The Inquisitor's Ghost

Chapter 9 – A Wall Full Of Stars

Blessed are the righteous

The lights in the shadow

In their blood the Maker's will is written

- Benedictions 4:11

In the tallest tower of the Skyhold fortress, the Inquisitor stood on her balcony staring out at the most majestic view of the Frostback Mountains. The lightly descending snow was falling softly upon the snowy paths and roofs of Skyhold, coating the Inquisition stronghold in a fresh layer of crisp white powder. The vibrant scarlet of her hair shined like a beacon in the vast whiteness that surrounded her and her greenish blue eyes sparkled in the first rays of sunlight.

Skyhold, or Tarasyl'an Te'las in ancient elvish, meant "the place where the sky is kept." Whatever name you wished to call it, to Ember, it was home. A smile bloomed on her face as she ran her hand along the stone railing. She hadn't had a home since she was eight-years-old. Ever since then she'd been running, hiding, evading capture and the dungeons. Even when she found Leliana, they'd been constantly living on the move as was required of the Left Hand of the Divine. Once Ember was able to go on her own missions for Leliana, she was constantly living on the road. To finally be able to call something her own, to feel safe, to have a home was… there were no words. After all the years of running and hiding from the templars it was nice to feel like she belonged somewhere, even if it was just for a little while.

Ember was also thankful for the people she had with her. Leliana was like a sister to her and she wouldn't be able to do this without her by her side. She visited her mentor in the fortress rookery often, seeking guidance, laughter, and companionship.

Ember had gotten to know Cullen, Cassandra, and Josephine over the years she'd been an agent of the Left Hand of the Divine. She trusted them, and she did not trust easily. With each of them, what you saw was what you got. They had their beliefs and convictions, but they were open-minded enough to bend when needed. As for the others, she'd only met them a few months ago, but she could honestly say that they were a strange bunch.

Varric was undoubtedly her favorite. Brilliant, funny, charming and cunning the dwarf could be running Orzammar, the Merchant's Guild, or the Carta, but wisdom made him prefer the shadows, avoid the spotlight, choose to be overlooked. He had a kind heart and good intentions, but had made some hard decisions and been through so much. A heart could only take so much loss before it had to put a wall up to protect itself. He reminded her of herself, a kindred spirit. Sometimes he would see her enter Skyhold after a long mission and he would stop her, get them a few pints of ale, and have her vent her frustrations until she was laughing, feeling lighter, and blissfully drunk. He'd become a dear friend and she was thankful to have him.

Sera was just a child. She was barely eighteen-years-old. But Ember liked her. She was bold, playful, funny, and colorful. She lacked a proper education, but had spirit. Ember had been like that before she found Leliana. Ember would seek the archer out at the Skyhold tavern when she needed to be reminded that the world was more than just rifts, blood, duty, and death. Sera helped her feel her age and to loosen up, do something fun for a change.

As for Iron Bull… Maker help her… the moment that gigantic Qunari saw her long flowing, vivid red curls… well, he'd been trying to get her into bed every since. Despite having to refuse his advances at every turn, she liked Bull. He was strong, courageous, humorous, and dependable. He may be an agent of Ben-Hassrath, but he'd told her that the moment he'd met her and because of that she trusted him more than others.

Blackwall was lying to her. She didn't know why or what about, but he was lying to her. She didn't trust him. She refused to speak with a man who was lying to her. She only visited him at the stables when she absolutely had to, and even then she always came armed.

As for the mages, Ember avoided them. She was afraid they'd detect her magic and expose her as a mage. Despite her avoidance of them for her own personal reasons, she found herself liking Dorian and Vivienne. Dorian was smart, charming, brave, and unapologetically Tevinter. In a nation known for being a land full of monsters, he definitely was the exception. Ember hoped that Tevinter would see him as an inspiration and not as a threat.

Vivienne was similar, except unapologetically Orlesian. Ember couldn't help but admire the Circle mage for she had manipulated the system into granting her power and protection that few other mages were ever able to achieve. She'd bought her freedom from the templars, and Ember wasn't sure she wanted to know what exactly it was Vivienne had given up in exchange for that freedom.

Solas was not who he appeared to be, of that she was absolutely positive. Other than that, she knew she couldn't trust anything he said or did. There was no doubt in her mind that Solas was the most powerful creature she'd ever encountered. She avoided the atrium beneath the library just as much as she avoided the stables.

The Inquisitor placed her chin in her palm as she relished the splendid view of the mountains from her balcony. The sun was barely rising in the sky, its golden rays skimming the high edges of the mountaintops, brightening the sea of white with the advent of dawn. She knew she should head to the training grounds, she needed to become stronger, but she hadn't stopped to watch the sun rise in so long and this one was… spectacular.

The golden rays of the sun made her think of Cole. She couldn't help but wonder where he was, if he was even alive. She still couldn't understand it or believe it. He'd come all the way to Haven to warn her about the Elder One. He'd helped people, her people. Instead of retreating with the others, he'd risked his life to protect hers.

"I promised that no one was ever going to hurt you."

Cole's words lingered in her mind – uttered to her on such soft, gentle tones that continued to drift through her mind like leaves on a summer's breeze.

Ember shook the words from her head as she moved into her room to sit in the center of her bed. She sat cross-legged in her obsidian armor, heavy mass of wildly unruly crimson curls flowing down her back as she sharpened her daggers with a whetstone using the care given a prized possession, which they were. The blades were a beloved gift from Leliana. They were light weight but razor sharp, finely crafted and honed just for her hands and fighting style. They were her most treasured belongings, besides the necklace hanging around her neck and the book of poems resting on her nightstand.

The last thing she remembered of Haven was being buried alive in snow with Cole's body shielding hers, his warmth keeping her from freezing to death, her hips cradling his, his arms wrapped so tightly around her. She remembered the deep longing in his voice when he'd whispered something in her ear right before she'd passed out from blood loss, as if he ached for something. Ember didn't understand a lot of things, but she understood that feeling.

She'd awakened later on a bedroll where the Inquisition had made camp just outside of Haven. She had no memory of how she'd gotten from Haven to the Inquisition's camp, and neither did anyone else. They thought she'd died at Haven, all except for Leliana. Leliana knew within her heart that Ember was still alive and would find her way back to them. They had found her with the other injured soldiers, sleeping soundly. She'd been cleaned and her many injuries bandaged and cared for. The leather necklace with the charm of a star hanging from a half crescent moon had been cleaned and secured back around her neck.

Ember had gone looking for Cole once she'd gained consciousness. She'd searched every inch of the camp and then Skyhold when they'd arrived, but found no sign of him. She'd even asked Cullen if he'd seen the young man from Haven that had helped them, but Cullen couldn't recall ever seeing such a young man.

"Inquisitor?" came Cullen's voice, breaking through her thoughts.

Ember's chin turned to face him from her spot on her bed, dagger and whetstone in hand. "Yes?"

The smile he gave her was charming. "Everyone is gathered in the War Room and waiting for your luminous presence."

"Good," she replied pleasantly as she dragged the whetstone almost lovingly over the length of her blade.

Her eyes shifted to look at Cullen discretely out of the corner of her eye. She hadn't spoken to him that much since he kissed her on the roof of the Chantry in Haven, which was more than two months ago. It was strange and awkward between them now. She was pretty sure Cullen was aware that there was something impeding her ability to become anything more than just friends with him. Thank the Maker he wasn't aware of what exactly that something was.

"Do you require more whetstones?" Cullen asked politely.

"Yes. Please," the Inquisitor answered before hopping off her bed and sheathing her daggers at her back. "Let's head to the War Room. King Alistair said he had information concerning the Wardens and Corypheus. I want to know what the hell is going on. I want the Wardens for allies. I want the pleasure of stealing not only the mages, but also the Wardens from that ancient darkspawn." Her face was set with grim resolve when she reached him. "I want to reach Crestwood and meet Alistair before nightfall."

"You are very determined, I think," he answered, arching an eyebrow in a manner that would have caused havoc in the heart of any other woman.

A smile curved her lips. "Quite. My mama always said it was my greatest failing."

His smile could stop any other woman's heart. "Or greatest strength."

Her eyes glittered up at him. "We shall see, won't we?"

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Two nights later, the Inquisitor was sitting alone on the wooden floor of her room at Skyhold, her back leaning against her bed's frame. She was staring blankly at the ground as rain fell heavy and loud on the roof above her head, an almost empty bottle of wine in her hand. A single candle burned on her nightstand beside another bottle of wine that was already empty.

For a long time she wavered between unparalleled anger and gut-wrenching despair. She'd met with King Alistair in Crestwood and he'd told her how the Grey Wardens were under the influence of Corypheus. Blackwall was currently under lock and key as she was unable to bring herself to trust him enough to roam Skyhold free and clear.

The Inquisitor lifted the wine in her hand and took a long pull on the bottle, until there was no more. She'd admired the Grey Wardens since she was a child and so her mind was currently swimming in a sea of denial. How could they do this? How could they form an alliance with that monster? Why was everyone in the damn world losing their damn minds? What the hell was happening to the world? How was she supposed to save it when it didn't even want to be saved?

The Inquisitor stood and stumbled drunkenly over to her bed. She removed her black armor and boots, stripping down to her smalls, too tired and drunk to put on tights and a tunic for bed. She removed the dagger she always kept strapped to her calf and placed it under her pillow. She never slept without it. She'd been trained by life and Leliana to always keep her guard up and that's what she'd always done. She'd learned early on as a child that, if given the chance, people will strike first. She never gave them the opportunity to try and get the best of her. Never again.

The Inquisitor blew out the candle on her nightstand and pulled back the covers and drunkenly climbed into the bed. The cool feel of the crisp linen sheets on her skin were a welcomed gift after the day and night's events of fighting, bloodshed, disappointment, and death. Adjusting her pillow, she pulled the blankets up to her chest and closed her eyes. Maker, she was exhausted and the darkness and the soothing sounds of the pitter-patter of the rain above her were exactly what she'd been craving these last few hours.

Sleep would be bliss to obtain.

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"Don't hurt me! Please don't hurt me!" the young mage girl cried frantically as she shrank against the stone wall of the dungeons, trying desperately to get away from the demon that was stalking her with the wicked-looking dagger in his hand.

The demon crouched down in front of the young elven girl and spoke to her in a voice too low to hear, but the dagger in his hand glinted in the low light with deadly intent.

"Look into my eyes…" she heard the demon say to the young girl.

The demon raised the dagger in his hand and placed the serrated edge against the girl's neck. Mercilessly, the demon dragged the blade across her neck, blood gushing down the front of the girl's chest and into her robes. The girl convulsed, a spurt of bright blood erupting from her mouth.

The demon watched.

The demon watched intently as the life left the girl's eyes, as if it were sustenance for his soul.

The Inquisitor woke with a jolt to her empty, pitch-black room. She couldn't tell what had roused her from her sleep. For a long time, she laid still listening to the rain falling on the roof and windowpane, and the beating of her own heart.

Trying to find a comfortable position, she rolled over onto her side, taking a deep breath, but then tensed as she heard the sound of breathing. Breathing?

Someone was in her room.

The Inquisitor knitted her brow, her pulse going wild with alarm, her natural instincts of self-preservation kicking in. Her body immediately went on the offensive. Her hand moved stealthily to the dagger under her pillow. Her fingers curled around the hilt of her blade, calming her jolted nerves. Gliding the cool steel out from its hiding place, she gained a better grip.

Swiftly she sat up, dragging the dagger out from under her pillow and holding it sideways in front of her chest, her heart pounding in her ears. Her eyes narrowed, intently searching the darkness of her room as the rain beat against the roof. There was a flicker in the dark by her window, a shifting of shadows, and she felt something within them staring at her.

"I know you're there," Ember stated in a low and stiff voice, speaking into the shadows that lined her bedchamber. "Come out of the shadows," she commanded firmly, the authority ringing in her voice.

The words were strangely familiar.

For a long moment there was nothing. Nothing but darkness.

A flash of lightning lit the night sky from outside her window, illuminating her bedchamber for a split second in silvery-white light.

Ember's soft, ragged intake of breath rang sharp and loud in the still of the silence of her bedchamber, her heart pounding in her throat, as the light of the lightening flashed upon a head of thick, shaggy blonde hair that was wet with rain, turning it silver with its light.

A young man was crouched low on his haunches, his elbows resting on his knees as he balanced on the balls of his feet on the wooden frame that lined her bed by her feet, not five feet away from her. He wore wet leathers that hugged his long, whipcord lean, tightly corded figure made up entirely of carved lines and sharp angles.

Another flash of lightning lit her bedchamber causing dark shadows to slash across his sharply chiseled features, highlighting his smooth alabaster skin. Her heart chilled in her chest as she found herself staring into the eyes of the ghost who'd haunted her dreams for the past five years.

She sat frozen in her bed, afraid to move, afraid to breathe with the knife still held sideways in front of her chest. For what seemed a small eternity, she remained poised motionlessly in her bed, in just her smalls she realized to her horror. On an exhaled breath she gradually sank back against the headboard. Her lips parted and one softly spoken word fell out on a shuttering breath, "Cole?"

He said nothing. He remained perched at the end of her bed, crouched down on her wooden bedframe like a gargoyle, the rain dripping off of him and soaking into her sheets.

She began stammering, "Why are you… how did you… how long have you been here?"

The silence that lingered was deafening. Haunted, haunted eyes continued to stare at her beneath a wet mop of unkempt golden locks. The wayward strands of blonde hair leaked water down his face and lay in wet strands across his forehead.

"A while."

Ember sucked in a sharp breath through her teeth. That voice… so low and raspy, yet smooth and soft… it seemed to roll right through to her bones. She involuntarily shivered, hoping he didn't see it.

"Have you been in my room the whole time I've been away?"

He looked at her from beneath long, sooty black lashes. "Yes."

"And you don't find that… strange?"

His gaze was piercing. "No."

"Oh," she managed, her voice slightly breathless.

After several heartbeats, she was finally able to get her limbs to obey her commands. She turned and placed her dagger down on her nightstand with a trembling hand. With a flick of her wrist she sent magic sprouting from her fingertips to light the wick of the candle on her nightstand, a flame bursting to life and casting the room in a soft golden glow.

When she turned back to him a tiny smile was pulling at the corners of his mouth. "You're safe," he said, raindrops sliding down the pale skin of his throat. "Safe and sound. I was worried. Your lips were so blue before. So much blood. I didn't like it."

She swallowed, trying to calm her nerves as she lifted the sheets to cover her near nakedness, feeling vulnerable all of a sudden. "Are you talking about Haven?"

"Yes." He stared at her in silence for a long moment with a look of agony on his face. "Haven. I remember it and it still scares me: Choking fear, can't think with your blood on my hands and on my chest. Your breath is slower. Your lips are blue. So blue. They are not supposed to be blue and cracked and dry. Their supposed to be soft and red, like the petals of a rose." Cole shook his head, blonde hair swaying softly across his eyes. "Protect her. Nothing else matters. But I wasn't fast enough. Too slow. Too slow. I couldn't stop them from hurting you. The guilt wracks me with every heartbeat. You're in pain, so I'm in pain. You're dying, so I'm dying. Hot white pain, everything burning. She can't die. Save her. Save her. Nothing else matters. Nothing else-"

"Why are you here, Cole?" she interrupted on an unstable breath, her heart unable to hear anymore.

With wet hair and raindrops rolling down his ghostly white face. "A piece is missing. Essential. The rest of the puzzle hurts without it."

A cold chill rushed through her veins. Maker, that look. There was something so disturbing about the way he was looking at her. It was uncomfortable, embarrassing, and somehow flattering all at once. "What are you talking about?"

His expression was wistful as his eyes scanned her hair, her face, her throat. "I've missed you."

She froze. She froze, staring into his eyes, his honest words ringing in her ears and her heart tripping in her chest. She froze while a tremor shimmied up her body.

"It's been five years, Cole," she gritted out. "Five years."

He ducked his head, letting his wet hair fall over and hide his eyes, causing droplets of rain to roll down his sharply carved face. "Five years, four months, and seventeen days," he corrected in a tiny voice laden with quiet suffering.

Two pink spots flared in her cheeks and she looked down at her hands that were folded in her lap on top of the coverlet. And there her gaze stayed, while the silence in the room grew from being merely uncomfortable to downright suffocating.

"You're different," she heard him murmur into the silence and she looked up at him. "I didn't get a chance to really look before. But you're different. I see it now." His eyes were alight with some emotion she couldn't define as they scanned every inch of her face. "The Fade is heavy on you. Shining, shimmering, sharp. It's strong and pure. Loud and bright. Similar to before, but… different."

"And you're exactly the same." Scowling, she crossed her arms over her chest in a defensive gesture. "Still slaughtering innocents?" She said the words before she had a chance to think them through and she winced when she heard them in her ears. They were cruel. They made her heart hurt just hearing them spoken in her voice, but they were also true words. That hurt even more. She couldn't forget that.

She saw the way his blue eyes softened in remorse as he looked at her for an interminable moment before saying, "The last time you saw me you didn't want to look at me. You saw a monster." His voice was tight with emotion, stormy eyes unimaginably sad as they peered into hers. "And you were right," he managed to say in a self-deprecating way. "They were dying or to be made Tranquil. They were in pain. They were begging for someone to make it stop hurting. Every moment would've been agony. They wanted mercy. I wanted to help, but I also didn't want to fade away. Dark and desperate, using blood and death to make myself alive. I used to be like that. I'm not anymore."

Cole's voice shook with emotion and his words rang with sincerity, and she couldn't help the lump that formed in her throat. She wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe that he'd changed, that he wasn't killing innocents anymore. But how could she trust someone that had the ability to influence her mind? He could be bending her thoughts into thinking him harmless so that she would let her guard down and open her mind just that little bit that would allow him to possess her and turn her into an abomination.

Refusing to be manipulated or deceived, she quickly steeled herself against the soft emotions stirring within her. Her lips pursed and her expression hardened. "I don't want to speak of the past. I want to speak of the present. You still haven't explained why you're here, Cole."

"I want to explain but… I don't always say it right." He looked away from her, staring at the rain rolling down her window, a miserable look on his face. "I've been living in the shadows. Unseen, unrecognized, unwanted. I always see the starlight, but it is remote and far away, and never finds me. I reach for it, but it slips through my fingers, not wanting to be found. In the shadows you are always alone, the world oblivious to your existence." He looked at her from under long black lashes. "I don't want to live in the shadows anymore. I want to live among the stars."

Her resolve to remain unaffected and to not let him get to her began to crumble as she fell victim to eyes the color of a cloudy sky that were so large, so round, and utterly sad in a face that was so forlorn she felt the wretched feeling echoing deep within herself.

The Inquisitor quickly caught herself and smothered the tender emotions that were currently coursing through her. She glared at him, accusingly. She hated that look that resembled a lost, lonely puppy. She hated how it still had an effect on her. She loathed how he could still get under her skin after all these years and after everything she'd done to rid herself of the girlish feelings she'd harbored for him when she was eighteen and young and stupid and naive.

Damn, damn, damn.

She didn't need this. He shouldn't be here. She couldn't handle his being here. Anger formed in her gut and she found it comforting. How dare he be here, strolling right back into her life, ruining the fragile balance she'd found in her life with his raspy voice and haunted blue eyes. She hated his eyes, hated the dark shadows that seemed to fill them, hated that she cared, hated that she wanted to be the one to bring light into them.

Her jaw was clenched and she forced the words passed the thin line of her lips, "Thank you for coming to warn me and help me at Haven. I didn't get a chance to thank you for that."

"I will always keep my promise," he whispered to her.

Her features were pinched, causing the freckles speckled across her nose to standout. "The Inquisition thanks you for your service," she uttered through gritted teeth. "I can arrange to have an award granted to you, if you would like."

"I don't want an award."

"Then what do you want, Cole?" The hard knot of distress that was lodged in her throat made the name sound hoarse. She suddenly felt like she was negotiating with the devil on the terms of her soul.

His eyes flickered upward and locked onto hers from beneath disheveled blonde tresses that dripped rain into his eyes. "I want to be where you are."

He didn't elaborate. She kept her gaze fixed on his and remained silent, waiting for some sort of explanation. When she didn't get one, she replied firmly, "That's impossible and you know it."

"Why?"

Her eyes flashed as her heart wrenched. "Because I'm a mage and you're a demon!"

Cole shifted uneasily from where he was crouched at the end of her bed on her wooden bed frame, a rueful look on his face. "I want it to be spirit."

Her eyes widened as she recoiled from him, pressing against her headboard. He wasn't even denying it. Maker help her, she suddenly saw her near-future murder playing out in front of her eyes at the hands of the ghost that was still haunting her.

"I am me," he explained quickly when he saw the mixture of terror and apprehension on her face. "The one who won't let anyone hurt you."

When her terrified expression remained, Cole's body flickered and he impossibly appeared standing beside her bed, lean muscles taut and that unearthly aura radiating around him making him appear dangerous and otherworldly.

Her heart dropped into the pit of her stomach at the same time her blood cooled in her veins. That impossible movement only reminded her how he wasn't human.

Run!

A warning voice screamed in her mind, her panic mounting, self-preservation instincts taking hold. But her limbs wouldn't obey. She remained frozen, motionless in fear, unable to do anything but stare. Her heart was hammering wildly in her throat as the Ghost of the Spire moved closer to her, gliding across the wooden planks next to her bed like smoke on the wind.

"You're frightened. You don't have to be." The wretched and desperate look in his eyes when he said that prompted a surprisingly sympathetic reaction from her despite the dread that still gripped her. "See me, dear heart," he murmured with his voice so low and hushed, aching and pleading. "See me when you look at me. Just like you used to."

Something tender twisted painfully within her. Those haunted eyes saw so much and asked only to be seen in return. She didn't answer him. Even if she'd been able to think of a reply, she could never have pushed the words past the constriction in her throat. Nor could she look away as she watched him stop beside her and bend over to place one hand on the headboard beside her head and the other on the bed beside her hip, trapping her in the space between the cold wooden headboard and his very warm body.

The heat emanating from him reached out to her, beckoning. She could not feel his evil, but she could feel his power vibrating from his lean, sinewy frame as it hovered over hers, rain dripping off of him. She held her breath for as long as she could, refusing to breath, until the need for oxygen forced her to inhale slowly, taking the scent of him into her lungs. She smelled the scent of the leather of his armor, the wool of the tunic beneath, the rain that slid wet and slippery along his skin that was as pale as the moon itself, and something sweet yet spicy that was all his own.

Her eyes looked up at him to find him staring down at her, less than six inches from her face. She gulped and squeezed her thighs together beneath the sheets that separated that piercing blue gaze from her bare skin.

The light from the candle flickered this way and that, casting dancing shadows upon his milky-white face as he dropped his gaze to rake her body, slowly, before he lifted his eyes to meet hers again. "Your body is shaking. You ripple like water when the stone is dropped." His head tilted, eyes questioning. "Why?"

She licked her suddenly dry lips, her breathing quickening as she watched him watching her with all of that focused and unwavering intensity. "It doesn't matter," she managed breathlessly, trying desperately to force the trembling to stop, not to give her away. She didn't understand why anytime he moved within a foot of her personal space, it sucked the breath out of her. She especially didn't understand why she liked it.

A disjointed, fragmented feeling of unreality kept her rigid, paralyzed, her pulse pounding in her ears as he slowly brought one of his hands to her face, the very tips of two wet fingers sweeping feathery light across the elegant hollow beneath her cheekbone.

Instantly her body tensed into immobility. Her heart seemed to skip a beat and then pounded at double time, sending the blood roaring in her ears. She could have pulled from his touch, but she didn't. Her breath had deserted her like a traitor and she found she had no will to break the connection.

Cole's eyes followed his hand as it slowly moved down her jaw, then her neck, stopping at her collarbone. He dragged his eyes back to hers and their shade was darker then before. With those eyes delving into hers and his fingers on her skin, she felt like the intervening years fade away until she was eighteen again, young and helpless and in a dark cell with nothing and no one but her ghost, her protector, her one and only friend.

He studied every nuance of her expression. Those eyes seemed to reach in and probe the depths of her eyes before falling to linger on her rapidly increasing pulse at her neck, before he lifted his eyes to meet hers again. "Your heart beats faster when I touch you. Your eyes become darker, you skin warms, and you shine brighter. Why?"

She could barely process his words. She was torn between the need to move away from his overwhelming presence and the desire to lean forward and curl into him and the protection he could certainly offer her.

Protection? She blinked at the idea. How insane was it to want protection from the only thing she'd ever needed protection from?

Unyielding, Cole's gaze captured hers in a long glance as his fingertips ran lightly over the necklace he'd made for her that was hanging around her neck before letting his hand return to the bed beside her hip. "Do you remember it?" he uttered, his voice hoarse from the raw tightness in his throat.

Her chest rose and fell swiftly. "R-Remember what?"

A heated look flitted across his face, so fleeting that Ember was sure she imagined it. "Warm lips. Soft as a summer rain. Starlight-flavored. Light at first, like raindrops splashing down, falling on my skin. Soft sighs inhaled. Gasping, trembling, air seeking, and then lips again. Head underwater, drowning. Feeling like I'm going to die, yet can't get enough."

"Cole…" What should have sounded like an admonishment came out like an entreaty.

A raindrop dangled at the end of a lock of blonde hair that was hovering above her before it landed with a soft plop on her bottom lip. His eyes moved downward to her mouth and rested there for an uncomfortably long time. "Can I have it again?" His voice was rougher, darker than it had been.

She blinked a few times at his words. "Can you have what again?"

"Your mouth." A tremor shook her at the vibration of his low, husky murmur. His gaze remained fixed on her mouth as he leaned in excruciatingly slowly until his lips just barely reached hers. "I want it again."

The Inquisitor stiffened on a sharp intake of breath as Cole's lips hovered over hers, his warm breath teasing her lips like fingertips. The pulse in her wrists hammered violently as she battled back a flood of emotions. She gasped in air that he exhaled until she felt dizzy.

Sweet Andraste, he wasn't even touching her and yet he'd reduced her to a quivering heap of raw nerves. How was it that he and he alone could affect her so strongly? She hated it. She despised the power he wielded over her. She had to fight this magnetism, this irrepressible allure that hadn't ebbed in the past five years that would inevitably lead to her – their - destruction.

With his breath mingling with her own, she forced herself to remember what he did. Remember what he was. She needed to remember that now. Every fiber of her being knew he was dangerous. He was like a Venus flytrap - attractive but treacherous. Cole was as safe as broken glass. Yet her body didn't seem to care about all that. Stupid lust. But she could not forget, and certainly could never forgive, that he had murdered an innocent young mage girl who'd begged him for her life.

The Inquisitor forced her stomach to stop quivering in anticipation and schooled her features into a stoic mask. "Anything about us is in the past. Let's leave it there," she uttered, speaking in a tightly controlled voice that belied her chaotic emotions.

Only a hairsbreadth away, she watched Cole squeeze his eyes shut, felt his heated breath stutter unevenly against her lips, and saw his jaw clench – in pain? Or restraint?

After a few heartbeats, he reluctantly pulled back slightly, his eyes burning and uncomprehending as he looked down at her.

Her chin jutted out belligerently. "Cole, I'm asking you as nicely as I'm going to ask you. Please leave."

Hurt and confusion flashed across his face before falling and settling into panic. "Wait. That didn't work. Let me try again."

Glowering, she leveled unsympathetic eyes on him. "You don't get to try again. Now please leave."

His eyebrows were pulled together and the pain on his face was raw and real and heartbreaking. "But… but the words came out wrong. I didn't say it right." There was a hard desperation in his eyes that sent chills down her spine. "Let me try again. The right way. You'll forget me in a minute."

"I will never forget you. That's the problem!" she cried, some of her own pain inadvertently leaking into her voice. "You are haunting me!" Her words rang out loudly and sharply, resounding with echoes.

Cole hesitated as if he was going to say something more, then changed his mind. Silence engulfed them. The air between them vibrated raw with tension, the past echoing all around them.

Slowly, his face fell, becoming closed off, as if someone had dropped a curtain over his face. His emotions became shuttered and his features brooding as he took a step back from her and lowered his arms to his sides, allowing her room to breathe again.

One booted foot that was covered in mud and wet from the rain moved back on the wooden floorboard beside her bed and it creaked under his weight. Cole took another step back, his eyes never leaving hers as he took another step that brought him further away from her. Another step and he was swallowed up by the shadows of her room and there was a shifting within them as the ghost of her past slipped silently out of her window into the rain pouring from the heavens outside.

The Inquisitor's breath left her in a rush as she fell back against her headboard. Shakily, she raised a hand to her chest, trying to calm the frantic rhythm of her heart as a dozen conflicting emotions warred within her, just as they always did when Cole was involved.

Her eyes flickered to stare at the window he'd just left out of, watching the rain roll slowly down the windowpane. She felt suddenly… lonely without him there. She shouldn't. A mage shouldn't miss a demon.

With a heavy sigh, she shuffled down into her covers. She laid her pounding head on her pillow and blew a stray red curl from her face, wondering why he made her feel like she was wrong when every instinct she had told her she was right. Her instincts were never wrong. When her eyes lifted to the ceiling of her room she gasped in shock.

Hundreds of tiny golden-white stars dotted the deep black background of her ceiling.

Her heart constricted. Tears burned her eyes and her throat ached. She knew instantly who'd taken the time to paint all of those tiny little stars on her ceiling.

There was only one person in the entire world that knew she loved to sleep under the stars.

Author's Note: This chapter has a soundtrack: Little Talks (Live from Vatnagaroar) by Of Monsters and Men. Also, someone asked me about Cole calling Ember "dear heart." In Chapter 6, you see that is what the real Cole's mother used to call him. It is very meaningful to Cole since that term of endearment is associated with the few memories the real Cole had of ever receiving compassion in his life.