Chapter 5: Fate or Something More?

The next day comes swiftly and I'm still chewing on the conversation with Cailan from last night. It was obvious now that he was concerned about Denerim, about my place there when we arrived. Part of me hated the idea of being a burden on his mind. He had more than enough on his plate without adding a girl who fell from the sky. But a selfish part of me, the scared part, knew I had nowhere else to go.

I had no money, no skills (outside of the very few I've managed to pick up during our trip), I couldn't survive Thedas on my own. I could try to go to Flemeth, throw myself at her mercy, but I knew she was dangerous. There was no guaranteeing she wouldn't kill me or steal my body so she could be young again. Flemeth was an unknown variable and that scared me.

Who else was there? The Warden's possibly knew something, but I had no idea how to reach them and the only one I would trust is Alistair and he's years away from joining their ranks. Duncan was a possibility but... he was also a bit fanatical. What if he ended up conscripting me and I died during the process?

No, Cailan and his offer to bring in mages was my only reasonable hope. I had to be selfish and abuse his hospitality and kindness a little longer.

The day drags on, the hours slipping by as we make our way through the Brecilian Forest. The trees seem to stretch on forever, their dark silhouettes stretching over the trail like a canopy. The ground is soft with dampness, and every now and then, we have to slow down for a stretch of thick underbrush or a muddy patch of ground.

The air smells of earth and pine, the distant call of birds our only company as we move through the forest. It's quiet, peaceful even. But I'm starting to feel that quiet in my bones—like it's too quiet. Still, I push the feeling away. There's nothing wrong here. Just trees and shadows, no reason to be nervous.

Tavi, though, is anything but relaxed. He's riding a little ahead of me, his posture tense, eyes scanning the path ahead like he's expecting something to jump out of the bushes at any moment. I can't blame him; we're in a wild part of the world where danger can come from any direction. But I notice he's not just watching for animals or bandits. His gaze is sharp, focused, like he's expecting something else.

I slow my pace a little to fall in line beside him. "You seem on edge today," I say, trying to keep my voice light, even though I feel the same restlessness in the pit of my stomach. "What's got you jumpy?"

He glances over at me, his face unreadable for a moment before he lets out a short, tight laugh. "Just keeping an eye out. These woods are full of surprises, and we're not exactly alone in here." He looks back ahead, but there's a weight to his words, like he's trying to tell me something without actually saying it. "You ever heard of the Dalish?" he asks, his tone casual, but his eyes still sharp.

I frown, having to feign ignorance. "The Dalish?"

Tavi's jaw tightens, and I catch a flash of something in his eyes—something like caution, or maybe concern. "Well, they're elves," he says, his voice low. "And they don't take kindly to trespassers. Especially not humans."

I pause, feeling the weight of his words settle over me.

"Trespassers?" I repeat, trying to understand. "You mean... we're in their territory?"

Cailan overhears and joins the conversation, "It's land that belongs to Fereldan, but it's understood that the Dalish are free to make camp here. They don't stay year round, the Dalish are travelers, no set place to call home. But they're definitely hostile to outsiders."

"So, if we run into them—what happens?"

Tavi doesn't answer right away. He just keeps his eyes on the trail, like he's weighing how much to say. Finally, he shrugs. "They'll try to scare you off first. But if you don't get the hint..." He lets the words hang in the air, unfinished. The meaning is clear enough.

I think about that, the weight of the danger slowly sinking in. It's not just trespassing; it's an offense that could cost us far more than a few angry words. The Dalish are dangerous, and I don't know what we'd be up against if they decide we're a threat.

I glance at Cailan, trying to get a grasp on his feelings about this situation. He just shrugs, "We're not deep in the forest, it's unlikely it'll be a problem. We're a large enough envoy that they won't come looking for a fight."

"Stick to the trail. Don't wander off," Tavi says, the hint of a grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. "And don't get too curious about things you don't understand." He seems to lighten a little, but his eyes are still sharp.

"Got it. Stay on the trail, don't poke around," I repeat, more to myself than to him. I didn't plan on wandering off before this, but it was good to be reminded of the many reasons why I shouldn't.

The day passes without incident. No Dalish warriors lurking in the shadows. We find a nice, secure area and make camp. The night settles around us like a heavy cloak, and the Brecilian Forest feels alive, as if it has its own heartbeat. The rustling of leaves overhead sounds like whispers, and the ground beneath my feet is soft with the dampness of the earth. Once the tents are up, Tavi and I step away to gather firewood.

It's something the group trusts me to do—picking up dry branches scattered on the forest floor, stacking them, and returning. Not glamorous, but it keeps us warm, and no one has objected to my presence in the woods. Tavi has pretty much assigned himself the role of my protector whenever I step away from camp. I'm not sure if he decided this himself or if someone—cough, Cailan, cough—assigned it to him. They have a way of exchanging looks that I suspect are connected to me. Paranoid, maybe. But it sure feels that way.

We struggle to find dry enough wood for a fire, which forces us to walk farther from camp than we usually would. I know this forest is dangerous. I know venturing too far could lead us into Dalish territory. But the night is quiet, and I don't think much of it—at least, not until it's too late.

Tavi, on the other hand, is always looking over my shoulder. It's strange, really, how much he seems to want to keep me safe. But I can't argue with him. He's a good guy, and his watchful presence is starting to rub off on me. I'm more aware of my own movements because of him.

Now, standing in the shadows with my arms full of firewood, I hear it. A faint hum of a voice, a soft shuffle of movement on the wind. It's unmistakable—the sound of a Dalish encampment.

I freeze. My heart skips a beat, and the hairs on the back of my neck prickle. The Dalish.

We're too close. We've crossed some invisible line into their territory, and now we might pay the price. If they catch us, if we're seen, we'll be lucky to leave with our lives. Tavi glances at me, his eyes wide, and I can see it in his face: we've made a mistake.

I press my back against a nearby tree, ducking into the shadows as best as I can. It's too late to pretend we haven't been careless. We've been loud, too relaxed. Now, they'll hear us.

Tavi holds his breath, nodding to me as he fades into the dark, blending into the shadows. The forest holds its breath with us, and for a moment, all I can hear is the pounding of my own heart.

Then, a twig snaps.

Too late. They've found us.

I don't see her at first, but I feel the shift in the air. The weight of her gaze. She's close. Too close.

When she steps out from the shadows, bow drawn and steady in her hands, I know exactly who it is. The woman before me isn't just any elf. It's Lyna Mahariel.

My breath catches in my throat. Lyna Mahariel. The potential Warden. The potential Hero of Ferelden.

The name flickers through my mind like a spark catching dry tinder. I've never met her, of course—only seen her pixelated face on a screen—but somehow, I know her. It's disorienting. For a second, I wonder if this is just another nightmare, a strange vision where my past and present collide. But no. This is real.

She looks at me with the coldest of expressions, her features sharp, angular. Her eyes are narrowed, calculating, as if she's already decided what happens next. And what happens next is clear: we're intruders.

"Step out of the shadows, shemlen," she commands, her voice low and icy. "Hands where I can see them."

I don't move. Tavi doesn't, either. We're both frozen, too aware of how much trouble we're in.

I take a slow, steady breath. This is bad. I know how this could go. She's not here to make friends. We're trespassers, and the Dalish have their own rules. This could end with an arrow in our backs before we even know what hit us.

But I don't want to fight. I don't want this to escalate.

I raise my hands slowly, showing her I'm not a threat. "We're not here to cause trouble," I say, trying to keep my voice steady. "We're just passing through. We didn't mean to intrude."

Lyna's eyes flick over me, then to Tavi. She lingers a moment longer on the tension in his shoulders. He's ready for a fight, I can see that, but he doesn't move. He's waiting for me to defuse this, and I feel the weight of that responsibility.

"I don't care what you meant," Lyna snaps, her voice sharp like broken glass. "You're in Dalish territory. And that's a mistake."

I try to keep calm, but my heart is racing. "We'll leave now," I say quickly. "We'll go back to our camp. Just… let us go."

Her bow stays drawn, her expression hardening. She doesn't trust me, and she doesn't have to. She's already judged us, just like the rest of the Dalish would. There's no time to argue. There's only one thing I can do now.

"I don't have a weapon," I point out, trying to show her that we never intended harm. "We're gathering firewood. We didn't mean to come this far."

Tavi shifts behind me, his bowstring taut. "We don't want trouble. We're leaving."

Lyna's gaze flicks to him, and I see her dismiss him with a glance. She's clearly not impressed, and the tension in the air is thick. But it's my voice that carries the weight now, my voice that has to steady the situation.

"We're leaving," I repeat, stepping forward just a little, hoping my calmness might reach her. "We won't come back. Just… please."

A heartbeat passes. Lyna eyes me for a long moment, her features unreadable. Finally, she lowers her bow slightly, but it's clear she's not done with us yet. Her words are a threat.

"Keep to your side of the forest, shemlen. Stay away from the Dalish encampment. If I see you again…" She lets the silence hang, her meaning clear.

I nod quickly. "I understand. We'll go. We won't come near your camp."

Tavi begins to back away, never turning his back on Lyna. I feel his hand reach out to grab me, to drag me along, but I can't go. I just can't. My feet feel frozen to the ground, and something deep inside knows that this moment matters. Was it fate? Why would I cross paths with Lyna Mahariel unless it meant something? Meant to warn her?

Part of me—the logical part—knows I should keep my mouth shut and leave with Tavi. It's the same part of me that hadn't allowed myself to tell Cailan I knew his future. I could open a can of worms I don't want opened. She might see my words as a threat. Or worse, she might not even care at all.

Tavi's presence weighs heavily on me. If I speak up now, he'll hear the crazy talk. He might think I'm losing my mind, and then Cailan would, too. Or worse, they'd actually believe me.

Lyna is staring us down, and I feel the ticking of the time bomb that is her patience. I have to make a decision.

"Listen," I blurt out, stepping forward carefully, heart in my throat. "I know you have no reason to listen to me, and maybe this sounds crazy, but—"

I pause, hesitating. This could change everything. I'm not ready for the consequences, but I have to try.

Lyna's eyes narrow. "Get to the point, shemlen."

I take a deep breath, trying to steady my voice. "Be careful around mirrors. Especially ones in hidden ruins. Or ones near Darkspawn."

Lyna's face flickers with a mix of skepticism and anger. "Mirrors? What are you babbling about, shem?" She scoffs, shaking her head as though I've wasted her time. "You really think I'll believe in your superstitions?"

But I can't stop. My heart races, and I feel the weight of my decision pressing down on me. She has to know. She has to remember this.

"I'm serious." I take another step closer, locking eyes with her. "Just… keep it in mind, okay? You don't have to trust me, but I had to say it."

She scoffs again, dismissive, her lip curling in distaste. "This is insane," she mutters, not even looking at me now. "You're all insane."

I watch her turn away from us, disappearing into the shadows, a final glance over her shoulder just before she melts into the dark forest. "Keep your distance, Shemlen," she calls over her shoulder, voice fading with every step. "And stay out of Dalish lands."

The silence that follows is deafening.

Tavi lowers his bow, his face a mixture of confusion and frustration. "What the hell was that about? Who was that?"

I let out a shaky breath, shoulders slumping.

Tavi looks even more confused. "You know her?"

I shake my head, the answer too complicated to explain. I don't know her. Not really. Not in any way that makes sense. But I know her, in a way that defies logic.

"She's important," I murmur, more to myself than to Tavi.

Tavi doesn't push. He looks at me, his brow furrowing in confusion.. We've learned to trust each other in the short time we've known one another. And this is something I can't explain—not yet. Something about my tone must convey that to him, maybe it's because I'm being earnest and not snarky. I'm shaken by this more than he's ever seen me shaken so far.

The forest seems quieter now, the night still and cold. I pull my cloak tighter around my shoulders and exhale slowly, gathering the wood from earlier back into my arms. "Let's get back to camp."

Tavi nods, but the weight of the moment lingers. We can hear the distant sounds of the forest—the chirp of insects, the rustle of leaves, the soft call of an owl. The forest feels heavier now, more ominous. But I can't shake the feeling that I've crossed an invisible line, made a call that I wasn't truly ready to face the consequences for.