The Inquisitor's Ghost

Part II - The Space Between

Chapter 7 – Memories

Each night in dreams

That you may always remember me

- Threnodies 5:1-5:8

One Year Later

9:37 Dragon

Valence

At the cloister in Valence, Leliana was on her knees, head bowed, hands clasped in front of her face in prayer, her black hood pulled up and covering her short auburn hair. This was where Divine Justinia V had formerly been the Revered Mother, and simply Dorothea to her. She came here when her faith was shaken, as it was now.

Leliana had just heard that a mage, Anders, had destroyed the Chantry in Kirkwall, slaying the Grand Cleric. His acts had set off a series of events that led to the slaughter of nearly every member of the city's Circle of Magi. So many innocents dead. So much wasted life. She couldn't see how the Maker could allow something like this to happen.

Leliana couldn't help but feel guilty. As the Left Hand of the Divine, she'd gone to Kirkwall to see the mage-templar conflict for herself. The Divine had wanted her to judge the situation and take any action she thought necessary to keep the peace. Leliana had met the Champion of Kirkwall. She'd also met that mage, Anders. She should've killed him then. She could've prevented all of this. Why hadn't she seen him for what he was? Why didn't Hawke kill that abomination years ago? Why didn't-

"Leliana!" Sister Natalie cried as she burst through the doors to the back room, out of breath.

"Yes?" Leliana asked with a raised eyebrow.

"There's a girl… she just stumbled through the front doors and she's… she's covered in blood," Sister Natalie panted, clutching her side. "She's asking for you by name."

Leliana stood swiftly and ran to the front doors followed closely by Sister Natalie. She gasped when she saw the body of a girl lying on the floor by the front doors. She was young, maybe eighteen-years-old, and a heavy mass of deep red curls were spread around her head like a halo of fire. Her face was covered in little cuts and bruises, and her slender body was covered in blood, mud, twigs and leaves. She looked as though she'd been through hell.

Leliana looked over her shoulder at Sister Natalie and said firmly, "Get some health potions and a healer right away. The girl will also need food, water, and a bath."

"A-Alright," Sister Natalie stammered before she disappeared out the front doors.

The girl's head suddenly turned toward her and Leliana found herself staring into the most vivid blue-green eyes she'd ever seen.

"S-Sister… Sister N-Nightingale?" the girl croaked, her voice sounding as dry and cracked as her lips looked.

"Yes, I'm Sister Nightingale," Leliana answered as she approached the girl cautiously, not sure if she should trust her. This could be a trap. This girl could be an Antivan Crow who'd come here to assassinate her. She should be careful.

Leliana knelt beside the girl, her hand on the hilt of her hidden blade. "Maker's breath, child. What happened to you?" she asked softly as she looked the girl over, checking her injuries.

The girl tried to smile up at her, but she winced from the pain it caused her bruised face and the smile disappeared. "I've been looking for you for so long."

"Looking for me?" Leliana asked, eyeing the girl suspiciously.

"You have no idea…" the girl's voice cracked and faded to nothing. Her eyelids fluttered as if she was fighting unconsciousness. "…no idea what I've gone through to find you."

"Why were you looking for me?" Leliana asked sharply, interrogating.

The girl, unable to fight it anymore, let her eyes close. "The Hero of Ferelden told me I'd find purpose with Sister Nightingale," she murmured on a soft breath.

Understanding dawned on her, and Leliana's face softened immensely and her fingers immediately fell from the hilt of her dagger. She gently brushed a few unruly red curls away from the girl's face as she smiled down at her – softly, tenderly, lovingly – and whispered to the girl, "I've been waiting for you."

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9:39 Dragon

The White Spire

Cole sat cross-legged on a wooden chair in the archives that was located in one of the White Spire Tower's many chambers.

"Am I the first person to ever see you?" Rhys asked casually as he moved a chess piece on the board that was lying on the wooden table between them.

Cole shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "No."

Rhys watched his opponent lean forward and take his pawn. The senior enchanter placed his chin in the palm of his hand as he considered the chess pieces in front of him and the possibilities behind his opponent's maneuver. They were past the preliminary moves and were moving into the meat of the game.

"Really? Who saw you before?" Rhys asked while he considered taking Cole's queen.

Cole hesitated. "A girl."

Rhys lifted his head to look at the young man sitting across from him, his expression curious. "A girl?"

Cole scratched his cheek. "She was a spirit medium, like you."

"So… a girl, huh?" Rhys replied suggestively with an impish grin.

Cole looked back down at the chessboard, his pale cheeks holding a pink hue. "She saw me when most couldn't, and she remembered."

Rhys' head tilted. "What was she like?"

A look of melancholy crossed Cole's features. "Gentle. Bright. Alive."

The corner of Rhys' mouth lifted into a knowing smile. "Was she pretty?"

Cole's eyes lifted to pierce him beneath shaggy blonde locks, his eyes incredibly intense. "I did not know something so beautiful could exist."

Rhys was smiling broadly now. "What was her name?"

Cole hesitated, swallowed then swallowed again, unsure if he'd be able to say it out loud. The name was in his head every waking second of every day, her face lingering in the dark abyss of his unconscious at night while he slept. She was always with him in his dreams, but never in reality.

Rhys continued to stare at the young man, waiting, but the blonde didn't say a word, didn't move. Assuming Cole wouldn't answer, Rhys leaned forward to take his queen when Cole murmured so softly and almost unintelligibly, "Ember."

"Ember?" Rhys asked, not sure if that was the name Cole had whispered so quietly, so wistfully.

Cole gave one small nod of his head, eyes fixed upon the chessboard.

Rhys studied Cole's expression as he asked, "What happened to her?"

Cole looked away to stare out the window, staring up at the endless expanse of stars that dotted the night sky. He was quiet for a long time, the expression on his face one Rhys had never seen before.

"Cole? Did you hear me?"

"Look at all the stars. They are so very far away." The words escaped Cole on an exhaled sigh full of wistful longing. "The brightest one of them is gone."

Rhys didn't understand, but he found he usually didn't understand most of what Cole said. "Was she transferred to a different circle?" Rhys guessed.

"She was never in the circle," Cole answered simply, not looking at him, still staring out the window.

"She was an… an apostate?"

Cole nodded, staring up at the night sky. "She doesn't like walls. She likes to sleep under the stars."

Rhys shifted in his seat. "So, she was in the dungeons? When you saw her, that is?"

Cole nodded again, absently, while he watched one finger draw on the frost on the window.

"Was she made… Tranquil?"

Cole's finger stopped in its drawing. "She bears the mark, but not the curse."

Rhys' eyebrows drew together. "I don't know what that means."

Cole's gaze met his, his expression perplexed. "You can't stop a star from shining."

Rhys crossed his arms. "Cole, you need to work on your speech. You always speak in riddles. It's frustrating."

Cole returned to drawing on the frost on the window. "I'll try."

Rhys' fingers drummed on his arms. "So, what happened to her?"

Cole sighed as he looked at the picture he'd drawn, which Rhys noticed was a heart-shaped face with large eyes framed by long curly hair. "She… went away." The words sounded forced from his throat.

Rhys studied Cole's bleak and dismal expression, seeing the longing in his eyes as he spoke of the girl. "You could search for her, you know?"

Cole's eyes grew dark and unreadable. "If she's alive and safe, then she should stay away."

"Nothing is keeping you here," Rhys suggested gently. "You could find her if-"

"The last time she saw me she didn't want to look at me," Cole cut in sharply, his voice harsh with self-loathing, eyes flashing. "She saw a monster." His gaze returned to the window, though Rhys could see a muscle working in his tightly clenched jaw. "Let her forget."

Rhys placed his elbows on the table and folded his hands, resting his chin on top of them. "Is that what you really want?"

"No," Cole growled, low and harsh in his throat. "What I want is for her to remember me, to take that little piece of me with her…" His fingers pressed against the window, straining white against the glass, so much so that Rhys could hear the glass creak beneath the pressure. "I want some part of me, even if it is just my memory, to always be with her." Cole's head snapped back to the window, his jaw sawing back and forth, his eyes flinty in the moonlight as he irritably wiped away the picture he'd drawn on the frost.

Rhys was quiet for a while, unsure of Cole's mood. He'd never seen the young man act like this. "She was special to you."

"Special?" Cole asked, uncomprehending.

"Yes. You know, someone who means a lot. That's what she is to you, right?"

"I don't know. Maybe. It's like…" Cole chewed his lip as he tried to put a difficult thought into words. "Do you remember the first puzzle we made together?"

"Yes."

"Remember how we couldn't find one of the pieces? How we searched and searched for it, but we couldn't find it? It was almost as if it didn't want to be found. But without that one piece, the rest of the puzzle couldn't be finished."

Rhys shook his head, uncomprehending. "I don't see how that relates to-"

"Without her, I'm not complete," Cole whispered, his eyes tortured, his expression forlorn.

Rhys' heart wrenched and he put a comforting hand on the young hand's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Cole."

"It hurts." His voice broke. "When does it stop hurting?"

Rhys' smile was sad. "I think it never completely stops hurting, but it doesn't hurt as much in time."

Cole nodded, thinking on that. Rhys gave his shoulder a light squeeze and the corners of Cole's mouth lifted slightly. "Thank you for being my friend, Rhys."

"Thank you for being mine, Cole."

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9:40 Dragon

Kirkwall

Crouched down on the balls of her feet with her elbows resting on her knees, hands dangling between her legs, Ember was perched on the rooftop of the Keep like a permanent fixture. The twenty-two year old surveyed Hightown from her spot on the roof of the Keep, the chill wind rustling her red curls as blue-green eyes watched the people gathered below.

The moon and stars were hidden behind a steady stream of clouds that left Hightown covered in a blanket of darkness. The dark clouds had been threatening snow all afternoon, the air heavy with anticipation of a winter storm, but nothing had materialized. It seemed the weather was as restless as her mood.

For the past three years she'd been the Left Hand of the Divine's apprentice and closest companion. She'd barely escaped the templars and the White Spire. She'd been barely alive when she'd finally tracked down Sister Nightingale in Valence. The Orlesian bard had taken her in and nursed her back to health. She'd taken care of her and protected her, keeping her identity as an apostate a secret.

Leliana had even sent a few of her people to the White Spire to destroy Ember's phylactery. But when they got there, they'd discovered someone had already taken it, along with every record of her. It was a miracle. No one would ever know she was a mage except for those who actually captured her. And Leliana, of course.

Ember's vow to never use magic was renewed after that. She promised herself she would never go back to the dungeons. She would rather die first. She only used her magic to conceal it from others, a skill she learned quickly was rare.

The Hero of Ferelden had been right when she'd told her that Sister Nightingale would give her life purpose. Leliana fed her, clothed her, put a roof over her head. She took her under her wing and trained her in the skills of a bard and a dualist. In time, Ember began to take on jobs and assignments for Leliana. Working for the Divine gave Ember purpose and something to believe in.

But after what had happened at the White Spire, Ember had retreated further into her shell. That last betrayal had cut the deepest. After a lifetime of betrayal by everyone she'd ever known, trust had become impossible. She kept to herself, only speaking to others when she had to. She lived alone. She ate alone. She went on missions alone. She was used to taking care of herself. She always had a dagger strapped to her calf and the instincts of a killer. It had taken years until she'd been able to let Leliana in, allowing the Orlesian bard to become her friend. Her only friend.

A cool midnight breeze blew, ruffling her clothes and her hair. Ember's eyes fell to Leliana. It was dark outside, but the full moon provided enough light for her to see the Left Hand of the Divine standing in front of the Keep with a large crowd of people. They all held candles, mourning the loss that had happened here exactly three years ago.

Ember watched as Leliana began to sing. The words were elven, but she understood them even so: they spoke of sorrow and loss. It was the most haunting and beautiful melody she'd ever heard. She suddenly remembered hearing it in the dungeons of the White Spire all those years ago, being sung by some lost soul.

Ember stood there on the rooftop of the Keep, brow knitted in confusion as the heart-wrenching melody floated up to where she sat on the roof of the Keep, rattling something loose in her mind. She suddenly dug into her tunic. From there she pulled out a small piece of parchment. She lifted the glowlamp sitting beside her and read it:

His name is Cole.

He's not that old, perhaps twenty years. No more.

He has shaggy blond hair that hangs in front of his eyes and wears dirty leathers— perhaps the only clothes he owns. His eyes are blue, crystal clear, like melted ice. They are the most haunted eyes you've ever seen. He's tall and lean, as handsome as he is strange.

He was there when you were locked in the dungeons of the White Spire. He talked to you, he helped you, he protected you. He brought you ratatouille to cheer you up, he got you a book of poems, he made you the necklace you wear around your neck. You liked him, trusted him, cared for him. He was your first kiss. No other will be like it.

Nobody can see him, and those who do forget him. Just like you are doing right now. Remember the kiss. But also remember that he's the Ghost of the Spire. He killed a mage, an elven girl, right in front of your eyes. He said he'd done it before. He said he did it to feel alive. He most likely will again.

Cole was your first love.

Cole is a demon.

Ember lowered the parchment, closing her eyes and trying to cling to the memory. The kiss in the dungeons. She remembered everything about it – every touch of his hand, every brush of his lips, every breath he'd stolen from her. She remembered how she trembled, how her blood rushed in her veins, how weak she'd felt. But Cole himself slipped past her mind's eye. She couldn't see his face, or hear his voice. But she wanted to. Desperately. Though she shouldn't, she knew, as her eyes returned to the one word that stood out the most on the parchment.

Demon.

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9:40 Dragon

The White Spire

A single man entered his dark and cold chambers in the White Spire Tower. A single candle burned on a nightstand beside an almost empty bottle of lyrium. Rain fell lightly on the roof above his head as he began to remove his templar armor.

The White Spire Tower had been his home for many years. As he'd grown as a man within its walls, so did his hatred for magic. He took pride in leashing the mages. He also took great joy in joining some of the templar hunters as they hunted down apostates, despite his title as Knight-Commander.

The White Spire had disbanded along with all of the other circles. All because of his own senior enchanter, Rhys, and that templar traitor Evangeline. But with the Circle of Magi no more, Lord Seeker Lambert had declared the Nevarran Accord null and void. Neither the Seekers of Truth nor the Templar Order now recognized Chantry authority. Lord Seeker Lambert was currently assembling an army and the pathetic mage rebellion would be crushed. Knight-Commander Eron couldn't be happier. He was glad to be apart of the destruction of the mages.

Knight-Commander Eron finished removing his armor and crawled into his bed, his sword resting against the bed's frame beside him. As sleep slowly came, he became aware of a sinister aura radiating from somewhere in the shadows of his room. His ears perked up as he heard the faintest creak of a loose wooden floorboard.

Immediately he reached for his sword by the bed, but before he could reach it something was upon him. A rough hand shoved him back down and he sucked in a sharp breath when he felt the cold steel of a dagger's blade press against his throat.

Eron's blood ran cold as he stared up into the stone cold face of a menacing young man with shaggy blond hair that hung into eyes of hardened blocks of blue ice. He recognized the intruder. The intruder matched the description Lord Seeker Lambert gave him of the demon calling itself the Ghost of the Spire.

"Demon," the Knight-Commander spat, and winced in pain as the blade pressed against his flesh.

The demon leaned close, a dangerous lethality coating the air around him. "You were the one who captured her. Beaten, bloodied, bruised, and starving you brought her here to be chained in blackness. To break her spirit you gave him her key, knowing he'd do to her what he did to all the others. But unbreakable, indomitable was she. Ink to paper you signed her name beside Tranquil. But you can't extinguish starlight, just as you can't cage a dragon."

"Lord Seeker Lambert knows about you!" Eron spat, the words sticking to the dry walls of his mouth. "He won't stand for this!"

"He was first." The demon's voice was so quietly deadly, Eron's insides flinched. There was no denying it. Right then, the infernal looking young man was the most dangerous, terrifying being Eron had ever encountered.

"W-What do you want from me?" Eron stammered.

The demon's upper lip curled, bearing white teeth that gleamed in the dim light the candle threw off. "I want you to look into my eyes."

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9:41 Dragon

Haven

"…and then Alistair turned bright red with embarrassment. It was so adorable." Leliana giggled behind her glass of wine as she lay on her stomach on the bed in the room she'd rented for the night.

"And that's the king of Ferelden? Maker, help us all," Ember laughed as she lay on her back on the floor in front of the bed, her fiery red curls spread out around her head, and her glass of wine resting on her stomach.

Many people mistook the two women for sisters, what with their similar hair color, facial features, and eye color. But Ember's red hair was much longer, reaching the middle of her back, and was a wild mass of thick untamable curls while Leliana's was short and straight. Ember's eyes were a swirl of blues and greens, tempestuous like the ocean, while Leliana's were a cool, serene blue. Ember's facial features weren't as soft or delicate or comely as Leliana's. Ember's skin wasn't milky-white like the Orlesian bard's either, but rather was sun-kissed and dusted with light freckles. Ember's body was athletic with slender muscles and slight feminine curves as opposed to the Left Hand's soft hourglass frame and voluptuous figure. Leliana was also known as being one of the most gorgeous women in all of Orlais, while Ember was usually overlooked by men, not known for her beauty but for her fierceness in battle.

"Is something wrong, sweeting?" Leliana asked, worried. "You look more dour than usual."

"I'm worried," Ember confessed. "I can't shake this feeling that something bad is going to happen at the conclave tomorrow."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because tomorrow is my birthday." Ember's expression was troubled. "Bad things always happen on my birthday." Aquamarine eyes met deep sapphire blue. "Do I really have to go tomorrow?" she whined.

"We've gone over this, sweeting. You're the best one to protect the Divine. You're now an exceptional rogue, but you are also a mage. You'll be able to sense if there is anything magically wrong." At Ember's pout, Leliana gave her an assuring smile. "You'll be fine."

Ember nodded, but the crease between her eyebrows didn't go away.

"Can I ask you something personal, sweeting?" Leliana inquired with a mischievous look.

Ember groaned. "Oh Maker, I'm going to regret this, aren't I?"

"Have you ever been kissed?" Leliana asked with a wicked glance as she sipped her wine.

Ember choked on her own wine. "W-What?"

"Oh, don't be so shy, sweeting." Leliana giggled at the younger woman's blush. "You must have been kissed by now, no?"

"I had to kiss that elderly noble man on that one mission, remember? Bluck," Ember muttered, shaking her head, her expression pinched as if she tasted something bad in her mouth.

Leliana's eyes rolled. "I mean like a real kiss."

Ember found herself thinking once again of the shockingly powerful kiss of Cole. The strange, soul-shattering kiss she had received from the young man who was the Ghost of the Spire, lived in her memory like a rose preserved between the pages of a book.

At her continued silence, Leliana looked at Ember over the top of her wine glass, blue eyes dancing with impishness. "Tell me, has Cullen gathered enough courage to kiss you yet?"

Leliana chuckled as Ember's eyes widened and her mouth dropped in surprise, her curls shifting with the shaking of her head.

Leliana shook her head and sighed. Not in a disappointed way, but in a "we have a lot ahead of us" sort of way. "That poor little templar needs to grow some backbone when it comes to women."

Leliana's gaze returned to Ember and she snorted. "Oh, do not tell me you haven't noticed the way he watches you?" Leliana giggled at Ember's shocked expression. "Every time you look away, he stares at you with longing eyes."

"I had no idea." Ember's expression became vexed. "Great, now that I know, it will be really awkward around him."

Leliana's head tilted. "Has there been no one else?"

Ember frowned at her. "I'm not some great beauty like you, Leliana. Men do not throw themselves at my feet. They barely notice me."

"That does not mean you haven't locked lips with a few, no?"

Ember sighed as she tapped her finger on her glass. "The stable boy in Val Royeaux kissed me once. It was completely by surprise."

"No!" Leliana gasped. "Daylen?"

"Yup," Ember answered with a grimace. "It was terrible. He shoved his tongue so far down my throat that I gagged. Disgusting."

"That is terrible." Leliana frowned. "Maybe you haven't had a good kiss because you've been kissing the wrong sort?"

Ember raised an eyebrow. "Are you implying, dearest Leliana, that I should be kissing girls?"

Leliana's lips quirked. "Why not? It might be a solution to your little problem. You won't know until you try, no?"

Ember sighed. "I don't think that's it."

Leliana eyed her strangely. "Have you really never had a good kiss, sweeting? Not one?"

Ember hesitated. "There was… but it wasn't really a kiss."

"Oh?" Leliana's head lifted with interest. "And what was it?"

Ember sighed wistfully, unable to keep the longing from her voice. "Whatever it was… it was heart-stopping."

"Ooohh," Leliana squealed girlishly, full of excitement, as she sat up and sat cross legged on the bed. "Tell me everything."

Ember shook her head. It was wholly unnerving how the memory still haunted her five years later. "It was just a dream."

"Oh, come on. Who was he?" Leliana urged.

Ember stared dolefully up at the ceiling of the bedchamber. "A ghost."

Leliana's stilled. "What do you mean?"

Ember bit her bottom lip. "He wasn't real."

Leliana's eyebrows furrowed. "Was he… imaginary? Like an imaginary friend?"

Ember's face hardened. "He was no friend of mine." Her blue-green eyes were more green as she turned her head on the floor and they clashed with Leliana's blue. "He was a murderer."

"So am I," Leliana pointed out. "So are you."

"That's different. We kill because we have to. He killed…" Ember's jaw tightened and her eyes flashed with anger and deepened with pain before she averted her gaze to stare up at the ceiling again.

"What?" Leliana pressed gently when she didn't continue.

Ember had to swallow a few times before she found her voice, and when she spoke, her words were soaking with bitterness and old pain. "He killed because he liked it. It made him feel alive." Her fingers tightened on her glass. "And the worst part is I trusted him," she ground out. "I thought he was my friend. We talked about everything. I could tell him anything. I told him things I've never told anyone and he always understood. He never—" She stopped because, even as mellow as the wine was making her feel, she didn't want to share on this particular topic.

Leliana tossed her hand in the air. "Well, there you go. That's why you haven't had a good kiss."

Ember's head rolled on the floor toward the bard. "Huh?"

Leliana rolled her eyes. "Because you're still hung up on him, this ghost of yours. It's obvious, no?"

Ember bit her lip and looked at her wine glass, watching the red liquid. Leliana was wrong. Cole was nothing more than an old memory, deadened by time and tears. "He's merely an unwanted ghost in my dreams."

Leliana was quiet for a while. "Does this ghost of yours have a name, sweeting?"

Ember's face twisted with melancholy. It was hard to say his name out loud. Her lips did not want to form the word. "Cole," she finally forced herself to whisper, the name coming out on an uneven breath.

"Do you think you'll ever see this Cole again?"

She felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. "I don't know. I don't think so."

Ember's face was still and her expression sorrowful yet wistful, and in such vulnerable repose Leliana felt a rush of sympathy for the young woman. "I'm sorry, sweeting."

"Don't be." Her voice was low and thick. "It was no more than a dream."

Author's Note: The note Ember writes to herself to remember Cole is similar to the one Evangeline writes. There is a codex of it in the game. Also, Cole kills the White Spire's Knight-Commander in a way similar to how he kills Lord Seeker Lambert.