Hey everybody! I know you've been waiting for this for a really long time…so have I. My plot bunny sent this to me a few hours ago, even though I gave it to her at least a month ago. But, she is my only plot bunny, and I certainly need one, so we are all at her whim. Also, I'm sorry for the lapse in action in this chapter, but there will be more...next chapter! Thanks for waiting!
Act III: Brecilian Forest
Revan had been with the Dalish for almost three weeks. Gradually, they had become more trusting of her. She had listened to their histories as Paivel, the clan's storyteller, told them to the youngest members of the tribe. Revan had helped with the cooking and the cleaning, working side by side with the women of the clan. Revan had not known how to cook, but the women had patiently instructed her in the culinary arts of the Dalish. They had come to accept Revan, laughing with her as she told them stories of her friends and her man.
At night, Revan had strengthened her mind. She had tried using the Force and, though it worked, it was dull, a kitchen knife compared to the razor blade it was anywhere else in the galaxy. The Force had somehow been corrupted here. It was still present, but…faded, obscured. Still, she practiced, building her strength with practice and healing her body at the same time. Even though the Force was not as strong around her, she could still draw on the Force from within herself. In result, her two-month recovery had been shortened to a month.
Morning came. Revan felt Marethari approaching the cot. She enjoyed these morning check-ups; they gave her the chance to learn more from the powerful and wise Keeper. Keeper Marethari had grown to like Revan too, considering that she always stayed longer than was necessary.
"Good morning, Keeper," Revan propped herself up on her arm as the Keeper silently glided to the cot, bandages and salves in hand.
Marethari smiled. "Good morning to you too, Mi'harel. Did you sleep well, or did you have more nightmares?"
For the three weeks she had been there, Revan had had horrible dreams. Often they were of a hideous dragon soaring above an army of corrupted, vile creatures. Sometimes, however, they were of her past, and the horrible crimes she had committed. And, every once and a while, she would dream of the terrible army conquering the Republic, dragging the women off and slaughtering all others.
"Yes," Revan responded quietly. "But it was just of the dragon this time. He was giving commands to his minions."
The Keeper nodded, absorbing this information. She had been trying to figure out exactly what was causing these dreams, which were unlike any she had encountered before. Revan had her own theory of what was causing them, but she dared not tell anyone, even Marethari.
"I have a question, Keeper: I have seen you working with the Force. How do you do it?"
The Keeper raised an eyebrow. "You mean magic? Dear, I was born with the ability, and, after years of training, I mastered it."
"Magic?" Revan wondered if the elves knew what the Force was. "Tell me, where do you draw your power from?"
"From the lyrium," Marethari replied, prodding Revan's wrist.
"Lyrium, not life?" Revan clarified.
"Yes, lyrium. Why do you ask?" the Keeper looked at her curiously.
Revan decided it was safe to tell Marethari. "I have a similar power, but I draw it from life. But here, I cannot use it as I could elsewhere."
"Yes, I thought you had magical talent," she muttered. "But the only power that draws on life that I know of is blood magic, and you do not seem to be a blood mage."
"Blood magic? This I have to hear!" Revan inquired, now interested.
Marethari nodded, "The blood mage uses either the blood of a victim or himself, and uses that blood to fuel his magic. It is a horrible practice, and to learn it, the mage has to make a deal with a demon. It is an ancient practice, though not as old as the forgotten teachings of our ancestors."
"A demon from the Fade?" she thought, recalling their previous conversations.
"Exactly," Marethari said as she palpated Revan's scars.
"Well, I am definitely not a blood mage, then," she stated.
The Keeper smiled, amused. "Well, you seem to be almost completely recovered! If you wish, you can go. There is really nothing more I can do for you."
"And leave the clan in the middle of Paivel's recounting of Andraste?" Revan gasped. "I dare not!"
And so, Revan had stayed with the clan. They did not seem to mind her presence. In fact, she had made friends with several of the Dalish. Most had even forgotten that she was human, and treated her like a clan sister. She had even joined the ranks of the hunters after slaying a bear while walking with Merrill, much to Tamlen's displeasure. Fenarel, however, had immediately taken her on as a partner. The day she had joined, Merrill had presented her with her sword, the one the Keeper had been keeping in her aravel, her dwelling of sorts. Revan had accepted it with a sad smile.
The day after she had officially became a hunter, Tamlen, Lyna, and Fenarel took her to the corpse of the high dragon. Apparently Master Ilen, the clan's craftsmaster, wanted to experiment with dragon scales, a change from the normal ironbark he normally used. At last, Revan could look at the supposedly great and terrible creature she had slain. Emerging from the forest onto the edge of the huge crater, she saw that the dragon was indeed massive. It was, at the least, larger than any terentatek she had ever encountered, and she remembered, more dangerous than one. As her fellow hunters began stripping the already-decaying carcass, Revan went to the head. The beast's great head lay broken in the dirt, its eyes fortunately closed and its mouth slightly open. Revan sat, staring at it for a while. Eventually, she could feel Tamlen approach. He plucked off a few meter-long spines from the base of the dragon's skull, and then noticed Revan's presence as she stared blankly at the thing that had stranded her in Thedas. A flash of pity crossed his face and quickly vanished, but not before Revan had noticed.
He plucked a tooth from the dragon's mouth and tossed it to her. "Take this. It'll last longer," he told her, mocking and sympathetic at the same time.
Finally, Revan embraced her past. It would always be a part of her, and she needed to accept that.
Each morning after, Revan would journey into the forest and meditate. She still had to work through all her memories and come to terms with her actions. But, a month after the return of her memories, she had subdued the darkness that had threatened to overwhelm her again. It was still there; it was an inseparable part of her, something that made her who she was. However, she could now control it. Revan balanced on a thin line between light and dark, another reason she needed to meditate daily.
This particular day she had journeyed to the north. She carefully picked her way through the bracken and dead leaves, practicing the stealth techniques that Fenarel had showed her. Not only did these daily meditation sessions help strengthen her mind, they also helped strengthen her weakened body. The injuries had taken their toll, but slowly Revan was building up muscle and speed. Soon she would be where she had been physically before the crash, perhaps even stronger.
A few clicks from the camp, Revan stumbled upon a ruin. Ruins were not uncommon in the Brecilian Forest, and Revan had stumbled upon them before. Every time she found one, Revan would explore it, pitting her skills against the creatures that attacked her. She did not relish their death, but most were dangerous creatures that might threaten a stray child or unwary hunter. This ruin was smaller than most, consisting of only a few rooms. It might have been a hermit's dwelling, or that of a reclusive scholar. Unfortunately, the passage of time had erased any evidence of those who used to live there.
Revan entered the ruin, wary of any traps or rogue creatures. The walls were carefully constructed of stone and, though most of the walls were intact, it had fallen in at places. The roof had collapsed and decayed long ago, and all the windows were shattered. Dead leaves carpeted the floor, but surprisingly there were no animals residing inside. The Force was stronger here, but it too was faded, like a memory. Revan went into each room, always on alert for traps or hidden beasts, but there was nothing, not even in her special Force sight. Usually there was something: a mole, or a few mice burrowing among the leaves. But there was nothing in this ruin.
Disturbed, she turned and started for the door. As she walked back through the first room, her foot dragged and hit something solid buried in the leaves. Revan stopped in her tracks and immediately dug through the layers of decay until her fingers wrapped around a metal object the size of her fist. She pulled it out to discover an ancient holocron, a recording device that did not fit with the technology of Thedas. The holocron seemed intact, despite centuries, if not millennia, of neglect. Revan, curious of what secrets might be stored within, activated the holocron with the press of a button. A hologram of a human male flickered to life. He was dressed in the traditional robes of the Jedi, but a staff, similar in appearance to Marethari's, was strapped to his back.
"I am Jedi Knight Gheis Dahn," the Jedi bowed with his arms crossed over his chest, the way the Dalish bowed to their elders. Surprisingly, he was speaking Basic, not the native language of the planet. Whatever he had had to say, he had meant it for another Jedi. "I left the Order in search of Sith survivors after the Great Hyperspace War, but crashed here instead."
The Great Hyperspace War had happened a millennia ago, between the Sith and the Republic. Revan held the artifact delicately, now knowing its true value. The Knight went on to explain his life with the ancient elves, survivors of the destruction of their original homeland. He went on to explain that, though only a handful lived in the forest, they were the only elves who had been able to keep all of their old culture. The other elves had been taken a millennia earlier by an empire known as the Tevinter Imperium. He then described in great detail everything they had taught him: language, culture, technology, even magic. Unfortunately, age had taken its toll on the holocron, and some parts of it were corrupted. If T3-M4 had been with her, she might have been able to recover most of it, but her slicing skills were not as advanced as his were.
The holocron was long; it contained hours of material. Realizing this, Revan shut it off and started back to the camp. She needed to give this to Marethari, considering that half of their culture seemed to be stored on its memory card.
"Yes, Mi'harel? Are you in need of something?" Marethari greeted her without looking up from the salve she was mixing. The sun was at its zenith; normally Revan would be hunting or training with the others.
"I have something that is of much interest to you," Revan smiled, the holocron resting in her hand.
Marethari straightened, stretching out her back as she stood. "What is it?"
Revan held out the small metal object. "It's called a holocron. From where I come from, they store information. And this one contains information about the elves. Almost all of it, in fact. I translated it from my language to yours on the way here, and there are some spots where the information was deleted, but…this little thing has almost all of your culture on it."
The Keeper was astonished. Understandably, she doubted the truth to Revan's words, but she was nonetheless flabbergasted that such a thing existed. She accepted the gift reverently, as if it would dissolve into dust at any moment.
"Thank you," she whispered. "I…I don't know what to say, but thank you. You have no idea what this means to me, to my clan."
Revan smiled benevolently. "But I do. That's why I gave it to you."
Marethari bowed deeply, then rushed into her aravel to begin studying it. Revan felt good. Finally, she had done something right.
A few days after Revan had given her the holocron, Marethari decided to move camp. Revan was still a guest to the clan, and so Lyna and her guardian, Ashalle, had taken her in. They instructed her how to pack the aravel, and about how they would travel. Apparently the aravels, or land ships, were drawn by the halla. Revan had seen the white deer many times during her stay with the Dalish, but their keeper, Maren, was exceptionally nervous around her, so she avoided them as much as possible. The halla assigned to their aravel were also nervous around Revan, and she could understand why.
Revan was impressed by how quickly the Dalish could dismantle their camp. They reminded her of the Mandalorians, who could pack up and leave in a matter of hours. The clan was ready to leave by noon, and they began their trek westward. The Keeper had not given a reason why they should leave, but they willingly obeyed her command without question anyway.
It was hard going. The trail they were following was an old game trail, filled with ruts and bumps. The Dalish walked either in front or behind the aravels, and luckily, breaks were plentiful. Lyna and Ashalle had a spot near the front of the caravan, so Revan had plenty of opportunities to consort with her friends, particularly Merrill, Lyna, and Fenarel. Even though they were several years younger than Revan, they were more intelligent than most Jedi in her generation, but that assessment was based on Knights such as Bastila. Merrill, though curious and open with Revan, cautiously avoided the others, and they avoided her.
The second day of traveling, they encountered rain. It was just a light shower, but over the hours all the water began to accumulate. The already horrible trail became full of mud and potholes, impeding progress and making the hallas work for every step. Despite the dreary weather, Revan refused to ride in the rickety aravel, a choice that Lyna assured her was wise.
Near sundown, she noticed that the aravel following theirs had dropped out of hearing. Revan twisted around to see no sign of the other land ship. She called out to Ashalle, who hurried to report it to the Keeper. The caravan screeched to a halt, the rain perpetually soaking everyone as they emerged from the safety of their aravels to see what the commotion was all about. Revan began walking back alone along the trail to see what had happened to the rest of the clan.
The Dalish in the separated section of the caravan were all gathered anxiously around a precariously lurching aravel. One of the older children standing nearby explained to Revan that the aravel had broken a wheel over a pothole. Some of the hunters there were vainly trying to lift the aravel in order to replace the damaged wheel, but they didn't have the strength to do it. Revan nodded in understanding, but before she could do anything to help, she felt the unmistakable presence of the Keeper behind her.
"A broken wheel, hmm?" the Keeper crossed her arms and pursed her lips. "Go get the other hunters, child. Perhaps, with many hands, we can lift it."
The child nodded in consent and ran off to fetch the hunters. Marethari then turned her attention to Revan.
"You, Mi'harel, have no regard for authority, do you?" the Keeper questioned.
Revan shrugged, "Never have, probably never will."
The Keeper smiled grudgingly but turned away, waiting for the hunters to arrive.
Soon the child returned, followed by the rest of the hunters including Lyna, Tamlen, and Fenarel. Lyna gave Revan the I-told-you-so look, and Tamlen, the notorious rule-breaker, gave her a respectful nod. The Dalish always deferred to the Keeper, something that, after almost a month of living with them, Revan still hadn't gotten used to. The hunters silently glided over to the aravel and positioned themselves to lift the large land ship. Revan joined them, squeezing between Lyna and Fenarel. The Keeper, Merrill, her First, and a few others stood nearby, a new wheel in hand.
"On my count," the Keeper shouted. "One…two…three…lift!"
The hunters struggled to lift the heavy aravel, panting with the exertion. The aravel was lifted almost a foot, but the pothole was too deep, and the others couldn't replace the wheel. The Keeper ordered the hunters to set it down, letting them rest before they tried again. Revan walked up to the Keeper.
"Let me try. I can lift it. I think," she pleaded, her voice pitched so only the Keeper could hear. None of the Dalish, besides the Keeper, knew of her power.
Marethari pursed her lips, unsure. "Fine," she relented. "You can try. I want to see this power of yours, anyway."
The Keeper gestured for all the hunters to move aside. She let Revan approach, waiting expectantly. Revan closed her eye, extended her arms, and, with a huge mental effort, lifted the entire aravel several meters off the ground. It was heavy, but Revan knew she could hold it. She heard the other Dalish around her whisper excitedly. The Keeper worked quickly to replace the wheel, perhaps seeing the extreme concentration it was taking Revan to keep the aravel up. Through her special sight, she saw Merrill glancing at her in awe and her friends openly staring. Soon, however, Marethari had finished, and Revan gently lowered the aravel back onto the ground. She inhaled deeply, her hands shaking from the effort, and opened her eye to find all the Dalish staring at her in amazement.
"What?" she demanded.
The Dalish looked away sheepishly, not saying anything, and went to push the aravel out of the pothole. Revan joined them and, though they gave her wary looks, let her help. After much groaning and effort, the halla managed to pull the aravel out of the rut, and the Dalish dispersed back to their own aravels to escape the rain. Revan and Lyna headed back to their own aravel with Lyna bursting with questions.
"What was that?" the eager young hunter asked. "I've never seen magic like that!"
Revan shrugged, "It's called the Force. It's energy drawn from life itself."
"So, you aren't a mage?"
"Not like Marethari or Merrill," Revan answered. She thought for a second, and then responded, "But you could consider me such."
In her Force vision Revan saw Merrill running from behind to catch up to them. She spun around, startling Merrill a bit.
"The…the Keeper wishes to speak with you, Mi'harel," the First bowed her head respectfully.
She exchanged a nervous glance with Lyna, then strode forward to meet the apprentice.
Merrill was soaked to the bone, but she continued through the rain with stark determination. Revan felt that she was the only one in the clan that even vaguely understood the young girl. Merrill was stubborn, strong-willed, and determined, even if she didn't appear to be because of her willowy frame and meek disposition. This was a girl who would do what she had to, whatever it took, and Revan admired her for that.
"What magic was that?" she asked curiously.
"The Force," Revan said again. "The power of life, an energy field that binds every living thing together."
Merrill nodded in understanding. After a pause, she asked, "Can you teach me?"
Revan smiled, glancing at the slender elf from the corner of her eye. "I don't know. Are you ready to spend years to master something that you might never understand? Are you ready to give up everything you love, your clan, your future, your home, for power?"
Merrill thought about it. "I…guess not. Not yet, at least."
"There is nothing wrong with wanting power," Revan said after a pause. "But you have to be prepared to accept the consequences."
They continued on in silence, having nothing more to say to each other. Marethari was slowly meandering toward them, deep in discussion with some of the elders of the clan. Merrill unconsciously moved closer to Revan; recently, Merrill and Marethari hadn't seen eye to eye, and neither understood the other. Marethari stiffened once she saw them approach, but otherwise seemed unperturbed. Merrill, however, looked at the ground, torn between her respect for her mentor and her own beliefs. Revan had faced a similar situation with her own mentor, Kreia.
Revan crossed her chest and bowed from the waist in greeting. "I was told you wished to speak to me, Keeper," she said when there was a lull in her conversation.
"Yes," Marethari slowly turned her attention to the Jedi. "I have something…private I wish to discuss with you."
"Oh, I guess you mean me," Merrill stated, abashed. "Right, I'll just leave then…"
The Keeper waited for Merrill to be far out of earshot before continuing. She cleared her throat, and the other elders dispersed in an instant.
"I have…talked with the others. We feel that you are a valuable part of the clan, and we wish to…" Marethari searched for the words. "We wish to grant you the ability to use lyrium."
Revan raised her brow in disbelief. "Lyrium? But I thought you had to be born with the ability to use it!"
"You do," Marethari stated, strolling along the path. Revan spun and followed. "And you were, according to your…'holocron.' However, since you have this 'Force,' you cannot use lyrium. That is, unless you partake in a ritual."
"Mmm, rituals…" Revan mused. "From what you and Merrill have told me, they're nasty."
"Usually," the Keeper agreed. "This one is still…bad, but we agree that you can be trusted."
"So, you're just giving me power? Just like that? You barely know me!" Revan exclaimed.
Marethari chuckled, "Exactly."
Revan pondered this. "I have done terrible things with power," she informed the elf after a minute of thinking.
"I have no doubt you have," she responded. "You seem the type who has seen much during your short life."
"And you still trust me with it?"
"The fact that you are trying to dissuade me from giving you the power is proof enough that you will not abuse it," the Keeper observed.
"Perhaps I'm trying to delude you into thinking that I'm a good person," Revan pointed out. "Then, you'll offer me this power and I will use it to obliterate your clan."
The Keeper laughed at the suggestion. "My dear, I think you would have done that already if you had wanted to destroy the clan."
Revan smiled. The Keeper really did trust her, which she hadn't expected to happen. And she really did want to give Revan an enormous amount of power. Revan had seen the Keeper and her First at work, and she had seen the power of this lyrium they used. It was just as powerful as the Force, and just as dangerous. If Revan accepted Marethari's offer, she would be susceptible not just to the Dark side, but also to demons from the Fade. Even though she wanted to accept it, she wasn't sure if she was strong enough to resist both.
"I…I need to think about it," she responded after a minute of careful contemplation.
The Keeper nodded in acknowledgement. "Take your time, Mi'harel."
Revan returned to the aravel, deep in thought. Like a good Jedi, she carefully weighed the risks with the benefits, contemplated the possible consequences of every decision, and evaluated her own self to see if she was worthy. Throughout it all, the memories of her past haunted her, coloring her thoughts with doubt. She had done horrible, horrible things with power that she had been given freely. Could she trust herself not to repeat the mistakes of the past?
She waged war with herself for several more days. The clan, meanwhile, had found a suitable spot to pitch camp, and the Dalish began setting up. Revan helped, but she was only performing her duties in a perfunctory manner, her mind still deadlocked with indecision.
Lyna and Fenarel, concerned with Revan's mental health, dragged her with them to scout the area for game trails, water sources, and potentially dangerous places in the forest, one of the hunters' many duties. They didn't understand why she was so lethargic and unresponsive and hoped that an outing in the woods would clear her mind.
"Are you okay, Mi'harel?" Fenarel asked her a few minutes after they had left.
"I…I'm fine," Revan stared ahead, avoiding their gazes.
"You don't seem fine," Lyna pointed out.
Revan closed her eye, letting her senses guide her. "I…just have a lot on my mind, that's all."
"Let us help!" Lyna begged, grabbing her arm. "We're your friends!"
Revan stopped in her tracks. "Friends?"
"Yeah, Mi'harel. We're friends. Or, so I thought," the young woman said.
Revan hadn't thought about it. Her mind had been so focused on herself that she had forgotten about everyone else. Revan realized that they were her friends. She needed to tell them about Marethari's offer, especially since it affected them too.
She sighed, and stated, "You want to help me? Marethari offered to make me a mage, and I don't know what to do."
Lyna and Fenarel exchanged startled glances. That wasn't the answer they had been expecting.
"Well, accept it!" Tamlen emerged from the trees. They all turned to look at him, surprise reflecting in their eyes. "What?"
"Don't sneak up on us like that!" Lyna yelled at him.
"If you had been paying attention, you would have heard me coming!" he retorted.
"And if you had been paying attention, you would have noticed that we were kind of preoccupied!" she returned.
Revan and Fenarel exchanged knowing glances. Fenarel leaned closer to her and whispered, "I think you should accept, as well."
"I have done atrocious things with power," Revan told him as Lyna and Tamlen argued in the background. "Horrible things. If I was granted more power now, I don't know if I'll be able to control it. I don't wish to endanger the clan."
Fenarel thought about this. "I trust you. I wouldn't have taken you on as a partner, otherwise."
Revan smiled in gratitude. Together, they surreptitiously slipped past the arguing couple and arrived back in camp. Fenarel accompanied Revan to the Keeper's aravel, where she was mixing yet more salves.
"Keeper," Revan bowed respectfully at her open door.
Marethari paused and looked down. "Yes, Mi'harel? Have you made a decision?"
"Yes, Keeper," Revan said. She looked and Fenarel for reassurance; he nodded, and she continued. "I accept your offer, if it is still open."
The aging Keeper cracked a smile. "Alright, then, Mi'harel. Find my First and tell her you have accepted. She will prepare the ritual."
Revan bowed again and left to find Merrill. She and Fenarel walked in silence, having nothing further to say. Merrill was at Variel's aravel, a sweet young woman who had recently joined the clan. She had brought her young sister with her, as well. Revan had often seen them by the fire, listening with interest to Paivel's tales with the other young people of the clan. The little girl, Emmeline, seemed to possess a great deal of raw magical talent, and if Merrill hadn't been Marethari's First, she probably would be. Merrill, upon closer inspection, was trying to approach the girl, who was slowly backing away, toward the forest. Variel stood nearby, waiting apprehensively. The girl's arm hung at a strange angle, and tears streaked her face, but still Merrill hung back. Perhaps it was due to the vicious burn marks surrounding the child and the bushes with little candle-like flames burning on their tips.
Revan walked up beside Merrill and laid her hand lightly on the timid First's shoulder. Merrill jumped a bit, on edge because of the threat of the girl's magic. "Let me try," Revan told her softly.
Carefully, as if approaching a wild beast, Revan lithely glided toward the young girl. Emmeline backed away in fear, but before she could make a move to defend herself, Revan squatted, resting on her calves. With a smile, Revan asked, "Have you ever heard the story of Mission?"
Emmeline looked puzzled. "No," she said innocently.
"I'm surprised!" Revan exclaimed. "She is famous from where I come from!" Of course, this was a bit of an exaggeration, but, considering that Mission, the Twi'lek girl that had accompanied her on her quest to defeat Malak, now owned a prestigious business that was beginning to branch all over the galaxy, it wasn't too much of a stretch.
However, this had caught Emmeline's attention. So, Revan continued. "Mission was a fighter. When she was young, only about your age, her brother took her to the world of Taris, where only the strongest survive. Then, he met a girl and, to get his sister off his back so he could make more money, left her on Taris. To survive…" Revan continued talking, telling all she knew about Mission's past, making up exciting stories every once and awhile. Eventually, Emmeline sat on the ground to get more comfortable, completely forgetting the pain of her fractured arm in the excitement of the story. Revan discreetly gestured to Merrill to advance cautiously. Merrill understood, and carrying her salves and bandages in one arm and her staff tucked under another, set the girl's arm and loosely mended the bones with magic to stimulate the healing process. Revan continued talking, winding up the tale.
"So, she shot the swindler square in the forehead. He fell to the floor, as dead as a doorknob. Then, she and Zalbaar gathered up their stolen merchandise, flew back to the station they had bought, and set up shop."
"And?" Emmeline asked eagerly. "What happened then?"
"Well, that's where she is today," Revan concluded as Merrill stepped back. "Selling her wares to the rich and the poor, helping all those in need that know where to find her."
"That's it?" Emmeline begged. "But, how does she die? All the heroes in the stories die!"
Revan smiled her sad smile. "Mission's special: she hasn't died yet. But now, your mother is calling."
"Oh!" she protested, but skulked off anyhow. Revan pushed herself off her now-sore calves, standing and stretching like a cat. She saw Fenarel jump to his feet as well, since he had been listening as well. Merrill approached Revan, rubbing her arm awkwardly.
"Thank you, Mi'harel," she looked at the ground.
"You are welcome," Revan said. "Children don't know how to handle pain like adults do. The best way to treat them is to distract them."
She nodded, still not meeting Revan's gaze.
"Is everything okay?" the Jedi asked.
"Yes, everything is fine," Merrill responded perfunctorily. "Is there something you needed, Mi'harel?"
"Yeah, there was something," Revan racked her brain. "Oh, I have accepted the Keeper's offer."
Merrill sighed, but said, "Very well. I will prepare the ritual. Even though I have no idea what I'm doing, or how to do it. Or why she can't do it herself."
Revan assumed that she and Marethari had had another argument. Most of the time, the Keeper and her apprentice didn't see eye-to-eye, as the saying went. Merrill sulked off to do the things that the ritual required. Then, Revan turned to Fenarel, a grin crossing her face.
"I did good," she proclaimed.
The elf laughed. "Yes, Mi'harel, you did good. You know, you should reconsider being a hunter. You'd make an excellent storyteller!"
Revan chuckled at the idea. "Most of my stories would be about war and death, and besides, most of that story I told Emmeline was made up anyway."
Fenarel shrugged, and they made their merry way to the campfire, where Paivel was telling another story, this one based on actual events, and not on Revan's mind.
A few hours later, as the sun was setting in the sky, Merrill touched Revan on the shoulder.
"It's time," she said darkly.
Fenarel took her hand and squeezed it reassuringly. Giving him a sad smile, Revan followed Merrill to the grassy area behind the Keeper's aravel. The Keeper was there, her face illuminated by a small fire. Next to her lay a wooden stirring rod, a glowing knife, and a silver chalice. The chalice held a dark liquid that reminded Revan of blood. The Keeper met and held Revan's stare, almost as if she was verifying that Revan was ready for this by staring into her soul.
"Are you ready?" Marethari finally asked.
"Yes," Revan took a deep breath.
The Keeper grabbed the knife and stood. Merrill quickly retrieved the chalice and followed on the older woman's heels. Revan grimaced as she realized what they were going to do, but she held out her hand nonetheless. A small smile crossed Marethari's face when she did this, and again the Keeper adopted the attitude of a pedagogue.
"Not your blood, dear," she explained. "The blood required must come from a mage."
Revan looked from Marethari to Merrill, who nodded solemnly. "I have to drink Merrill's blood?" she asked incredulously.
"Unfortunately," Merrill confirmed with a sour expression.
"That, combined with the raw lyrium and dragon's blood, imbued with a magical ritual Merrill performed earlier, will enable your body to use lyrium," Marethari explained as she grasped Merrill's hand firmly with her old, veined talons. She took the dagger, which Revan realized was made of lyrium, and cut Merrill's palm vertically.
"Ow!" Merrill complained.
"You've suffered more pain than this, child," Marethari reminded her as she tipped Merrill's hand over the chalice. The blood ran down, dripping down into the dark blood below, gleaming like liquid rubies in the firelight. With a small grin, Marethari handed the faintly glowing chalice to Revan and said, "Drink up."
"What, no secret incantations?" Revan asked facetiously.
"No, just drink," the Keeper said, watching Revan's face intently.
Revan looked into the black blood, and with an unceremonious shrug, drank the contents.
"Hmm…" Revan lowered the chalice, having drunk its contents. "Tastes like cherri—"
The pain hit her like a meteorite, worse than anything she had ever experienced. And, as the pain overwhelmed her entire being, she blacked out for the third time in her life.