A slow chapter, but introducing some familiar faces into the story. And setting up for the deep dive into the action.


Act 2: Shadows of the Past

Minrathous, Tevinter Imperium; 9:43 Dragon

The Mercar estate was quiet, save for the crackling of the flames and the occasional rustle of turning pages as Livia read her book. She sat by the flickering fire, the glow casting restless shadows along the walls of the study.

Three years. Three years since her daughter had vanished into the night, leaving behind only the stubborn defiance in her eyes and the echoes of words spoken in pain and hope.

Erynd had been furious, calling Xari a traitor, a heretic, a foolish girl chasing an impossible dream. He still did, when others were around to hear. But in the dead of night, when he thought no one was watching, Livia saw the way his shoulders slumped, the way he lingered too long at the door to Xari's empty chamber. He carried regret like an old wound, buried deep but never fully healed.

Kaelen and Theron never spoke of her outright, but Livia knew they missed their sister. She caught it in the way Kaelen would pause at the training yard, watching younger recruits with a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze, or how Theron still kept that wooden sword he and Xari played with when they were children. He claimed he kept it in his room out of habit, leaning against the side of his wardrobe, but Livia knew better.

She turned her eyes toward the window, where the sky stretched endlessly, a vast, dark canvas pricked with stars. Somewhere out there, Xari was forging her own path, far from the comforts of home, from the warmth of the family that still longed for her. Was she safe? Was she warm? Did she miss them?

Livia pressed her fingers against her lips, whispering a quiet prayer into the space between heartbeats. Wherever you are, my girl, be careful. Be strong. And one day, come home to us.

The fire crackled louder, as if in answer, but the room remained empty, the silence pressing in like the weight of two lost years.

The old clock in the main hall rang twelve times. Midnight. Today was Xari's sixteenth birthday.

A single tear crept down Livia's cheek, but she kept her eyes shut in prayer. Happy birthday, my sweet girl.

The night air of Minrathous was still; Xari's thoughts churned like a restless sea. She leaned against the window of her modest room in the Shadow Dragons' hidden base, the cool glass grounding her even as her mind spiraled. Her reflection in the window stared back at her, a faint outline in the moonlight—hopeful, vulnerable, distracted. She hardly recognized herself. She was still Xari, but older, stronger, wiser. If only slightly.

Her hair had grown down her back, the dark coils almost untamable and would mat unless she braided it. Her freckles were more prominent now, her face like a canvas with speckled paint. She missed painting. The skinny thirteen-year-old had grown into a sturdy, stronger young woman, her muscles defined from years of training. The softness of childhood had faded, replaced by the lean, honed strength of a fighter. Her shoulders had broadened slightly, her arms and legs no longer gangly but firm with purpose. Scars marked her skin—small ones, thin ones, each a story of a battle, a lesson learned.

Her face had sharpened, too. The roundness of youth had given way to high cheekbones and a jawline carved by time and discipline. Her eyes, once wide with curiosity, now held something deeper—understanding, caution, the weight of experience. Yet, there was still a fire in them, a flicker of the same girl who had once dreamed beyond the walls of the Imperium.

She carried herself differently now. Where she once moved with the restless energy of an untrained child, she now walked with measured confidence, her steps light, precise, the telltale grace of a Shadow Dragon. She had become more than a soldier—she was a ghost in the night, a blade in the dark, a force moving unseen.

And yet, despite all the changes, deep down, she was still Xari. She was still just a girl. The girl who loved to paint. The girl who once believed in heroes and fairytales. The girl who, no matter how much she hardened, still longed for something more.

Xari wondered, not for the first time, what would happen if she returned to the Mercar estate. Her father would likely disown her outright—or worse, confine her so tightly she'd never escape again. Resentment burned hot in her heart. Her father's devotion to the Imperium's corruption disgusted her, but she couldn't deny the tangle of pride and pain that came with thoughts of home. Pride kept her away, unwilling to return like a chastised child. Pain lingered for her family—her mother, her brothers, but especially Theron.

Theron's laughter echoed faintly in her mind, a sound buried in her memories. She pictured him racing through the estate gardens, the sunlight catching in his hair as he called for her to slow down. How much had he grown? Did he hate her for abandoning them? Was Kaelen still the same brooding, stern eldest brother, and did he side with Father? She imagined her mother crying herself to sleep, clutching fragments of Xari's childhood, the way Xari clung to hers.

But this was her life now. Her fingers brushed the scar on her forearm, a souvenir from one of her first missions. The girl who once played in the gardens of the Mercar estate was gone, replaced by a young woman who fought in the shadows. She couldn't go back, not to the estate, not to the person she'd been.

Her thoughts drifted to her chosen family. Ashur always seemed to know when loneliness crept in, showing up at her door with a smirk and an excuse— a mission brief, city gossip, or just silence shared in understanding. His presence steadied her, a reminder she wasn't entirely alone.

Ashur had grown taller, his once-lanky frame filling out with lean muscle from years of rigorous training. His shoulders had broadened, his stance naturally commanding, a fighter's presence etched into every movement. The sharp angles of youth had smoothed into something stronger, more defined—his jawline cut sharper, his features carrying the quiet confidence of someone who knew his own strength. His skin, a deep, rich brown, bore the marks of training—calloused hands, faint scars that spoke of battles fought and lessons learned. His dark hair had grown longer, thick waves framing his face, often tousled from either a fight or his own carelessness. His amber-brown eyes, once bright with reckless energy, now carried something deeper—focus, purpose, a quiet fire that burned beneath his usual smirk. He moved with the grace of a warrior, the ease of someone who had spent years mastering his craft, yet there was still that sharp edge of mischief in him, that boy who laughed too loud and fought too hard, never backing down from a challenge.

And then, there was still Corin. 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 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.

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.

Still, their companionship couldn't fill the void entirely. At night, the silence stretched endlessly. Even in her larger room, with its neatly organized possessions, it wasn't home. The emptiness followed her, a ghost she couldn't banish.

Her chambers had grown with her rank in the Shadow Dragons. She now lived in a larger room, outfitted with better furnishings, a desk piled high with mission reports, and shelves sparsely filled with personal effects. Still, the space felt cold, impersonal. Unlike most of her comrades, who returned to their homes in the city after missions, Xari stayed. The others thrived in Minrathous' chaos, but Xari's choice to remain often left her with a chilling loneliness that nipped at her like frostbite.

The Venatori tabard lay folded neatly in front of her, its emblem faintly visible in the dim glow. She had spent countless nights staring at that symbol, searching for answers in its silent defiance, and tonight was no different.

Her fingers traced the edge of the fabric as her mind drifted. The bond was always there, a constant weight she carried. Some days it felt like a distant whisper, easy to ignore in the chaos of training and missions. Other days, it was a chain around her neck, suffocating and inescapable. No matter how much she tried to push it away, it always came back—the pull of her bloodline, the shadow of her birth mother.

But I'm not her, Xari thought fiercely. I'll never be her.

She leaned back in her chair, her gaze shifting to the ceiling. Two years ago, she had joined the Shadow Dragons with a mix of desperation and hope. She had wanted answers, a way to forge her own path; one separate from the dark legacy of her blood, and from the corrupt military lineage she would've inherited. What she hadn't expected was to find something else entirely: purpose. The Shadow Dragons had become more than just a means to an end. They had become her family, her foundation, the reason she kept fighting even when the darkness threatened to swallow her whole.

And yet, the bond remained.

Her jaw tightened as she closed her eyes, the visions flashing unbidden in her mind. The serpents twisting and coiling. The whispers of blood and magic. The name, her birth name—Kaelira—echoing like a chant she could never silence. They had come more frequently in recent months, intruding even in moments of peace. She had tried to suppress them, bury them deep where they couldn't touch her, but they always found their way back.

I can't keep running from this.

Xari's hand curled into a fist, her nails digging into her palm. She had spent the last year avoiding the truth, clinging to the hope that if she worked hard enough, fought hard enough, the bond would break on its own. But deep down, she knew better. The only way to escape her mother's shadow was to confront it—to face whatever darkness the Venatori had tied to her and sever it with her own hands.

The thought sent a shiver through her, a mix of fear and determination. She didn't know what that confrontation would look like or what it would cost her, but she knew it was inevitable. Every mission she took, every enemy she fought, every whisper she chased brought her closer to that moment. And when it came, she would be ready.

She exhaled slowly, her gaze returning to the tabard. "I don't know who I'll have to become to end this," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "But I'll decide that. No one else."

The flickering candlelight caught on the edge of her daggers, lying beside the tabard. They were a part of her now, as much as the bond was. Tools of her trade, symbols of the life she had chosen. The life she would continue to choose, no matter how hard the path became.

Rising from her chair, Xari folded the tabard carefully and placed it back in the leather box where it belonged. She latched it shut and pushed it aside, clearing the table. Her hands moved with purpose as she reached for her daggers, testing their weight before sliding them into their sheaths.

The quiet fire in her chest burned brighter than ever. The girl she had been three years ago would have hesitated, would have doubted her place in the world. But that girl was gone. In her place stood someone sharper, stronger, forged by fire and shadow. The bond might still cling to her, but it didn't define her.

Xari extinguished the candle, plunging the room into darkness. She didn't need the light to see where she was going. The path ahead might have been uncertain, but over time, she felt more ready to face it.

A sharp knock on her door pulled her from her thoughts. Xari tensed, her hand instinctively reaching for the dagger at her hip. No one disturbed her this late unless it was urgent.

She crossed the room and opened the door to find Ashur standing in the dim hallway. His usual unreadable expression was in place, but there was something behind his eyes—something unsettled.

"We have a mission," he said quietly. "Maevaris wants to see us."

Xari studied him for a moment, then nodded. Without another word, she grabbed her cloak and stepped into the hallway, letting the door swing shut behind her. As she made her way through the dark corridors, the atmosphere was eerie and heavy. Of course, it was the dead of night; but usually there was someone shuffling around the headquarters, making noise. Tonight, the silence was deafening.

Ashur led Xari through the dimly lit corridors, his footsteps steady but quiet. Xari braced herself for whatever emergency Maevaris had summoned them for. She expected to be briefed on an urgent mission, maybe a political shift that required their immediate attention. But as they approached the mission room, something felt off.

Ashur pushed the door open, and instead of a tense war council, Xari was met with a soft glow of candlelight and a quiet chorus of voices. "Surprise!"

Xari blinked, momentarily thrown off balance. The room was not filled with maps and directives, but with familiar faces—members of the Shadow Dragons who had fought beside her, trained with her, survived with her. A modest feast was spread across the table, and in the center sat a simple cake, small but unmistakably meant for her.

Maevaris stood at the head of the table, her sharp eyes soft with amusement. "We might be a group of rogues and rebels, but we take birthdays very seriously."

Xari opened her mouth, then closed it. She had long stopped expecting celebrations—especially not for herself. For a moment, she could only stare, caught between suspicion and warmth. The past two years, she intentionally hid her birthday from the group. But either they had caught on, or Ashur had a big mouth.

Ashur nudged her shoulder with a smirk. "You look like you're planning an escape. Don't bother. You're staying."

The girl she had been three years ago would have hesitated, would have questioned whether she deserved this. But that girl was gone. In her place stood someone stronger, forged by fire and shadow.

And for tonight, at least, she would allow herself to celebrate.

Xari's surprise turned into a wide grin. She looked at the cake- a simple, one layer chocolate treat just for her. Her mind drifted to her family. Chocolate was her favorite flavor, and Livia always made sure to have the cake ready by dinner. She always cut Xari's slice first, and then everyone else's. Her mother always had the last slice, making sure her children and Erynd got their share. Every time, she would say, "I made your favorite- chocolate cake!"

Always, Livia showed Xari unconditional love.

"You're a Mercar- our daughter."

A lump formed in Xari's throat. She swallowed hard, forcing herself to keep the smile, despite her quivering chin.

The group ate and laughed together, praising Maevaris and Ashur for the meal. Drinks are served, and Ashur nearly snorts his through the nose as Xari gags after tasting her first mead. As the night rolls on, the party slowly dissipates, members deciding to resort to their quarters or return home.

As dusk creeps over the horizon, Ashur and Xari find themselves sprawled out on the floor of her room. Like a good friend, he encouraged the birthday girl to finish her mead plus one more glass.

"I think I've been peer-pressured," Xari hiccuped.

Ashur laughs, a deep hearty sound, finishing his final drink with a quick gulp. "No such thing. You need to work on your tolerance."

As the last of their laughter faded, a comfortable silence settled between them. Xari stretched out on the floor, her head spinning, the warmth of the mead thrumming through her veins. Across from her, Ashur leaned back on his elbows, watching her with an unreadable expression.

Her gaze met his, and suddenly, the air between them felt different—heavier. His dark eyes, usually sharp with mischief, had softened, something flickering behind them that she couldn't quite place.

Then, before she could react, he moved.

His lips brushed against hers, fleeting but firm, warm with the taste of honeyed alcohol. It was over before she even registered what had happened. Her breath hitched, her entire body locking up as the world tilted—not just from the drink, but from this.

Ashur pulled back just as fast, his eyes widening in immediate regret. "Shit—Xari, I—" He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "I shouldn't have done that. I didn't ask. And you're—" He swallowed, standing abruptly, his movements stiff. "I'm sorry."

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

"I should go." His voice was quiet now, edged with guilt. He didn't wait for her response, turning on his heel and disappearing through the door before she could even process what had just happened.

Xari sat there, her mind sluggish, her limbs heavy. The warmth of the mead swirled in her stomach, and her lips still tingled where Ashur had kissed her.

A kiss.

Her first.

The haze of her inebriation made it hard to process, but the shock cut through it like a dagger. She touched her lips, wide eyes staring at the door Ashur had just slipped through. He had apologized—quick, frantic, full of guilt. She should've said something, but the words got lost somewhere between her spinning thoughts and the unfamiliar flutter in her chest.

He hadn't meant to kiss her. Not like that.

Xari swallowed, cheeks burning. She wasn't sure what she was supposed to feel. She'd never thought about kissing anyone before. Never had time, never even considered it—especially not with Ashur, her best friend, her partner in crime, the one person who knew her better than anyone.

A strange ache settled in her chest. It wasn't anger, not really. Just... confusion. Disappointment?

She should go after him. Tell him it was fine, that she wasn't mad. But her body wouldn't move, her head still swimming with the effects of the alcohol. Instead, she slumped back onto the floor, staring at the ceiling, the memory of his lips on hers playing over and over in her mind.

Sleep eventually found her, but her dreams were restless, filled with flashes of amber-brown eyes and the lingering ghost of something she wasn't quite ready to understand.

The sun crept in through the window, waking an under-the-weather Xari. She opened her eyes, immediately regretting so, and squeezed them shut with a groan. How long she had been asleep on the hard floor, she didn't know. But she did know her body was paying for it, her muscles sore and head pounding.

I really do need to work on my tolerance, she thought. As she pulled herself up, the events from the night before flashed in her mind. Her eyes shot open, heartbeat quickening. Ashur. Today was going to be awkward.

Xari forced herself to get cleaned up and dressed, fighting against her aching muscles. She then made her way to the dining hall to make some breakfast. And coffee.

She trudged into the dining hall, her mind still foggy from the night before. Each step felt heavier than the last, her muscles protesting every move as if they were reminding her of her foolishness. She reached for the coffee kettle, her hands a little shaky as she poured herself a mug, the rich scent of it doing little to settle her nerves.

As she stirred the coffee, trying to wake up, she noticed two unfamiliar faces sitting at the table, engaged in quiet conversation. Both were clearly Shadow Dragons, but their presence here was new.

The man had sharp features and a warm, friendly demeanor. His dark hair was neatly styled, along with a full mustache that curled at the ends. His eyes, a deep shade of blue, flicked up when he noticed her. His gaze was steady, almost piercing, like he could see straight through her. He looked older, maybe in his thirties, and there was something about him that felt...different. Not like the rest of the Shadow Dragons she knew. Even his uniform was different– a rococo flair added to his uniform with a brightly colored shirt with a tall collar layered under his uniform.

The woman beside him was more cool in appearance, with dark hair styled into an elegant bun, her bare forearms adorned with bangles. Her shirt was unbuttoned some, ever so provocatively. She was younger than him, at least a few years older than Xari. But her posture was relaxed, and there was a soft, almost smug smile playing on her lips as she talked with the man. Her dark eyes sparkled, full of life, in contrast to the man's calm, controlled presence.

Xari's heart sank. She hadn't been expecting any new faces today, and certainly not two who seemed so out of place in the usual shadowy atmosphere of the headquarters. She forced herself to give a tight, polite smile as she made her way to the counter, hoping they hadn't noticed her quiet entrance.

The woman gave her a small nod, her eyes never leaving Xari, as if she were assessing her. The man, on the other hand, greeted her with a warm, friendly smile. "Morning!" he said, his voice light and cheerful, as though nothing was out of the ordinary.

"Morning," Xari mumbled, feeling awkward and still not quite fully awake. She busied herself with stirring her coffee, avoiding their gaze as she tried to piece together why they were here, what their purpose in the headquarters was. The last thing she needed was more distractions today. She just hoped neither of them would ask any questions about last night, about Ashur.

She noticed the woman's golden prosthetic, taking the place of her lower right leg, glinting in the light. She brought her gaze back to meet Neve's, who was staring directly at her. Oops, Xari thought to herself, but Neve said nothing.

To Xari's relief, Maevaris walked into the dining hall. "Ah, good morning, Xari! Have you met Dorian and Neve?"

She cleared her throat, pushing away the sleepiness from her voice. "I haven't had the pleasure yet." Xari brought herself to join the trio.

"Meet Neve Gallus and Dorian Pavus. Neve is a talented investigator, she will be joining us as our detective. And this," Maevaris paused to give a brief laugh, "this is Dorian. He is actually the reason the Shadow Dragons exist today." Maevaris held a wide grin, patting Dorian on the shoulder.

Xari frowned, but said nothing. Why had she never met Dorian, if he was part of the original Shadow Dragons?

Dorian cleared his throat. "Yes, I've been away for a while. I was accompanying the Inquisitor."

Xari's eyes widened. "The Inquisitor? You worked with her?"

Neve took a step forward. "He's being modest. Dorian was at the Inquisitor's side when they defeated Corypheus."

"Yes, yes, I founded the Shadow Dragons with Mae, and saved the world. You're welcome."

Xari blinked, gripping her coffee mug a little tighter. The Inquisitor. Corypheus. She had read about the battle, heard the stories whispered in the Imperium—how a rebel force had toppled an ancient darkspawn with divine powers. She had just never expected to be sitting across from someone who had actually been there.

Dorian's tone was flippant, but Xari caught the way his expression shifted—pride mixed with something else, something deeper. It was clear he didn't need the recognition, but Neve seemed happy to provide it anyway.

"Right," Xari said slowly, still processing. "So, let me get this straight—you helped take down Corypheus, worked with the Inquisitor, and co-founded the Shadow Dragons?"

"That about sums it up," Dorian said, taking a sip of his tea. "I'm quite accomplished, really. Some might say brilliant."

Neve rolled her eyes fondly. "Some might say insufferable."

Xari huffed a quiet laugh despite herself, though her mind still churned. If he was so important to the Shadow Dragons, why had she never met him? Why had no one ever mentioned him outright?

Maevaris, still grinning, pulled out a chair and sat down. "Dorian has been away in Tevinter, working from the inside to undermine the Magisterium. It wasn't safe for him to be directly involved with us. Until now."

Xari nodded, her frown easing slightly. And he's a Magister. That made sense. The Shadow Dragons worked from the dark, but someone with Dorian's reputation? He was too well-known, too public. Still, having him here now meant something had changed.

Neve leaned her weight onto her prosthetic leg, watching Xari curiously. "And what about you? How long have you been with the Shadow Dragons?"

Xari straightened slightly, feeling her old instincts kick in. "A few years." She wasn't about to spill her entire life story to two strangers—no matter how charming one of them was or how easy the other's presence felt.

Dorian hummed, as if making note of her answer. "A few years, and yet I haven't heard of you. Which means you're either incredibly stealthy or someone's been keeping secrets." He glanced at Maevaris, who only smiled in return.

Xari met his gaze evenly. "You've been away a long time."

Dorian smirked. "Touché."

Neve grinned, glancing between them. "Well, if we're all going to be working together, I suppose we'll have plenty of time to get acquainted."

Xari wasn't sure if that was a promise or a threat. Either way, she had a feeling things were about to get interesting.

The four of them chatted for a while, mostly about Dorian's journey with the Inquisition, or about Neve's testimonies as a private investigator. Xari almost asked her about the prosthetic, but decided that was Neve's story to bring up. Finally, Xari realized she was becoming an outsider to the conversation. Her confidence slightly wavered, she stood and made her way towards the exit. She decided to stroll through the market, maybe purchase a healing tonic for her slight hangover.

She exited the underground headquarters through the hidden doorway in the back. It opened up into the cliffs facing the bay, and the burst of seabreeze and sunlight made Xari groan. She walked around the edge of the shoreline, making her way to 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. "I need a word with you."

Xari raised an eyebrow but didn't argue, waiting for Neve to catch up.

As the noise of the crowd swelled around them, Neve took a step closer, her prosthetic clicking softly against the stone street. "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. "It seems we'll be working closely together. I apologize if we pushed you out of the conversation. When three mages get together, that tends to happen. Not intentional."

Xari's eyes perked up. Neve and Dorian being mages was news to her. "I get that. But it's all good; I'm used to the constant banter. Sometimes I just like to stay to myself."

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. Teams 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 later. 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 tried, 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 wondered if 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 hungover and starving, and you're buying."

Corin chuckled, falling into step beside her. "Fine. But only because it's your birthday." He nudged her teasingly with his elbow.

"Just no more drinking for me," 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 afternoon sun bathed Dock Town in sparkling reflections, 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 sixteen 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 a soft shadow. 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 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.

Xari hesitated. She was unsure about telling this to Neve. But, she didn't come here for nothing. Neve was promising- obviously a talented investigator, if she caught the Shadow Dragon's attention. She exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through her hair. "When I was a baby, I was found wrapped alone on a battlefield. Wrapped in a Venatori tabard," Xari said quietly. Neve watched her closely, a hint of surprise in her eyes. She probably was not expecting that. "For years, my adoptive mother kept it hidden. Then I started having the visions. I needed answers, and she finally showed me the tabard. 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."

Neve nodded slowly. She tapped a finger against the table, inspecting Xari with a careful eye. "Tell me more about the visions."

"They started as whispers. Serpents; a dragon and a snake. It was like they called to me– they called me Kaelira. For years, I didn't know what it meant. My mother- well, my adoptive mother- passed them off as night terrors." Xari hesitated, but Neve gave her a reassuring look. "Then the serpents turned into someone. A woman. My birth mother."

Neve's golden prosthetic caught the light, her eyes narrowing in thought. "Your birth mother? How do you know?"

Xari took a deep breath. "I just… do. Not until recently, though. I had a dream, a memory. From when I was a baby. My mother was… bonding herself to me. Like part of a ritual. She called me Kaelira. Then, soldiers stormed in and took me from her. That's how I was found; a helpless infant on a battlefield."

"Blood magic." Neve leaned back, her gaze steady. "That's their signature. Someone is crafting your visions. A means to contact you. Your mother, 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. Her mother was trying to reach her, and she was able to get inside her head. The thought made the back of her eyeballs itch. She wasn't sure if she was ready yet, even after all her training, 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 wandered to the collage behind her desk, almost lost in thought. After a moment, she brought her eyes back to Xari. "I'll see what I can find out. I have… a personal vendetta against the Venatori. I have some resources I can check out."

Xari's brows lifted slightly at that, catching the sharp edge in Neve's voice. There was something personal there, something deeper than just another Shadow Dragon mission. She thought back to Maevaris' words to her, years ago; "The Shadow Dragons don't exist to serve your personal needs, Xari. We're here to fight for something greater—for the people the Imperium overlooks, for the future the magisters deny us. We don't risk lives for individual grudges." What history with the Venatori did Neve have? This further solidified the idea that Neve could be her missing piece.

But she didn't push. Everyone in this line of work had ghosts—Xari was hardly one to pry.

Instead, she nodded. "I'd appreciate that."

Neve tapped a finger against the table, glancing at the worn tabard before finally picking it up. She turned it over in her hands, inspecting the faded fabric with a careful eye. "If your mother used blood magic to bind herself to you, that connection might still be active in some way. Blood magic isn't just a one-sided affair. If she's reaching for you, Xari, you might be able to reach back."

Xari stiffened. The idea of willingly engaging in something tied to blood magic—especially when it came from her—made her stomach churn.

Neve must have noticed because she lifted a hand. "I'm not suggesting you try it alone. I'm saying, if your mother is as powerful as she seems, then she's left behind traces. Threads we might be able to pull. And fortunately," she gave Xari a pointed look, "we have a Magister who may be willing to chase those threads. And if the Venatori are involved, I definitely want to know what they're up to."

Xari stared back at Neve, feeling the shift in the air. This wasn't just about her anymore. It was bigger. The thought made her nervous, but it also sent a thrill through her veins. After years of dead ends, of carrying this mystery alone, she finally had people willing to help.

She released the tension she had been holding and nodded. "Where do we start?"