Thank you to everyone who is reading so far. Most of the chapters for Act 1 are going to be a little longer to build the story and Xari's character. Not sure how many chapters will be in Act 1, I do want to dive into the action and excitement but without rushing important backstory info. And for my Lucanis x Rook fans, don't worry he'll show up ;)
Chapter 3
Xari, Corin, and Aurelia walked through the streets, bathed in the late morning sun, heavy silence hanging between them. The weight of recent events pressed down like an iron shroud, and the need for words had faded. For Xari, the consequences of her actions were unavoidable. She had acted impulsively, but to her, it was the only course of action. Corin and Aurelia, by mere association, could face their own share of consequences. Yet, neither of them blamed her.
Corin, the son of a high-ranking bureaucrat, understood better than most the kind of punishment Xari might face. His father's stories of swift and brutal justice played on a loop in his mind, filling him with a quiet dread. Aurelia simmered with barely contained rage, the injustice they had witnessed a stark embodiment of everything she had long opposed. Her anger was not only for the world's cruelty but also for her own cowardice. She had stood frozen while Xari intervened, and the shame gnawed at her, raw and unrelenting. How could she demand change when she couldn't even act when it mattered most?
But her anger wasn't solely directed outward. As they walked, Aurelia's thoughts spiraled inward, replaying the scene over and over. She had stood frozen, paralyzed by fear, while a girl barely two years younger than her nearly had her hand severed for a minor infraction. She had done nothing, said nothing—only watched as Xari stepped forward to intervene. The shame of her inaction clawed at her, raw and unrelenting. How could she demand change if she couldn't muster the courage to act in the moment? She was furious at herself for her cowardice, the world for its cruelty, and the system that enabled such brutality. But most of all, she was furious because she knew this wouldn't be the last time they'd find themselves on these treacherous streets, fighting battles no one else seemed willing to fight.
"Do you regret it?" Aurelia's voice broke the silence, sharp and brittle in the night air. She wasn't looking at Xari, her gaze fixed on the cobblestones as they walked.
"No," Xari replied without hesitation, her tone steady. "She didn't deserve what they were about to do to her."
"She's lucky you stepped in," Corin muttered, his voice low but tinged with unease. "But you do know you're dead, right? This will fall back on your father, and reflect poorly on him."
Xari's feet nearly skidded on the cobblestones as she stopped, her voice laced with frustration and challenge. "What would you have me do, Corin? Watch a child get her hand chopped off at the hands of a hot-headed knight trying to compensate for something with his sword?" Her own words surprised her, though she knew she wasn't wrong. She didn't fully understand the idiom—something she'd overheard her brothers toss at each other during sparring—but it fit the moment nonetheless.
Corin was taken aback. "I… that's not what I meant. And I don't think you know what you're saying. I do commend you for what you did, everyone does. You heard the whispers of the others as well as I did."
"So why didn't they do something? Why did no one else stand up for her?" Xari's fists clenched at her sides and forced herself to take a deep breath. "Those elves were the same age as us; imagine if it was a human girl instead. Minrathous would be in flames right now."
Aurelia stepped between them, her tone cutting through the tension. "Enough. We all know the reason no one stepped up." She flustered but did not swallow her words. The youngest friend of the group, Aurelia often struggled to feel confident in speaking her mind. "They're cowards, including me. But Xari, you might have started something with the elves. There's been growing tension and resistance from the slaves lately. They may even use you as a symbol of defiance."
"Ah, yes—Xari the Protector," Tarin's voice rang out from above, startling the group. They all turned to see him perched on a terrace, his grin widening like a cat that had caught its prey. That's got a nice ring to it.'"
"Tarin," Xari said, her voice edged with irritation. "Do you ever walk into a conversation like a normal person?"
"Where's the fun in that?" Tarin replied, brushing imaginary dust off his sleeves as he rose gracefully from the cobblestones. His grin widened as he took in the tension lingering between the group. "Looks like I missed quite the heated discussion. Let me guess—Xari did something reckless, Corin's lecturing her about consequences, and Aurelia's trying to play mediator?"
"Close enough," Corin muttered, crossing his arms.
Tarin chuckled, the sound light but laced with mischief. "Well, I hate to break it to you all, but Aurelia's right. The elves are stirring, and Xari's little act of heroism might just fan the flames. You've become quite the topic of discussion in the lower quarters."
Xari frowned, her brow furrowing. "I didn't do it to make a statement. I did it because it was the right thing to do."
"Intent doesn't matter," Tarin said, his tone more serious now. "The story's already spreading. You stood up to a knight and saved an elf girl from mutilation. To them, you're not just Xari anymore—you're a spark in a powder keg."
Aurelia glanced at Xari, worry flickering in her eyes. "He's not wrong. If the resistance sees you as a symbol, they'll expect more from you. And the Imperium won't let that slide. Especially from a commander's daughter."
Xari squared her shoulders, determination hardening her expression. "If people are finally standing up to this injustice, then so be it. I won't apologize for doing what's right. But I'm not about to become a martyr."
Tarin smirked. "Spoken like a true protector. Looks like things are about to get interesting." His easy demeanor sparked for a quick moment, but then his expression sobered. "There are rumors, Xari. It's not just the elves or the slaves. Minrathous- Tevinter- is tired. Aurelia is not the only one who sees the injustice. You and Corin, no offense, have been raised with blind privilege. You're just now seeing what everyone else has for a long time. People have realized no one is coming to save them." He stopped abruptly, looking around for listening ears. Gesturing for them to follow, he leads them to the corner of a building, behind an abandoned ox wagon. He lowered his voice, his sharp eyes scanning the empty street. "There's talk of an underground faction here in the city. They're recruiting people who've made statements like yours, Xari.'"
Aurelia frowned, glancing around nervously. "If there's an underground faction, and they're actively recruiting, the Imperium must already know about it. The question is how long they'll wait before they make a move to crush it."
"Exactly why you need to tread carefully," Tarin said, his voice taking on an unusual gravity. "This isn't a game. This faction is a secret for a reason. The Imperium doesn't hesitate to make examples of anyone they perceive as a threat. And right now, Xari, you're standing out more than you think."
Corin, who had remained silent until now, crossed his arms tightly over his chest. "Tarin's right. You've caught their attention, Xari, whether you wanted to or not. If this underground group sees you as an ally or a symbol, the Imperium will too. And they won't just go after you—they'll go after anyone close to you."
Xari's jaw tightened, but she didn't look away. "So what do you want me to do? Pretend it didn't happen? Keep my head down and let someone else deal with it?" Her voice cracked slightly, but her eyes were defiant. "Because I won't."
Tarin leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper now. "No one's saying you should do nothing. But if you're going to step into this, you need to be smart about it. You've most likely already drawn the faction's attention, but you need to decide if you're ready for the kind of fight they're preparing for."
The weight of his words hung heavy in the air. Xari looked at Aurelia and Corin, searching their faces for some semblance of clarity, but they mirrored the same uncertainty she felt.
She began to feel sick. This was too much at once. The vision from last night, her defiance against the Archon's knight, and now Tarin's cryptic warnings. It was uncharacteristic for him, and she sensed he knew more than he was letting. She felt her face flush, her hands slick with a familiar clamminess. "Enough of this," she broke the silence, anything to distract her from the pit rising in her throat. "I need to go home." Before they could respond, she turned on her heel and strode away. The rain began as a soft drizzle, dotting the cobblestones as she put more distance between herself and her friends. Once she rounded a corner and was out of sight, her composure broke. She ran, her breath hitching with every step as the rain fell harder, mingling with the heat on her cheeks.
Finally reaching the gated entrance of her family's estate, she raced across the courtyard and burst through the front door. Kaelen and Theron were lounging in the grand room, their light conversation halted abruptly at their sister's explosive entrance. "Oooooh, Xari's in troubleeee!" Theron drawled with a teasing grin, leaning back in his chair. She ignored his quip and bounded up the stairs two at a time. She heard Kaelen kiss his teeth and swat his brother's arm.
She didn't stop until she reached her room, slamming the door shut behind her and leaning against it, her breath ragged and her heart pounding in her ears. Father undoubtedly had words for her, and if he was home, he heard her entrance. Any moment he would come knocking at her door.
Xari had been reprimanded before; squabbling with her brothers, sneaking food from the kitchen, among other mundane, childish offenses. But this- this was different. This would not be swept under the rug with a slap on the wrist. From the time she was adopted into the Mercar family, Father instilled one consistent virtue into her: loyalty to the Imperium. It was the foundation of his life, his career, and his expectations for his children. Xari could still hear his voice from years ago, sharp and unyielding: "We serve Tevinter above all else. Without order, there is chaos, and without loyalty, there is ruin."
But now, standing alone in her room with the echoes of her defiance still fresh in her mind, Xari felt the weight of her choices press against that virtue like a blade at her throat. What she had done today wasn't just impulsive—it was outright rebellion against everything her father valued.
She pushed off the door, pacing the room as her thoughts spiraled. Her hands trembled, not from the chill of the rain but from the anxiety surging in her veins. She paced back and forth, trying to steady her breath. The walls of her room felt as though they were closing in, the weight of her defiance pressing harder against her father's teachings.
What would Father say? She could already imagine his cold, piercing gaze, the disappointment that would harden his features. Would he scold her? Lecture her? Or worse—would this finally be the moment when he decided she didn't belong in the Mercar family after all?
Xari clenched her fists. The thought of being cast out terrified her, but not as much as the idea of staying silent, of letting injustice continue unchecked. For all her father's teachings, wasn't protecting the helpless a virtue, too? Or had that been lost in the Imperium's unyielding quest for power and control?
A sharp knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts, and her heart leaped into her throat. She froze, staring at the wooden frame as if it might spring open of its own accord.
"Xari." Her mother's voice, soft yet stern, came through the door. Xari let out a breath she had not realized she was holding. The door opened silently, and Livia stood in the frame.
Her adopted mother was the epitome of ageless beauty. Long golden-bronze hair, usually kept away from her face in an elegant knot, flowed down to her waist. Her fair complexion reflected the sunlight that bounced off the stone floors. Livia's presence filled the room, commanding without effort. She stepped inside, her gaze sweeping over Xari with a quiet intensity. Her mother's sharp eyes saw everything—sometimes too much. With Livia, her inner turmoil was as transparent as glass.
Xari's chest tightened under her mother's scrutiny, but she refused to shrink. Instead, she met Livia's gaze, even as her heart pounded. She swallowed hard. "I'm sorry, Mother. I didn't mean to—"
Livia held up a finger, interrupting Xari's apology. She walked closer, reaching out to place a hand on Xari's shoulder. Her touch was warm, a contrast to the cool air in the room, but there was a weight in her eyes—one Xari couldn't quite place. ""You followed your heart, Xari. But choices like that ripple outward—they affect more than just you."
Xari nodded, biting back the sharp retort that rose in her throat. "I didn't have a choice, Mother. I couldn't let that happen."
Livia's gaze softened for a brief moment. "I know. I understand, more than you think." She paused, her hand lingering for a second longer before pulling away. "But your father… he will not look at this the way I do. You've already placed a target on your back, Xari. We can only hope it's not one that's too large for us to hide from."
Xari felt the weight of her mother's words sink into her chest. This wasn't just about her anymore. It never had been.
Livia closed her eyes and breathed deeply. Her sharp eyes opened, bringing her gaze back to Xari. "You know your father and I love you. From the moment we found you, we knew you were the missing pieceto our puzzle." Xari's throat tightened. "There is nothing you could ever do that will change that. You're a Mercar- our daughter."
Xari looked away, her heart aching at the thought of disappointing her family. They had given her everything, raised her with love and discipline, and provided her with opportunities she might not have had otherwise. And now, she had thrown all of that into jeopardy with a single act of defiance.
Livia sighed as if torn between the weight of responsibility and the love she had for her daughter. "You're growing up, Xari, and becoming a remarkable young lady. The world is vast, full of shadows and uncertainties, but also moments of beauty that can flourish in the unlikeliest places, like flowers breaking through stone. There's so much you have yet to understand, truths and challenges you haven't even glimpsed. You must prepare yourself for what lies ahead and, when the time comes, choose your own path."
The obscureness in her mother's statement piqued Xari's attention, but she did not let it show. What did she mean by that? What was it that Xari had yet to comprehend, to discover? Her mind raced, but she kept her expression steady, not wanting to seem as though her mother's words had unsettled her more than they had.
The air between them thickened with unspoken words. At last, Livia turned toward the door, pausing briefly to glance back at Xari.
Xari caught the brief flicker of hesitation in her mother's eyes, but no words came. Instead, Livia made peace with whatever thoughts were left untold. "Your father is waiting for you in his study," she said, her voice gentle but carrying an underlying firmness. It wasn't an invitation—it was a command, unspoken but clear.
Without another glance, Livia stepped out into the hallway, leaving the door slightly ajar. The soft rustling of her footsteps down the corridor faded, leaving Xari alone in the quiet of her room.
For a moment, she stood there, still processing the conversation that had just unfolded. The weight of her mother's words pressed on her chest, each sentence leaving an imprint in her mind. Yet, there was something about Livia's final glance that unsettled Xari. Her mother had always been strong, steady—a pillar of calm—but today, there had been something else in her eyes. A fear? Or was it resignation?
Xari's gaze drifted toward the door, the path leading to her father's study looming ahead. Her heart tightened at the thought of facing him, knowing full well what would come next. She could already hear his voice in her mind, firm and demanding, but beneath it, the unmistakable edge of disappointment. She swallowed hard, the familiar tightness in her throat returning.
With a final glance toward the open door, Xari took a deep breath and stepped into the hallway. It felt longer than usual, its silence pressing in on Xari with every step. Dim light from the sconces painted uneven shadows on the walls, flickering slightly as if mirroring the unease in her chest. She kept her head high, her stride steady, even as her thoughts churned.
What would her father say this time? Would he scold her, or worse, deliver one of his long, cutting lectures that made her feel as though the ground beneath her feet had been stripped away?
At the end of the hallway, the door to his study loomed tall and foreboding, the dark wood polished to a mirror-like sheen. She stopped in front of it, her hand hovering just above the brass handle. Her chest tightened, her pulse quickening in anticipation.
He's waiting. Just go in.
With a soft creak, she pushed the door open, stepping into the warm glow of the study.
Her father sat at his desk, papers and books meticulously arranged before him. The room smelled of aged leather and ink, a scent that had always felt oddly comforting and intimidating at the same time. Erynd's piercing eyes met hers the moment she entered, and for a brief second, she thought she saw something softer beneath the stern mask he always wore. But it was gone in an instant.
"You took your time," he said, his voice calm but carrying a weight that made it impossible to dismiss. He gestured toward the chair across from him, his meaning clear.
Xari sat down, her back straight, determined to meet his gaze without faltering. She could feel the tension in the room, thick and heavy, like the moments before a storm.
Erynd leaned forward, lacing his fingers together on the desk. "It's time we had a serious conversation about your place in this family—and in this world."
Her heart sank, though she fought to keep her expression neutral. She had known this was coming, but the weight of his words still felt like a blow.
Erynd continued, his voice firm. "You've reached an age where your choices will start to define you, not just as our daughter, but as someone who represents our name and legacy. You can no longer afford to act without understanding the consequences of your actions."
Xari's jaw tightened, the words stirring a mix of guilt and frustration within her. She opened her mouth to respond but stopped, unsure of what to say.
Her father's gaze bore into hers, unrelenting. "This isn't about me imposing my will on you. It's about preparing you for the realities of the world—a world that will not be kind to someone who hesitates or stumbles. Do you understand?"
Xari nodded slowly, though her mind was racing. There was so much she wanted to say, so much she wanted him to understand about her. But now wasn't the time.
"Good," Erynd said, leaning back slightly. "Because whether you like it or not, your decisions affect more than just yourself. They ripple outward, impacting everyone around you. Remember that."
He paused, studying her closely. "Now, tell me—do you have anything to say for yourself?"
Xari hesitated, her fingers tightening around the arms of the chair as if anchoring herself to the moment. This was her chance to speak, but doubt swirled in her mind. Would her words make a difference? Would he even hear her? Then, her mother's words echoed in her thoughts—finding her place in the world meant having the courage to speak her truth.
"The knight was wrong, Father," she began, her voice steady despite the storm of emotions within her. "I did what I thought was right. Everything happened so fast, I… I didn't stop to think about how it might reflect on you or Mama." She took a breath, her gaze flickering to his face. His expression remained unreadable, his piercing eyes fixed on her, but he seemed to be waiting, giving her the space to continue.
"If there are consequences for my actions, I'll accept them," she said, her voice softening but losing none of its resolve. "And I'm sorry if they bring trouble to you or Mama. But…" She paused, the weight of her next words heavy on her tongue. She straightened in her seat, meeting his gaze head-on. "I'm not sorry for helping the elf."
Her father's eyes narrowed slightly, his lips pressing into a thin line. Xari braced herself for the sharp reprimand she was certain would follow. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, folding his hands together as he regarded her with a measured, almost calculating expression.
"You're not sorry," he repeated, his tone even but laced with a gravity that made Xari's chest tighten. "You defied a knight of the Imperium and caused a scene in front of the Archon, but you're not sorry?"
Xari swallowed hard, but she refused to look away. "No, Father. I'm not."
For a moment, silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken tension. The faint sound of a clock ticking in the corner was the only noise in the room.
Finally, her father exhaled through his nose, a sound that was neither approval nor condemnation. "You acted on instinct," he said, his tone softer but still sharp. "Instinct has its place in battle—but unchecked, it becomes a liability. Do you understand?"
"If I hadn't helped, that elf would've been mutilated. What kind of strength is that, to turn away and let injustice happen?" Her father's eyes darkened, and Xari wondered if she had pushed too far. Yet, she held her ground, refusing to shrink beneath his gaze.
"Injustice," he murmured, almost to himself. His gaze drifted for a moment, as if lost in thought, before snapping back to her. "Strength is knowing when to act—and when to restrain yourself. What you did wasn't entirely wrong, but there is a balance, Xari. One you have yet to learn."
"Then help me understand, Father."
Erynd rose from his chair. Clasping his hands behind his back, he slowly made his way around the desk that was separating them. He did not take his eyes away from Xari, studying her like a commander to a new recruit. He stopped in front of her, his imposing frame towering over Xari, though she didn't flinch. "Strength commands respect, and weakness breeds contempt," he said, his voice low but firm. "But you need to understand, Xari: strength is not about indulging your whims or acting on emotions. It is about order, discipline, and knowing your place in the hierarchy."
Xari's chest tightened, but she forced herself to meet his eyes. "And what about the elf? What kind of order is that? Leaving someone to be mutilated just because of what they are?"
Erynd's expression darkened, his brows knitting together. "You speak like a child who hasn't yet grasped the way the world works. The Imperium is strong because it understands that not all lives are equal, Xari. There is a structure to things—a natural order—and that order is what ensures our survival. The weak serve the strong; the deserving rise, and the undeserving fall. It has always been this way, and it always will be."
Her jaw clenched, but she didn't look away. "But isn't strength more than power? Isn't it about protecting others, about fairness?" Her voice wavered, but she held his gaze, daring him to refute her.
Erynd's lips pressed into a thin line, his voice hardening. "Fairness is a lie told by those too weak to claim their place. The world isn't fair, Xari, and it never will be. What you did today undermined order and risked consequences far beyond your understanding. Do you think the knight you defied will overlook this? Or that the elf you saved will repay your kindness with anything but betrayal if given the chance?"
She flinched at his words but refused to back down. "If that's true, then what's the point of all this? Of being strong? Of being respected?"
Erynd leaned closer, his voice icy. "The point is survival, Xari. Our family, our people—our Imperium—survives because we do what is necessary. You don't have to like it, but you must accept it. That is the burden of strength."
The silence that followed was suffocating. Xari wanted to argue, to push back, but the unyielding certainty in her father's words made her hesitate. She could feel the walls of the world she'd grown up in closing around her, forcing her to confront truths she wasn't ready to accept.
Erynd straightened, clasping his hands behind his back. "You're still young. You have much to learn. Reflect on this, Xari, and remember: the strength of the Imperium lies in its order, and our family upholds that order. Do not forget your place."
Her throat tightened, but she forced herself to nod. "Yes, Father."
"Good," he said curtly, turning back to his desk. "You're dismissed."
Later that night, Xari lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling as her father's words replayed in her mind. The strength of the Imperium lies in its order. Do not forget your place.
Her chest ached with frustration and confusion. She had always trusted her parents, admired their strength and resolve. But tonight, something felt different. For the first time, she questioned the foundation of everything she had been taught.
Unable to bear the stillness of her room, she slipped out of bed and threw on her boots and shawl. The manor was silent as she crept out of her window, her footsteps barely making a sound on the cold stone rooftop.
Xari stepped out into the courtyard, the crisp night air biting at her skin. The sky was clear, the stars scattered across it like shards of broken glass. She walked to the center of the courtyard, her arms wrapped around herself, and looked up at the night sky.
The stillness soothed her frayed nerves, the cold air biting but refreshing. Overhead, the stars glimmered faintly, indifferent to the chaos within her. Then it came—the faintest rustle, like silk dragged across stone. She froze, her breath catching in her throat as the sound grew nearer.
Xari froze, her pulse quickening as she turned toward the sound. Out of the shadows at the edge of the courtyard emerged a figure draped in dark, flowing robes. A mask obscured their face, smooth and featureless except for two slits where the eyes should be.
Her first instinct was to retreat, but something about the figure's presence held her in place. They moved with a quiet, deliberate grace, stopping a few paces from her. For a moment, they simply stood there, their head tilting slightly as if studying her.
"Who are you?" Xari asked, her voice sharper than she intended.
The figure said nothing, the silence between them growing heavier. Then, with a fluid motion, they reached into their robe and pulled out a small slip of parchment. They held it out, as if offering it to her, but before Xari could step forward, the figure let it fall to the ground.
Xari's eyes flicked to the note, then back to the stranger. Before she could react further, the figure stepped back into the shadows. Their movements were so swift and silent that within moments, they had disappeared entirely, as if they had never been there.
Her heart pounding, Xari crouched down and picked up the parchment. The paper was rough, the edges frayed, and on it was a single line written in an elegant, unfamiliar hand:
"The truth lies hidden in the shadows. We fight where They cannot see. Seek the cracks, and you'll find us."
At the bottom of the note, faintly pressed into the parchment, was an emblem—a dragon. Xari's mind flashed to her vision with the serpents- but this emblem was different. The dragon's body is sleek and angular, suggesting agility and precision. Its head is turned slightly, as if scanning the horizon or observing from the shadows. The intricate design caught the faint moonlight, its edges glinting as if alive. Xari's breath hitched at the sight. There was no mistaking it; this was deliberate, meant for her to see.
The cryptic message stirred something deep within her, a flicker of recognition she couldn't fully place. It spoke of a hidden fight, a resistance operating from the very darkness she had often felt swirling around her. The underground faction Tarin had mentioned—they were real. And now, they were reaching out to her.
Xari carefully tucked the note into her shawl, her thoughts swirling. Whoever had left it knew of her restless yearning for something more—something beyond the rigid rules of the Imperium. The idea that there might be others who shared her desire for change, hidden from sight yet silently waging a battle, filled her with a mixture of hope and uncertainty.
As she slipped back inside the manor, the shadows of the courtyard seemed to stretch longer, deeper. The night had become more than just a quiet escape—it was now a doorway, beckoning her toward something unknown. And Xari wasn't sure she could walk away from it.