The Inquisitor's Ghost

by nothelping

She met him in the dungeons of the White Spire. She was the only one who could see him, remember him. Five years later, and Cole was back in her life, appearing out of thin air, just like the ghostly apparition he was, tempting her with something she could never have. Because every mage knew: Never take a demon into your soul. You'll change yourself forever.

13. Chapter 13 - Blackbird

The Inquisitor's Ghost

Author's Note: This chapter has a soundtrack: Latch (Acoustic Version) by Sam Smith.

Chapter 13 – Blackbird

The stars stood still

The winds did quiet

And all animals of earth and air held their breath

And all was silent in prayer and thanks

- Chanter Devons by the Lothering Chanter's Board

9:35 Dragon

Kirkwall Chantry

The large wooden door of the Chantry opened and a gangly youth stepped inside, the heavy door closing slowly behind her with a loud creak. Ember pushed the hood of her dark cloak back, revealing fire-red curls. The Chantry was almost empty. There were just a few of the faithful clustered together in the front pews. Grand Cleric Elthina was standing in front of them, her hand outstretched, blessing them while she murmured a prayer. The Chantry smelled of incense, dust, and parchment. The silence was heavy, full of softly murmured prayers too low for her to hear.

Ember shifted uneasily on her feet. Perhaps she should come back in the morning. It was late in the city of Kirkwall after all. The shops she'd passed in Hightown to get here had already started closing. But she had reliable information that Sister Nightingale was here, investigating the mage-templar relations on behalf of the Divine.

She'd just arrived in the city and despite being exhausted and still a little sea sick from the long voyage to get here, she couldn't wait another second to try and find the woman that could give her life purpose. She had to find her. And she was never very good at patience.

Ember walked warily into the Chantry toward the enormous statue of Andraste that was in the center of the Chantry and nearly reached the ceiling. Her eyes scanned the shadows around her, afraid that something was going to pop out and try to kill her. She was right to be worried. It was her seventeenth birthday after all. Nothing good ever came to her on her birthdays.

A young mother approached Grand Cleric Elthina and whispered something in her ear. Elthina nodded to whatever the young mother had said and then her head lifted and she smiled at Ember. Ember smiled back, timidly, as she approached the Grand Cleric.

"You look like you're on a mission, child," the old woman said to Ember in a soft and gentle voice.

Ember whispered, "I'm looking for Sister Nightingale. Is she here?"

The older woman shook her head. "I'm afraid Sister Nightingale has already returned to Val Royeaux. Is there something I can help you with?"

Ember's shoulders slumped, exhaustion taking its toll and the sense of hopelessness nearly suffocating. "Ugh… no… I… thanks," she mumbled.

Elthina nodded before excusing herself and following after the young mother, the two whispering among themselves as they disappeared up the stairs to the second floor.

Ember sighed warily as she stood dead on her feet. She'd gone to the Hawke mansion in Hightown looking to reunite with the woman whose family had saved her as a child, and treated her as one of their own for nearly five years. But Hawke's manservant had informed her that his mistress was currently in Orlais at the Chateau Haine, the home of Duke Prosper on some mission with her companions. He'd asked for her name, but Ember hadn't given it. She didn't plan on staying long and didn't want to add to Hawke's problems. The woman was the Champion of Kirkwall now. Ember wouldn't ask for Hawke's help when she was an apostate. She wouldn't put Hawke in that position.

As Ember turned to leave, she saw a woman in her early thirties sitting in one of the last pews on her knees with her hands clasped together in prayer, but her striking wolf grey eyes were fixed on Ember, her lovely face curtained by long straight black hair. The woman smiled at Ember, a warm and friendly smile that was so utterly genuine and amiable.

Ember blinked, unaccustomed to such blatant kindness being offered so freely to her. She stood motionless, not sure if she should say "hello" or "Maker, be with you," or what. She opened her mouth to say something to the nice woman, when the woman stood and exited the pew, gesturing with her hand for Ember to follow her.

Ember looked over both shoulders, but realized the woman was gesturing to her. Ember shrugged and followed after the woman to a little storage room located by the front door.

"You're looking for Sister Nightingale?" the woman whispered in a voice so soft and gentle, the syllables softly lilting, her pretty grey eyes wide and considerate.

"Uhh, yeah," Ember whispered back. "Do you know her?"

The woman nodded, her eyes looking to the door as if to make sure they weren't being overheard. "Sister Nightingale, she… she helped me, despite the risks. She… she married my husband and me while she was here. Sister Nightingale had said she would send a woman from Ferelden to help us. Is that you?"

Ember wasn't sure what the right answer was. She needed to find Sister Nightingale, but she had no idea what this woman was talking about. "That's, ugh, that's me," she lied.

"Maker, you're so young. How old are you, child?"

"Seven years and ten."

"Just a babe." The woman smiled then and it was breathtaking with its sweetness and gratitude. "You have no idea how much I appreciate your helping us. My husband and I… we've been through so much. It's not right that we've had to suffer like this simply because we love each other. Love was the Maker's first child and the most dear to his heart. Just because my husband is a mage of the Circle does not mean that loving him is a sin in the eyes of the Maker."

Ember had to force her jaw not to drop open. Maker, this woman was married to a circle mage! Was that even possible? "How were you able to get married?" she blurted out.

"Sister Nightingale," the woman answered. "She married us in secret with my brother as our only witness. My brother is a templar, you see, and was able to sneak Maddox out for one night so we could get married." The woman bit her lip. "Samson has put himself at risk by helping us. The templars are growing suspicious of him. He can't keep carrying the letters between Maddox and myself, not anymore. I won't let my big brother be punished for our love."

Ember could not believe that she'd just stumbled into this hidden and forbidden love between the sister of a templar and a circle mage. But, if Ember played this right, she might be able to get this woman to get her in touch with Sister Nightingale, the woman she'd been searching for. Two long years she'd been searching for Sister Nightingale. She was so close. And this woman could help her. It would require her to risk being caught by templars, the thing she feared most, but she would risk it just this once in order to find Sister Nightingale.

"I can carry the letters for you," Ember found herself saying. "I'm a rogue. I can move in and out of the Gallows undetected." She deliberately left out the part where she was also a mage. "If… if you could arrange a meeting with Sister Nightingale for me."

The woman beamed. "Of course, anything! What's your name, child?"

"Ember."

"I'm Raven." The lovely woman with the big heart and gentle smile took Ember's smaller hands in hers, tears brimming her wide and innocent grey eyes. "Thank you, Ember. You are truly an angel sent to Maddox and I from Andraste herself."

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9:41 Dragon

Exalted Plains

The golden haze of the hot sun cast a heavy heat upon the Inquisitor and her companions in the glen they were resting in. Ferns and moss and wildflowers grew around them in brilliant profusion, scenting the clear air with a perfume as heady as wine. Towering oaks and pines sheltered them, the secluded hideaway in the foothills of the looming mountains acting as their momentary refuge, a guarded haven that kept them away from the rest of the world. It was a blissful momentary relief from the responsibilities that sometimes felt crushing, the blood that felt like it always kept running, and the enemies that at times seemed endless and undefeatable.

Her companions were spread out in the glen. Under a tree, Solas sat next to Bull playing imaginary chess. Varric wrote while Sera sat on a boulder tying the stems of daisies to her bow. Dorian was collecting Royal Elfroot for crafting while Blackwall was collecting the Silverite that covered the glen. Cassandra was sharpening her sword while Vivienne was trying not to touch anything, running a hand over her dress, complaining about wrinkles.

Ember crossed her legs on the grass beneath a large oak tree covered in fresh green leaves, the long branches keeping her shaded and cool from the hot sun that was beating down hot and heavy.

Ember turned her head to watch Cole standing beside her, studying the ancient oak tree's visible roots where they plunged into the dirt. He pushed a low branch out of the way and slipped inside the reach of the tree. Raindrops showered down from the leaves as the branch snapped back into place. She was distracted by the tiny rivulets of water that dripped from the ends of his messy hair and trickled down the back of his neck before disappearing into his armor.

Cole crouched down to balance on the balls of his feet. "I like trees," he murmured as he ran his hand gently over the thick roots. "Trees don't hurt people."

Ember ran a hand across grass that still had the fresh pale green of early spring growth. She smiled to herself. Then she looked up to find Cole watching her. "I've always loved grass. I would sleep on it every night if I could."

Cole's eyes lowered to watch her hand run across the tops of the blades of grass. "Grass doesn't mind anything. People walk on it, horses eat it, it's always content." A fresh wind whipped across the glen, ruffling his shaggy blonde hair. "Wind is always going someplace. What happens when it gets there?"

Vivienne's haughtily laugh reached them from across the glen. "Apparently, it dons a hat and prattles endlessly."

Ember's gaze snapped to the enchantress who was avoiding the sun and refusing to sit down or touch any part of nature. "Vivienne, if you are to act like a child, then I shall discipline you like one. Next nasty thing that comes out of your mouth, you shall remove one article of clothing."

Vivienne gasped, outraged, but the rest of their party laughed, liking that form of discipline that also happened to be good entertainment.

Dorian came to lean his shoulder negligently against the tree trunk beside Cole and crossed his feet at the ankle. "So, Cole, you have memories, right? The real Cole's memories?"

Cole shrugged. "The ones that stuck. I thought they were mine."

Dorian raised an elegant eyebrow. "And Cole was a young man? A young man with needs. You have memories of that, yes?"

"Yes."

"Aha!" Dorian exclaimed.

"What?"

"Oh, come on! The real Cole must've buttered the southern pony in his day."

Cole blinked. "The real Cole never had a southern pony. He buttered his bread though."

Dorian rolled his eyes as he pushed off the tree.

"So, Creepy," Sera said perched upon her boulder, a wicked gleam in her eyes. "Since you're a demon and all that noise, can you die?"

Cole watched his fingers as they picked at the grooved and pitted bark of the oak tree. "I can't return to the Fade."

"Loads of demons eat it in this world. I've seen it, done it a buncha times. Maybe you can, too, yeah?"

Cole's fingers paused. "That… is scary."

"Happy to help!" the archer chirped as she retuned to decorating her bow.

Vivienne's eyes gleamed as they fell upon Cole. "You know, with so many rift marking the world, I am surprised any demons nearby do not fall back through. It would be a simple matter for such misguided creatures to return to their home and leave this confusing world behind. Would that not be easier for everyone involved, my dear?"

Cole gave her a questioning look. "Demons can't hear you. It hurts too much. Nothing here makes sense to them."

Vivienne sighed, irritated.

The Inquisitor stood, brushing the dirt off her armor. "Alright, let's head out."

As a group, they walked across the bright green rolling hills that seemed to stretch out infinitely in front of them into a bright blue sky painted with crisp white clouds. As they neared the cave Ember could hear Varric and Cole behind her.

"Okay, try it again, Kid. You'll get it."

"Knock, knock," Cole said evenly.

"Who's there?"

"Cole."

"Cole who?"

"It's me, Cole. That is my name."

Varric shook his head. "No, no. You're still not getting it. Sorry, Kid."

After a few more steps, Cole spoke, "I think I have it. Let me try again."

Varric chuckled. "Alright, Kid, let's see what you've got."

"Varric, will you remember me tomorrow?"

"Yes."

"Will you remember me in an hour?"

"Yes."

"Will you remember me in a minute?"

"Yes."

"Knock, knock."

"Who's there?"

"See. You forgot me already."

"Uh… that was… pretty good, Kid."

"Thank you. I tried very hard."

After a while, they were forced to walk in a single file line as they began weaving their way through a narrow path surrounded by tall rocks. Ember had to watch her step as the path was filled with nugs - the pink, hairless creatures that were a strange cross between a piglet and a rabbit.

"We must be getting close to the cave," Dorian stated as he stepped over a rather large one. "Nugs are drawn to cold, dark places."

Cole paused to kneel down and pet a runt. "Nugs are kind. Almost everything is bigger than they, but they're still happy. If you hold out your hand, they will nuzzle it. It's how they call you "friend"."

Vivienne lifted her chin haughtily as she passed him. "Remember, Inquisitor, the harmless-looking ones are always the most dangerous."

Cole looked up at her with big blue eyes. "Nugs aren't dangerous."

"I was not referring to nugs."

"You know, Leliana used to keep one as a pet," Ember said, changing the subject.

"You're joking," Blackwall laughed and a nug started from the loud sound.

Ember chuckled. "I'm not. It was a gift from the Hero of Ferelden when they visited Orzammar. Oh, what was its name again? Schmeples? Schmuples? It's right on the tip of my tongue."

After a few more turns, the Inquisitor held up her hand, signaling for them to stop. In front of her was the cave entrance, a jagged black slit set within two large boulders.

"That's it?" Blackwall asked behind her. "That's where the red templars are dug in?"

Cassandra's lips quirked. "I'm certain Empress Celene would appreciate having them removed from Orlesian lands."

"That's it." Ember removed her daggers, kissing one at a time before re-strapping them to her back. She turned her chin sharply and her neck cracked. She took a deep breath. "Alright. Let's do this."

She took one step toward the cave and Cole's hand caught her wrist before she could take another step.

"Wait," Cole said quietly. "Listen to the song."

Dorian took his staff in his hand. "Do you feel that? My magic-sensing nose is tingling."

"It's thin here," Cole murmured in warning, his grip tightening.

"This is an unnatural place," Solas added. "The Veil is thin, and spirits abound. We must be wary."

Cole's eyes searched the blackness of the entry to the cave. "Spirits were here even without the rifts." His eyes shifted to lock onto hers. "Don't go in."

The Inquisitor pulled her hand from his, the skin around her wrist tingling from where he'd touched her. The mark on her hand brightened with a green glow. "I go in first," she commanded ignoring the pleading look in Cole's eyes. The Inquisitor looked at the rest. "At my signal Solas, Bull, and Cole follow. Cassandra, you're in charge of the others."

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It was midnight when Ember entered the empty throne room at Skyhold, helped by Cole. Blood soaked her armor and pants along one side, the red stain bright. The report they'd been given about the cave had been a set up. She'd been ambushed the moment she walked into that cave. She'd unleashed a rift that killed most of them, but there had been so many and she'd been unable to avoid the point of a sword before her companions had rushed in. The Inquisitor grimaced in pain as she struggled to walk, cursing herself for her foolish recklessness.

"Not fast enough," Cole kept muttering to himself under his breath beside her with angry shakes of his head, one of his arms around her waist.

"Stop saying that," she chastised through clenched teeth, grimacing with one hand pressed against the wound on her side, fresh blood seeping out between her fingers.

Cole dropped his forehead to the side of her head and his hair brushed her temple. "You need a healer."

"I'm fine," Ember swore firmly. "It's just a graze."

Cole held the door to her quarters open for her. "Is a hole the same as a graze? I saw a hole."

She shrugged as the door closed behind them. "Graze. Hole. Same difference."

The young man helping her walk up the steps to her room frowned down at her in response. "You need a healer," he repeated with a surprising amount of steel backing his words.

"I don't need a healer," she replied stubbornly as she placed her foot on the next step and Cole pulled her up to it. "I have health potions on my desk."

Out of breath, she paused for just a second and swayed on her feet, blood dripping onto the wooden step she stood on.

"Why don't you know healing magic?" Cole asked sharply with a hint of accusation.

Ember glanced up at him, forcing the swaying to stop. "I've never been able to master it. It takes so much concentration. I prefer to just wave my hands around and send firebolts flying. Destruction is easier."

His face pinched. He didn't like her answer.

They took the last step of the stairs together and stood in her cold, pitch-black bedchamber. A cool breeze touched her fevered skin. Her gaze moved to the balcony doors that were open, letting in the cool breeze and beams of moonlight that were their only source of light.

She frowned. She didn't remember leaving her balcony doors open.

Ember felt his body tense beside her, sensed him peer around the darkened room. She looked up at him. She could just barely make out Cole's body in the faint light the moon provided. Moonlit strands of silvery-blonde locks were hanging into narrowed azurite orbs that glittered in the moonlight under long dark lashes as his gaze roamed sharply about her room, as if seeking hidden menaces.

"What is it?" she whispered, searching his face that was shrouded in shadows.

"It sounds different." His voice was so low it was barely audible. "The song in the stars on the ceiling has changed."

Ember didn't understand. She opened her mouth to question him, but stopped when she heard a sound, a dripping sound. She looked down to see she was standing in a slowly growing pool of her own blood.

Needing health potions, the Inquisitor attempted to take one step forward toward her desk, but before her foot could even touch the wooden floor, Cole squeezed her hip, preventing further movement. His fingers dug into her hipbone, coating them with her blood. She winced at the pain his tight hold caused, but froze at his silent command.

Ember ducked right as something whizzed past her ear and stuck in the wall beside her with a resounding thud. A single dagger was embedded in the wood inches from her face. If she hadn't moved…

Ember didn't see Cole move, but suddenly she was pushed out onto her balcony with a brutal shove.

Heart in her mouth, Ember fell in an inelegant sprawl upon the ground of her balcony, pain shooting out from her wound. "What the hell—" Her shout of outrage died as she looked over her shoulder.

Cole moved in a swirl of black in the moonlight, disappearing and reappearing around the room, tendrils of shadow licking around him as he fought five hooded figures.

Cole's speed was inhuman, his skill unmatched, but despite his abilities their daggers still flashed with deadly intent as they were somehow able to keep up with him, coming at him like a cloud of crows, pecking away at all sides no matter where he materialized.

From her spot on the ground of her balcony, Ember realized she was seriously injured, weaponless, and without mana due to blood loss. But she could still form a rift. She just needed to gain focus. She concentrated hard, trying to gather focus, when suddenly blood sprayed as a dagger caught Cole along his milky-white cheek.

Her eyes bulged and her heart stopped beating in her chest. She'd never seen Cole get hurt before. Not once. She didn't even think he could get hurt. She didn't know what she expected to happen, but when bright red blood appeared on his cheek in the form of a red line from his ear to the corner of his mouth, everything within her solidified to petrified stone. She honestly didn't think he could bleed. A scream bubbled up in her throat when blood spilled out and ran down his cheek, the white velvet of his skin so stark against the bright red color.

Cole's eyes tightened and became terrifying as the black shadows that lingered in his eyes solidified, hardening into blocks of obsidian within their icy blue irises. His expression was dark and fatal, the glare he wore was merciless and slashing, sharp enough to cut bone. Darkness coiled around him, before Cole disappeared in a maelstrom of inky-black shadow.

They didn't see him coming.

They didn't have a chance.

Nobody could evade Death when it came for you.

Cole moved through the shadows as if born to them, bending them to his will, commanding them to appear behind the first hooded figure. There was a flashing of steel and the spraying of blood as his dagger came up into the hooded figure's spine in the nape of the neck, his blade twisting sharply, killing instantly, and then he was swallowed up by shadow.

Cole disappeared and reappeared across the room between two hooded figures. Cole moved fast, so fast, his hands a speeding blur as he slashed his dagger across the second's throat, blood spraying as he spun like a tornado of shadow to cut the arm off of the third right before his dagger became embedded in the third's ribcage.

Cole's body was a blur of black as he spun round, pulling a smaller dagger from his belt, and threw it at the fourth silently creeping up behind him. The point of the dagger was dead-on, sinking into the fourth's left shoulder.

Cole seemed to impossibly appear in front of the fifth out of thin air, and in one deft motion he shoved the point of his dagger up and into the man's chin, going straight through the bottom and the roof of his mouth, more than likely piercing his brain. The hooded figure twitched slightly for a few moments, a slight gurgle of blood in the back of his throat, before going limp, dead. Cole ripped his dagger out and the fifth fell to the ground at Cole's feet, like a sacrifice.

The fourth sent a small dagger flying straight for her. Cole flickered into sight right in front of her in the same second and caught it several inches from his face. Abruptly Cole jerked his hand and threw the dagger back. In a blinding flash of silver, the dagger went flying to land in the fourth's right shoulder, bringing him to his knees. The hooded figure raised a hand and summoned mana, a sphere of power coalescing in his hand. Cole appeared in front of him, crisscrossed his daggers beneath his chin like a pair of scissors pressed against his neck, and in one deft motion the two sharp weapons cut his head off, hood included.

Cole stood over the decapitated figure, his body taut, knuckles white around his blood-soaked blades, his chest rising and falling with his ragged breaths, fresh blood dripping off the ends. Cole's chin turned slightly and his eyes clashed with hers, shadowed and thunderous.

"The Venatori are dark and hard and cracked and old." She'd never heard his voice so hard before. "They pull the Fade with blood and pain and ancient lying whispers." He pointed with his blood soaked dagger at the headless man at his feet. "These are Venatori, but they are also red inside."

Aghast, Ember stared at the bodies scattered about her room. "Venatori… taking red lyrium? Is that possible?"

"Yes. Venatori. But red inside. Dead and dark and done."

Cole disappeared and then reappeared in front of her, his hands full of health potions. "Drink."

She did. All but one.

"You too," she whispered as she handed him the last health potion. While he drank, she tore her tunic and gently dragged it across his cheek, removing the blood there while the gash on his cheek healed before her eyes. The twisted knots in her stomach loosened as she saw the smooth, unmarred skin of his cheek.

She didn't like seeing him hurt.

"Why were they here?" she asked.

He shrugged. "I don't know."

No longer bleeding out of her side, Cole helped her to her feet. Summoning what little mana she could, with a flick of her wrist a fire ignited in the hearth, casting the room in warmth and light. Ember moved into her room and stopped, paralyzed in horror. Terror spread a sheen of ice over her skin, freezing her limbs. She couldn't move, her eyes fixed upon her bed.

There, in the middle of her bed, was a raven. Soaked in blood, the black bird had been sliced open down the middle, gutted, insides spilling out onto her pristine white sheets.

Heart beating a hard rhythm against her ribs, Ember moved forward on numb legs and reached for the note lying beside the carcass on her bed.

Soon.

- S

The Inquisitor stood stock-still, white-lipped and shaking, anxiety tightening her gut as she re-read the note.

She now knew why they were here. They were here to deliver her a message. Someone wanted her dead. And she knew who. She knew why. Tonight was just a taste. A warning. A threat. Of that Ember was sure. And she couldn't help but think how she deserved it.

"I'm Raven." The lovely woman with the big heart and gentle smile took Ember's smaller hands in hers, tears brimming her wide and innocent grey eyes. "Thank you, Ember. You are truly an angel sent to Maddox and I from Andraste herself."

Ember suddenly had the most unexpected urge to cry. She hated crying. Loathed it. She wasn't going to break down, especially not in front of Cole.

Ember was suddenly very aware of Cole, like a dark imposing shadow in her peripheral vision. She could feel his intense gaze burning into her side profile.

She shoved the note into her pocket, unable to meet his gaze. She knew what he was thinking. He wanted to know why, what this all meant. But she couldn't tell him. He'd be disappointed in her. He'd be ashamed of her. He might even be… disgusted with her. And she couldn't bear to see it.

Ember mechanically moved out of her bedchamber, paying no attention to her surroundings as her mind battled the overwhelming fear, outrage, self-disgust, and guilt that wracked her. Breath was difficult to catch. The metallic scent of blood that hung like a cloud in her room was making her sick. She needed some fresh air. She felt brittle, and brittle could crack.

To her horror, her anger and guilt were manifesting themselves in what was beginning to sound like dry sobs. No, no, there were tears too. Dammit. She blinked her eyes, gritted her teeth as she walked down the stairs. She just had to get out of there. She needed to clear her head and come up with a plan on how to deal with her past, prevent it from interfering with her present. She was not going to let this make her weak or susceptible. She could handle this. She couldn't let this hurt her. No one could hurt her. She always made sure of that. But first, she just had to make it out of her room. She was so close. She just had to make it outside where she could see the stars.

The Inquisitor reached for the doorknob that would lead to the throne room when she heard Cole calling her name, his voice low and smooth, and it seemed to come at her from a great distance.

"What?" she asked with a sharp edge as she spun around so fast, she nearly knocked noses with Cole. He edged back until their faces were a few centimeters apart. He was staring at her with those eyes that saw things that other people didn't see. It made her feel vulnerable and exposed—something she avoided strenuously at all times and in all places.

Cole shifted uneasily on his feet, as though he didn't know what to say. Awkwardly he took a step closer, his hands hovering at his sides. "I can't hear it, but I can see it. Inside you're frightened. Fear is trapped inside the walls that protect you. It makes you look different."

A crisis of nerves threatened to make her voice weak. "How do I look?" She was appalled to hear her voice crack.

He gazed at her in mute sympathy. "Breakable."

A silent scream welled up inside her. Biting it down took all the strength she possessed. In that moment, she did the only thing she ever knew to do when backed into a corner. She lashed out.

Her chin lowered, her hands fisted at her sides. "I don't need your concern. I'm fine."

His brows gathered across his nose, and his mouth screwed down tightly in an expression that was oddly fierce on him. "Your pain is my pain. I want to help."

Her lips compressed in a defiant gesture. "Not with this."

"Tell me." He peered at her through his hair. "Holding the truth in won't ease the telling."

"You cannot heal this, Cole. Please let it go," she replied sharply, brooking no argument.

"But… but if I wasn't here you might have been—" His teeth snapped together so hard that she heard them connect.

Her chin lifted sharply. "Do you not think I can defend myself?"

Storm clouds gathered on his face. He stalked forward, his body twitching. "That's not what I… strength lines you, becomes you, but that doesn't mean you aren't worth protecting."

She glared up at his stern, sharp expression. "Either I am fully able to take care of myself, or I am not, and you need to guard me."

He shifted his weight as he stared down at her, and the muscle along his jaw began to twitch. "One or two. A or B. There is a three, just as there is a C, but you don't see at all. Only imply with that look of yours." He sounded cold now. Irritated.

Her eyebrow raised. "More riddles?"

"It isn't a riddle. I can say what I mean without you understanding."

Ember took a step back, her back hitting the door, and took a breath. "Cole, I'd really like to be alone right now."

Some strange emotion passed over his expression before he murmured softly, "I can be alone with you."

Then, she felt the soft touch at the tips of her fingers. Cole, reminding her that he was there for her for whatever it was she was going through. Ember didn't want to think on how warm his support made her feel. Or the fact that she wanted to clutch his hand and not let go. She pulled her hand away and pushed open the door and burst into the throne room.

Cole's eyes tracked her every move, lingering long after she'd disappeared from his sight and the door closed in his face.

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Outside was bitter cold. A fog was rolling in and carried a light mist and the scent of lightning. All was quiet, save the wind, which rustled the leaves on the trees that surrounded the Inquisitor as she stood in the center of the training grounds with her bow in hand. The midnight sky was so clear, the moon rising over Skyhold, lighting its ancient stones and magnificent lawns. The silver disk of the moon shone so brightly against the ink-black sky that each blade of grass appeared lined in silver-white light.

And somewhere out there, Samson was seeking his revenge for the sister he loved so much.

The grip on her bow was steadfast as she aimed and fired. The arrow soared through the air and sank into the practice dummy across the training grounds. With swift nimble fingers, Ember pulled another arrow from her quiver, aimed, and released. Before the arrow hit the practice dummy, Ember rolled sideways on the ground, sat up on her knees, raised her bow, took aim, and fired. The moment the arrow left her fingers she was already rolling backwards over her shoulder and standing up on her feet, another arrow fired almost immediately after the first two. Ember was panting with the exertion as she watched all three arrows land in the dummy's head, right between the eyes where a helmet wouldn't protect them.

Ember could feel Samson plotting and planning, arranging the most sadistic and vindictive revenge. He would be coming for her, or would try to trap her, in some way that caused the most damage and the most pain. He would also hurt those closest to her, eye for an eye. The certainty of it was like a heavy hand clenching around her throat. But he apparently wanted to toy with her first, let the guilt he knew she harbored fester in her bones, turn to poison in her veins.

Ember's eyes narrowed in concentration. With tremendous speed, she pulled another arrow, released, and hit the dummy again.

Spots danced before her eyes as guilt loomed up and dampened all other emotions. She'd done this to herself. It had been her fault. She'd let it happen, even when she knew it was wrong. It was her fault. All her fault.

She reach back, pulled again, hit again.

"Carry my letter to her, angel. Carry my heart to her," Maddox whispered to Ember as the mage pressed himself into the bars around his window at the Circle to hand her the letter he'd written for his wife. "Tell my Raven we will be together without these bars between us. I will escape this cage and I will hold her once again in my arms."

She pulled back. Hit. Pulled. Hit. Then pulled and hit again.

Large innocent grey eyes turned to her, wide and frightened. Help me, Raven mouthed to Ember as they closed in on her. Grey eyes were begging, pleading for her to help. But Ember didn't. Instead, she took one step backward, and then another. Ember turned her back on the sweet, innocent woman who wore her heart on her sleeve, hearing her screams as she ran away.

Out of arrows, Ember cursed under her breath and lifted a hand to wipe the sweat from her brow. She lifted her gaze above the tree line that surrounded the training grounds to regard the moon that looked so alone in the night sky.

Tempestuous rainclouds began to form in the sky above her head - gray slabs that loathed the moonlight, fighting to slay the silvery-white rays that struggled to pierce through them. Lightening lit up the murky sky. As she stared up at the sky, raindrops slipped through the clouds to idly spiral downward in a free fall before splattering across her face and seeping into my deep crimson curls. Ember's eyes closed and the corners of her lips pulled upward into a small, blissful smile as salvos of thunder cracked and rumbled above her, reveling in the suddenness of being caught out unprepared in a rain shower.

She loved the rain. With the rain running down her face she had a feeling of safety and comfort that she'd rarely experienced in her life. People escape the pain of life in various ways. One of hers was rain. The other was fighting.

The air suddenly shifted behind her.

It was him, she knew without looking.

Ember turned around to find him materializing out of the darkness a few feet away from her.

Ember took a breath and simply let herself look at Cole. In all her years, she'd never seen such a preternatural scene as the hard, stinging rain pattering on his pristine alabaster skin that stood out against the pitch-black sky with the lightning clattering all around him.

Gliding through sheets of rain and swirling billows of fog, he made his way toward her, shadows coalescing over the training grounds behind him, as if following him. Her whole being tightened and throbbed with an awareness of him. All her senses seemed heightened now. He ruled them all.

He stopped right in front of her. The only sound was the rain belting down upon them and the thunder rolling above them as they stared at one another, the sharp crackle of lightning sizzling across the sky.

Cole's eyes flickered back and forth between hers, the night wind blowing through their wet hair and clothes. The weight of his stare was almost unbearably penetrating. Edginess radiated off him, the way she was certain that unease must've been bristling off of her.

"Blackbird cut open, insides open for display. Not a warning, but a promise. A promise to hurt you." It wasn't a question, and her heart squeezed at the rawness of the emotion in his expression and roughing up his voice.

"Yes." Her voice was barely audible over the sound of the rain.

Cole's eyes flashed in time with a burst of lightning. "This world is confusing. People are confusing. Tangled and webbed with hurt and lies and pain." His voice was low and gritty, liked rusty nails. "I don't understand. I understand very little. Except one thing… harm to you means death to another. This I know. This I understand very well."

Her gaze jerked up to his, the dark promise she found there unsettling her nerves. She knew he was protective of her, but this was... this was darker than that. He was a spirit of compassion and the look in his eyes spoke nothing of compassion. It was... troubling.

"Death won't come to me," she replied simply, trying to reassure him with a rueful smile, rain running into her mouth. "The reaper and myself are too well acquainted. I know how to dodge him."

The lightning blazed again and lit the training grounds with startling brilliance. "You're hurting." His tone was deceptively soft, but she could hear the strain beneath his words. "What do you need?"

"To train." Her eyes flicked away. "To fight."

"Okay."

Her gaze snapped back to his. "I thought we agreed never to spar each other."

"I know," he replied gently, the blue in his eyes melting into two soft puddles of liquid warm navy. "But you need this. I want to help."

Nearly half an hour later, Ember was in the stables, her back pressed against the wooden wall by the entrance door. She was drenched from head to toe, breathing hard, her lungs fighting for breath, her dulled daggers crossed over her chest. She found herself engaged in the hardest sparring match of her life, or fight for that matter. Cole was fast, so fast. Faster than any man, elf, dwarf, or supernatural creature she'd ever gone up against. It was like trying to strike smoke. He was just too fast and too silent. A true assassin.

She would hide. He would find her. They would engage in a relentless physical combat before breaking apart, circling around, and starting over again. It was immediately clear that she needed everything she had just to stay even with him. Cole pushed her to what she thought were her limits and then showed her they weren't, that she could be better, faster, stronger. He also beat her every time, but she'd given up on letting it sting her pride. But she did make him break a sweat, which was a first. She'd never seen him sweat before during a sparring match or a fight.

A shadow fell upon the door to the stables. Her fingers squeezed around the handles of her dulled daggers. She rushed out the door and lashed out with her dulled dagger, hitting only air as Cole materialized in a swirl of shadows behind her in the doorway. She spun around and swung her dagger in an upward cut, and Cole jumped backward into the stables.

Rushing forward, she feinted with a right lung with her dulled dagger. His hand came down fast on her wrist and the dagger fell from her grip. She spun and lashed out with her only remaining dagger and he tore it from her grasp. She pivoted on her foot and landed a kick to the outside of his left thigh. He winced just slightly. Cole recovered faster than she could land another strike, and then he was gone in a puff of smoke.

Dammit!

No time to go after her daggers, she took off at a run, heading to the tight cluster of trees hidden behind the stables. The rain pounded down on her, the bark wet as she pressed her back against a tree trunk, the trees that surrounded her keeping her hidden. She breathed deeply, trying to catch her breath. Above her there cracked a bright flash of lightning that was followed closely by a rolling clap of thunder. The Inquisitor breathed in the scent of electricity that filled the air, her pulse slowing.

She suddenly felt him coming for her, though there was no real indication of his presence. Her muscles tensed with readiness. She pushed off the tree and landed a roundhouse kick to his ribs. Cole stumbled, his expression surprised that she'd detected him, just before she caught him with a hard uppercut to the chin. He staggered back, but before she could take satisfaction in it he spun the dulled daggers in his hands and was on her, driving her backward with pure physical strength. Without magic behind her moves it was easy for him to overpower her, and the rain and the wet, slippery ground made struggling difficult. He ducked beneath a fist aimed for his chin and then the shadows that surrounded him swallowed him whole and cloaked him in complete darkness.

A heartbeat later, Cole was behind her. His hand closed around the back of her neck. She twisted and tried to elbow him in the face, but his grip tightened over her pressure point. If she kept struggling she would pass out.

"Emotions control you, make you slower, more predictable," he murmured in her ear from behind.

"I don't like fighting against a shadow," she growled.

She stepped on his instep and lifted his smaller dagger from his belt as she danced away, then leveled the sharp point at his chest. In a lightening-fast move, Cole tore it from her grasp and his hard body slammed into her. They crashed into the tree behind her as Cole pinned her with the strength of his body. She tried to hit him again, but he was expecting it and caught her wrists and pinned them to her sides, his thigh nudged between hers, immobilizing her.

Her head jerked up and his eyes caught her like a sharp blow.

Everything went painfully still— the night, the storm, her heart, her breath.

Lightning flashed bright white-light against the midnight leaden sky while his gaze darted over her face, and the tension in his body shifted to something darker, languid, as both of them realized he held her still. His lids lowered as he looked at her mouth. She could feel her heart beating wildly in every facet of her body. It was beating so hard she could hear it over the thunder and rain.

Another flash of lightning cut across the sky. Thunder followed hard on its heels. Another bolt rent the heavens. It struck the tree beside them. Sparks lit the sky as, in seeming slow motion, the big tree buckled near its roots and toppled over, crashing beside them a few feet away, blasting them with a gush of air and water.

They didn't even notice.

The rain was coming down in sheets, the heavy drops making it hard to keep her eyes open, but she didn't close them. And neither did he.

His eyes dragged away from hers, his head cantering to the side. Cole stayed utterly still, his head bent, his face averted and hidden beneath his hair. She watched his strong throat working on a swallow. Then slowly he straightened and released her. He slowly backed off, creating just enough space between them so that she could move away if she wanted.

She didn't.

The Inquisitor stood on legs that threatened to buckle beneath her as she stared at him, rain falling hard on him, all around him. He stood there, in front of her, the pure essence of compassion wrapped in a shell of sheer male virility and cloaked in pulsing power and darkness. It all called to something deep down inside her.

A strong, uncontrollable, animalistic longing surfaced immediately. Her cheeks roasted red with the heat that was burning through her, darkening her pupils. Her breath came in sharp spurts, her chest rising and falling with every breath she was struggling to find.

Cole was saying something to her, she realized, but she couldn't hear him. She couldn't stop staring at his mouth, wanting to feel it on hers. Needing to feel it. It was a primal, elemental need that was soul deep. She knew what she wanted. She was being pulled toward it, had been for years.

Beyond conscious thought, responding purely out of physical and emotional need, in one swift movement she launched herself at him. They flew backwards together until his back slammed into the tree behind him, colliding hard with a loud thud as her fingers tangled in his wet hair and she yanked his head down to crash his lips to hers with a forceful urgency.

She immediately felt him turn to unresponsive stone beneath her, his hands rigid and unmoving on her back as she practically assaulted him with her mouth. His lips were wet with rain and she tasted moonlight on her tongue. She felt singed from it, as if a slow-moving wildfire was sweeping across her lips.

Cole remained deathly still, wholly unresponsive, utterly stunned.

Undeterred, her lips molded onto his, her hands running frantically through his dripping wet hair, down his soaked firm sides, over his taut stomach. Her own wild response shocked her, but that didn't stop her from scrambling to reach under his armor to skim her hands over each honed muscle that curved beneath the black leathers. He was so hard and chiseled, as if cut from marble.

Maker, she wanted to touch him everywhere.

Cole's back went ramrod straight as she touched his cold and wet bare skin and he immediately tried to pull back. Ember knotted her fists in his leathers, pulling him hard against her, preventing him from retreating. She fitted her femininity to his complementing masculinity while her tongue slipped between her lips to run along the inside of his bottom lip. Cole responded with a gasp of shock that parted his lips, and she took the opportunity to slant her mouth over his hungrily, her tongue gliding into his mouth to brush against his.

Maker help her, her body was on fire. Was he feeling it too?

Cole's body grew so tight that it felt like steel against her right before he gripped her upper arms and pushed her away from him.

With the rain once again splashing on her face, rationality returned in one swift stroke. Ember blinked her eyes open and found herself staring up at him, hearing the breathless pants sliding past his lips. Cole's eyes were stark with disbelief, his face a taut mask of confusion, his back rigid with tension, each muscle pulled tight. His gaze was delving into hers, searching, trying to understand.

She didn't understand herself. She'd never done this before, knew nothing of what she was doing or what she was feeling.

Slowly, she unclenched her fingers from his armor, her wet red curls sticking to her cheeks. "I'm… I'm sorry… I-I… I don't know what came over me…"

He gazed at her with such confusion in his eyes. "Your tongue…" His voice cut off and then dropped to a ragged whisper. "It was in my mouth."

She sucked in three jagged breaths and drops of rain. "Is that… okay?"

She felt his body go even more rigid and when he spoke, his voice was choked with tension and brimming with emotion. "It burns."

Her eyes widened in alarm. "What burns? Oh, Maker. Was I hurting you?"

"You are a fire." It was a husky whisper that mingled with the sound of the rain falling all around them. "When you touch me I burn." His eyes came back to meet hers. They were fire-tinged cobalt, spearing through her like hot, sooty coals, so intense she was sure his look could pierce metal. "You consume me, burning away each layer until I'm nothing but the shape you make me."

"Do you want me to stop?" she asked and felt his entire body tense tighter than a bowstring against her as she lifted her hand and laid her palm against his chest. She felt a rush for the heart that beat wildly against her palm, that moved his blood.

Cole's grip on her upper arms became a crushing thing, his breathing rough and urgent.

She moved to take her hand away when a strangled noise gurgled in his throat and he slapped his bigger hand over hers, trapping her there.

"Touch me." It came out as a strangled breath.

"Does it feel good to you?" she whispered thickly. "My touching you?"

His chest lifted on an unsteady breath. "Anything of yours on me is the very best thing I've felt in my existence."

Two tiny freckles graced his right cheek. Her lips touched them, pressing lightly, before her mouth fell to the smooth skin of his throat.

She heard him catch his breath and felt his pulse hammer against her lips and her palm. Her mouth moved slowly before becoming adamant as she kissed down the long column of his pale throat. She felt him shudder, hard. His hands moved to the small of her back, his fingers curling, digging into the muscles there, silently telling her that she was affecting him, though he probably didn't understand why or what it meant.

Needing to taste more of his skin, her mouth pressed harder against his neck, as her hand dragged from his chest to slid under his arm to hook over his shoulder, fingers stretching the collar of his armor as far as it would go, her mouth trailing hungrily over each exposed inch of skin revealed, her tongue tracing the pounding vein in his neck and swallowing the rain that coated his pale skin.

Cole's arms tightened around her like steel bands, and his voice cut through the rain like glass. "What are you doing to me?" His voice was strained and gruff, as if dragged through gravel. "I don't understand what's happening… my blood is pounding, heart beating out my chest, my vision dark, want screaming, need biting, body reacting strangely, hard and hot and-"

"Cole… just shut up and kiss me." She felt her head spinning as she used her hands to grip the sides of his face, holding him still as her mouth returned to his, anxious for the taste of moonlight on her tongue.

Ember's slender arms stole around his neck as she pulled him against her, wanting, needing to be closer. She jumped up and wrapped her legs around his slim waist. Cole's hands instinctively caught her under the backs of her thighs so she wouldn't fall.

She could feel the ardor pouring out of her as she ran the tip of her tongue against his lips, parting them, then moving inside his mouth to meet his own. The moment her tongue stroked his, Cole's legs gave out under him and his back slid slowly down the tree until they fell into a puddle on the ground as a messy tangle of arms and legs.

Breaking the kiss, both of her hands tightly gripped his shoulders, and in one swift fluid motion, Ember easily lifted her hips and repositioned herself on his lap so that she was straddling him, her hair falling all around her in wet fiery curls all the way down to her waist. The contact made them both still, the heat that met her made her heart stutter, her fingers flexing on his shoulders.

Her forehead fell to press against his, causing her wild, cherry curls to swing down, the heavy, wet strands like cool silk against his neck, hiding them from view, as if surrounding them in fire.

Cole's breath was harsh, shallow, and fast against her face, his hands tightly gripping her hips. She could feel the hard press of him against her and it caused her own breath to quicken, leaving no doubt in her mind that he was very, very much male. In that moment he was probably more human than he'd ever been before, and that he was undoubtedly feeling this - this crazy pulsing, thrumming, wildly uninhibited thing between them that had kindled all those years ago.

Her lips formed his name, a breathy whisper that pleaded and beseeched for him to respond to this with her, despite how confusing and perilous and scary it was.

She brushed her mouth over his lips, her mouth lingering before pressing a little harder, her tongue invading the hot interior of his mouth. Thoughts grew dim. She was tingling, throbbing, aching with something. Gone nearly mindless, she rubbed against him in an attempt to ease the ache. Instantly, ice and heat slammed together in her chest, the friction breathtaking, and their soft gasps harmonized.

She circled his tongue with her own while her hips ground against his. The ache intensified. Grew more insistent. She could feel the muscles of his shoulders straining under her fingers, as he, too, fought the frantic restlessness building inside him. He shook more and more as she kissed him with her lips and her tongue, her body moving against his.

"Dear heart." His voice was broken, the words uttered into her mouth.

His body yielded at the same time his lips opened beneath the press of her mouth, and he was suddenly kissing her as fiercely as she was kissing him, mimicking her. Ember's eyes snapped open, shocked at how quickly his demeanor changed. It was as if a match had been struck in a room full of oil, the single flame between them suddenly flaring into a burning blaze.

Cole made a rough, unhinged sound in the back of his throat that vibrated through her frame as his hands sank roughly into her flaming locks, bunching it and fisting the wild curls, clutching her to him, pouring everything he was feeling into her mouth, kissed her hard, brutally, with explosive feeling. Every inch and piece of him, the good and the bad, entered her bloodstream while his lips moved with hard insistence against hers, almost violent in his haste to discover every inch of her mouth.

Her fingers knotted in his shaggy hair, pulled at it, nipped his lower lip, bit at it. He repeated the action and her breath came in a wild gasp, giving her a breathless rush of sensation and loss of equilibrium. His kiss was hungry and desperate and raw, with a poignant edge of tenderness that was so bittersweet it brought tears to her eyes.

There was a reason why they continued to find their way back to each other over a stretch of fifteen years… and this was it. He was meant to kiss her, just like this, as if he thought her lips were the secret to breathing, to life itself. As if he needed a part of her to exist, to remain in this world, and she could actually feel part of her heart slipping out of her mouth to be immediately consumed by him. The connection between them was so strong, so visceral, it seemed a tangible thing that made everything else fade away.

"Inquisitor!" she heard Cullen call in the distance.

They both stilled at the urgent call of her title, but neither pulled apart from the other. Cole's fingers remained fisted in her hair, panting into her mouth, his entire body shaking just as much as hers. She remained transfixed, listening to the sound of his uneven breathing and the rain, locked in a stasis.

"Inquisitor! Where the hell are you?!" Cullen called again, his voice sounding closer.

Cole's head turned to the side, as if he was listening to something, his gaze distant. When he looked back to her, his expression was sad. "Wolves and hawks mate for life. The wolf is no longer here to howl at the moon. The hawk is in pain. So much pain. A bird without its wings is destined to fall."

"What?" she asked, breathless.

"She needs you," he whispered, and then, in a swirl of shadows, he was gone.

Ember was on her knees, staring down at the puddle Cole had been sitting in. Her fingertips dragged across her lips. She'd had the barest of tastes of a creature from the Fade. And she wanted more. With a sense of foreboding, she couldn't help but wonder if that made her a mage on the path to becoming an abomination.

"Inquisitor?!"

Ember stood and moved out of the tight cluster of trees behind the stables. "What is it?" she asked as she came out from behind the stables.

Cullen was breathing hard. "The Champion of Kirkwall is here… and she's trying to kill Dorian!"