Seen from Haven, the sky pulses green, the light disappearing behind the mountain range glowing brighter. Light shoots up towards the Breach and sends a shockwave across the sky. The people of Haven watch in fear, though the Commander nods his head. The Rift at the Temple of Sacred Ashes is closed. And maybe even the Breach.Maybe the Maker really was on their side.Snow is blown from the force of the shockwave, sending it into the air. And then the Breach flashes, the light blinding. The people shield their eyes, and the world goes quiet.
The first thing I feel is the pounding in my head, the splitting headache and my achy limbs.
Where am I? In Ostwick? Mother may be wondering where I am. Would she? No, not after our fight. Brandon should be awake, I could go see how he's holding up.
Blackness swirls at the corners of my mind and I feel the pull of sleep. What time is it? I'd better get up. After all it's the day of the Conclave.
Hopefully the Conclave will clear the rising threat of war… even if it has already started. I never wanted to work for the Chantry, but it's the bloodline I was born into—the Trevelyan family always works with the Chantry.
A woman with a powerful jaw line flashes through my mind and my eyes snap open as a door closes.
Standing in front of me is an elf, carrying a wooden crate. She sees me and startles, stepping back, "Oh!"
I sit up quickly.
"I didn't know you were awake, I swear," she says, lip quivering.
"Hey, don't worry about it," I say with a smile. "I only—"
The young elf falls to her knees, dropping the crate. She seems to be… bowing to me, "I beg your forgiveness and your blessing. I am but a humble servant." Her eyes don't meet mine and she keeps her face lowered. "You are back in Haven, my Lady." Finally, she looks up, if only for a second, "They say you saved us. The Breach stopped growing, just like the mark on your hand."
So it wasn't a dream. And the Conclave… I still don't remember what happened there. From the moment I arrived, to the moment I woke up in a Rift, I have no memory of.
I lift my hand, the mark glowing green. But it doesn't hurt anymore. No pain travels up my arm.
"It's all anyone has talked about for the last three days."
Three days. I've been out for three days?
I look at the servant, "You mean, the mark didn't kill me? We're safe?"
"I'm sure Lady Cassandra would want to know you're awake," says the servant, getting to her feet. She slowly backs out of the room, "She said, 'at once'."
"Where is she?"
"In the Chantry, with the Lord Chancellor. 'At once,' she said." And with that, she runs from the small hut. I look around, taking in my surroundings. The small house is neat and tidy. I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and stand up, surprised that my legs aren't shaky.
I'm dressed in a beige tunic, the buttons made of gold. The collar is high, tickling my neck and the long sleeves keep me warm. My pants are tight around my legs and my boots go up to my knees, laces tied. I blink, wondering who dressed me.
My armour and weapons lay on the table on the other side of the room and I grab them.
I notice another set of armour folded up in a chest. I pull it out, gasping at the craftsmanship of the armour. Golden scales adorn the sleeves of the cuirass, meeting with the blue leather of the torso. The shoulder plates are made from hardened leather, tipped with gold. Although, I don't think it's real gold… A red sash is tied around the middle of the armour, for decoration. The greaves are tight armoured pants, plates of golden scales stitched onto the thighs. The boots, steel capped, go up to just below my knees. A small note sits inside the chest and reads: "Flames of the Inquisition".
Looking at myself in the reflective mirror, I stare at my face. My shoulder length black hair is messy and my green eyes wild, dark bags under them. My faded tattoo is clean, the black ink untouched by the dirt that covers the rest of my face. A cloth sits in the water basin so I set about cleaning my neck and face.
The armour fits nicely and I see the sheath I looted from the corpse back in the valley. Its golden vines are flecked with snow. I buckle the sheath across my back and walk towards the door.
But I hesitate. What if they want to trial me? People would still think I'm guilty for the death of Divine Justinia. And I wouldn't have any evidence backing me up.
I ball my fist and open the wooden door. Light spills in and I blink, the cold air nipping at my nose.
And I gasp. Standing outside my little house are the people of Haven, creating a path for me through the village. I tentatively make my way down the wooden steps and onto the snowy path the people have made.
Don't they still see me as the criminal? The murderer?
The scouts, some familiar from the battle fought at the Rift, straighten as I make my way along the path. People whisper my name.
"She closed the Rift, she did," says someone.
"That's her, the Herald of Andraste."
"The mark on her hand…"
I can feel the heat rising to my cheeks as the guards nod at me, small smiles on their lips. I walk briskly, wanting to move quickly through the crowded village.
Herald of Andraste? What does that mean?
Various hide tents are pitched around the village, people resting in them, but when they see me, they straighten.
I get to the big building, which I'm guessing is the Chantry. More people stand around the entrance, watching me, some even bowing.
The building itself is made of brick—thick enough to keep the whole building warm. Chantry flags snap in the wind, a sun on an orange background. Its huge archway leads inside the building, but the massive oak doors are shut. Painted onto the wood is the symbol of the Chantry.
Two soldiers standing guard push the doors open and I practically lunge inside, getting away from the crowd. The doors slam shut behind me.
The Chantry is warm, quaint and quiet. Candles burn everywhere—clusters on the ground, mounted on the walls, on top of barrels and tables. They must be scented because the fragrance of hazelnut fills the air.
Various doors lead to different rooms and I'm about to knock in the first one when I hear yelling.
"Have you gone completely mad?" voices a man. I remember his whiny voice from the Forward Camp. It's Chancellor Roderick. His voice comes from the other end of the building, the door shut. "She should be taken to Val Royeaux immediately, to be tried by whoever becomes the Divine."
My lip curls in disgust and I walk towards the closed door, my strides forceful.
I push the door open and nearly jerk at the sight of two Templars guarding the doorway. Cassandra's hands are placed on the table, her jaw line very strong in the light. Leliana stands beside her, arms crossed.
The Chancellor himself jumps back in surprise when he sees me. Gathering his wits, he points at me, "Chain her. I want her prepared for travel to the Capital for trial."
Cassandra pushes herself from the desk slowly, "Disregard that and leave us." She's looking at the Templars behind me. They nod and walk from the room, their armour rattling.
"You walk a dangerous path, Seeker."
Cassandra walks over to the Chancellor, her face like stone, "The Breach is stable, but is still a threat. I will not ignore it."
I step up, before the two get into a fist fight, "I did everything I could to close the Breach. It almost killed me… I thought it was going to kill me.
"Yet you live," spits the Chancellor. "A convenient result, insofar as you're concerned."
"Have a care, Chancellor. The Breach is not the only threat we face," says Cassandra with a quick glance at me.
Leliana nods, "Someone was behind the explosion at the Conclave. Someone Most Holy did not expect." She turns to Cassandra, "Perhaps they died with the others—or have allies who yet live."
The two woman look at the Chancellor and I feel inclined to look at him as well.
He throws his hands in the air, "I'm a suspect?"
"You, and many others," retorts Leliana.
"But not the prisoner," he yells.
"I heard the voices in the temple," says Cassandra. "The Divine called to her for help."
The Chancellor squints at me, "So her survival—"
"I do have a name, you know," I say. "It's Lydia."
The bastard continues without skipping a beat, "Her survival, that thing on her hand—all a coincidence?"
"Providence. The Maker sent her to us in our darkest hour."
I smile, "Though all before me is shadow, yet small the Maker be my guide." The verse was from a prayer my mother used to teach me. The Chantry certainly had an impact on the Trevelyan family.
Cassandra looks at her feet, "We lost everything… then out of nowhere, you came."
I watch the warrior as she stares at the ground. Her short black hair has a braid running through it like a crown—something I hadn't noticed before. What she said had touched my heart. And it has been the only nice thing she's said to me.
Leliana turns to me, "The Breach remains, and your mark is still our only hope of closing it."
"This is not for you to decide," snaps the Chancellor.
Cassandra pushes her way through to the desk and slams a heavy book on the oak top. Its hard brown cover is worn with age and dusty. A metal symbol has been glued to the front cover—similar to the Chantry symbol. But this one has an eyes set in the middle of a flaming sun. The pages inside are thick and crinkled.
"You know what this is, Chancellor," snaps Cassandra, pointing at the book. "A writ from the Divine, granting us the authority to act."
I glance at the book then to Cassandra, a little confused. What does a book have to do with anything? I don't voice my thoughts though.
Cassandra's eyes meet mine, "As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn." She walks towards the Chancellor, who backs up in alarm. Cassandra's eyes are hard, "We will close the Breach, we will find those responsible and we will restore order. With or without your approval."
The Chancellor doesn't say anything. He just glances at Leliana and me, then walks from the room. Cassandra throws her hands up in defeat.
Leliana picks up the book, "This is the Divine's directive: rebuild the Inquisition of Old. Find those who will stand against the chaos. We aren't ready. We have no leader, no numbers and now no Chantry support."
"But we have no choice: we must act now," Cassandra argues. She looks at me, "With or without your help."
"The 'Inquisition of Old', what does that mean, exactly," I ask.
"It preceded the Chantry: people who banded together to restore order in a world gone mad."
Cassandra nods, "After, they laid down their banner and formed the Templar Order. But the Templars have lost their way. We need those who can do what must be done united under one banner once more."
I scratch my head, "If you're really trying to restore order…"
"That is the plan," smiles Leliana.
"Help us fix this before it's too late," says Cassandra, holding a hand out.
I smile and grasp her hand, shaking it.
There's no going back now…