-chapter 9-

The Best Villains

Weeks stretched into months, muddling together in the constant monotony. When Evelyn had returned from her encounter with the Senior Enchanter, rattled and tear-stained, Emmaline had been waiting by her bunk with a fresh change of clothes. In the daylight she was beautiful, with sandy curls that framed her round face. They'd both been late to breakfast, which was poor quality and had been delivered on large trays by sour-faced cooks. Evelyn wouldn't have touched it even if she'd been hungry. The thought of food made her insides churn.

Her new robes were heavy and ornate, the thick blue cloth fitted to her small form. Intricately embroidered swirling red and white designs covered a long strip down the front of the skirt, and a large gold buckle clasped at her waist. A wide hood rested at the nape of her neck, and a messenger bag full of parchment and pens was slung around her shoulder. The clothes were a far cry from the light, flowing gowns she was used to, and it had only taken a few hours for the extra weight of the garments to begin to worsen her aches and pains. She was required to wear them every day, and only allowed to change into her nightdress before lights out, by which time she was often nauseous and shaking. She always did her best to hide it, though.

The hostile looks and whispers aimed at her from the other Apprentices didn't ease, following her through the corkscrew halls and yawning chambers. She'd learned they were called Apprentices on her first day of lessons, young mages that had yet to master their full abilities. They were dangerous, the Enchanters said, unpredictable. They were here for their own good, as well as the good of all Thedas. The words crawled into her mind like worms, eating away at her sense of self until they'd picked her bones clean.

If she'd been asked what she thought learning magic would be like before she ended up in the Circle, she'd have said it would be exciting. And maybe it was, if you were any good at it. Children weren't taught defensive or combat magic until they turned fifteen, so the younger Apprentices focused on healing and other harmless forms of magic. Aside from that it was hours of lectures on the dangers of the Fade, which had Evelyn struggling not to roll her eyes. She was sure any Enchanter would have a fit if they knew what she got up to every night, and who her only friends were.

She still didn't have a single human friend. Not that she was trying especially hard to make any. The other children were older than her, and they hated her. Or they were afraid of her, but she wasn't sure those two things were very different from each other. Even Emmaline, who was the only Apprentice to be kind to her, was twice her age. They just didn't have much to talk about. And Evelyn's performance in lessons hadn't done anything to endear her to her classmates.

She had power, that much had become obvious when she'd been brought here. The issue was getting it to behave exactly how she told it to. During her first week of lessons with the young Apprentices, there were about eight of them who hadn't yet turned fifteen; they'd been learning about healing small abrasions. They spent nearly the whole week bent over books filled with such long words they made her head spin, learning the process of drawing energy from the Fade and twisting it to heal the waking body. Then, finally, there was to be a sort of exam.

She'd been nervous, her palms tingly and damp with sweat, but eager to try her hand at the new skill. Maybe she could prove herself after all, prove that she was good for something, even if she'd already failed at the only thing that mattered. That morning she'd picked at her breakfast, bland porridge and burnt toast, kicking her short legs under the table in anticipation. She always ate by herself, no one else daring to sit close to her, so the other three seats at her table were empty. The mess hall was wide and semi-circular, taking up one side of an entire floor. The Apprentices and Mages took their meals together, and she assumed the Enchanters ate whenever they pleased.

Tables and chairs lined the expanse of the room, and a statue of Andraste carved in exquisite detail guarded over it from the center of the far wall, twice the height of any man. Her face was twisted in anguish as she burned, frozen forever in the stone. Small, high windows were carved into the wall above them, cutting glimpses of an iron grey sky. The sun hadn't crested the mountains yet, so the only warm light in the room came from the lamps. Evelyn had yet to explore almost any of the seemingly endless tower, as her days were preoccupied by lessons and strictly chaperoned. She'd considered sneaking out at night, but no one else ever dared, which made her worry there were precautions against it she couldn't see.

She was considering what they might be, and what else might be hidden in the secret alcoves of this vast tower, when Enchanter Marven emerged into the chamber from a staircase leading up from lower floors. He moved briskly, gesturing to the young Apprentices in the room, and hurrying past the figure of Andraste to another arched doorway, where more stairs curved upwards. He was a man of few words, which gave her a break from lectures when he taught, but the result was that nearly all of his lesson time was spent silently reading chapters from massive, ancient tomes. Evelyn loved books, but these ones were dense and convoluted, and usually left her feeling more lost than when she'd picked them up.

Enchanter Marven was thin and reedy, and tall enough that he had to stoop to move through the doorway that lead upstairs. His light brown hair was thinning and flecked with grey, and the skin around his bushy brows and thin mouth creased with frown lines. Somehow, even his brown eyes seemed cold. His robes resembled Senior Enchanter Lydia's, but where hers had been crimson, his were a faded mustard yellow and dim gold. The same heavy golden buckle hung at his middle.

The Apprentices fell into step behind him, chattering quietly among themselves. Evelyn trailed behind, knowing no one would stop to talk to her. The dark of the narrow passage was banished when the lamps flared to life, two by two, as they marched up the slowly twisting steps. She bit down on her wince, steadying herself against the wall, and focused on not stumbling as each step aggravated her weak ankles. The stone walls of the stairwell were cold, and smelled of petrichor, which reminded her of thunderstorms.

They followed without a break up three floors, past two locked doors that hid Maker-knows-what, to a landing and grand double doorway that opened to one of the libraries. Enchanter Marven waved a hand, and a sudden gust of wind flung them wide open. This library was the central room on the floor, and a thin hallway bordered it that led to yet more locked doors. The stifling nature of this place once again threatened to consume her, but she took in a deep breath and slowly hissed it out through her teeth. Glancing around the room, she allowed the scent of books and old paper to still her nerves.

The walls here were still cold and grey, but even Evelyn could tell the stonework built into them was exquisite. There were little scenes from the tale of Andraste carved in delicate relief along the borders of the arched ceiling, and stone pillars were spaced out to provide structure. Light filtered down from crystal chandeliers, where little enchanted flames danced. The bookshelves were deep mahogany, and formed a sort of maze around the room that led to a desk. There, she knew, one of the Tranquil would be stationed to assist with the checking out of books, or items from the magical stockroom. Not that she would be allowed to do either.

She distracted herself from pain by reading the titles they passed, as the Enchanter led them around the labyrinth of shelves. The brightly colored spines of books always beckoned to her, even when she knew their contents were probably boring and monotonous; she had to flex her fingers to suppress the urge to take one. Remembering long days reading by the fireplace in the library back home, Torrent snoozing at her side, made an ache pulse through her. She forced the memory away as they approached a group of tables, nestled into an alcove in the maze.

Enchanter Marven shuffled ahead to stand before one of the shelves, sighing impatiently as he waited for them to take their seats. As a group, they filled two large tables, leaving empty chairs on either side of Evelyn. No one but Emmaline, who gave her an encouraging nod, even glanced in her direction. All whispered conversations withered under the weary gaze of the Enchanter, the library falling silent again as they situated themselves to face him.

"Before you can be taught to wield magic in battle, you must first learn to control your own power," his monotone voice rang eerily off the stone walls, the wide arc of the ceiling projecting the sound for him so he didn't have to raise his volume to be heard. His stare swept over the lot of them, the bored expression on his face only tightening slightly as his eyes skipped past Evelyn. "In order to harness the healing powers of the Fade, you need to understand it. Listen to the magic that hums from behind the Veil, and simply take what you need from it."

That didn't sound so hard to Evelyn. She spoke with spirits of the Fade every night, so she had to have more experience than most. She glanced around at the rest of the Apprentices, their expressions ranging from apprehension to smug self-satisfaction. She wondered how anyone could be so confident when they had no idea what they were about to be tested on.

Wiping her damp hands on her robes, she tried to still the impatient tapping of her foot as the Enchanter droned on about the importance of healers in combat. Why were they being prepared for battle, anyway, if they were never allowed to leave? Evelyn had never seen a real fight before. Well, not until the night she'd been brought here. A small shudder shook her shoulders, and she hoped no one had been looking her way.

"I trust," the Enchanter said, in a condescending tone that caught her attention once more. "That each of you has been attentive in completing your assigned reading."

He glanced over them each once more, his eyes once again sliding straight past her. "Well. I suppose we shall see soon enough."

He produced, as if from nowhere, a silver needle. Holding it up, it sparkled in the light of the chandeliers; just a little shard of metal clasped between his thin fingers. As they watched, he pressed it to the skin of his left palm. It easily pierced through, and Evelyn saw the drop of ruby red well up against the paper white of his complexion.

Her stomach flipped, as she was unable to suppress a rush of images of the last time she saw fresh blood. She raised her fingers to her throat, remembering the feeling of Max's cold, wet hands. Enchanter Marven gestured to one of the Apprentices sat in the front, a skinny ginger boy with a constellation of freckles across his cheeks. He couldn't have been older than nine, and his shoulders shook as he stood from his chair, taking a few hesitant steps forward.

"What is your name, boy?" The Enchanter questioned, eyeing him with obvious judgement.

"It's- it's Daniel, sir," the boy choked out, looking as though he were about to keel over. "Daniel Albright."

"Mister Albright," Enchanter Marven held out his left hand, palm open, so they could all see the tiny wound. "Heal this."

Daniel swallowed visibly, and appeared unable to move for a moment. Evelyn's heart ached for the boy, though his disdainful gaze had been one of the many that followed her through the halls. Slowly, as though he were fighting every instinct inside himself, he raised a trembling hand toward the Enchanter.

For an unbearably long moment, nothing happened. Daniel stood there, hand outstretched and hovering an inch above Enchanter Marven's. As the moments ticked away, the Enchanter's expression became more and more unimpressed. Just as Evelyn was sure the boy was about to be sent back to his seat, a failure, a faint light began to glimmer from between their palms. A soft, pulsing blue light emitted from them, and when Daniel pulled his hand away, the blood was gone.

Though she'd seen it happen before, when Senior Enchanter Lydia had cut and healed her own hand, Evelyn gasped. Marven nodded, and the boy stepped back to his seat, a smile growing on his lips. The test continued, the Enchanter pricking his hand again before moving on to the Apprentice next to Daniel, then the next one after him. While most of them succeeded, healing the pinprick within a minute or two, some still struggled.

The boy with shaggy brown hair who had looked at Evelyn with such hatred, she'd learned his name was Charlie Baker, didn't manage to do anything in nearly five minutes. He just stood with his hand outstretched and eyes scrunched shut. When the Enchanter told him to return to his seat, he plastered a sneer to his lips to cover any visible embarrassment, and sulked away. Only three others failed the test, and the number of Apprentices before Evelyn was steadily dwindling.

When it was Emmaline's turn, she'd barely stretched out her palm by the time it shone brilliant blue, brighter than natural flames. Even the Enchanter seemed mildly impressed, as he dismissed her back to her seat. Evelyn was practically humming with nerves and anticipation, the memories of her last time using magic stirring uncomfortably inside her. For a moment she wondered if the Enchanter would skip her altogether, the way his eyes skipped over her when he surveyed the room. She was almost beginning to hope he would, when his gaze landed squarely on her.

He roughly waved his hand, beckoning her forward. Evelyn felt frozen to her seat, pinned under those unsympathetic brown eyes. It was a long, long moment before she could remember how to move her legs. Slowly, she stood on wobbly ankles, feeling the stares of everyone in the room burning holes straight into her. She didn't look at them, not even Emmaline, for fear of losing any nerve she possessed.

Willing her legs not to drop her, she pushed in her chair and dropped her eyes to the floor, forcing herself forward one step at a time. Her feet could have been made of lead, for all the weight they dragged against her. The distance from her seat past the two tables, to the base of the shelf where the Enchanter stood, was short. Before she wanted to be, she was facing him. She swallowed hard, and raised her eyes to meet his.

Enchanter Marven looked down at her over his nose, wrinkling his lips in clear distaste as he held out his hand. The bead of dark red blood gleamed up at her, and nausea coiled around her gut. She steeled herself against the instincts to run, to hide, and met his gaze with what she hoped was a fierce determination. Raising her hand, with no more hesitation, she held it out over his.

Desperately, she attempted to recall the endless chapters she'd read in preparation for this. She imagined the Veil, the skin between this world and her world, rippling in the air around her. A part of her mind was tied to the Fade, passing straight through the Veil without breaking it. She wondered if this was what it was to be a mage, this tie to the spirit world that lived in her, separate from her but not. Gently, with only her mind's eye, she tugged on it.

Instantly, she felt the same thrumming of her pulse she had on the night Max died. Sparks danced in front of her, pressure overwhelming her from the base of her skull. But again, her fear was banished as the magic coursing through her forced itself into her hands. Like muscle memory, she threw open the fingers of her right hand where it hovered over Enchanter Marven's, then her fingers curled into a claw.

This time, there was something to see. Purple. A swirl of purple energy bridged the space between their hands, shooting out from hers and wrapping around his. Like she'd taken a letter opener and sliced him with it, the tiny bead of red opened into a cut that spanned the length of his palm. Blood poured down his arm, staining the gold of his robes with blooming crimson. He jumped back, his other hand shoving her to the ground.

Evelyn came back to herself, soaked in horror, staring around at the shocked faces of the other Apprentices. They looked down at her with naked disgust, and terror. She searched the room for Emmaline, for comfort, but she wouldn't even meet Evelyn's eyes. Tears stained her pretty, round face. The Enchanter's hand glowed blue as he healed himself, the glare of the light snagging Evelyn's attention. When she looked at him, she wished she hadn't.

There was nothing at all in his gaze. Nothing. Not even hatred. The absence chilled her right through, and she shivered when he said, his voice equally flat and lifeless,

"Get out."

She nodded mutely, not remembering how to speak, and kept her eyes to the floor as she shuffled out of the library. On her way past, though, she didn't miss the two words Charlie Baker whispered. She held back the tears until she'd rounded the corner, when they began to run freely down her cheeks. Those words would replay in her head, again and again, until they meant nothing at all. Until she could convince herself she'd erased the pain, and the shame of them, through repetition.

Blood mage.

After that day, not even Emmaline spoke to her, and Evelyn couldn't blame her. She was a monster. Weeks passed, lonely and dark. Not even her wolf could coax a smile to her lips, and though she felt his worry, she couldn't bring herself to care. She was numb, through and through.

One night, she was torn from sleep by a noise. She blinked rapidly, adjusting to the stagnant air of the waking world, when she heard it again. Shouting, male voices. Her heart galloped in her chest, choking fear closing in on her immediately. She looked around the dorm rapidly, seeing the rest of the Apprentices begin to rouse themselves. Without looking in Evelyn's direction, they all began to scramble over each other, rushing to the window on the wall opposite her.

She stayed in bed, not daring to get near the group, and tried to decipher what was going on by the whispers she overheard.

"Look, I can see them-"

"Let me see! Get out of the way!"

"Another one? That was fast."

"Hopefully this one will be an improvement on the last."

That comment earned snickers from the others, a few of them glancing over at her before quickly dropping their gazes. Just as she realized that they must be talking about her, another sound echoed through the room. The grinding of metal chains and hinges, the creaking of wood.

The gates were opening.

Notes: I'm not dead! I didn't realize how long it had been since I posted. Writer's block is a real monster. I'm going to really try to post more often. THANK YOU so much to the kind readers and commenters who fuel my drive to keep creating. -Dareth Shiral