gone were the varnished pews and the stone altar. Gone was the vast collection of books and the stone braziers. Everything was gray with ash and soot. The statues were trampled and crushed, the fragments of obsidian scattered to the wind. Instead of the perfume of spices for offering, the smell was of rot and destruction. Bodies were strewn on the floor, some eviscerated, some simply crushed and flattened. Still others were ashy skeletons, with the flesh burned right off of their bodies. The scene was so graphic, I was shaking uncontrollably, bile rising from my stomach, burning my throat.

I could see Divine Justinia V suspended in the air by purple orbs of energy. A group of men in silver armor surrounding her, the purple orbs tethered to their arms. She floated there, her face frightened, her head turning about looking for help. The ringing in my ears was starting to go away, and I could start to hear what was transpiring in front of me.

"Now is the hour of our victory." A deep voice resonated. It hurt to hear the voice as it echoed throughout the ruined temple. The voice seemed to echo deep within my chest, even, sending jabs of pain through my heart.

The Divine seemed panicky, surprised, even as she looked to one of the figures beside her that were channeling the binding spell.

"Why are you doing this? You of all people?"

She asked, towards the men around her. Her incredulity evident on her face.

The figure stepped off of the dragon's saddle, sauntering slowly towards The Divine. The dragon, free from its burden raised its head and roared again. It spread its wings and launched itself into the air. I whirled my head around to see that the dragon was flying towards the living quarters, the ruby red hue of its lightning flame coloring the night sky.

"Keep the sacrifice still." The deep voice said again. I turn back around, to see the tall figure pull out a pulsating green orb. Its emerald luminance frightened me, as it sent shivers down my spine. The figure presented the orb to the Divine's helpless figure and the emerald light flooded the ruins of the temple, illuminating the entire room. The Divine began to glow the same emerald as her face contorted in pain, her voice straining,

"Someone, HELP ME!"

The screaming from The Divine snapped me out of my reverie as I found that I could move once again. Jumping over the broken wall I approached,

"What's going on here?!" I shouted. Partly because I needed to distract them, but partly also because I was genuinely confused.

The figure turned his head, and I nearly fell from the horror that the face exuded. Four red shards of lyrium protruded from his skull, breaking the skin and giving him an external skeleton of sorts. The skin around these shards seemed to grow around it like scar tissue, making his face resemble a tree. On his right side of his face, a black shiny material was almost welded to his head, like a helmet had been melted into his face. I put my hands up instinctively, trying to shield myself. I looked over to see that Divine Justinia had also looked over, her face surprised that anyone had heard her. Her face swiftly turned into one of determination as she struggled and managed to break her invisible bonds. She proceeded to slap the green orb from the figure's hands, sending it rolling towards my direction. Sprinting towards the orb to keep it from the figure, my left hand connects with the orb.

Fire. Pure fire burned my hand, sending me into a state of shock. I could no longer feel my left arm as if it had been melted off by the dragon itself. Pure white hot pain engulfed me. The orb glowed a pure white, blinding everything as I fell and lost consciousness.

9:32

Standing gingerly, trying to avoid causing a commotion, I tiptoed to the door of the makeshift hospital. True, Arafel and Rinzfeld were dead, but Alabaom… Alabaom was still alive and fighting. I had wiped my tears, and resolved to go and pay Alabaom a visit, whatever help that was going to be. He and I were closer than the other two. Growing up, I had actually befriended Alabaom from an early age. When the pleasantries of royal parties and state dinners became too much, the two of us were always together causing mischief with the chef, or burgling jewelry from the guests. Our favorite prank was convincing the guests that came to Ostwick manor that it was haunted. We would snicker as the guests would come fleeing from the guest rooms in their floofy nightgowns screaming for dear life because of some bedsheet ghosts we had stitched together the night before.

As I opened the door, I looked around, checking to see that the coast was clear. If any of the manor servants or Maker forbid, my father saw me in the halls, they'd strap me down in bed and stuff food down my throat all day. I walked into the hallways and closed the door quietly behind me. I walked down the long corridor of rooms and headed towards the guest wing of the manor. The guest wing was in a far corner of the manor, separate from the main body of the estate. Indeed, for one to get to the guest wing, one had to pass by the main ballroom, pass the main office, the kitchens, and the main dining hall. The walk was arduous and frustrating as my dependency on the walls and railings to support my back made the trek painfully long. As I was passing by the main office, I noticed that the door was slightly open, and torchlight was streaming through. Odd. Usually around this time, my father would be out riding with his buddies over by the Western hills. I slowed my already snail-like pace and leaned in to find out what was going on.

"…He's the only one who could have done it. The Blight never travel away from large packs and the ones they killed were alone, by his direction." A new voice said.

"No. I cannot accept that that is the only explanation." My father said.

"Then explain how the darkspawn's appearance all the way in the Vimmark mountains." The new voice argued.

"Coincidence. There is no way that my son is able to do such a thing. He doesn't know magic!" My father pressed.

"Yet he has complained of dreams and wandering visions. Has he not been touched by the Fade? How has this information been kept under wraps?" the new voice challenged.

A silence passed around the room, only the crackle of torches could be heard.

"Exactly," he continued. "Darkspawn never make wasteful movements and they are only drawn to areas where there is a summoner or an Archdemon. So, Master Travelyan, which is it, an Archdemon or a summoner? Because last time I checked, the Archdemon that invaded the Free Marches died about four hundred years ago."

"There is no way he could have learned blood magic. I personally have been his tutor from when he was a babe and has never shown signs of magic, much less blood magic." My father said adamantly.

"Yes, he was injured, but three of them died out there, and your son got away with bleeding. Don't you find that a little strange?" The unknown voice challenged.

More silence as the people inside deliberated this new piece of information. A loud thud was heard from the room as someone had pounded the table.

"Find him. And bring him to me." My father said in a hushed whisper.

I began to sweat profusely. They were trying to blame the incident on me, and with blood magic to boot. I mean, I knew I had dreams, but I had no magic. They thought that I summoned the demon in the mountains. I hurriedly hobbled off, trying to get as far away as possible from the office. If I was caught, Andraste knows what would become of me. Passing the kitchens and the dining hall, I pushed open the door to the guest hall and fell into the hall. Kicking the door close, I propped myself on the wall and stumbled into the first room that was open. My breath caught in my throat as I looked up and saw Alabaom lying on the bed.

I had prepared a whole speech in my head of all the things I'd want to say to him. But seeing his face wiped all thoughts from my head. He was pale, and his cheeks were hollowed out, on his left neck I could see a tendril of purple discoloration peeking up beneath the sheets. His hair was matted with blood, all tangled and dirty, and his breaths were shallow, almost nonexistent.

I knelt by the bed, my hands reaching out to touch him, to comfort him in some way, but my fingers shook and he seemed so frail that a wrong touch might bruise him in some way.

"Roderick…I-I'm sorry." I managed to say, my voice cracking as emotion blossomed from my chest, making the tears spill over again in a new wave.

The door opened as a maid stepped in. My eyes flew to hers and we both stood there, wide-eyed in surprise and disbelief. I immediately try and get up, the pain in my back flaring up again. Stumbling and falling back to the floor, I yelped in pain, eliciting a string of curses.

"Fuck. Good Andraste." I muttered.

The maid hurried over to me, picking me up and resting me on the edge of the bed.

"Young master, what are you doing here?" she asked in a frenzied whisper.

Hurried footsteps rattled around outside the guest hall as maids in their swishing cotton uniforms and soldiers in their clanking armor rushed by.

"You must hurry, young master, they are looking for you." The maid said to me. "If they find you they will kill you, certainly. You must escape. I have a friend waiting outside that will take you to Antiva. You must run."

She ushered me out of Roderick's room, pushing me along the corridor to the servant's hall. As tears continued to stream down my face, I was ushered out of the manor from the servant's entrance and shoved into a cart. Like livestock, I was quickly handed off with short goodbyes and half-hearted apologies. The maid looked at me through the window in the servant's wing, her sympathetic face pitying me. As the horses were urged forward, I looked back towards the manor, in a dreary depressed manner, wondering what I had done to deserve all of this.

9:41

Roaches, the size of small dogs were scuttling along, making their rounds. They smelled fresh meat and they were trying to find the source. I lay behind a boulder, masking my hurried breath and gasping so as to not alert my position. I stand up cautiously and begin to run towards the bridge from where I came from. The roaches take notice. They're scuttling and screeching getting closer. A white figure from the green portal reaches out to me, her voice incomprehensible. The roaches are closer, climbing faster, climbing over each other and…

I open my eyes, slightly, letting in only a sliver of light. I see my hands, tied together, restraints holding my wrists together. I blink. What happened? A firestorm, a hooded figure, a wraith, and spiders? I close my eyes, trying to make sense of it all. I open my eyes again, staring blankly at the wooden block strangling my hands. Who was that woman? What were those roach-spiders? I turn my head slowly, taking in my new surroundings. The room is dark, musty. A few torches cast a depressing gloom around the area. I see my shadows, flickering in and out of existence from multiple angles. Their ghostly impermanence heightened only by the flickering of their respective torches. I see the shadows of other men, the dim light casting a harsh eclipse of light on me, like a foreboding giant contemplating his choice of what limb to break first. The silhouettes of their blades are just as terrifying, sabers drawn at me to prevent my escape. I am kneeling down, for some reason, ankles restrained by coarse rope. Redundant, in my opinion. The thistle twine cutting into my legs, strangling my feet. The stone beneath my knees are irritating, bruising them for good measure.

'Fuck.' I thought, 'There must be some mistake. I didn't steal anything this time, Arielle made me promise not to misbehave at the Conclave.'

My left hand is suddenly burning. As if I had stuck my hand in a forge, the heat is unbearable almost. A flare of lightning lights my hand emerald, illuminating the entire room.

"AHHH" I scream, trying to grab my left hand with my right, only to irritate the restraints. As a result, instead of grasping my left hand, I lose balance, falling onto my side in a fetal position. A boot shifts in the room. Nervous breathing. I hear the sound of sheathing swords. The singing of tempered steel ending with a concussive thud as the hilt met the scabbard. Two guards march over, grabbing my arms roughly, shoving me back into a kneeling position. My head droops from exhaustion, the muted pain of my hand spiking occasionally. I hear two voices, female, approaching the cell. The clink of armor and thud of brogans accentuated by the tinkle of chain mail and the soft undernotes of leather boots highlight their conversation.

"…is panicking. We need to evacuate the citizens before the town gets avalanched." One voice was hard, battle-bred, and callous. Her voice exuded authority and an uncanny steeliness.

"Evacuate?" The second voice asked. This voice was softer, more inquisitive and mysterious, much like an Orlesian noble play The Game. "Are you crazy? There are thousands that are present. How can they all move out-"

"Just get it done!" The first voice cut in. Their shadows appear under the door, growing as the figures approached the wooden door. The door is thrown open, hinges creaking from negligence and disuse. A loud bang echoes through the room as the door hits the wall of the cell. I squint, the oncoming light piercing through the doorway. I see the silhouettes of the two women, their frames lit by the sunlight. The guards relax their stances, sheathing their blades as the two women crossed the threshold. One approaches, in full armor. The symbol of the Seekers on her breastplate. Her hair is cut short, as per regulation, and her features are sharp and intense. Her face mirrors a hardened fury, distress and tension marking her face. Her sword, slung on her right hip, is at least a two and half feet long, reaching down to her ankles. Her handguards are spiked, but scratched, showing much use. She walks towards me, staring me down, eyes never leaving mine. An expression of contempt and disgust etched slightly on her lips. She walks past my right shoulder, pacing almost, the padding of her brogans the only audible sound. I switch my gaze to the other woman, who has walked and positioned herself in the full torchlight looking at me in confusion, as if she wanted answers for unspoken questions. Her expression is softer, her gaze inquisitive and searching. Her eyes, however, mirrored the same desperation that the Templar woman exhibited. She is wearing a hood of violet cloth, pinned at the apple of her chest with an Seeker's pin. Her leather hauberk is finely sewn, the stitching showing no tear despite the slight discolorations, showing years of use. The chain mail fitted over the hauberk is well kept and clean, free of rust. Two knives are strapped to her legs, the handles carved of fine red cedar. Each about three quarters of a foot long, the knives were housed in leather lined sheaths, sewn with intricate design. Her eyes flit back and forth between my own eyes and the other woman's face.

The first woman, the Templar, now leans into my left ear. Her breathing is erratic, panicked, and emotional. My eyes shift left to look into her eyes as she spoke.

"Tell me why we shouldn't kill you now." She says stonily, trying hard to not let emotion through.

I froze. Unable to say a word. 'What? What did I do? I don't remember doing anything to warrant a Templar threatening my death.' I thought to myself, panicking. I kept silent, not wanting to invoke her anger and spell my death, but all the while, my heart begins to race beyond control. The next words she uttered froze all thoughts in my head, freezing my heart as time seemed to stop. A weight pressed into my heart as despair settled in.

"The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead."