A slow chapter, but introducing some familiar faces into the story. And setting up for the deep dive into the action.
Act 2
Chapter 6
The Shadow Dragons' headquarters was quiet, the air heavy with the faint scent of damp stone and burning torches. Xari descended the spiral staircase, her mind set on one thing: answers. It had been a week since her initiation trial, and though she had proven herself, the questions surrounding her past gnawed at her relentlessly. Maevaris had promised the truth once Xari earned it, and she was done waiting.
The main hall opened before her, its vaulted ceiling disappearing into shadows. Masked figures moved with purpose, their dark armor blending into the flickering torchlight. At the far end of the chamber, Maevaris stood near a map table, deep in conversation with another operative.
Xari crossed the hall, her boots echoing faintly against the stone. She tightened her grip on the burned tabard she carried, the emblem etched into its fabric a silent weight in her hand.
"Maevaris," Xari called, her voice cutting through the low murmur of the chamber.
Maevaris turned, her piercing gaze landing on Xari. With a quick nod, she dismissed the operative at her side and stepped forward. "Xari. I assume you retrieved what you needed undetected?"
"Yes," Xari said firmly. She held up the folded tabard, the coiled dragon and snake emblem facing outward. "You promised me answers. My mother told me I was found wrapped in it as a baby, on a battlefield. You know what it means, don't you?"
Maevaris's sharp eyes flicked to the emblem, her expression unreadable. Quiet murmurs from the others bounced around, exchanging nervous glances. For a moment, the air seemed to grow heavier, the silence between them deepening. Finally, she gestured toward a side room. "Come with me."
Xari followed her into a smaller chamber, lined with shelves filled with scrolls, maps, and ancient tomes. Maevaris moved to a large wooden table in the center, selecting a thick, worn book from a nearby stack. She opened it, flipping through its pages until she reached a drawing that made Xari's breath catch.
The same emblem stared back at her: a dragon coiled with a serpent, their heads facing each other.
"This emblem," Maevaris began, her tone measured, "belongs to the Venatori."
Xari blinked, the word unfamiliar, but it lingered on Maevaris' tongue like a heavy weight. "The Venatori?"
Maevaris nodded slowly. "They are a cult of Imperium zealots who believe in restoring Tevinter to a golden age of power and domination—an age fueled by blood magic and oppression. We've been dealing with them for years. The emblem you carry is their symbol, a mark of their legacy."
Xari's mind reeled. The tabard she had carried as a clue to her past was suddenly tied to something even darker than she imagined. "Why would I have this?" she asked, her voice rising. "Why would I be found with something that belongs to them?"
Maevaris closed the book, her gaze steady but laced with something Xari couldn't quite read. "Because you are tied to them, Xari. You were found during a skirmish with the Venatori. That tabard isn't just a scrap of cloth—it's a symbol of who they are and what they stand for. It was meant to mark you as one of their own."
Xari stepped back, her fingers tightening around the tabard. "That doesn't make any sense. My parents—Erynd and Livia—they raised me. They're loyal to the Imperium."
"Your adoptive parents," Maevaris corrected gently. "They found you on the battlefield, wrapped in that tabard. Whoever left you there didn't intend for you to be taken in by the Imperium. You are the child of a Venatori."
The words felt like a punch to the gut. Xari's vision blurred as she tried to process what Maevaris was saying. "You've known this? This whole time?"
"We've known for years that the Venatori were searching for a child lost during that skirmish," Maevaris said. "When Ashur joined us, he became our eyes and ears of Minrathous. Recently he brought to my attention… suspicions, that you may have a connection to them. But it wasn't until you completed your trial that we were certain."
Xari turned away, her thoughts spiraling. The tabard, which she had carried as a reminder of her unknown past, now felt like a curse.
"Tarin… he was supposed to be my friend. And he was spying on me?" she asked, her voice quiet but sharp.
Maevaris hesitated for a moment, her gaze steady but filled with empathy. "I understand how it feels. Ashur didn't act out of malice. His loyalty to the cause, to the greater good, required difficult choices. He was trying to protect you, even if it meant keeping this from you."
Xari's fists clenched, her mind racing. She had trusted Tarin, confided in him, and now she was left questioning everything she had thought she knew. "Protect me? By lying to me? By keeping secrets about who I really am?" Her voice rose, edged with pain and betrayal.
Maevaris stepped closer, her tone softer now. "Sometimes the truth is more dangerous than ignorance, Xari. Ashur didn't want to put you in harm's way. But now that you know... you can make your own decisions. It's up to you what comes next."
Xari's hands trembled as she stared at the scorched cloth. The answers she had sought for so long left her feeling more lost than ever. "So… what does any of this mean? What am I supposed to do with this information now?"
Maevaris' gaze softened, the weight of Xari's pain clear in her eyes. "What you do next is yours to decide, but know this: you have a choice. You don't have to follow the path laid out for you by others. You can carve your own way, even if it means standing against everything you've known."
Xari's breath hitched, her mind struggling to grasp the magnitude of what Maevaris was saying. She had always felt like an outsider, never truly belonging, and now… now it seemed like the truth about her past might tear everything apart. "And if I choose wrong? If I don't have the strength to fight back?"
"You have strength," Maevaris said firmly, her voice steady like the earth beneath their feet. "You've already shown that. It's not about never faltering. It's about making your choices, knowing they're yours to own."
Xari clenched her jaw, her chest tightening as the enormity of the decision weighed on her. "I don't even know who I am anymore."
Maevaris placed a hand on her shoulder, grounding her. "You are Xari. You are not defined by the past or the people who tried to control it. The choice is yours. And now, you have the Shadow Dragons on your side."
Xari let out a shaky breath, trying to steady herself. Her fingers brushed against the tabard once more, the fabric seeming to burn with its past, its meaning, and its weight. The past was not something she could change, but perhaps she could still decide what it meant for her future. Maybe the choice wasn't as simple as following one path or another. Maybe it was about forging her own path, even if it meant walking through the unknown.
"What now?" she whispered, her voice a little steadier.
"Now," Maevaris said, "you take the time you need. You don't have to make any decisions in haste. The Venatori won't stop searching for you, but that doesn't mean you have to rush toward them or run from them. You stand still for now, breathe, and when you're ready, you will act. In the meantime, do not forget why you joined us."
Xari nodded, the sting in her chest easing, if only slightly. She wasn't alone in this anymore, and that itself was a comfort. There was a path ahead of her, and though it was uncertain, it was hers to walk.
Ventus, Tevinter Imperium; 9:45 Dragon
Xari stood in the shadows, her breath steady as she observed the target. The moonlight cut through the trees, casting fleeting shadows on the ground. She could feel Ashur's presence beside her, the familiar weight of his silent observation as they prepared for the next phase of their mission.
"Ready?" Ashur asked, his voice low but certain.
Xari didn't respond immediately, her mind sharp and clear. She had spent years honing her skills, mastering every form of combat and stealth that had once seemed out of reach. The Venatori, the Imperium, the Shadow Dragons—everything had converged into something she could control. She had chosen this life, this path, even if it had started with uncertainty.
"Let's finish this," Xari said, her voice sharp with determination, her dual blades gleaming in the dim light.
Ashur gave her a nod, his expression unreadable, but his eyes—always focused—spoke volumes. Over the years, he had become more than just a mentor. He had become family. They had grown from being uncertain allies to something more—a quiet understanding between them. She had learned to trust him, even with the weight of their shared past.
They reached the target's position, and Xari's heart beat in rhythm with the silent movements of Ashur beside her. The mission was clear, the target was near, and there was no turning back now.
The air in Ventus was heavy with the salt of the sea and the acrid stench of sweat and suffering. The slavers' compound sprawled along the docks, a cluster of poorly guarded warehouses and chained captives. Ashur and Xari crouched in the shadows of a weathered building, their eyes fixed on the group of slavers laughing around a makeshift fire.
"Four visible," Ashur murmured, his voice barely audible. "Two more patrolling the perimeter, and three inside."
Xari's eyes flicked to the captives, shackled in a line against one of the warehouse walls. There were at least two dozen of them—men, women, and children, their faces hollow with exhaustion. Her jaw tightened, her grip on her daggers firm. "We'll need to move fast. If they see us coming, those captives won't have a chance."
Ashur nodded, his expression unreadable as usual. "You take the perimeter guards. I'll handle the ones at the fire. Quietly. Once the outside is clear, we move on the warehouse."
"Understood," Xari replied, slipping into the shadows with practiced ease.
She moved like a wraith, silent and deadly, her blades glinting faintly in the moonlight. The first perimeter guard barely had time to gasp before her dagger slid between his ribs, his body crumpling soundlessly to the ground. She caught him and eased him down, her heart steady as she scanned for the second guard.
A faint shuffle of boots alerted her, and she turned to find her next target rounding the corner of the building. His eyes widened in alarm, but Xari was faster. She lunged, her blade finding its mark before he could cry out. She let his body fall behind a stack of crates, ensuring it was hidden from view.
By the time she returned to the rendezvous point, Ashur was already dragging the bodies of the slavers from the fire. He gave her a curt nod, and together they turned their attention to the warehouse. The faint murmur of voices inside was all the confirmation they needed—these slavers had no idea what was coming.
Ashur gestured for Xari to flank the side entrance while he moved to the front. They struck simultaneously, Xari bursting through the side door with a swift kick while Ashur took out the slaver at the front with a well-aimed throwing knife. The chaos inside was brief but brutal—Ashur's blade cut through one slaver as Xari disarmed another, her dagger slashing across his throat in one clean motion.
Within moments, the warehouse was silent, save for the soft sobs and murmurs of the captives. Xari turned to Ashur, her chest rising and falling with the adrenaline. "All clear."
Ashur nodded, wiping his blade on a fallen slaver's tunic. "Let's get them out of here."
Xari moved quickly, retrieving a ring of keys from one of the slavers and rushing to the captives. "You're safe now," she said softly, her voice steady despite the storm raging in her chest. She began unlocking the shackles, her movements swift and careful. The captives stared at her in disbelief, hope flickering in their tired eyes.
As the last shackle fell, Ashur appeared in the doorway, gesturing toward the docks. "The ship's ready. Move quickly."
The captives rose, their steps unsteady but determined as Xari and Ashur guided them through the shadows to a waiting vessel. Corin stood at the gangplank, his expression tense as he scanned the horizon. "No sign of reinforcements," he said as Xari approached.
"They didn't have time to call for help," Xari replied, ushering the captives aboard. "But we need to move now, just in case."
Corin nodded and turned to the ship's captain, a trusted ally. "Get them out of here. They're headed for safe waters."
The captain gave a quick salute and began barking orders to his crew. As the ship pulled away from the dock, Xari stood between Ashur and Corin, watching the shore disappear into the darkness. She exhaled slowly, the tension in her shoulders easing ever so slightly.
"One less slaver ring," Ashur said quietly, his tone devoid of triumph.
Xari glanced at him, her expression hard. "It's never enough. There's always more."
He met her gaze, his eyes shadowed but resolute. "Then we'll keep going."
Xari nodded, gripping her daggers tightly as they turned back toward the ship deck.
After Xari joined the Shadow Dragons, she and Ashur revealed their affiliation to Corin. After Aurelia's death, something inside Corin changed. He too no longer blindly followed in his noble parent's footsteps and truly began to see what the Imperium was. He still aspired to take his father's place as head of his household, however. But his motives were not about status and gold anymore. He desired for change, to make sure no one those who the Imperium overlooked stood a chance, and to use his privilege for something bigger than himself. Corin knew his friends' secret, but he had never once wavered, always keeping their trust close to his chest. It was strange, how the three of them had become an unspoken bond, something stronger than any vow.
Now that they had reached adulthood, their bond had only deepened, forged through shared battles and quiet moments of understanding. Xari had often marveled at how different they all were—Ashur with his stoic resolve, Corin with his noble idealism, and herself, still wrestling with the shadows of her past. And yet, despite their differences, they had become a unit, a force that worked seamlessly toward a common goal.
Corin had changed the most since Aurelia's death. Once content to live within the confines of his noble life, he now worked tirelessly to reform his family's holdings. His father had been slow to relinquish control, but Corin's growing influence in the household was undeniable. He used his position to subtly challenge the status quo, building alliances and planting the seeds for a brighter future.
"I can't change the Imperium overnight," Corin had said once, his voice weary but determined. "But I can build a foundation, set an example for what it could be. One step at a time."
Ashur had simply nodded, his quiet approval speaking volumes. He and Xari rarely spoke of their missions with the Shadow Dragons when they were with Corin, but the knowledge of their work hung in the air like an unspoken truth. Corin never pried, but his understanding was implicit.
Now, as the three of them sat together on top of some crates in the ship deck, the weight of their shared struggles seemed to settle around them like a cloak.
"There's talk of new unrest in the south," Ashur said, breaking the silence. He leaned back, his sharp eyes flicking between Xari and Corin. "The Venatori are gaining traction again. If they're not stopped, they'll try to exploit the chaos."
Corin frowned, swirling the wine in his glass thoughtfully. "Unrest always leads to opportunity—for people like them. I'll see what I can uncover through my contacts. If there's a way to cut off their support within the nobility, I'll find it."
Xari tilted her head, studying him. "You've gotten better at this, you know. Balancing both worlds."
Corin gave her a small smile, his eyes shadowed. "I've had good teachers."
Xari smirked, though there was a softness in her expression. "We're not exactly teaching you diplomacy. That's all you."
"Maybe," Corin admitted, setting his glass down. "But it helps, knowing I have you two watching my back."
Ashur leaned forward, his voice low but firm. "Always."
It was a simple word, but it carried the weight of every fight, every loss, and every victory they had shared. Xari felt a quiet strength settle in her chest, a reminder that no matter what came next, they would face it together.
For now, they had a moment of peace. But the fight for a better future was never far away.
The mention of the Venatori tugged at Xari's mind. For years, she had pried Maevaris for answers, scoured the Shadow Dragons' library, and even interrogated the occasional Venatori sympathizer during missions. The pieces of her past were still scattered, but she had gathered enough to paint a grim picture. Her connection to them, to their dark legacy, was a shadow she couldn't escape.
Over the years since she joined the Shadow Dragons, her visions had stayed consistent. Persistent, even. The more Xari learned about her origins and her ties to the Venatori, the more frequent the visions came. They struck in quiet moments, invading her mind with flashes of fire, blood, and the sound of a child crying. Sometimes she could make out faces—cold, unfeeling ones shrouded in hoods—but no matter how much she tried to focus, the details always slipped away like smoke.
The Shadow Dragons had trained her to suppress distractions, to focus her mind and body on the mission at hand, but these visions were different. They didn't just intrude—they lingered, haunting her in a way that even the grimmest missions couldn't.
She hadn't spoken of them to anyone, not even Ashur. What could she say? That her past whispered to her in fragments of nightmares and memories that weren't entirely her own? That some part of her feared these visions weren't just remnants of trauma, but something deeper?
Xari sat back, gripping the edge of the table as she steadied her breathing. The visions hadn't come tonight, but the mention of the Venatori stirred something in her chest—a heaviness that made her feel like she was suffocating under the weight of her own history.
"Xari?" Ashur's voice pulled her back to the present. His sharp gaze softened for a moment, his concern clear. "You good?"
She nodded once, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. "Yeah. Just thinking."
Corin arched an eyebrow. "Dangerous habit."
Despite herself, Xari smirked, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Coming from you?"
He chuckled, but the sound was short-lived, fading back into the tension that hung over the room.
"Whatever's happening in the south," Xari said, her voice firm, "it's tied to more than just Venatori schemes. I can feel it."
Ashur studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable. "If your instincts are telling you something's off, we'll act on it. But you don't have to carry this alone."
"I know," Xari replied, though the weight of her past told a different story. "We'll make our move soon. I just need... time to prepare."
Neither of them pushed further, but Xari could feel their eyes on her, both watchful and protective. For now, the questions about her visions would remain her burden alone. But one day, she knew she would have to face the truth—no matter how much it threatened to change everything.
Vyrantium, Tevinter Imperium
Ambrose Forfex adjusted the lace cuff of his crimson velvet robe as he inspected the wigs displayed on alabaster mannequins lining his gallery. Each creation was a masterpiece of grotesque opulence—braided spirals of impossibly lustrous hair threaded with the faint shimmer of red lyrium, radiating an almost imperceptible hum of power. He ran a finger along the edge of one wig, a towering confection of curls adorned with jeweled pins shaped like Venatori symbols. The artistry was unparalleled, a testament to his genius. The slaves who had woven these marvels would never see the fruits of their labor, their brief, painful lives extinguished by their service to his vision.
The faint creak of the gallery doors drew his attention. A house servant, a nervous acolyte named Calvus, stepped inside, clutching a rolled parchment. "My lord Forfex," Calvus began, his voice trembling. "You have visitors this evening. Felicia Erimond and Crispin Kavlo. Would you like me to send them in?"
The wigmaker hummed in approval, not bothering to turn his gaze away from his work. Calvus gave a quick nod, and scurried out of the room. Moments later, a pair of footsteps trailed through the doorway. Ambrose turned to meet his guests, a wide grin and open arms welcoming them. "Ah, my friends. To what do I owe this pleasure?"
Felicia and Crispin exchanged a nervous glance to each other, not returning the same eagerness Ambrose exuded. His smile fell, and dropped his arms to his sides. "What is it?"
"News has reached us that the Antivan Crows, Lucanis and Illario Dellamorte have taken a contract to eliminate you."
Ambrose smirked, a sharp, humorless curve of his lips. He plucked a silver-tipped cane from its place by the display and tapped it twice on the polished floor. "How charming," he drawled, his voice smooth but icy. "The Dellamortes—always so dramatic, so predictable. Poisoned daggers and whispered deaths. And they think I will cower?"
"My lord," Crispin pressed, stepping closer, "the danger is real. They plan to infiltrate your exhibit tomorrow–"
"A minor inconvenience," Ambrose interrupted, his tone cutting like a blade. "I will not cancel the party, Crispin. The elite of Tevinter will gather here tomorrow night to marvel at my creations, to sip my wine, and to bask in my brilliance. Do you think I will deny them that privilege because of two opportunistic killers?"
Crispin hesitated, his pale face reflecting both fear and admiration. Ambrose turned his attention back to the wigs, smoothing a stray curl on one display. "Double the guard," he commanded, his voice calm but firm. "Make sure the grounds are patrolled, but discreetly. I will not have my guests alarmed. And if the Dellamortes dare to set foot in my mansion, they will discover that the Forfex name is far more than a symbol of refinement. It is a promise of power."
Felicia, one who spoke her mind, stepped forward. "You're a fool, Ambrose. Lucanis Dellamorte is not to be taken lightly. He's already murdered dozens of our members-"
Ambrose emitted a loud groan, interrupting Felicia's argument. "Would it ease your minds if I hired an assassin to take out these Dellamortes? I'll even assign you, my dear Felicia, to give out the contract. You know our rogues better than I. Now please, stop pestering me about nonsense and let me return to admiring my art. I still have work to finish."
Felicia and Crispin looked to one another, a silent conversation between them. They turned and headed towards the door.
"Oh, and please- do not be late to the party!" Ambrose chuckled, his ignorance a crown he unknowingly bore.
As his associates disappeared, Ambrose allowed himself a small chuckle. The Dellamortes may have been skilled, but they had underestimated him. If his Venatori assassin failed, his mansion was a fortress of both magic and cunning, and the blood wards he had personally woven into its walls would ensure that any intruder paid dearly for their audacity. Let them come, he thought. This party would be a spectacle in more ways than one.
The boat docked back in Minrathous, and Xari, Ashur, and Corin assisted the freed slaves onto the boardwalk. At the beginning of the boardwalk, private investigator and new Shadow Dragon recruit, Neve, stood waiting. The trio approached Neve, leading the freed captives. Xari noticed the woman's golden prosthetic, taking the place of her lower right leg, glinting in the sunlight. She brought her gaze back to meet Neve's, who was staring directly at her. Oops, Xari thought to herself, but Neve said nothing.
Neve crossed her arms, shifting her weight onto her left leg. "We thank you three for your work. While you were gone, I traced the captives' family members and will arrange for their reuniting. Some of them live here in Minrathous, others are from Scheron. I've arranged a boat for them as well. Ashur, if you'd be so kind as to escort them to their boat." Ashur nodded, calling out for those who were taken from Scheron to follow him. Xari felt pity for them, having to take another boat ride to be reunited with their families. Thankfully, the island was a short distance across the bay.
Xari and Corin gave a curt nod to Neve and began to head into Dock Town. "You." Neve's sharp voice cut through the noise of the busy dock. Xari froze, glancing back over her shoulder to see Neve pointing directly at her.
"Yes?" Xari replied, feigning nonchalance as she turned fully around, her arms crossed loosely.
Neve's gaze was piercing, her expression unreadable. "Stay a moment. I need a word with you."
Corin hesitated, glancing between the two women before Xari gave him a subtle nod. "Go ahead," she said. "I'll catch up."
Corin raised an eyebrow but didn't argue, disappearing into the bustling crowd of Dock Town with a casual wave.
As the noise of the crowd swelled around them, Neve took a step closer, her prosthetic clicking softly against the wooden planks of the dock. "You have a habit of staring," she said, her tone flat but not unkind.
Xari flushed, rubbing the back of her neck. "Didn't mean anything by it. It's just… impressive. The craftsmanship, I mean."
Neve's expression softened, if only slightly. "The gilding was my idea. If I'm going to have a replacement, it might as well be memorable."
Xari smirked faintly. "Fair point."
Neve let the silence linger for a moment before continuing. "I'm Neve. Private investigator, new recruit. Nice to meet you, Xari."
Xari's easy demeanor falters for a second. How does Neve know- never mind, of course she does.
"You as well. I guess we'll be working closely together, then. Maevaris and Dorian treating you well?"
Neve nodded, her expression neutral but with a hint of amusement in her eyes. "As well as one could hope. Maevaris is efficient, and Dorian…" She paused, the corner of her mouth twitching upward. "Let's just say he's an acquired taste, but a brilliant one. He's already pulled me into his endless planning sessions."
Xari chuckled, relaxing slightly. "That sounds about right. If you survive Dorian's enthusiasm, you can survive anything."
Neve tilted her head, studying Xari. "You sound like someone who knows the ropes."
"I've been with the Shadow Dragons for a while now," Xari said, keeping her tone light. "Long enough to know that things here don't always go by the book. You'll figure it out."
Neve arched a brow, the faintest hint of a smirk on her lips. "I already have. Improvisation is part of the job, and I'm good at my job."
Xari caught the edge of pride in Neve's voice and found herself liking the woman's confidence, though she wasn't entirely sure how much she trusted her yet. New recruits always had a way of shaking things up.
"Well," Xari said, glancing toward the bustling crowd ahead, "welcome to the chaos. I'm sure you'll fit right in."
Neve's smirk widened ever so slightly. "I plan to."
For a moment, the two women stood in companionable silence, the noise of the docks filling the space between them. Then Neve's gaze sharpened again, and she shifted her weight. "Walk with me?" It was more of a friendly demand than a request. Xari nodded, and the two women strolled aimlessly together towards the city. "I've heard about your visions. Maevaris mentioned them."
Xari stiffened, her brow furrowed. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Don't play coy," Neve said, her voice sharp again. "If what I've been told is true, your visions might be the key to unraveling some of the Venatori's plans. You've been holding back."
Xari's jaw tightened. "I didn't realize my dreams were supposed to be your business."
"They're our business if they can help us," Neve shot back, her eyes narrowing. "You want answers, we want to fight the Venatori. This is part of it. The Shadow Dragons don't work alone—we rely on each other. If you're seeing something, it's time to share."
Xari took a slow breath, struggling to tamp down the irritation rising in her chest. "They're not clear. They're fragmented, disjointed. Half the time, I don't even know if they mean anything."
Neve studied her for a long moment, then nodded. "Then let's figure it out. Whatever's haunting you, whatever you're seeing—it's worth investigating. Meet me at my apartment tonight. We'll talk more then."
Without waiting for a reply, Neve handed her a slip of parchment, turned on her heel and walked away, her golden prosthetic catching the sunlight once more.
Xari stood there, staring after her, a mix of frustration and curiosity swirling in her chest. She didn't want to share the chaotic pieces of her past, but Neve was right about one thing: if her visions could help bring down the Venatori, she couldn't keep them to herself forever. Not like she hadn't pried for answers, though; but something inside her brought a good feeling about Neve. Maybe she was the missing element Xari needed all along.
She unfolded the parchment, and an address was scribbled in smudged ink. With a sigh, Xari turned toward Dock Town, her mind already racing ahead to what the night would bring.
Heading towards the market, she figured Corin would be somewhere up ahead. As Xari weaved through the bustling streets of Dock Town, the air buzzed with the usual chaos: merchants haggling loudly, children darting between carts, and sailors unloading goods fresh off their ships. The tang of saltwater mixed with the smell of spices and baked bread, a familiar cacophony that usually set her at ease. But today, her thoughts were miles away.
She fingered the slip of parchment in her hand, the smudged ink feeling oddly weighty despite its simplicity. Neve's offer replayed in her mind. Trust didn't come easily for Xari, and the idea of sharing even fragments of her visions made her uneasy. Still, there was something about Neve—a quiet determination and an unflinching gaze that suggested she might actually be able to help.
Ahead, she spotted Corin leaning casually against a stall, his dark coat catching the faint breeze. He was deep in conversation with a vendor, his tone light but persuasive as he negotiated the price of a rare Tevinter wine.
"Making friends again?" Xari teased as she approached, folding the parchment and slipping it into her pocket.
Corin glanced at her, a smirk playing on his lips. "Always. If you want the good deals, you have to charm them a little." He turned back to the vendor, sliding a coin across the counter before securing the bottle in his satchel. "You should try it sometime."
"Charming people isn't really my style," Xari replied, her tone dry. "I prefer straightforward."
Corin laughed, the sound easy and familiar. "I've noticed." He straightened, his expression shifting as he caught the faint tension in her posture. "Everything all right?"
Xari hesitated, her gaze flicking to the crowd before meeting his. "Yeah sure. Neve, she's the new recruit. Private investigator. She… might be able to help with something."
Corin's brow furrowed slightly. "Neve? I've heard the name. Rumor has it she's sharp—and relentless."
"Sounds about right," Xari said, her lips twitching into a faint smile. "She wants me to meet her tonight. Talk about…" She trailed off, her hand brushing against the pocket where the parchment rested.
Corin didn't press, his understanding gaze steady. "If you think it's worth the risk, then go. But don't go alone if you don't trust her yet."
Xari gave a small nod. "Don't worry about me." She tilted her head toward the market's edge. "Come on. I'm starving, and you're buying."
Corin chuckled, falling into step beside her. "Fine. But only because I owe you for that mess in Ventus."
"Mess? That was precision work," Xari retorted, a glint of humor returning to her eyes.
They disappeared into the throng of people, their banter carrying on the breeze, though Xari's mind lingered on the parchment and the unanswered questions waiting for her that night.
—-
The remnants of their meal sat between them—a few scattered crumbs and an empty bottle of wine. Xari leaned back in her chair, laughing as Corin recounted a particularly embarrassing tale from their childhood, his gestures animated. The glow of the setting sun bathed Dock Town in hues of amber and gold, the vibrant light softening as shadows stretched across the cobblestone streets.
"And then," Corin said, trying to suppress his own laughter, "you tripped over nothing, straight into the poor lieutenant's lap. I thought he was going to have you arrested on the spot!"
Xari shook her head, a rare, unguarded grin on her face. "In my defense, I was seven and didn't know how to wear armored shoes properly."
Corin raised an eyebrow, smirking. "You're eighteen now. What's your excuse these days?"
She threw a balled-up napkin at him, laughing again as he caught it easily. But the lightness of the moment began to fade as Xari glanced toward the horizon, where the sun dipped lower, casting Dock Town in an orange glow. The memories from her past were bittersweet, often resurfacing images of Aurelia or her family even if they were not brought up in conversation.
"I should go," she said, standing and brushing off her coat.
Corin's playful demeanor softened as he stood as well, his gaze steady. "You're sure about this? I can come along, wait outside."
Xari shook her head, slipping her hands into her pockets. "I need to do this on my own. Besides, Neve's not the kind of person who appreciates a crowd."
Corin hesitated, then nodded. "Be careful, Xari. If anything feels off—"
"I know," she interrupted, offering him a small smile. "I'll be fine."
With that, she turned and began weaving through the thinning crowd, the hum of the market fading as she left the busy streets behind. Neve's apartment wasn't far, tucked into one of the quieter corners of Dock Town. As she approached, the evening air grew cooler, the soft murmur of distant voices and the occasional clatter of footsteps filling the silence.
When she reached the door, Xari hesitated for just a moment, her fingers brushing the address in her pocket one last time before she knocked.
She waited a moment before she heard rustling and footsteps behind the door. Then, a slit in the top half of the door slid open, and Neve's eyes appeared on the other side. Her brow was furrowed, but perked up when she saw Xari. "Ah, there you are," she said before sliding the panel back in place and opening the door. "Come in. Sorry about the mess."
Xari stepped inside, the door creaking slightly as Neve closed it behind her. The apartment was small and dimly lit, but cozy in a way that suggested it was lived in rather than neglected. Papers were scattered across a desk in the corner, along with a half-emptied bottle of ink and a few broken quills. Shelves lined the walls, crammed with books, maps, and small trinkets that seemed to have stories of their own. On the wall behind the desk, Xari noticed a collage of papers, drawing, and notes, seemingly unrelated, but with strings of red and black connecting them like a spider web. A mug of tea sat abandoned on a side table, the faint aroma of mint lingering in the air.
"Mess is one way to put it," Xari said, raising an eyebrow as she stepped carefully over a pile of books stacked precariously by the doorway.
Neve waved her off, moving to clear a chair for Xari. "Organized chaos," she replied with a faint smirk. "Everything's exactly where I need it to be, even if it doesn't look like it."
Xari sank into the chair, her eyes darting around the room. Despite the clutter, there was a sense of purpose here, a focus. Neve wasn't just a private investigator; she was someone who lived and breathed her work.
"So," Neve began, settling into her own seat and fixing Xari with a pointed look, "you came. That's a good start. Let's talk."
Xari hesitated, leaning forward and resting her elbows on her knees. She pulled the scrap of fabric from her pocket—the Venatori tabard she had carried for so long—and placed it on the table between them. The worn, faded emblem stared back at her like an unwelcome guest.
Neve's gaze flicked to the cloth, her expression unreadable. "What's this?" she asked, her tone more curious than surprised.
"This is what I was found in as a baby," Xari said quietly. "For years, my adoptive mother kept it hidden. Then I started having the visions. I needed answers, and she finally gave this to me. I didn't know what it meant until I joined the Shadow Dragons. I know now this emblem is Venatori, and I'm connected to them. But that's as far as I've gotten. Maevaris is helpful, but... everything so far has lead to a dead end. So I just keep my visions and dreams to myself now, no matter how intense they get."
Neve nodded slowly, reaching for the tabard but pausing just short of touching it. "Tell me more about the visions."
Xari exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through her hair. "The serpents from the emblem, they whisper to me. Call to me. There's a recurring word, or name– Kaelira. And always this overwhelming feeling of… blood. Magic. Darkness."
Neve's golden prosthetic caught the light as she tapped her fingers against the arm of her chair, her eyes narrowing in thought. "Sounds like blood magic," she muttered. "And if the Venatori are involved, that tracks."
Xari tensed, her hands curling into fists. "Blood magic," she repeated.
Neve leaned back, her gaze steady. "That's their signature. Someone is crafting your visions. A means to contact you. Whatever it is, whoever it is, is not going to stop chasing you until you find them. Or they find you first. You ready for that?"
Xari hesitated, the weight of Neve's words sinking in. Someone was trying to reach her, and they were able to get inside her head. The thought made the back of her eyeballs itch. She wasn't sure if she was ready, but she knew she couldn't keep running. With a nod, she said, "I've waited years for answers. I'm ready."
Neve smiled faintly, a flicker of respect in her expression. "Good. Because whatever this is, I think we're going to need all the help we can get." Her eyes wondered to the collage behind her desk, almost lost in thought. After a moment, she brought her eyes back to Xari. "Ashur brought intel of Venatori activity down south, in Vyrantium. Maevaris and Dorian are putting together a team to see what they're up to. I want in on it- you should come, too."
Xari's eyes narrowed, her fingers brushing against the worn fabric of the tabard still on the table. "Vyrantium?" she echoed, her tone cautious. "What are they planning?"
Neve shook her head, her expression grim. "Not planning, doing. Ambrose Forfex, a Venatori blood mage and wigmaker, is using slaves to harvest hair for his wigs."
"Wigs?" Xari raised her eyebrow. "Why is a blood mage making wigs?"
"Those with too much money in their pockets often have strange hobbies. But they're not regular wigs. He feeds his slaves red lyrium to harvest lyrium-infused hair and showcases them at parties." Neve scowled in disgust as she spoke. "Do you know what happens to people corrupted by red lyrium?"
"Nothing good, I'm guessing."
"I'll spare you the details. But their inevitable end is not a nice one."
Xari's expression darkened as she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "So he's not just exploiting them—he's killing them slowly and parading their suffering as art?"
Neve nodded, her jaw tight with anger. "That's the Venatori for you. They thrive on twisting beauty into horror, on taking something pure and corrupting it. Ambrose is a prime example. His so-called 'art' has earned him a twisted kind of fame among Tevinter's elite. They attend his exhibitions, buy his wigs, and turn a blind eye to what's really happening behind closed doors."
Xari's stomach churned. "And no one's stopped him?"
"Not yet," Neve replied, her tone cold. "He's protected by wealth, influence, and a small army of Venatori loyalists. But that's why this mission matters. If we can dismantle his operation, expose what he's doing, and free the people he's enslaved, it'll be a major blow to the Venatori and their supporters. And, a chance to find some more clues about who is behind your visions."
Xari exhaled slowly, her mind racing. She thought of the faces of the people they had freed earlier that day, the hope and relief in their eyes as they stepped off the boat. The idea of others suffering under Ambrose's cruelty ignited a fire in her chest. But the realization that she was finally going to get to the bottom of her visions and her origins, made her want to throw up.
"When do we leave?" she asked, her voice steady but brimming with determination.
Neve's lips curved into a faint smile. "In the morning. Maevaris and Dorian will brief us before we leave. Get some rest tonight—you'll need it."
Xari nodded, but as she turned to leave, her mind was already far from the quiet streets of Dock Town. Instead, it lingered in the halls of Ambrose Forfex's mansion, imagining the horrors that waited within—and the justice she was determined to deliver.
Xari nodded, but as she turned to leave, her mind was already far from the quiet streets of Dock Town. Instead, it lingered in the halls of Ambrose Forfex's mansion, imagining the horrors that waited within—and the justice she was determined to deliver.
—-
The early morning air was crisp as Xari stood at the docks, the faint scent of salt and seaweed carried on the breeze. The boardwalks were dimly lit by lamps, swaying gently in the breeze. The Shadow Dragon team had gathered near a sleek, dark ship waiting to take them south to Vyrantium. Ashur leaned against a stack of crates, his arms crossed, while Neve checked the supplies with an efficiency that spoke of years of preparation. Maevaris and Dorian were deep in conversation nearby, their expressions serious but focused. When Xari stepped onto the boat, her boots lightly thudding against the floorboards, Dorian lifted his gaze to her. A playful smirk danced across his lips as his eyes scanned the group, his presence larger than life.
Dorian, his sky-blue robes trailing behind him like a well-crafted tapestry, had become Maevaris' second-in-command. He was a mage of considerable power, though he preferred to present himself with a dramatic flair that belied the quiet intensity of the Shadow Dragons. His sharp wit and unapologetic style made him a polarizing figure, but to those who knew him well, he was a loyal ally and a clever strategist. The faction's extravagant yet obscure co-founder, Dorian always seemed to be in the right place at the right time—though he would never let you forget that he'd made it there in style. His position of power and nobility often drew him away from the team, but when he was at headquarters, he made sure Xari was seen and heard. They related in some ways, both ostracizing themselves from their powerful families to join a noble cause. She admired him for that, and vice-versa.
"You're late," Dorian remarked as Xari approached, though the teasing lilt in his tone took the sting out of the words.
Xari smirked, adjusting the straps of her gear. "Had to make sure I was ready to clean up everyone's messes."
The mage smiled as Maevaris turned to address the group. "The situation in Vyrantium is volatile, but we have a window of opportunity. Ambrose Forfex is hosting one of his infamous parties tomorrow night. Security will be concentrated on the event, leaving other parts of the estate less guarded. However, blending in at the party isn't an option. The Venatori will recognize anyone who doesn't belong."
Neve nodded in agreement, spreading a map of the estate across the crate she'd been leaning on. "We're going in completely unseen. The mansion is massive, with multiple wings. The captives are likely being kept in the lower levels or one of the outbuildings. We'll be splitting into two teams: one to infiltrate the estate and locate the captives, and another to sabotage Ambrose's operations, especially his red lyrium supplies."
Xari stepped closer, studying the map. "So, no disguises, no mingling—just pure stealth."
"Exactly," Neve replied. "Ambrose isn't just relying on guards and locked doors. He's a blood mage, and his estate is protected by wards and enchantments powered by blood magic. They're designed to detect intruders and incapacitate them, or worse."
Xari's brows furrowed as she studied the map. "How do we get past them, then? If they're blood magic, won't they react to anyone who doesn't belong?"
"They will," Neve said, her expression serious. "But I've been studying the Venatori's methods for a while now. Ambrose's wards are attuned to specific life essences—essentially, they're programmed to recognize the magical and physical signatures of those he trusts. If we walk in unprepared, the wards will sound the alarm." Ashur shot a nervous glance to Neve, but she answered his unspoken counter. "Luckily, me and Dorian are mages, and I've learned enough about warding magic to manipulate it. We can temporarily disrupt the wards by mimicking the essence they're keyed to. It's not foolproof, and it won't last long, but it'll buy us enough time to slip past them."
"That's risky," Ashur said, his tone measured. "What happens if the wards detect us before you can disable them?"
Neve smirked faintly. "Then we'll know exactly how fast we can run."
Xari snorted despite the tension, but her expression quickly turned serious. "You're confident you can do this?"
"I am," Neve replied firmly. "Especially if Dorian and I work together. But it's not just about disabling the wards. Once we're inside, we'll have to maintain the disruption spell as we move."
"That means we need protection," Dorian chimed in. "We won't be able to defend ourselves if we're discovered."
"Then you'll have it," Xari said without hesitation. "We'll keep you safe."
Maevaris nodded, her expression grim. "Good. Because if those wards reactivate while you're inside, Ambrose will know exactly where you are."
Neve's eyes gleamed with determination as she tapped the map again. "That's why we'll move fast and stick to the plan. Once the captives are free, we're out of there. No detours, no unnecessary risks."
Maevaris nodded. "Ashur and Xari will form the infiltration team. We'll enter through the north side where security is thinnest, slip into the lower levels, and free the captives. Tarquin and I will create a distraction on the outskirts to draw attention away from the mansion itself."
"What kind of distraction?" Ashur asked, his tone cautious.
Maevaris's lips curved into a thin smile. "Nothing too overt. I'll use subtle magical effects to stir suspicion—lights in the forest, phantom sounds. Tarquin will act as a lookout, ensuring no one investigates too closely."
"Once we free the captives, what's the exit plan?" Xari asked, her voice steady.
Neve pointed to the docks marked on the map. "We'll guide the freed captives to a small side gate near the gardens, where a wagon will be waiting to transport them to the docks. From there, they'll board a ship we've arranged to take them to safety. Ambrose won't realize what's happening until it's too late."
Maevaris interjected, her tone grave. "Remember, Ambrose is not just a blood mage—he's dangerous, and his use of red lyrium makes him even more unpredictable. Avoid confrontation with him at all costs. Our goal is to free the captives and cripple his operation, not to take him head-on."
The group exchanged glances, the weight of the mission settling heavily over them. Xari tightened her grip on the edge of the map, the tension in her shoulders giving way to resolve.
"Let's get it done," she said firmly.
As the ship pushed off from the dock, the group prepared themselves in silence. Xari felt the familiar mix of anticipation and determination settle in her chest. Whatever awaited them in Vyrantium, failure wasn't an option.