Redcliffe's Chantry seemed like any other Chantry in Thedas. Built of stone, graced with rounded triangular facades, engraved or emblazoned in some way with the Andrastian sunburst – it was becoming as titular to Ahnnie as the steeple-and-spire structures of Christian churches. She might as well have been coming to offer a prayer to Andraste than secretly meeting with whoever-it-was to discuss the 'danger' they – or she – were in.
"At least we know we're getting into some trouble," Varric pointed out, trying to find a silver lining. "Neither of you had any warning Lord Seeker Lucius was gonna..." But he dropped the matter after receiving a glare from Cassandra. "Well, you get my point."
"The Chantry sisters and brothers seem relaxed enough," Solas commented. "Then again, many of them were out in the village."
"So we can expect it to be more or less empty?" Ahnnie inferred.
"So you may think," Cassandra corrected her. "But of course, we must see what this is about. I heavily dislike all this secrecy and scheming."
So be it, but if memory served her well, Chantries weren't a hundred percent problem-free zones. Then again, she was the only one of their group to have been imprisoned in one. As she followed them up the steps, Ahnnie couldn't help wondering what awaited beyond those sunburst emblazoned doors. This is a lot like Sera's note, just not as complex...what sort of danger could I be in this time?
The door opened to reveal a hall so deceptively similar to the one in Haven she could've sworn she was there instead of Redcliffe. The only difference was a rift glowing in the middle of it, and a mustached man with a staff knocking the living daylights out of two demons.
Yes.
A rift. And demons. Inside a Chantry.
...fuck.
Weapons were out faster than the eye could blink, but the man succeeded in beating the demons to oblivion before noticing the extra company. "Good!" he exclaimed. "You're finally here! Now help me close this, would you?"
His tone bordered on arrogant and he hadn't even the slightest sign of strain or fatigue; that, or he was good at hiding it. It was almost as though he had been expecting them by appointment and they just had the audacity to arrive late.
Three terror demons suddenly spawned before them, blocking the way to the rift. The strange man proved himself to be a mage, as he immediately used his staff to aim fire at the demon closest to him. Solas, Varric, and Cassandra knew what to do – this sort of thing had been honed into them by now, so familiar it was almost a regular exercise. With ice incapacitating the two other demons, Cassandra and Varric fell upon the one in the middle, while Solas worked on completely freezing the last one.
Ahnnie ducked between the iced legs of the frozen demons and ran for the rift. Just when she thought everything was under some semblance of control, though, the world suddenly blinked away and she felt a familiar shove backwards in time.
"Those circles!" she yelled in frustration, back beside her companions as they fought the demons. "They're here, too!"
"Oh, yes, those troublesome rings!" the strange man exclaimed. "Do watch your step."
The problem seemed to be more prevalent closer to the rift, which was frustrating. Not to mention Solas was waving his staff in such wide arcs, it was most definitely irritating the wound in his chest. This shit has got to end, and fast! She could only take so much action and consternation in one day. Why did life never see it fit to just give her a break?
As if in defiance of this joke of fate, Ahnnie raced between the frozen terror demons' legs as before, but instead of watching her step, she jumped into the first green circle she saw. And then another, and another, in a continuous game of jump-into-the-green-circles until she was directly beneath the ever-rotating crystal of the rift. With a breathless look back at the others, she realized she'd just covered a distance of a couple hundred feet in at least half the time it took to run. Feeling optimistic, she hopped onto a fallen piece of stone, hoping its uneven shape made it safe from the time circles, and thrust her mark at the rift.
It exploded shortly after, sending a shower of neon green sparks all over the Chantry halls. She shielded her eyes in response and half-fell, half-jumped from her foot tall perch. The air, once charged with crackling energy, smoothed over, quieted, and calmed until it was the reverent atmosphere of a place of worship once again.
The man stared at the empty air where the rift had been floating not more than a few seconds ago. Then he gazed back at their group, registering each face as if noticing them for the first time, ending at Ahnnie as she returned. "Fascinating," he breathed a moment later. "How does that work, exactly?"
She paused. "Well...it..." She frowned, trying to think of an answer, and then shrugged in defeat.
"You don't even know, do you?" the mage asked. "You just wiggle your fingers, and boom! Rift closes."
"It's not the fingers, it's in the palm."
Cassandra interrupted them before they could go any further. "Who are you?" she demanded, fed up with these shenanigans.
The strange man blinked. "Ah, getting ahead of myself again, I see." To rectify his mistake, he gave them a suave bow and an equally suave introduction. "Dorian of House Pavus, most recently of Minrathous. How do you do?"
The Seeker scowled. "Another Tevinter. Be careful with this one."
Dorian glanced at Cassandra with a raised brow, then back at Ahnnie. "Suspicious friends you have here," he remarked, almost thoughtfully.
If he seemed nervous, he did not show it. In which case, he was the best living example of "keeping one's cool" Ahnnie had ever seen. She restrapped the glaive onto her back and walked tentatively close to him on her way back to her companions. "Should we be suspicious of you?" she asked back. "Just who are you, in the general scheme of things?"
The answer came smoothly, perhaps even readily. "Magister Alexius was once my mentor, so my assistance should be valuable – as I'm sure you can imagine."
Ahnnie jolted to a stop beside Solas. She whirled around and wondered why such conspiracies from Ben-Hassrath spies to this were happening to her in such alarming frequency. "And you would betray him because...?"
"Alexius was my mentor," Dorian reminded her, offended. "Meaning he's not any longer, not for some time." Then his hardened look melted away. "Look, you must know there's danger. That should be obvious even without the note. Let's start with Alexius claiming the allegiance of the mage rebels out from under you."
That certainly got their attention. "It was so sudden," Cassandra agreed, despite her suspicion of him. "We should have gotten word of it by Leliana's people the moment we entered the Hinterlands, or at least in rumors throughout the other villages. Instead, it was at the last minute; almost as if..."
"By magic, yes?" Dorian finished for her, and based on the expressions of the others about him, he knew he had hit the mark. "Which is exactly right. To reach Redcliffe before the Inquisition, Alexius distorted time itself."
Solas furrowed his brows in thought. "That is fascinating, if true...and almost certainly dangerous. It would account for the strangely altered state of the Veil in the area."
"The rift you closed here?" Dorian went on. "You saw how it twisted time around itself, sped some things up and slowed others down."
"Hell, we went through one exactly like it just before entering the village," Varric supplied, to which Dorian's face grew grave.
"Soon there will be more like it," the Tevinter mage prophesied, "and they'll appear further and further away from Redcliffe. The magic that Alexius is using is unstable, and it's unraveling the world."
The prospect of a time-distorting danger in addition to the Breach was more than anyone in the room could bear. "You expect us to gamble on faith," Cassandra surmised unhappily.
"I know what I'm talking about," he retorted. "I helped develop this magic! When I was an apprentice, it was pure theory – Alexius could never get it to work." He shook his head. "What I don't understand is...why? Ripping time to shreds just to gain a few hundred lackeys?"
"He didn't do it for them."
Ahnnie turned around to find Felix approaching them, no longer burdened by his earlier ailment. Either he had snuck through the door quietly or entered from another source, for they had not been aware of his presence until now.
"Took you long enough," Dorian greeted. "Is he getting suspicious?"
"No, but I shouldn't have played the illness card. I thought he'd be fussing over me all day."
Cassandra crossed her arms. "Care to elaborate?"
"My father's joined a cult," Felix explained. "Tevinter supremacists. They call themselves 'Venatori'. And I can tell you one thing: whatever he's done for them, he's done it to get to you." His gaze bore into Ahnnie at the last word.
The Seeker cocked her head to one side. "Supposing the Magister went through all that trouble, rearranging time and indenturing the mage rebellion; it is solely to get to her?" She gestured with a hand back at the girl.
"They're obsessed with her," Felix replied, "but I don't know why. Perhaps because she survived the Temple of Sacred Ashes?"
"She can close the rifts," Dorian pointed out, "and she's allegedly from a different world. Maybe there's a connection? Or they see her as a threat?"
Felix's face twisted into an expression of disgust. "If the Venatori are behind those rifts, or the Breach in the sky, they're even worse than I thought."
Now that he mentioned it, Tevinter supremacists being responsible for the magic that destroyed the Conclave and brought forth the Breach seemed somewhat plausible. The country was known for its reverence of magic; its culture was conducive to research into any arcane branch that, in the hands of radicals, had the potential to spiral into catastrophe. Maker knows, they had been accused of such many times before. Then what Dorian said made a thought pop into her head: What if the Breach was not only their fault, but they know Earth exists now? And not just because I keep talking about it...
Varric eyed the youth pensively, perhaps even sympathetically. "You've got guts, kid," he commented after some thought. "It ain't easy working against family...'specially when you think they might be involved in blowing up a hole in the sky."
The dwarf seemed to have struck a chord within him. Felix pursed his lips and swallowed, eyes lowering to the floor. "I love my father, and I love my country, but this? Cults? Time magic? What he's doing now is madness. For his own sake, I...I had to say something."
Their exchange brought Ahnnie back from worlds in danger, and a little part of her went out to Felix after hearing the sadness in his tone. "What can I do, then?" she finally asked. There had to be something.
"You know you are his target," Dorian told her. "Expecting the trap is the first step in turning it to your advantage." He then turned aside, as if to leave. "I can't stay at Redcliffe; Alexius doesn't know I'm here, and I want to keep it that way for now. But whenever you are ready to deal with him, I want to be there. I'll be in touch."
"You agree to answer to the Inquisition, should anything implicate you," Cassandra stated as the mage began to move away, down the hall.
"Of course," he nodded. "And Felix? Try not to get yourself killed."
The Magister's son watched him until he disappeared through an archway, the stones of which were faintly marred by the rift. "There are worse things than dying, Dorian," he murmured, and Ahnnie was close enough to have heard it.
It was good to be at the Crossroads again, a familiar place where they knew they had allies and could regroup and refresh themselves in safety. It was at the Crossroads that they would wait for Magister Alexius' invitation; Redcliffe's situation was not favorable to stability, and despite a generous offer to accommodate the Inquisition at its Castle, there were doubts as to the host's trustworthiness.
And he knew it, too. There couldn't have been any mistaking the true purpose behind their politely crafted rejection. But such was the game they were playing. The Inquisition could have gone and made the journey back up the Frostbacks to Haven; instead, they decided to camp themselves within a day's march of Redcliffe. Close enough to be on call, far enough to be out of reach.
As the saying goes, it takes two to tango. The Magister held all the right cards, from being the only other option left thanks to the red-crazed templars to holding the keys to any hope of negotiation – promising the Inquisition the desired meeting, whenever it so suited him.
It only remained to see what would happen next.
"Redcliffe is in the hands of a magister. This cannot be allowed to stand."
That was what Cassandra had said the morning after they arrived at the Crossroads, sheltered from the wind under a dark commander's tent.
"I thought we were going to negotiate with him?" Ahnnie asked, wondering what the Seeker had in mind – though perhaps she had suspected it already, the moment she heard the firm resolve in Cassandra's voice.
"Negotiation is but a pretense. He holds the upper hand, and knows it. What the Tevinter mage told us back at the Chantry has only served to reaffirm my suspicions; we cannot reasonably negotiate with the Magister without something disastrous happening. He and this 'Venatori' care naught for the closing of the Breach – they want you, for reasons we do not know, but it is certain that it is all for their personal agenda." She paused a moment to take a sip from her cup of spiced wine. "The Magister will keep us waiting, toying with our supposed desperation to stop the Breach."
"Isn't it a desperate situation, though?" Ahnnie asked again. "Why 'supposed'?"
"We want to stop the Breach, but we will not beg Tevinter for the help." The Seeker put down her wine cup. "We will have the rebel mages...and we will have them without foreign masters."
Blackwall raised an eyebrow. "You mean to take back Redcliffe Castle, then?"
Cassandra nodded. "Precisely." She came to a little table at the center and laid out a map of the castle that had been conveniently rolled beneath a paperweight. "We have reinforcements and loyal citizenry here to fall back on; and while we will not take it by storm, we can certainly rely on the agents Leliana has left at our disposal. One such agent gave me a copy of the castle's plans and pointed out a secret passage formerly used as an escape route–"
"Too narrow for troops, but a perfect fit for agents," Blackwall concluded, eyeing the indicated passage on the paper.
Ahnnie observed it as well, seeing the possibility within the plan. "Oh, um, stupid question," she piped up, "but...what happened to the arl of Redcliffe? I kind of just realized there's been no mention of him..."
"Oh, you probably didn't hear." Solas came through the tent flap and stopped beside her. "The Venatori evicted Arl Teagan and his forces from Redcliffe shortly after attaining the rebel mages' servitude. The arl himself is in Denerim petitioning for royal aid to recapture his home."
"News of which no one has heard of until now," Cassandra growled.
Ah, yes. That pesky time magic. The surprise was just now beginning to ripple across the Hinterlands; she felt silly for not realizing it sooner. "Sorry. Please continue," she nodded to Cassandra.
"I apologize as well if I've arrived a little late," Solas added. "Now, from what I heard...you mean to sneak agents into the castle?"
"This passage is the only entrance that is not glaringly obvious," Cassandra nodded. "Of course, we will need a distraction."
"The meeting, then," Blackwall said. "When's it taking place?"
Solas gave them a wry smile. "It won't be for a while, no. Not if the Magister is worth his salt."
"But it will come," Cassandra reminded them. "We must act the part of impatience before then. I will keep a correspondence with Leliana by raven to arrange everything as required. Regardless, the main plan will be to infiltrate and disable the castle's defenses while the Magister is occupied with Ahnnie."
Ahnnie frowned. "How do you know this will work? What if the Venatori..."
"It is a gamble," Cassandra admitted, "but one I am willing to take. I'm quite sure the Magister is not aware of what Dorian and Felix revealed to us, and a limited Tevinter presence in the Hinterlands suggests to me that they have not the force to spread farther. Those are the things that tip the balance in our favor for now. Then we can be rid of this farce and focus on what is important."
Just as the Seeker and hedge mage predicted, here they were, well into a waiting period that was starting to stretch beyond polite happenstance. Every now and then one of Leliana's scouts would send a report of what was happening in Redcliffe, but if they were anything to go by, then there was not much happening at all. The Magister's son was a little sick, which seemed to be the only thing of note, and Ahnnie worried that it was not a ruse this time around. She hoped he could get well soon, though it seemed as if he suffered from a chronic rather than acute disease from the way his father fussed over him.
Cassandra seemed the least disturbed by this elongated stalemate. She received ravens from Haven every two or three days, and was constantly busy as a result. God knows how many times she summoned Ahnnie, Blackwall, Solas, Iron Bull, and Varric to the command tent with a new variation to the plan or some important observation Leliana wanted to make (Sera...well, Sera was nowhere to be found when these things happened, and the Seeker seemed to prefer it that way). No news of any royal forces coming to take back Redcliffe had come yet, so the Inquisition was still on its own. No matter; neither Leliana nor Cassandra seemed to care.
At least the Crossroads is doing well, Ahnnie thought, looking about the village square with a hint of reminiscence in her gaze. The day was gray and everything lightly dusted in white, but she could see how it had progressed since the last time she was there. More buildings stood whole, more merchants clamored in the marketplace, the people didn't look half as frightened or impoverished...they were not necessarily doing the best in terms of supplies, but on the topic of morale, everything was going swell. Not even the news of Redcliffe falling to Tevinters has managed to bring them down. She liked to think it was because of the Inquisition's presence in the area.
Then a flitting shape swished past the corner of her eye and she instinctively whipped her head in its direction. She had just barely followed the hem of a dark cloak before it disappeared around the corner along with whoever was wearing it.
Ahnnie cocked her head to one side, curious. She'd seen this figure slinking about the square several times now; he never seemed to have any purpose, just flitting between people as if in search – or maybe anticipation? – of something or someone. She almost swore she'd seen him a few days prior, but no sighting of him was so clear as it was now. He was interesting, but only for the few seconds that he could be seen.
Then a woman came in from the corner whom Ahnnie recognized as the village baker, and she resumed her people watching with the little exchange the baker was having with a vendor. She couldn't hear the words from this distance, but it looked like they were having a heated exchange...after the baker left, a little ruffian crossed the square with darting fingers no purses or pockets were safe from. Ahnnie sighed, lamenting the circumstances that led to this profession (if one could call it a profession). The boy was only, what...ten? Eleven? She had seen him several times in the act of running into people or helping them pick up things they dropped, or some such social ruse that rendered them unaware of his tactics. Sometimes it was as blatant as reaching into the pocket of a back-facing victim.
She traced his lanky figure to the back of such a person and felt herself tensing as he reached for the man's purse. Cue her surprise when the man he was stealing from turned out to be the cloaked figure from before.
But something seemed different with him this time...he was standing too still, and Ahnnie feared it was in anticipation of the sneaky little fingers reaching behind him. Alarm bells went off in her head and she hastily strode in their direction.
She arrived just as the man spun around with reflexive speed to ensnare the young wrist in a bronzed, olive hand. He barked a triumphant "Got you!", causing the boy to jump.
That voice seemed vaguely familiar, and that skin was so much like Krem's...a flash of mustache from beneath the hood confirmed her suspicions. "Dorian?"
The cloaked man gave a start. "What?" he barked into the crowd, unable to discern who had called to him, and the little ruffian slipped out of his grasp in that distracted second. "Drat! Oh, well, you lose some, you win some..."
Ahnnie tilted herself to the side, trying to get a better look under the hood. "Dorian?" she asked again. "Is that y–"
"Well don't go blaring my name about like a royal pronouncement!" he snapped. "Last I recalled, I was trying not to make a public appearance. And if you have to ask if it's me, then it most likely is me."
Her lips twitched in amusement. There was no mistaking the airy, unconcerned arrogance that had accosted them in Redcliffe's Chantry. Even his irritation seemed relaxed, his admonition more like a light-handed joke than a sharp reproach. "Sorry. Just wanted to be sure."
With a huff, Dorian smoothed out a crease in his cloak. "An amateur mistake, but one I can forgive...erm..." He turned about to face her, confused. "I'm sorry. I don't think we were properly introduced. You are...?"
"Everyone just calls me Ahnnie," she supplied.
"Ahnnie. Yes. Charmed–"
She tipped her head forward. "Likewise."
Dorian raised a brow, intrigued. "They've been teaching you court etiquette, I see."
"It's not one of my strong points," she blushed. "I just say whatever they tell me to say...How long have you been here, if I may ask?"
"Three days, but I've been out and about the Hinterlands all this time – nothing like hopping from inn to dirty inn and subsisting on piss disguised as beer to get the blood stimulated." He readjusted his hood and drew his cloak closer about him, smiling wryly.
"We have spiced wine in the commander's tent."
Light hazel eyes brightened as though gazing upon treasure. "Now that's a trap if I ever saw one! Let me guess: you're going to lure me in and throw a bag over my head before tying me up and throwing me into a cell, cursing my lineage and the people who share it all the while?"
"Oh, no, no, no! I was actually inviting you to come speak with us," she clarified with a hint of laughter. "We're not all hostile towards Tevinter...in fact, I have a friend who's from there. You said you'd keep in touch, plus you'll want to know what's going on."
"Oh? Did Alexius invite you to meet with him yet? I didn't hear anything..."
"No, it's, um, something else." She wasn't entirely sure they could speak of it in the open. "But Cassandra would love to have you, since you knew Magister Alexius."
"Something else?" Dorian rubbed his chin in thought. "Hmm. A sneaky Inquisition. I like the sound of that..."
She was shocked. "H-how do you know it's for something...sneaky?"
He looked at her incredulously for a moment before letting out a laugh. "Dear me! Could you possibly be as naive as I think you are? What other purpose would you want me for, if I couldn't give you creative ways to stab my old mentor in the back?"
Ahnnie blinked, completely taken aback. "R-right..." Despite the hilarity in his voice, she found it hard to reciprocate, and not just because he might have offended her. He sure has an...interesting way of putting things. I wonder if he truly means it? I mean, he's not as sensitive as Felix, but at least...Speaking of the Magister's son, "I don't suppose you've seen Felix recently? Is he all right?"
Dorian shook his head. "I haven't seen him since I left Redcliffe. Kind of you to ask, though."
"No problem...we've actually been getting reports that he was sick, but I didn't know if you knew how sick."
"Ah." Dorian sighed. "Well, that's...You see, Felix's sickness is not your normal everyday chronic illness. It's...I don't know if you've heard of it, but it's the Blight sickness."
"Like, from darkspawn?" she asked.
"Precisely," nodded Dorian. "He used to attend the University of Orlais you know, and was going with his mother to Hossberg for winter vacation when their party was attacked by hurlocks. The creatures were driven off, but his mother didn't make it. He caught the taint and has been wasting away ever since."
That sounded horrible. "Is there no way to cure it?"
"If there was, us Thedosians wouldn't be making such a fuss out of it," Dorian replied dryly. "Segregation, quarantine, abandonment, death...those are the treatments the Blight sickness more often elicits. Felix is one of the luckier ones. Even so, it's only a matter of time."
"I see..." No wonder his father seemed so worried. That didn't excuse Magister Aelxius' actions, of course, but to forego the dire precautions most people took with the infected, to overlook any worry of contagion, even striving to keep his sick son close – that took devotion. A sad thing conflict would soon be coming their way. Shaking the thought from her head, Ahnnie brought herself back to reality and asked the more important question: "So, do you want to come?"
She thought he might take a while to answer, given his earlier reservations. But surprisingly enough, perhaps pleasantly so, he nodded in agreement. "And remember, you promised me spiced wine!"
The time soon came when the Magister sent a messenger setting the date for the talks. It was a balmy day for winter, gentle and mellow yet still retaining the crisp frostiness characteristic of its season. The Inquisition went on horseback to a castle overlooking the village on a hill, dark and imposing.
"My lord Magister, the agents of the Inquisition have arrived." The announcement echoed against the vaulted audience hall of Redcliffe castle like an ominous declaration.
Except for the crackling of a fire, everything else seemed deathly still. The white robed guards lining either side of the hall didn't help, so silent and unmoving they seemed to be statues. Their masks were extremely off-putting, too; horned and sharp, they reminded Ahnnie of Japanese oni masks, an image no self-respecting Orlesian would ever consider donning.
Alexius had been seated upon a throne, his form a dim silhouette against the roaring blaze in the hearth behind him. His son stood close by, and Enchanter Fiona, she noticed, directly off to the side of the throne's dais. As Ahnnie approached, Alexius rose to his feet and spread his arms in welcome. "My friend! It's so good to see you again. And your associates, of course," the Magister added, giving her companions a perfunctory bow. "I'm sure we can work out some arrangement that is equitable to all parties."
Her associates consisted of Cassandra, Solas, and Varric, with two cloaked soldiers; a small envoy fitting for the occasion. She stood at the head of the group, the others close behind her and the soldiers bringing up the rear. She already knew what to say, using both common sense and previous rehearsals to construct the answer. "I am glad to see you too, Magister Gereon Alexius. We all look forward to seeing what can be accomplished with you today; we feared for a moment that you had forgotten all about us."
The Magister chuckled good-naturedly. "For which I sincerely apologize. I hope you'll forgive me; there've been many matters to attend to, so many things to do."
Ahnnie smiled back. "I hope your son, Felix, is doing well."
"He is, thank you."
Before they could exchange any more pleasantries, Enchanter Fiona cut in with a question – "Are we mages to have no voice in deciding our fate?"
A flash of disapproval crossed the Magister's face. "Fiona, you would not have turned your followers over to my care if you did not trust me with their lives," he reminded her.
Ahnnie looked from Enchanter to Magister, then back. "If the Grand Enchanter wants to be part of these talks," she began, "then I welcome her as a guest of the Inquisition."
There was a moment of weighty silence. Alexius did not seem pleased, but neither did he contradict her. Fiona, on the other hand, nodded gratefully in her direction. "Thank you."
Ahnnie nodded back in acknowledgement, face calm but chest thudding. It seemed a risky move to have spoken like that, especially of her own accord than any given instructions. Still, it gave her a measure of satisfaction; it felt like a show of the long overdue defiance to similar figures in her life, a moment of salvation won for the past. Alexius was beginning to remind her too much of that.
The Magister turned around to sit back on his throne. Crossing a leg, he looked down on the party with an almost bored expression. "The Inquisition needs mages to close the Breach, and I have them. So...what shall you offer in exchange?"
Her heart's pace picked up again at that, but not because of nervousness. No, this time she was excited. For when it came to this part of the plan, it boiled down to one simple sentence. Say whatever you want, so long as it buys us the time.
No stressing over the right thing to say; no need to memorize phrases, to rack her brain when she couldn't remember them, or fear any stuttering and stumbling; just whatever she had the inclination to say, so long as it gave them the time. She could now breath a calming sigh and relax the mental grip of anxiety, for she had the freedom to say what she wished, what was in her head and her heart, without any repercussions:
"Nothing at all. I'm just going to take the mages and leave."
The displeasure on his face was much more obvious now. "And how do you imagine you'll accomplish such a feat?" he asked, his voice grating.
"I would just up and leave, but I heard that time magic is much faster."
Alexius' features contorted into a slideshow of confusion, horror, then fury. Maybe I went too far, Ahnnie thought, but it was only a halfhearted regret. Her body tingled with a mischievous excitement, the likes of which she didn't think she could feel at the age of twenty. It took all her willpower to keep a straight face.
The Magister gripped the armrests of his throne. "How dare you–"
"She knows everything, Father." Felix turned to him, a remorseful yet grim expression planted on his features.
It took Alexius a while to process that, to have the realization dawn upon him like a slow, creeping chill. "Felix...what have you done?"
"He's concerned that you're involved in something terrible," Ahnnie answered, coming to Felix's defense. "He only did this because he cares–"
"So speaks the thief," the Magister spat. "Do you think you can turn my son against me?" Departing from his throne once more, he paced deliberately towards the edge of the dais, glaring down at Ahnnie and her group. "You walk into my stronghold with your stolen mark – a gift you don't even understand! – and think you're in control? You're nothing but a mistake."
It took strength to glare back into those eyes. A part of her instinctively quaked at the acid in his voice, shrinking backwards with shame at the stinging remark – nothing but a mistake...But she willed herself to quash it and remember that she wasn't here to be afraid. She was here to stall for time. "You know what happened to the Conclave, then?" she asked. "What caused the explosion; what created this mark; what killed the Divine...?"
"It was the Elder One's moment, and you were unworthy even to stand in his presence."
Ahnnie's eyes widened in shock, and she thought she could hear a startled gasp hiss from Cassandra. The Elder One! So the Venatori are involved with him too? She had completely forgotten about him, banished any notions of him back to the farthest corners of her head. Now, though...
"Father!" Felix cried. "Listen to yourself! Do you know what you sound like?"
"He sounds exactly like the sort of villainous cliché everyone expects us to be," a familiar voice supplied.
Alexius whipped his head in the voice's direction, eyes narrowing. "Dorian."
The Tevinter mage pulled back his hood, revealing himself as one of the cloaked soldiers. "Magister," he returned, dryly.
Alexius' jaw tightened. "I gave you a chance to be a part of this," he growled. "You turned me down. The Elder One has power you would not believe; he will raise the Imperium from its own ashes."
"Who is this Elder One?" Cassandra barked, unable to hold back her temper any longer. "A mage?"
"Soon he will become a god," Alexius intoned. "He will make the world bow to mages once more. We will rule from the Boeric Ocean to the Frozen Seas..." The more he spoke, the more his rage was replaced with a wistful sort of glaze – still hostile, still sharp, but idyllic and hopeful at the same time.
"You can't involve my people in this!" Fiona cried, horrified.
Dorian wholeheartedly agreed. "Alexius, this is exactly what you and I talked about never wanting to happen!" He held out his hands pleadingly. "Why would you support this?"
The Magister glowered at the sight of his former pupil before turning away, as if disgusted; with his eyes preoccupied on the fire, he failed to notice the guards farthest down the hall quietly collapsing to their feet.
"Stop it, Father," Felix begged with a hand on Alexius' shoulder. "Give up the Venatori. Let the southern mages fight the Breach, and let's go home."
"No!" Alexius whirled around again, desparate. "It's the only way, Felix. He can save you!"
"Save me?"
"There is a way. The Elder One promised. If I undo the mistake at the Temple..." He slowly turned towards Ahnnie, eyes haunted and hungry for something she knew she wouldn't be pleased about.
"I'm going to die," Felix stated plainly, his voice purposeful. "You need to accept that."
The Magister's breath caught and he looked for a moment as if he were about to choke. "Seize them, Venatori!" he then thundered, an accusatory finger thrust Ahnnie's way. "The Elder One demands this girl's life!"
No more flattery, I see, Ahnnie observed absentmindedly. Despite knowing what would happen next, she half expected the Venatori to surround them and capture the day...instead, as Alexius stared in horror, the Venatori guards fell forward to reveal green hooded Inquisition agents as their silent and quick assailants. Another agent slinked into the room from a side door and gave a quick report.
"Castle is secured, ser. All others captured or killed."
Ahnnie nodded at the agent and looked back at the Magister with a hard stare. "Your men are dead, Alexius."
The Magister shook his head and took a step backwards, as if he refused to believe the reality of what lay before him. "You...are a mistake!" he hissed. "You should never have existed!" As he spoke the last words, his hand crackled with a green-blue magic. He raised it upwards and a strange, cubic amulet floated from the center of his palm, glowing the same eerie green-blue and emitting sparks like a live wire.
"No!" Dorian shouted, whipping out the staff hidden on his back to throw a powerful swipe of magic the Magister's way.
He managed to stun Alexius, stopping whatever spell he was in the middle of casting and making the man dizzy in the process. But a loud explosion like a giant thunderclap or gunshot reverberated across the hall, sending vibrations through the floor that could be felt deep in the chest. A swirling green mass appeared in its wake, not a rift but dark and whirling like a deep emerald whirlpool.
Having been closest to it, Ahnnie suddenly felt herself hurled into weightlessness; she thought she could hear Dorian screaming beside her, but she could not tell. Everything seemed to consist of nothing but flashing green lights before receding into darkness...