Chapter 2: What is a god?

"Most misunderstandings in the world could be avoided if people would simply take the time to ask, "What else could this mean?"

― Shannon L. Alder

I couldn't escape from the land of dreams because I couldn't escape the need for sleep. What had once been a refuge became a prison. Desire would not leave me alone.

I did the only thing I could; I ignored it. It was not easy.

I focused on the waking world and threw myself into everything around me. I played, I ran around, I tried very hard to learn about everything around me. I did not let myself feel fear or desire or even happiness; I made sure I was too exhausted to feel any emotion when I fell asleep.

It was during a history lesson that Baba was giving us that I figured out where I was.

"-Elven calendar works from the founding of Arlathan. It's denoted by FA. It is currently 8413 FA. Tevinter copied the Elvhen calendar system but have a different start date. However, Andrastians have a different calendar system. The Chantry measures time in Ages and each Age lasts for a century. Right now, it is the Dragon Age and before that was the Blessed Age. The numbers are denoted-"

Dragon Age. The words lodged in my mind like a blade, something crumbling within.

No. No, it couldn't be.

But the details stacked up: I was Dalish. I had rabbit ears. I walked the Fade with ease. And Desire… Desire was a spirit that called me somniari.

The realization slithered in, unwelcome. My mind recoiled, because to accept it meant accepting the impossible. And yet, the facts, despite defying comprehension, held fast.

I was an elven apostate mage. One of the most hated existences in this world. In Thedas.

My pulse thundered in my ears. How? How was this possible?

Even worse, I wasn't prepared. Who would be? I had played the games and been a fan, but I hadn't obsessed. I never pored over codex entries, never memorized the deep lore. I had stumbled through my playthroughs, making choices on whims, always surprised when small decisions unravelled into disaster.

But my friend, he had obsessed. He had spent hours immersed in the lore, dissecting every scrap of history, every tiny mechanical detail. He had treated it like it mattered.

He had spent countless hours of his life on a game.

A game. The thought rooted itself deep in my mind, hollowing me out from the inside.

This was a bloody fucking game.

That explained everything, didn't it? The way these people didn't react the way they should. The distance in their eyes, the hollow responses, like talking to a wall. Like scripted dialogue.

They weren't real; they were NPCs.

And me? I was the playable character. The one thing in this world that mattered.

I was god. I was supreme.

Yes, that makes sense.

This world will bend for me for I am the only real thing in it.

I was a horrible child.

I grabbed other's food when my own didn't suffice. I stole anything that I thought that I could use. I demanded information from my Baba as if it were my right. Sometimes, when I shoved someone, a faint feeling of discomfort flickered inside me, like an itch that I couldn't scratch. But I ignored it. These people were nothing but playthings to be exploited, NPCs that existed only to serve me.

I killed for the first time at the age of four. No one expected it from me, there had been no need for it. I stabbed a fennec simply because I wanted to see if loot would magically appear. It didn't, but we did use the fur and meat, so loot it was.

I treated the world as if it were a game.

I didn't even fear Desire anymore. I felt invincible and whenever Desire tried to tempt me, I would just grin at the spirit in condescension. What need did a god have for desire, especially since I knew the world would bend to my whim?

The Fade was mine. I owned it. It would bend to my will because I was god. And no spirit, no sentient emotion, would have any sway over me. This world was mine.

Desire changed.

It was my mother who snapped me out of my ego trip.

"Who taught you to behave like this, da'len?" I had pushed a boy in front of me violently to the floor so I could get to the food first.

She slapped me hard. Once. Twice.

I reeled, stunned.

Hostile enemy.

I kicked her shin and grabbed a fistful of dirt, flinging it at her face as I turned to run. But she caught me by the collar and yanked me back, sending me sprawling.

There was a snap, like someone pulling something out very quickly, then -

THWACK.

Heat bloomed across my back. My breath hitched but I bit down on the sound. I twisted, startled, and saw the belt coiled in her grip.

She raised it again. I flinched, curling in on myself, but I wasn't fast enough. Pain exploded down my back, and I hit the ground hard. Mud lined my mouth, bitter and cold.

I cowered on the floor as she held me down and swung again. And again. And again.

She belted me that night in full view of the clan. No one came to my defence. I learned later that no one wanted to come to my defence. I crawled away when it was done, huddling under a tree away from the camp, trying to stay still so that my tunic wouldn't rub against the welts.

Pain makes you real, helpless and comprehend your true limits.

It doesn't matter what you believe—god, monster, something in between. The moment someone holds you down and doesn't stop hurting you, all that matters is that you can't make them stop.

It's the oldest form of domination, ubiquitous in every civilization, every species, every universe.

It hurt. My back was stinging, and I could feel thin trails of blood flowing down my back. It hurt. Hurts. Hurts.

I was supposed to be god…. If not a god, then what was I? Why was this happening to me? What had I ever done to deserve something like this?

I lay under the tree, my body throbbing with pain, my mind spinning. Gods didn't feel pain like this. Gods didn't cower on the ground, waiting for the next blow. I was no god. I was nothing. Just a stupid, helpless child with bruises and welts to prove it.

Mama approached, elfroot paste in hand.

I didn't speak.

She didn't love me. She hadn't even named me. For a year, I thought Da'len was my name—until I learned it just meant little one.

And now, she had thrashed me. In full view of the clan.

I didn't need any further proof.

It hurts.

A hand ran gently over my back and I snapped out of my thoughts at the pain.

"What you did was wrong da'len. You cannot behave that way again." Mama lifted my tunic and gently spread the paste over my back. I tried to inch away from her, but her other hand firmly kept me in place.

I cowered. There was a quiet sigh from above me. "You cannot push others. You must respect your elders. You cannot hurt others without reason. Only monsters behave like that…and shem. Do you want to be a shem, da'len? Only shems act like you do." She lifted my face to meet her clear grey eye, "We are Dalish, keepers of the lost lore. The last true remnants of the Elvhen. We must be the best of our people. Do you understand?"

I couldn't help it. I sniggered. Last true remnants of Elvhen? The last true Elvhen didn't even consider Dalish people; I shared more with the Elvhen in that regards than the Dalish did. I received a sharp flick to my head in response to my sneer.

"What is wrong with you?! This behaviour is unacceptable!" A sharp glare graced her features and I shivered in fear and quieted down. She noticed the abrupt change and came close, looking at me intensely, "What is it, da'len?"

She beats me brutally then has the audacity to ask me why I'm afraid of her. Fine, mother. If you want to play this game, I'll play.

"What's my name?"

Let's see you answer that, dear mother.

She froze. Her mouth opened, closed. No sound.

So it wasn't an accident. It shouldn't have surprised me.

It still hurt.

She didn't explain. She just sat quietly beside me, looking torn.

"In two weeks, a special event is taking place called Arlathvhen. Only Hahrens and Keepers are invited, so when others are invited it's a privilege." She paused and took a deep breath before continuing, "When other clans are having trouble, we help each other out. When one clan has an excess of mages, they offer them to other clans who are lacking-" She stopped at the stricken look on my face.

"How did you know I was a mage?" I asked, unable to hide the quiver in my voice. Right, I'm talking to the woman whose eyes I'd stabbed with ice when I was a baby.

She let out a heavy sigh again, "You showed signs from a very young age. You are a very special mage, one of a kind. A somniari."

They knew everything?! "W-what's a-a s-sominari?" I couldn't hide the tremble in my voice from my fear. I knew perfectly well what happened to mages that refused to heel, and I'd been nothing but a menace the last few years.

"When you were little, you slept a lot. An unnatural amount. A somniari can navigate easily between waking and dreaming. That place you visit when you sleep, it's called the Beyond. Shems call it the Fade. Keeper Nelran detected a spirit haunting you when it embedded veilfire glyph onto you. The desire demon hasn't left you alone since, and Keeper fears what will happen when it overpowers you. He doesn't think he can help you." She was looking straight while talking, not making eye contact.

Why? Why did she expect that I would understand everything that she said? It didn't matter that I did understand, to her I was a five-year-old child!

Then a horrible realization dawned. This was just a clearing of her consciousness. She was telling me this because she truly thought I was beyond hope. That I had no chance of living through childhood. It explained why I hadn't been disciplined before this; why the clan had been so distant and careful with their communication with me. They had feared I would become an abomination. They probably still did.

She can't do this! She can't do this to me! She's supposed to be my mother!

"So, you are looking for people who can help me." There, I provided her an excuse. A nicer way to say she was throwing me away. I wonder if she will refuse. Please, refuse. I looked at her face, willing her to make eye contact. Please, just look at me.

She kept her gaze fixed on the horizon.

"Yes."

That single word shattered something in me. She wasn't even fighting it. She wasn't even pretending to want me.

"Mama, I'm sorry—I'm really, really sorry," I gasped. "I'll be good. I promise. Just don't send me away."

Her fists clenched, but she didn't look at me.

"Mamae, mamae, please!"

She was sending me away, so that she didn't have to deal with me. Didn't even bother naming me because she considered it a wasted effort. She doesn't love me. Why? Why don't you love me?

It was the first time I broke through my perception of her as my mother and saw her. Saw her as something beyond a person who saw to my needs. As I tried to rub my tears away, fighting the clogged feeling in my throat, I finally noticed the trembling in her hands. Her face that was turned away from me had droplets falling from her face. I could hear her take deep shaking breaths.

It was working!

"Mamae, please! I won't trouble the others anymore. I'll be the best Dalish in the world." She still didn't turn to look at me. If only she'd look at me. Please look at me. "Mamae, please, please just look at me. See me!"

I was suddenly lifted and tucked into her breasts. Mama was heaving and shaking, trembling as she held me tightly to her chest.

I could do nothing but cry. I knew what this meant. There was no hope. The damage was done. I cried until there were no more tears. I vengefully rubbed my snot all over her shoulders. She deserved that and more.

"Mama…do I even have a name?" The least she could do was remember it, so she'd remember me. Remember the fact that she abandoned me to my fate. I wasn't stupid, I knew she was right. The chances of me surviving beyond childhood was low. It was the fate of somniari.

"What name do you want?" She asked gently, the quiver in her voice showing me that her face wasn't dry either.

This question posed a welcome distraction, one I grabbed desperately. Ameridan? Too strange! Legolas? It was too masculine!

"I don't know."

"Do you like Erelani?" She combed gently through my hair and I noticed she smelled like elfroot and petrichor. There was a faint hint of eucalyptus, but it was buried deep. The odd mix of smells was memorable, and I couldn't help but snuggle in.

"What does it mean?"

"It means one who dreams. Do you like it?"

A bitter laugh caught in my throat. How original. "Hmmm."

"How about Telana? It comes from telanadas which means that nothing is inevitable. It's my name too."

"Erelani is good." I looked up at her finally and caught her one-eyed gaze. At least she never told me that I was the one who hurt her. I could give her that. "Is the Keeper my baba?"

There was a long pause. "No, da'len. Your baba died when I was still pregnant with you. The shems attacked a group of our hunters when they were out hunting."

Oh. The Keeper was a better man than I thought. He was a better parent to me than Mama had ever been.

"Mama, are you sending me away because you hate me?" Because why else was she throwing me away? Why not twist the dagger in a little deeper? I'm not going to let her get away from this so easily, not when she hadn't even raised me.

"No, Erelani. I don't hate you. I didn't finish telling you about Arlathvhen." I noticed she didn't say she loved me either. "Keepers of all clans come together every ten years for Arlathvhen. It's a secret meeting where they discuss extremely important things. When a clan needs something, like mages, or any specific craft that is exclusive to that clan, special requests are made." She raised me so that I could see her face. "When Keeper Zathrian heard about you, he was eager to take you in."

Keeper Zathrian. The Keeper who cursed humans with the werewolf curse and let his clan suffer so that he could enjoy immortality.

Fuck.

"But I want to stay here. I want to stay with you, baba and the Ghil'ain clan."

"It's the fate of elves to endure. A lesson you should learn as early as possible." Her voice echoed with the bleakness that came with experience.

As unfair as it was of me, I hated her in that moment. Not only was she abandoning me to a clan that was routinely attacked by werewolves, she had effectively killed any delusions that I had of my godhood.

I stood up and looked up into the starry night sky. This was probably the first and last heartfelt moment I'd share with my mama. A moment initiated only after I was beaten by her.

My mother doesn't want me. She doesn't love me. It was a horrible truth to swallow, one that my mind naturally rebelled against. In the before, family had meant everything to me. It had been one of the most fundamental blocks of who I was. And now, despite everything I tried, I was unwanted.

Maybe this was punishment for daring to believe I was a god.

I couldn't hold eye contact with her, not anymore. "Bye bye mummy." I ignored the tight feeling in my throat as I made my way back to the Keeper's tent. If the meeting was in two weeks, then all the tents would be packed into the aravels. The clan would go to a new campsite while the Keeper and his chosen journeyed to Arlathvhen.

For the first time in years, I fell asleep while trembling in overwhelming emotions.

Mama was waiting for me in the Fade. My gut twisted in a painful mix of hatred and longing.

"This is cruel, even for you." I stated even as Mama approached me with a loving smile.

"It's what you want, isn't it? And far be it for me to deny our god." Cruel laughter followed her words.

"Why are you still here? Do you want me to kill you?" I gazed intensely at Desire and projected my aura onto hers. She wouldn't be able to deceive me if I covered her in my aura. But she would have full access to my thoughts like I had hers.

The reason my delusion of godhood had lasted as long as it did was because the Fade had responded accordingly. If I wanted, I received. Perhaps there was a lesson hidden there that I hadn't yet discerned. I hadn't killed Desire before because I had thought her harmless and inconsequential. Truly beneath me. Like an errant fly that I couldn't be bothered killing.

That wasn't true anymore. First and last warning.

"Why am I still here?" She cackled while wearing my mama's form. It was a disturbing sight to see. "I am here because you want. You want everything. You desire knowledge. You want your mother. You desire power, money, wisdom, herbs, paintings, armour, weapons, spells, everything! And you wonder why I'm here?"

I keep forgetting that she is a sentient emotion. The game had made it seem like they were floating ghosts that mirrored people and their emotions, and perhaps spirits did do that. But from what I experienced, from facing Desire, the most devious and powerful demon around, spirits were just emotion. They were sentient emotions that could see and mirror the emotions you had. And what about emotion was rational? Emotion wasn't good or bad, it just was. When you felt rage, you lashed out. Sometimes rage built up and exploded. Despair made you sluggish and inactive. Sometimes despair made you pause, sometimes it inspired empathy.

When you desired something, you acted. Sometimes you played the long game until the pieces fell into place, or you tried relentlessly until you succeeded.

I did want. Fiercely. I wanted to do more than survive, I wanted to thrive. I didn't want to endure. I would never be rid of Desire, because I was full of desire.

But I was full of pride too. "Why are you the only one here?"

She smirked, "I've been keeping the others out. You are my territory." Desire for the real. For more than just vague impressions reflected on the Fade. Desire for the waking, even if it was momentary.

Then I remembered. The Veil wasn't a natural construct. My clan, most likely everyone, didn't react appropriately to anything. They had bizarre priorities that made no sense, like blocking people's dreams from the Fade, carrying water rather than conjuring it and even letting wounds fester rather than treating it.

If the Veil really was an unnatural barrier, could it explain why everyone here seemed so distant, so indifferent to suffering? Like they were disconnected from each other, from themselves? It was just a theory, but it made too much sense. And if it was true, was I the only one who could feel deeply, because I crossed into the Fade so often?

Maybe since the spirits had been estranged from the waking; emotion had been separated too. Perhaps these people couldn't feel emotion unless they were connected to the Fade. They weren't NPCs, they just couldn't make sense of what they felt and therefore couldn't connect.

So, when mages finally spawned their abilities, after living in muted emotion for so long, the sudden vividness of emotion in the Fade made them susceptible to spirits, because it was emotion. Rage was that much stronger, despair that much more debilitating and desire even harder to resist.

It made sense. It was just a working hypothesis, but it made sense.

The history lessons that the Keeper had been giving added to the hypothesis too. A lot of wars and massacres happened from a distinct lack of connection.

In the last world, when people had been exposed to different races for the first time, there were massacres, wars and subjugation. But as time went on, the systems rapidly improved and decayed as people struggled to reach equilibrium. They hadn't yet, but there was a move towards equality that rose from empathy. The entire process had occurred over 500 to 1000 years and was ongoing.

In Thedas, despite being exposed to different races for more than 5000 years, there was no improvement. There was no change. There were only squabbles and disputes that arose from greed and desperation, even those that arose from cold calculation. The conclusion certainly seemed to indicate a lack of empathy.

Was that it? Were they just primitive?

Or I was wrong. I was an alien and using a different value system to judge another culture was wrong. Maybe I was missing a few pieces.

But it's hard to disbelieve a theory that explains your observations.

"You are dreaming in the dreaming. You never cease to surprise me. Where did you come across this knowledge, I wonder?" Desire moved towards, eyes shining in curiosity, "There are no spirits that I know that consider the Veil as an unnatural construct. Are you really a god? A rather pathetic one, I must say."

"I thought I was god. Can you blame me?" I grinned unrepentantly at her, changing the landscape to show the Milky Way galaxy just to prove my point. I was stuck with her, I might as well be friendly. "So, you inadvertently protected me from other spirits. What do you want in return? Be reasonable, though." And she had protected me, hadn't she? Always been there, no matter how unwelcome…and would continue to be there. Almost unwittingly, a swell of affection rose in me.

I really was pathetic, wasn't I?

"I'm flattered. Now you want me." Despite her smug response, I could feel her bewilderment.

Join the club.

"You made this awkward. Go away." Stupid blush on my face. But she'd given me a loving smile, something my mother never had. And Desire wanted to be around me, something that didn't hold true for anyone else in my clan.

I really was pathetic.

Desire approached me and I stiffened in caution. She wasn't exhibiting any signs of threat, but it would be stupid of me to only trust that aura sense.

Desire awkwardly patted my shoulder, her hand passing through on the first two pats before making solid contact on the third. It was strange, almost comforting. Desire stopped, scratched her hair-mama's hair- awkwardly before disappearing into the mist.

Fucking pathetic.