The world's in a bad way, my man,
And bound to be worse before it mends.
—Robinson Jeffers, The Stars Go Over The Lonely Oceans
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In the darkness, time crawled.
With her back to the wall, Tephra remained crouched and poised on the balls of her feet — waiting.
The templars would be changing shifts soon.
By her estimate, they changed every two hours. And each hour, they checked in on her through the small window in the door. With each change of guard at the end of their shift, the door was opened and a soldier would take stock of her, before the door was shut again. The one currently outside was young, barely more than a youth. He'd been nervous when he looked in on her, and quick to snap the window shut again.
Any time now, another templar would come and take his place.
Until then, she waited in silence and listened.
Her ears strained to discern what distant noises she could hear — the shuffle of boots, the clank of locks and doors, the distant howl of the wind outside. It was impossible to gauge the layout of the prison outside the door; she could only prepare for the initial part of her escape plan, which was to make it outside the door without being detected.
After that, she would have to wing it and hope for the best.
It had been hours since they'd poured the water over her, but the chill of the dungeon had kept her damp. It took considerable effort to keep her teeth from chattering. Perhaps they'd meant to let her freeze to death in here, or perhaps they simply didn't care how she died, only that she did, for whatever crime they believed her guilty of.
Not long after the incident earlier with the soldiers, there had been a commotion outside. But it had long since grown quiet, and she was certain that they would come for her any time now. She knew of human justice when it concerned her people and it was rarely ever kind, let alone just.
She could not wait to recoup her full strength; she needed to escape before the chance to ever do so was taken from her.
Tephra closed her eyes and let out a slow breath.
I am not here, she thought to herself.
She repeated it, over and over again in her head as she listened to the approaching footsteps of another templar. She let the mantra still her nerves and calm her fear.
There was a brief moment of banter between the guards before the first departed. Some off-color joke about her race. She paid it no heed, and let the words pulse through her mind like an echoing chant. I am not here.
The prison cell offered no places to hide, only shadows, and the light that shone in through the window each time they checked on her banished them. But it would not matter, if she could stay focused.
It was an old trick, one she learned as a child. As familiar to her as shrugging on a coat.
Tephra could barely discern the outline of the window in the door in the darkness, but she kept her focus on it nonetheless. Any moment now, it would jerk open and the soldiers would crowd in.
She needed to be ready.
"I am not here," she repeated, breathlessly.
She felt the bottom drop out of her stomach, like a sudden fall. And then the magic shimmered close and wrapped tightly around her.
She heard the guard stop at the door and the rough scrape of metal as he slid the window open and peered in. His brow furrowed in confusion, before panic set in. He cursed, before shouting, "The prisoner's escaped! Get the Seeker!"
Chaos ensued.
She heard the rush of soldiers outside the cell, but the door remained closed. The men argued and shouted outside the door ― more voices than she'd anticipated. Her heartbeat quickened, but she took a steadying breath to calm her nerves.
"You fucking idiot, you let her escape!"
"She was just in there, I swear! I just saw her twenty minutes ago when they brought her food!"
A woman's voice suddenly cut through the arguing voices, "Enough! Open it!"
The door was thrown open, and the sudden light of torches blinded her.
Tephra rose slowly from the floor, as her heart pounded in her ears. She ignored the swell of panic in her chest as her sight filtered back to her, and watched as a dozen templars filed into the prison cell. One nearly backed into her, before she managed to slip past him without collision. The soldiers continued to fight among themselves to assign blame, but she ignored it as she moved along the periphery of the cell. She kept herself pressed to the wall to avoid them, as she drew closer to the door. Among the soldiers were two armored women, one of which whom berated the soldiers for their incompetence. The other woman glanced about the cell with a careful, sharp gaze, seemingly assessing the room to discern how their prisoner escaped.
Tephra stilled, and focused. She thought only of absence — of voids, and nothingness. I am not here.
The woman frowned, and looked away.
Tephra slipped out the door and trotted silently down the corridor. With each step, she quickened her pace as the shouting voices grew dimmer behind her. With each step, she was closer to freedom.
Dizzy with elation, she stepped wrong as she passed through an archway and fell against the wall.
Shit.
Had they heard?
She couldn't bring herself to look back. Panic bloomed in her gut as she pushed off the wall, and her stomach heaved as the floor seemed to tilt and tip beneath her as she bolted on unsteady legs.
The hall was long and wide, and lined with empty cells tucked into dark alcoves — a seemingly endless stretch of immuration.
She ran beneath an opening in the ceiling where sunlight poured in; she'd been running too fast to alter her course to avoid it. She barreled through, only to find herself once more blinded and disoriented.
She didn't see the low-hanging brazier until she slammed into it, and was sent stumbling and sprawling to the ground.
The side of her head bounced off the stone tiles, and she rolled slowly onto her side as pain flashed across her senses. She did not hear the guards who found her, only felt their hands on her body as she was roughly hauled to her feet. Lights still danced across her vision as she was escorted back into the cell and shoved to her knees before her captors.
The scrape of swords being pulled from their sheathes echoed around her. As her sight came back to her, Tephra saw that she was surrounded by the chantry soldiers, all of whom had their swords trained on her.
The woman who had charged in earlier stood before her, arms crossed tightly across her chest. Human, like all the rest. Her hair was short and dark, and a thick scar ran from her jaw to her cheekbone. It did not escape Tephra's notice that the templars deferred to this woman.
She must be a Seeker, she surmised.
The other woman stepped out of the shadows, face set still as stone. Her eyebrow quirked, "How did you escape?"
Tephra remained silent, and watched the woman impassively.
"Tell me why we shouldn't kill you now," the Seeker demanded in a low, angry tone. She began to pace around Tephra, as she continued, "The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead ― except for you."
Tephra's head throbbed, and she struggled to remain detached.
Everyone?
Thousands had marched on the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Not just templars and mages, but merchants and lore-keepers, students of history. All sorts of people, cluttering around what was to be another chapter in the history of their world. The temple itself was an architectural wonder, and the camps had stretched for nearly a mile around the temple grounds. Only the respective representatives of each side had been permitted to gather within and meet with the Divine, alongside the Valo-Kas mercenaries serving as impartial peacekeepers between the mage and Templar factions.
How could they all have been killed? How could one person even do that?
When Tephra did not answer, the woman grabbed her arm and lifted it, and demanded, "Explain this."
The mark crackled with energy, as if in response.
The Seeker shoved Tephra's arm back down in disgust. The sound of the heavy manacles hitting the floor echoed loudly around them in the cell.
The need for answers pushed her past the stubborn silence she'd been clinging to. "I can't," she replied, troubled by the truth of it.
Her honesty only angered her captor. "What do you mean you can't?"
"I don't know what that is, or how it got there," she replied quickly. The words left her mouth in a desperate rush to disavow the mark. Even now, her hand throbbed with the pulse of magic ― a sensation wholly foreign and wrong to her.
It didn't belong there, and her body knew it.
All she wanted was to have it gone from her; she'd never asked for this to happen.
The woman rounded on Tephra, slamming both hands down on her shoulders, "You're lying!"
The hooded woman was between them in the span of a breath, pushing the Seeker back as she reminded her, "We need her, Cassandra."
Cassandra gave a sound of disgust and began to stalk a slow circle around Tephra, restless and angry.
The hooded woman turned and spoke to her now, as she queried, "Do you remember what happened? How this began?"
She loomed over Tephra, no less a threat than the other woman, even if she spoke in an almost gentle tone.
No, not gentle ― calm. Controlled. A concealed threat, like an unseen dagger.
Tephra struggled to comply, "I, uh, remember―"
She grappled with her memories, but was met again by the hole in her mind. There was only darkness there. Acres of it, swallowing her up, chasing her, and―
"Running," she said, with sudden certainty. She remembered running for her life from the things in the dark. "Things were chasing me, and then―"
Cassandra continued to stalk circles around her as Tephra struggled to recall what little she could.
"A woman."
Clothed in light, and reaching out to her; the memory came sudden, and unbidden.
The hooded woman echoed her, "A woman?" She was clearly intrigued.
"She reached out to me, but then..."
Tephra fell silent. There was nothing else she could give them. After that, she only remembered waking in the prison.
Cassandra cut through the silence, and said, "Go to the forward camp, Leliana. I will take her to the rift."
The hooded woman gave a terse nod. She shot Tephra troubled frown, before leaving.
Cassandra knelt in front of her and took hold of the heavy manacles that bound Tephra's wrists. As her captor worked the locks, Tephra asked, "What really happened there? No one has explained anything to me."
The manacles fell free in a heavy clamor onto the floor, but the freedom did not last. Cassandra pulled Tephra to her feet, and then began to bind her wrists with rope. With a sharp tug, the Seeker bound her wrists tightly. "It will be easier to show you," she replied.
Tephra had no choice but to follow the Seeker out of the cell.
She struggled to keep upright as the templars hurried her along on wobbly legs. The head wound and an empty stomach left her lightheaded and unsteady on her feet. They led her up into the chantry proper; most of the clerics scattered and retreated behind pillars and templars for safety as they gawked at her.
She did not have time to study her surroundings, as the massive doors to the great hall were thrown open ahead of her. The sunlight was too much. Tephra brought her hands up to block it, blinking furiously until her eyes began to adjust.
And then she felt it.
Something pulled at her. A strange sensation, unseen and unbidden, seemingly tugged her forward, pulled her gaze up and toward the sky, to―
Shock washed over Tephra at the sight of it.
There was a hole in the world where the sky once was. Massive clouds churned in a slow orbit around it, and verdant fire and massive rocks hurtled down out of it. A funnel of terrible energy flowed from the heart of it and to the ground below, somewhere beyond the mountains.
A sick feeling twisted like a dagger in her belly as Tephra realized that the magic that poured from the sky looked just like the magic which burned in her hand.
It was no mystery to her now why they thought her responsible.
"We call it the Breach. It's a massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour," the Seeker informed.
The longer that she looked at it, the greater the sense of falling Tephra felt. A hurtling, hollowing, terrible sensation that moved through her and pulsed in time with the beat of her heart.
"It's not the only such rift, just the largest. All were caused by the explosion at the Conclave," Cassandra explained. The anger had left her, and what remained was calm determination.
Tephra frowned at the woman, "An explosion can do that?"
"This one did," Cassandra replied. "Unless we act, the Breach may grow until it swallows the world."
We?
What did the woman expect her to do?
As if in answer, the hole in the sky flared. Electrical energy discharged from the Breach, cracking like lightning across the sky. Pain jolted up Tephra's arm ― the aches from before had been nothing like this. The pain shocked up her arm and radiated through every part of her. It felt like the marrow in her bones had been set on fire. She cried out as she sank to her knees, with her palm lifted to the sky. It felt as though there was a unseen hook between her hand and the Breach, in that moment.
She could feel the pull of it, of whatever magic linked the mark on her hand and the Breach in the sky ― the pull of it kept her marked hand turned up and reaching toward the void that called to it. It took all of her strength to pull it away.
Cassandra dropped to her knee, and gestured emphatically at the hole in the sky as she said, "Each time the Breach expands, your mark spreads ― and it is killing you. It may be the key to stopping this, but there isn't much time."
Tephra gaped at the woman, incredulous. "The key? To doing what exactly?"
"Closing the Breach," she replied, as if the answer had been completely obvious. "Whether that's possible is something we'll discover shortly. It is our only chance, however. And yours."
Tephra bristled at the implication, "You still think I did this? To myself?"
Cassandra remained unswayed. "Not intentionally. Something clearly went wrong."
"And if I'm not responsible?"
"Someone is," the Seeker replied, with certainty. "And you are our only suspect. You wish to prove your innocence? This is the only way."
Her wrists burned where the ropes held tight against skin long-since chafed raw. The sensible, intelligent part of her brain urged her to say what the Seeker wanted to hear, to be obedient and compliant until she had an opening to escape, but her anger swelled over her. "So I don't really have a choice about this, do I?" She lifted her bound hands to emphasize her statement.
Cassandra gave her a hard, complicated look before she stated, "None of us has a choice."
The Seeker hauled her up by the hood of her of her coat. Tephra had no option but to let the woman lead her through the small township. Every face turned to her as she passed, and each met her with anger and fear. Some spat at her feet, and others cursed openly. The wounded ones simply stared with hollow expressions, looking beyond her to something only they could see.
"They have decided your guilt," Cassandra informed, her statement punctuated by the shouted curses from the townsfolk. "They need it."
Tephra was led down a dirt path toward a gate, as Cassandra continued, "The people of Haven mourn our Most Holy, Divine Justinia, head of the Chantry. The Conclave was hers. It was a chance for peace between mages and templars. She brought their leaders together. Now, they are dead."
The gate was opened for them, and the Seeker pushed her through it and out onto a stone bridge. It was cluttered with the wounded and the dying. A cleric recited religious verses to a group of templars waiting to depart on a mission, and the guards stationed at the gate eyed her with suspicion.
"We lash out like the sky. But we must think beyond ourselves, as she did, until the Breach is sealed."
Tephra felt a twist of anxiety in her gut when the woman pulled a dagger from her belt.
"There will be a trial," Cassandra informed her, before grabbing Tephra's wrist and cutting the ropes that bound her. "I can promise no more. Come. It is not far."
She rubbed at the raw marks on her wrist, as she asked, "Where are you taking me?"
"Your mark must be tested on something smaller than the Breach," Cassandra replied.
And if that worked?
Her gaze turned back to the hole in the sky as she followed the Seeker.
Did they truly expect she could close it? What happened if she couldn't? Execution seemed likely, despite talk of a trial. All it would take was one templar who'd lost enough in this chaos to snap and slip a dagger in her gut.
Fleeing would be practical, and no one could truly fault her motivations for self-preservation. Idly, she wondered how far she would get once word got out.
How far could she really get if everyone in Thedas was looking for her?
Tephra said nothing more as she followed the woman across the bridge, feeling numb and overwhelmed. She ignored the angry stares from the templars as she passed them.
"Open the gate!"
The large wooden doors groaned with age as they parted to permit the women to pass through. As the gate shut once again behind them, no others followed.
Tephra's pulse quickened at the sudden realization that it would only be the Seeker escorting her to this "rift", unaccompanied by templars. It would make escaping far easier than she thought; she simply needed to wait for the right moment to summon the glamour and slip away unseen.
Yet as she followed Cassandra further from the township, past barricades and burning carriages and bodies left to rot in the snow, a dread began to fill her.
It was one thing to be told of the catastrophe ― it was another thing entirely to confront it. This wasn't some nightmare slithering in from her unconscious mind, something that could be undone by simply waking.
She was very much awake, and the world around her was in chaos.
A handful of templars came fleeing past them, and one of them cried out in despair, "Maker! It's the end of the world!"
Again, her eyes were drawn up to the hole in the sky ― to the void that threatened to swallow the world.
That is death itself staring down at us.
She couldn't suppress the shudder that ran through her.
As she crested the hill leading towards another bridge, the Breach flared again. The mark sparked and jolted and brought Tephra stumbling to her knees. As she gasped and struggled to catch her breath around the pain of it, Cassandra helped her back to her feet. It was almost gentle, the way the Seeker handled her.
"The pulses are coming faster now," Cassandra observed. "The larger the Breach grows, the more rifts appear, the more demons appear."
"Then we should be moving faster, too," Tephra replied. She wasn't sure what spurred her compliance, other than to make this easier on herself.
What use was fighting, if she could actually help stop this?
The Seeker gave a terse nod, and continued on toward the bridge.
She hadn't thought to ask before, but her curiosity overwhelmed her. She called after Cassandra, struggling to keep up with the Seeker's quickened pace, "How did I survive the explosion?"
As they crossed through another gate tower and onto the bridge, Cassandra slowed her pace and said, "I cannot answer that for you. What I was told, was that you were found shortly after it happened. They said you... stepped out of a rift, then fell unconscious. They say a woman was in the rift behind you. No one knows who she was. Everything farther in the valley was laid waste, including the Temple of Sacred Ashes. I suppose you'll see, soon enough."
Tephra lapsed into silence, thinking of the woman in her dreams. Burning bright like a beacon in the darkness, reaching out for her.
Had it been a spirit? Or was someone else there like she had been, but trapped? How long could someone survive in such a place no meant for living things?
She did not get to contemplate the matter for long.
A massive burning rock hurtled down out of the sky from the Breach, and struck the center of the bridge. It cleaved through it like a hot knife through butter. The stonework gave way beneath her feet and there was a staggered moment of weightlessness before Tephra hurtled to the frozen river below. She tumbled over herself several times, as her body slammed repeatedly against the rubble on her way down. She rolled to a stop and lay there a moment, dazed, with her cheek pressed against the ice.
Another fireball shot out of the sky and slammed into the ground not far from her. Tephra scrambled back from it as a fissure opened in the ground, and something began to claw its way up out of it.
Cassandra moved ahead of her, drawing her sword and shield. She shouted over her shoulder, "Stay behind me!"
And then, without a moment of hesitation, the Seeker charged forward to face the demon.
Tephra's heart pounded like a war drum in her ears, as she backed away. She had never seen a demon before, let alone fought one. It moved with an unnatural speed, clawing at the Seeker who did her best to barrel it back with her shield. It did not escape her attention that Cassandra was doing her best to keep it from charging past to reach her.
Another fissure rippled and opened in the ground, from which another demon scrabbled up through behind the Seeker.
This is your chance.
She turned, ready to bolt, ready to flee this nightmare ― but was met by the sight of a recurve bow laying among the broken crates and supplies that littered the rubble. Not far from it, was a nearly-full quiver.
Run.
The word screamed through her mind, but all she could think of was the people who'd died because of what happened at the Conclave. Something had happened. Something had marked her. And there was a terrible possibility that she had something to do with it, however small or unwilling the part she played.
How could she leave before finding out what really happened there?
Tephra cursed under her breath and scooped up the quiver and threw it over her shoulder, before grabbing the bow. She quickly nocked an arrow and drew it taut; she let out a slow breath as she brought the bow up to aim. The second demon reared up to swipe its terrible claws at the Seeker's back.
She loosed the arrow and it struck the demon square between the eyes.
Black ichor spurted from the wound as it howled and raged towards her. The second arrow caught it in the neck, and she backed out of its reach as she continued to fire upon it. Quick, short steps to keep herself from slipping on the ice as she concentrated on her aim.
The other demon fell under the brutal swings of the Seeker's sword, and she rounded on the second.
Tephra shot an arrow into its other eye just as Cassandra's sword exploded through the demon's chest. It slumped to the ground, and did not move again.
The Seeker advanced on her, sword drawn. She held it level to Tephra's unarmored chest, as she demanded, "Drop your weapon. Now."
Tephra frowned. "What was I supposed to do? Let it kill me?"
"You don't need to fight," the Seeker insisted, stubbornly.
Tephra gave an incredulous laugh, and said, "And what happens if I die before we get to this rift?"
Cassandra's frown faltered, before she relented and sheathed her sword. Sighing, she said, "You're right. I cannot protect you, and I cannot expect you to be defenseless."
The Seeker's eyes narrowed and caught sight of the slight tremble in Tephra's hands. "Have you never faced a demon before?"
She tightened her grip on the bow to stop the tremble in her hands, "No."
The worse she ever faced in the Free Marches were bears. She never stalked anything that wasn't game animals, and never put herself in the situation to face anything worse than bears. Dealing with bandits could be tiresome, at times, but bears were always worse.
"It does not get easier," Cassandra said, truthfully. "And there will be more."
The Seeker turned to continue onward, but stopped a few steps ahead. She turned back, and looked at Tephra with what looked like tentative approval. "I should remember, you did not attempt to run."
She almost had, but perhaps her faltering had escaped the Seeker's notice in the midst of fighting. Tephra, however, was not going to correct her on it. She simply followed after the woman, keeping her silence as they continued along the frozen river, which snaked between the hillsides.
Tephra did not recognize this area; she had made a point of avoiding this small township, as she had all the other towns and cities of Ferelden. Her mission had been clear and she didn't have the time to consider being distracted by the locals in every other town, friendly or not.
They came to a rocky hill where a stone stairway had been built up along its curve. A stone bridge connected the hill to another across the frozen river, but it had been blown apart by falling debris just as the other before. Cassandra trotted toward the stairs, and began ascending them at a hurried pace.
"We're getting close to the rift!" The Seeker did not break her pace as she shouted back to Tephra, "You can hear the fighting!"
Tephra strained her ears; there were shouts coming from somewhere up on the hill, and the cracking sounds of magic. She called after Cassandra, audibly winded and confused, "Whose fighting?"
"You'll see soon," Cassandra shouted back. "We must help them!"
As they crested the hill, the sounds of fighting grew more intense. Directly ahead of them, she could see it.
The rift.
It hovered like a hole cut through the fabric of reality, suspended in the air, as it grew and collapsed upon itself in a dance of shifting geometric shapes. It had that same eerie green glow as her mark.
Below it, soldiers were fighting demons that had emerged from it.
Before she could utter a word, Cassandra charged ahead. Jolted out of her shocked stupor, Tephra followed after.
They were fighting down below among the ruins of some ancient structure. Tephra felt her stomach leap into her throat as she jumped down from the ledge and into the snowy bank below. Thankfully, her legs did not give out on her as she landed. Exhaustion had set in long ago, and she wasn't sure what kept her going beyond sheer will.
Cassandra charged headfirst into the melee.
She had to admit, the Seeker was fearless.
Tephra, however, was no soldier. She was a hunter, and a scout, and an occasional defender of her clan, but those skirmishes had been few and far between. There'd only ever been a handful of times where she had actually been physically drawn into a fight, and for that, she kept her distance. She skirted the fighting and hopped up along the stone bricks of a half-fallen wall, until she was safe up on a ledge overlooking the battle. It had been part of some old structure that had fallen long ago. She dropped to one knee, and the bow came alive in her hands. She loosed arrow after arrow, with a speed and efficiency that belied the strain of her exhausted body. They found their targets with brutal efficiency.
Two templars fought alongside two civilians, against half a dozen demons. There was an elven mage, whose magic was quickly bringing many of the creatures to a quick death. Fire burst from the mage's staff in a volley of searing magic, pummeling back another demon and turning it to nothing more than quivering, charred flesh.
There was also a dwarf, sporting a wicked-looking crossbow, who was too preoccupied with one demon to see another advancing in his blind spot.
Tephra took aim and loosed.
The arrow pierced through the demon's right eye; it reared back and howled in pain.
As he made a hasty retreat to safety, the dwarf whooped, "That had to hurt!"
Cassandra made quick work of the half-blind demon, which was the last of the them to fall.
When the fighting ceased, Tephra eased herself down from the ledge. She was once again thankful that her knees did not give out on her. Her heart raced in her chest as she stepped closer to the rift, mesmerized by the bright green magic burning a hole through the air. Burning a hole through the world, and into the Fade itself.
The mage grabbed her by the wrist and hauled her bodily toward it, as he urged, "Quickly! Before more come through!"
With that, he thrust her hand toward the rift and held it there.
Though she touched nothing physical, it felt as if she had. The rift's magic sent a piercing jolt through her arm, and she felt the tremendous power of it pulse against her palm — and then she felt the mark respond in kind. Pain swelled in a crescendo across her nerves, eliciting a gasp from her that she could not suppress. There was another force, more subtle than the rift, that poured into her from the mage from where his hand gripped her arm. Of that, she was certain, as it masked the pain that came from the mark in her hand.
The pulsing swelled as the magic from the rift pressed against her — or did it come from the mage? — pressed through her. It filled her to bursting, crowding out her breath, until she was sure that she would faint, building and building — until a burst of energy sent her stumbling backward.
The rift imploded on itself in a blinding flash of light, and dissipated.
Clutching her hand, she gaped at the mage, "What did you do?"
Amused, the elf replied, "I did nothing. The credit is yours."
She frowned, and looked at her hand. The mark was calm once again, just a seam of shimmering green running across her skin. The persistent ache that had plagued her since waking in the prison was curiously gone, as well. She raised her palm and gestured it to him, "You mean this?"
"Whatever magic opened the breach in the sky also placed that mark upon your hand," he replied. "I theorized the mark might be able to close the rifts that have opened in the Breach's wake — and it seems I was correct."
"Meaning it could also close the Breach itself," the Seeker surmised, with cautious optimism.
"Possibly," the mage replied, carefully. He was seemingly unwilling to deal in certainty on that matter, lest he be wrong. Though he seemed elated to have been correct about the rifts, and brightened with relief. He turned his attention back to her, and gave her a warm smile, "It seems you hold the key to our salvation."
Something told her that it wasn't quite as simple as that.
The dwarf piped up behind them, "Good to know! Here I thought we'd be ass-deep in demons forever."
Tephra turned as the dwarf sauntered toward her, and introduced himself, "Varric Tethras. Rogue, storyteller, and occasionally unwelcome tagalong."
He winked at the Seeker, who in turn gave him a frustrated grimace in response.
Tephra couldn't discern why he, or the mage, would be working with the templars, not unless—
"Are you with the chantry?"
The mage laughed behind her, and quipped, "Was that a serious question?"
Tephra flushed. It was a good-natured laugh, not at all mocking, but she felt stupid for having asked.
The dwarf gave her an amused smile, before dropping his gaze almost sheepishly and idly readjusting his gloves, "Technically I'm a prisoner, just like you."
His candor caused her wariness to waver, if only briefly.
"At this rate, we prisoners will soon outnumber our captors," she observed, dryly.
Varric laughed again, and the mage smiled.
"Enough of that, before I put you all in irons," Cassandra barked, her voice a cracking whip of authority. "I brought you here to tell your story to the Divine. Clearly that is no longer necessary."
"Yet, here I am. Lucky for you, considering current events," Varric retorted.
There was a tension there that spoke of a much older relationship between them than just captor and prisoner. The two of them obviously had a history of some sort.
"That's a nice crossbow you have there," she remarked, as she eyed the weapon with appreciation for its craftsmanship. And it really was; she'd never seen anything like it before.
"Ahh — isn't she?" The dwarf gave a exhalation of pride, and said, "Bianca and I have been through a lot together." He spoke more to his crossbow than to her, as he gazed over his shoulder at the weapon.
A smile crept across Tephra's mouth, however small, as she asked, "You named your crossbow Bianca?"
"Of course."
It took all of that moment to decide that she liked this dwarf. "It's good to meet you, Varric," she said, and meant it.
"You may reconsider that stance, in time," the mage remarked from behind her, with dry amusement.
"Aw," Varric feigned a wounded look. "I'm sure we'll all become great friends in the valley, Chuckles."
"Absolutely not," Cassandra interjected, clearly not amused with their banter. "Your help is appreciated, Varric, but—"
"Have you been in the valley lately, Seeker? Your soldiers aren't in control anymore. You need me," he said, punctuating the last bit with a cocksure smile.
He was right — four was better odds against demons that just two — however loathe Cassandra was to admit it. She gave a sound of disgust and frustration before she turned on her heel and relented.
Tephra almost felt sorry for her. She'd never been comfortable leading a scout team, let alone a hunting party. But a battalion of soldiers? She couldn't imagine that kind of pressure.
"My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions," the mage spoke up at her side, smiling at her with an amiable ease had begun to unsettle her.
Why was he smiling at her so much? He certainly didn't smile much — if at all — at the other two. Had he neglected to notice the hole in the sky, and the general end-of-the-world madness around them? Was he simply excited about the strange magic in her hand, because he was a mage? Or simply and elf happy to see another elf, amidst so many humans?
Regardless, her recent experiences in the prison had shuttered whatever disposition she might have had for making new friends.
Sensing her unease, he quickly added, "I am pleased to see you still live."
"He means: I kept that mark from killing you while you slept," Varric piped up, in a wry tone.
Tephra looked between them, warily. She could vaguely remember a voice in the dark, but that had been a dream. Hadn't it? Who was this mage, that knew so much about the mark on her hand, and the Breach? She could not keep the suspicion from her face as she remarked, "You seem to know a great deal about it all."
"Solas is an apostate, well-versed in such matters," Cassandra said, matter-of-fact.
"Technically, all mages are now apostates, Cassandra," Solas replied, a bit dryly. He turned his attention back to her, "My travels have allowed me to learn much of the Fade, far beyond the experience of any circle mage. I came to offer whatever help I can with the Breach. If it is not closed, we are all doomed, regardless of origin."
"How heroic of you," she replied, flatly. She was unable to shake her wariness of him — of any of them, no matter how charming the dwarf was. She could still feel the press of metal against her skin, even with the shackles gone. No matter their friendliness, she could not forget that she was not free among them.
"Merely sensible, although good sense appears to be in short supply as of late," Solas replied. He glanced at her wrists, where she'd been unconsciously rubbing at the marks.
Tephra stopped when she caught him looking, and let her hands fall back at her sides.
For a moment, his expression grew dark, as he added, "People tend to lose much of their sensibilities in the face of things they do not understand."
She frowned. Was he apologizing for the guards?
"For what it is worth, those involved were reprimanded," the Seeker noted. "Quite severely."
Tephra regarded the woman with a flat stare, as she adjusted the collar of her coat. The marks there from being choked by the hood had grown a ghastly shade of purple. She made certain the Seeker saw them, as she said, "It's worth little to me."
Varric shook his head, and looked away. Solas did not.
Cassandra had the grace to look troubled, if only briefly. "You never explained how you managed to escape your prison cell," she remarked, with sudden interest. "How you slipped past eleven men without being seen."
A deflection from the shame she hoped the Seeker felt.
It was a practical inquiry, given her position, but there was a speck of doubt somewhere in there as well. As if the Seeker wanted to trust her word.
"They let me out," Tephra replied, simply. It was, technically, the truth. "It isn't my fault they didn't see me."
The dwarf erupted in laughter, before being quickly silenced by the Seeker's disapproving frown. He cleared his throat and fell silent, though still clearly amused. Cassandra turned her harsh gaze back to her, "Running would imply you have something to be guilty for."
Her ire ignited like a wildfire.
"I woke in chains. The guards treated me as less than an animal. No one explained what had happened, or why I was being detained. They put their hands on me and held me while they simulated my drowning," she replied, defiantly. "Running was the most honest thing I could do."
Cassandra's gaze raked over her, looking for the lie.
Tephra knew enough of Seekers to know how exquisitely trained they were in detecting falsehoods. She hoped that she wouldn't be forced to lie to this woman, as she was certain it wouldn't hold up to such thorough scrutiny.
The Seeker's hard expression softened, if only by a fraction. "Those were not my men who treated you as such. I did not permit them such abuses. I left clear instructions. They will be held accountable for their behavior."
Tephra cared little whether or not they would be.
What had happened, happened.
All she wanted was to do what was asked of her, so that she would be free to go home to her clan. And if it seemed unlikely that they would release her, she would slip away at the first opportunity that presented itself.
"Cassandra, you should know that the magic involved here is unlike any I have seen. Your prisoner is no mage, however inexplicable her brief escape was," Solas said, breaking through the awkward silence that had settled between her and the Seeker. He glanced at her briefly, seemingly intrigued himself to know the answer, before he continued, "Indeed, I find it difficult to imagine any mage having such power."
"Understood," Cassandra conceded. "We've wasted enough time here. We must get to the forward camp, and quickly."
With that, the Seeker began ahead in the direction of the Breach with a purposeful stride. The mage followed after.
"Well, Bianca's excited!" Varric jested, as he moved past her to follow the others.
Tephra idled a moment, watching them descend down along the pathway. It would easy to slip away now, but she did not know this land and these so-called rifts were expelling demons beyond counting. She couldn't imagine being able to bring one down by herself, let alone more. It was less of a risk to follow them, at least for the time being.
Reluctantly, she followed after.
.
.
.
.
.
.
The path they followed snaked alongside the frozen river, leading further into the hills as it cut through the valley.
Fortunately, the journey was quiet, but for the occasional chunks of burning Fade which came hurtling out of the Breach.
As they descended down a snowy bank towards a frozen lake, Tephra surveyed several hunting cabins scattered along the far shore. Many had been collapsed by falling debris. Only one still stood, though it was actively burning down.
She started towards the building, but Cassandra caught her by the arm.
"They've already been evacuated," she informed. "We must move on."
A knot settled in the pit of Tephra's stomach, as she trekked past. It was good to know the houses were empty, but still, they were homes that belonged to someone, somewhere, and soon they would be no more than ash in the snow.
As she watched the fires devouring the cabin, she thought briefly of a time before when she had known a similar loss. When she turned to follow after Cassandra, she found the mage staring at her again, as though she were a puzzle to be solved.
Tephra hastened after the Seeker to avoid his piercing gaze.
Solas cleared his throat, as he called after her, "You are Dalish, but clearly away from the rest of your clan. Did they send you here?"
She shot him a curious glance, and took note of his unmarked face, "What do you know of the Dalish?"
The mage kept his tone amiably neutral, quickening his pace to match hers as he replied, "I have wandered many roads in my time and crossed paths with your people on more than one occasion."
Crossed paths.
It was a deliberate choice of words, and there was a trap laid there. Of that much, she was certain.
Had he meant to provoke her? Or was he simply trying to draw her out into conversation?
She eyed his bare face again, briefly, before turning her attention back to the path ahead. She'd heard that city elves held varying opinions of the Dalish, ranging from the strange veneration of their freedom and stilted knowledge of their customs, to outright mistrust and scorn.
What sort was he?
Whatever his intent, she remained silent as she trudged through the snow, following after the Seeker.
He shot her a curious glance when she didn't take the bait.
"It is silence, then? As you wish," he conceded, as he slowed his pace and permitted what small privacy the few feet of distance offered.
"Elves," the dwarf grumbled, largely to himself.
The path brought them to another stone stairway that cut a path up the hillside.
She wanted to groan in frustration, in exhaustion, about how many damnable staircases the humans had built into the hillsides of this area. About how they'd chosen to put their temple so deeply in the mountain. Still, no matter how tired she was, she kept her silence on the matter. She did not care to appear weak to them, even if it was justified by imprisonment and prolonged unconsciousness.
"So," the dwarf piped up, as they began to ascend the stairwell. "Are you innocent?"
"I don't remember what happened," Tephra replied, ignoring the burning strain in her thighs from climbing the stairs. "Not that it mattered much to them."
"That'll get you every time," the dwarf sighed. "Should have spun a story."
"That's what you would have done," Cassandra snapped in annoyance, ahead of them all.
The dwarf laughed, "It's more believable and less prone to result in premature execution."
Beyond the stairs, the hill continued upward sharply. The path winded up toward another gated bridge, but even from this distance she could see it.
Another rift.
At the sight of it, the mark on her hand flared. Tephra hissed, and clenched her hand into a fist. Not that it did anything to relieve the pain, but came as instinct to do, as one would grip a cramped leg or busted knee.
"That didn't sound good," the dwarf said, gently.
"Hold on, we haven't much further to go," Cassandra urged. Rushing forward up the hill, she shouted, "You can do this!"
She had no choice but to follow.
The muscles in her thighs continued to strain, but it wasn't much farther. They passed numerous burning carriages and corpses, before cresting the hill. Ahead of them, several templars clashed with demons beneath the rift. The ground was littered with the bodies of demons and templars alike.
One of the soldiers cried out, "Help us! They keep coming!"
Varric sprinted ahead, before falling into a defensive crouch and sending a barrage of crossbow bolts into the nearest demon. It screamed in fury, but Cassandra was on it before it could turn its wrath on the dwarf.
Another scrambled toward her, its long spindly arms outstretched and clawed hands reaching for her. A sudden gust of heat rushed past her, and a massive burst of fire blasted the creature backwards. Before she could react, Solas shoved her towards the rift and urged, "You must seal it quickly, before more emerge. Use the mark!"
"But, I—"
She turned back towards Solas, full of uncertainty, but the mage was already occupied with casting barrier magics around the battered soldiers and blasting back the advancing demons to keep them from reaching her.
She was on her own this time.
Tephra turned back to the rift, unsure of what to do. She could feel the magic rolling off of it in waves; she felt the power of the mark undulating beneath her skin in rhythm with it. Solas had thrown her hand into the one before, like shoving a key into a lock.
Was is it really as simple as that?
She took a steadying breath, her whole body vibrating with sick nervousness. She didn't want to think of what would happened if she couldn't do it again, if the first rift had been a fluke.
Creators, let this work, she thought to herself, before thrusting her hand up towards the rift.
Once again, the mark seared open and magic poured from her palm in a stream of crackling energy. It shot straight into the rift and she felt the clash of magic jolt through her. It felt like punching a wall that wasn't wall. It felt as if every cell in her body was electrified and vibrating and singing — and yet also the unsettling, overwhelming sensation of being torn open.
Her face contorted at the pain, but she gritted her teeth and held her ground; the rift pushed back again against the magic that poured out of her, resisting briefly, before it collapsed.
She stumbled forward a step, as if she'd been leaning on an invisible wall that had suddenly dissipated. The magic receded from her, and she let go of a breath she hadn't been aware of holding.
Cassandra shouted at the templars, "The rift is gone! Open the gate!"
"Right away, lady Cassandra!"
The mage leaned on his staff, somewhat winded, as he said to her, "We are clear for the moment. Well done."
Tephra made a fist with the marked hand, as the ache returned. The green light shined through the cracks between her fingers.
The dwarf eyed her hand, and remarked, "Whatever that thing on your hand is, it's useful."
Useful.
The word felt like a damnation, like a trap, but she wasn't quite certain why.
She said nothing, and focused on keeping her breath steady as she followed them through the gate. To her surprise, the templars neither frowned at her, nor spit at her; they simply stared at her as if she was something they hadn't expected.
Tephra wasn't certain if that could be considered an improvement in her situation, or not.
The bridge was cluttered with crates and supply wagons and more of the dead. So many dead. Toward the far end, a tent and table had been set up at the gate as a makeshift camp to treat the wounded and organize the soldiers. There at the table, the hooded woman from before was arguing loudly with a chantry cleric.
"—have already caused enough trouble without resorting to this exercise in futility!"
The outburst came from an enraged cleric, leaning on a table as he spit vitriol at the hooded woman she'd met before in the prison.
"I have caused trouble?" Leliana echoed, indignantly.
"You, Cassandra, the Most Holy! Haven't you all done enough already?"
"You are not in command here," she all but spat.
The male cleric flushed, and shouted, "Enough! I will not have it!" He stilled suddenly at the sight of their approach, and straightened. "Ah. Here they come."
Leliana turned on her heel, and gave Cassandra a look of relief, "You made it. Chancellor Roderick, this is—"
"I know who she is," he remarked, his tone suddenly calm with certainty. "As Grand Chancellor of the Haven Chantry, I hereby order you to take this criminal to Val Royeaux to face execution."
"Order me?" The Seeker gave an incredulous laugh, "You're a glorified clerk — a bureaucrat!"
Chancellor Roderick scoffed, "And you are a thug — a thug who supposedly serves the Chantry."
"We serve the most holy, Chancellor, as you well know," Leliana corrected.
The Chancellor threw up his hands in frustration, "Justinia is dead! We must elect a replacement, and obey her orders on the matter!" The chancellor looked suddenly past Tephra, and gestured, "You, there. Seize her!"
Tephra didn't have time to react. A soldier grabbed hold of her elbows and wrenched her arms back. She heard a sudden low laugh, and felt her stomach clench with rage.
It was Karsten.
Cassandra was livid. "Release her, now!"
"He'll do no such thing," the Chancellor said. "That creature is responsible for all of this!"
Karsten's armored gloves dug into her flesh, as he said, "I don't think it wise to release her, Seeker. She has been a spiteful wretch, no matter how gently and kindly we treated her. How can we be sure she's not some demon in disguise?"
His grip had loosened briefly as he spoke. It gave Tephra enough leverage to spin on the ball of her foot and smash her forehead into the templar's unguarded face. Blood gushed from his broken nose and sprayed her face, as he sank to his knees in a flurry of incoherent curses.
She spat at him, "That's what your kindness has bought."
She spat again as she was yanked away from him by other chantry men, before before grinning at the gaping onlookers. She imagined she made for a frightening sight, what with a bloodied face and manic grin.
"Maker, take her," Karsten cursed, rising on wobbly legs. "She's worse than a feral dog!"
Cassandra shoved the wounded soldier, "Leave now. You're dismissed."
The soldier spat at the ground. "I don't take orders from you."
The Seeker rounded on the Chancellor, with a threatening hand on her sword hilt. He held his silence stubbornly for a moment, before relenting. He sent the soldier off with a nod.
Tephra yanked herself free of the templar who'd taken hold of her, and he gave no resistance. Varric was laughing and Solas had a small, enigmatic smile on his face.
Cassandra rounded on her, angrily, "Are you quite done?"
Tephra remained furiously silent, ignoring the splitting ache that pulsed in her forehead.
"Call a retreat, Seeker," Roderick advised. "Our position here is hopeless."
"We can stop this before it's too late," Cassandra insisted, having regained her composure.
"You won't survive long enough to reach the temple, even with all your soldiers," the Chancellor said, dismissively.
"It's the quickest route to the temple!"
"But not the safest," Leliana interjected. "Our forces can charge as a distraction while we go through the mountains."
Cassandra gave a grim shake of her head. "We lost contact with an entire squad on that path — it is too risky."
"Listen to me," the Chancellor pleaded. "Abandon this now before more lives are lost!"
Above them, the Breach flared ominously.
Pain shot through Tephra's arm; she cried out and grasped her wrist. It tore through her flesh and bones, burrowing deeper and deeper into her. Her knees gave out as she hunched over herself, until her forehead was pressed into the cold stone of the bridge beneath her. She cradled her convulsing arm to her chest, trying to calm her labored breaths. The pain drove out everything, including the voices of the others — everything but the rushing din of her own heart beating in her ears as pain washed over her in waves.
She felt someone lay their hand on her back and then, as quickly as the pain had come, it was gone.
The sudden absence left her gasping and shivering and struggling to center herself.
After a moment to collect herself, she pushed up from the ground and found that it was Solas who'd crouched at her side and applied whatever healing magic he had used on her. It had been like nothing she'd ever experienced before — the way he was able to simply shut the pain away as if it were nothing at all. Like snuffing a candle between two fingers.
As she rose to her feet, the mage offered her a scrap of cloth to clean her face with. Rage still coiled in the pit of her, so she rebuffed him by opting to wipe the blood from her face with the arm of her coat.
If he was offended, he did not show it, and simply stepped back beside the dwarf.
Cassandra moved to stand before Tephra, and there was something different in the way she held herself. "How do you think we should proceed?"
Tephra could not keep the incredulous laugh from her voice as she asked, "Now you're asking what I think?"
"You have the mark," the mage said, from behind her.
"And you are the one we must keep alive," the Seeker agreed. "Since we cannot agree on our own, we should leave the choice up to you."
Tephra could have laughed at the ridiculousness of it all. Had they gone mad? She could not keep the anger from her voice as she asked, "What choice? I have no choice here. It's either do nothing and die, or do, and still probably die. If I somehow live closing that thing in the sky, then what — back into that cage? How kind of you."
"There will be no need for that, with your cooperation," the Seeker replied, tersely.
Tephra did not like the idea of charging into a battlefield against an untold number of demons. The few they'd already faced had been difficult as it was, and she did not have strength to dodge her way through an a whole host of them. Not that climbing a mountain was a better trade, but between the two, she figured she had better odds of surviving the climb.
"Take the mountain path, then," she said.
Cassandra looked less than thrilled, but held her tongue. She turned to the hooded woman, "Leliana, bring everyone left in the valley. Everyone."
Leliana gave a terse nod, and departed without a further word.
As Cassandra passed by the Chancellor, he sniped after her, "On your head be the consequences, Seeker."
If the cleric's words bothered Cassandra at all, she did not show it.
The mage and dwarf followed after, with Tephra bringing up the rear. As they passed through gate, the mage glanced at her.
"You still have not given your name," he observed.
The others also looked to her briefly, as if they expected her answer.
"Does it matter? Am I anything more than this—" Tephra raised her shimmering, sparking hand, "—to any of you?"
No one spoke up as they trudged on toward the mountain.
"Call me what you will," she said. "It's nothing to me."