The storm had begun to gather as though called by the shaft of light that cut the sky and shattered the Chantry. She'd had no time to notice it then, there were too many things to do, lives to save, to take, to watch thrown away.
Clouds came like shrouds for the dead, but she'd had no time to notice.
Thunder rumbled a distant threat, but she'd had no time to notice among the immediate crash of blade on blade, shouted spells, screams, and wrenching pleas for mercy that could not come.
Lightning lit the sky, but she'd had no time to notice when her eyes were trained to the flash of swords and the crackles of desperate spells.
The air grew heavy with the promise of rain, but she did not notice when it was already heavy with magic and blood.
When it was over, and just begun, she backed away from Meredith's molten corpse and turned her face up to the lowering sky.
She had turned on her own kind.
I'll never be clean again.
She had thrust a knife deep into her own heart in killing the man she loved.
It'll never wash away.
Everything that mattered was gone.
She raised her arms to the sky and thrust the blunted edge of her magic up into the clouds with a scream of rage and pain and grief.
Send the rain. But she would never stop feeling the stain.