Hello!

So, this chapter is very brief (transitional information, yada yada yada...)

I'm posting the following chapter in a few days so that you guys have something substantial to read.

Happy Reading!

~Garnet

Dungeon

The shackle on Sara's wrist was thick and rusty with age. It was one of the first times she was exceedingly grateful for only having one arm, as the lack of skin and nerves meant less pain as she hung in the darkness. There was no telling how long she'd been restrained; she slipped in and out of consciousness for what seemed like hours. The room around her was pitch black, but Sara could tell it was large because of how small sounds, like drops of water, seemed to echo around her.

After some time, she could feel that she'd been stripped of her velvet gown. The boning of her corset pinched at her sides, as if the strings had been tightened while she slept and she only felt the brush of her silk small-clothes against her thighs. She could hardly feel her toes, they were so cold and numb. The fact that she was hanging, however, offered her some ironic comfort. If she was being held to be questioned, it meant that Briala didn't mean to kill her. Yet.

Regardless, Briala's uncertainty could provide Sara an opportunity for escape.

She felt like an idiot for being captured in the first place. Two potential things occurred that evening: either Briala deceived her into thinking that the note to come from the garden came from Solas, which was probable. Or, which would be soul-shattering, Briala and Solas are secretly allies, working together to remove her as an obstacle.

Solas had admired Briala, Sara thought glumly. As I did. She's a remarkable woman. Maybe they're lovers now.

Sara laughed humorlessly. The empress of Orlais and Fen'Harel could forge a powerful union. Another chuckle flew past her lips and the sudden feeling of madness scared her as much as it caused her to laugh harder. Please, don't let this be where I die. Mythal protect me. She hadn't prayed to the gods since the truth of them had been revealed to her. The last time she saw Solas in the flesh. She wasn't even a goddess. Not really.

She laughed again, helpless. Mythal. Whomever looks after us, she thought feebly, just protect my children.

The low burn of a torch cut through the blackness like a sunbeam and the sudden heavy footsteps echoed off the walls and seemed to make the room suddenly rumble.

"I would be fascinated to know what you find amusing, Comtesse." Briala's voice was low and imposing but also smug and satisfied. She still wore her cloth of gold gown and at her sides were four of her guards, fashioned in the style of depictions of the Emerald Knights of old, with their gilded armor and flowing, green cloaks.

"It humors me that you think that imprisoning me is wise. I'm sure my absence has surely been noted," Sara replied, feigning conjured assurance.

"Ah, yes. Your Qunari companion. He has been informed that you are being held for questioning," Briala told her frankly.

"On what charges?"

"I charge, Comtesse, that you have information on the whereabouts of Fen'Harel and have conspired with him. To what ends, I cannot say." Briala's smile was hazy. "I intend to find out."

"Briala," Sara said, her voice firm but soft as if she was correcting a child, "I haven't had contact with Solas since the Inquisition was disbanded almost four years ago. I am not your enemy."

"Perhaps you aren't." Briala paced a moment, her arms folded across her chest. "Your daughter... She has his eyes."

"She doesn't, Briala." But she does. Soft blue and quizzical. Curious. Even when she was a baby. Narrow when things confused her and bright with sudden understanding. Like Solas.

"I don't believe you, Comtesse." Briala turned her back to Sara and addressed her guards. "See that I have answers soon."

Sudden panic coursed through Sara. In her experience, most people told their jailers to keep the prisoner alive above all else. Briala had made no such distinction.

"Wait!" Briala made resolute steps away from her but turned her head to listen.

"The note to meet in the garden. Was that from you?" Sara asked, hoping to stall.

Thankfully, Briala stopped walking. "Naturally. I knew the story of Felassan would goad you."

I'm such a fool, Sara thought. Solas is prudent and would never agree to compromise himself by speaking with me.

"Who else would have sent it?"

Briala's question made Sara's stomach drop. She doesn't know that he's here, she realized.

"The elf- an older man dressed in blue- he danced with me. Was he sent by you?" Sara asked.

"No. You never answered my question." Briala's voice was low, a measured warning.

Sara swallowed, her mouth dry. "I can't be certain, but some agents of Fen'Harel may be among your guests."

"And you thought one of them sent the note? Just to offer you information at random?" Briala's eyes flickered with sudden anger and she turned to leave once more.

"Two of you," she said to her guards, "take me back to the ballroom. These agents need to be found, questioned and executed. At once. As for you two, the Comtesse's allegiances are not clear to me. Learn what she knows and if she gives you nothing, end her."

"Briala, don't," Sara called after her, her own heart pounding so hard she felt it in her head, throat and toes.

"If I'm correct and you are still allied with Fen'Harel, your death will force him to act. When he does, I'll be ready." None of Sara's screams or pleads for mercy stopped Briala.

When she and her two guards were long gone, the ones that remained extinguished their torch and the dungeon returned to complete darkness.

After a moment, light returned in the form of crackling veilfire. One of the guards took the torch of veilfire in his hand and held it near Sara's face. His eyes were empty, as if he'd been stripped of his soul. "Do you know what this is?" he asked.

"Veilfire," Sara answered, her voice wavering slightly.

"Corrupted veilfire," he corrected. "Normally, veilfire cannot harm physical beings. However, when corrupted with cursed ashes, veilfire can take on certain properties of natural fire."

He raised the veilfire to just under her arm and she immediately squirmed to get away from the heat. When the flames finally touched her skin, she let out a scream so loud and bestial, she wouldn't be surprised if people heard her miles away.

After several moments, he removed the fire and to Sara's surprise, there was not a smell of burnt flesh. The guard ran his fingers over the place where he put the torch and his touch was almost relieving.

"The corruption gives the veilfire feeling but with no consequences." Sara looked where is fingers rested on her arm; the flesh was unharmed. There wasn't even a redness akin to sunburn.

"Oh," she sighed with sudden understanding. Then pain was real even if the injury was not.

"So, do you know the current whereabouts of Fen'Harel," the other guard asked abruptly, his tone biting and cruel.

Sara inhaled, preparing her mind for the pain that would surely follow. It's not real fire. It's only pain.

"I don't," she said resolutely and, yet, all her resolve faded as the flames burned their way through her back, just up her spine, which caused the burning to travel through her body fervently. She felt the fire from her fingers to her knees to the top of her head. She could nearly feel her eyes melting. All she could do was feel. Her mind was as blank as her jailer's eyes. The only things that existed were her body and the flames.

No New Elven Phrases

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