Chapter Text
The acrid smell of burning flesh was the first thing that accosted Athari as she stirred. She could barely find the strength to open her eyes, exhaustion and slick blood that she assumed belonged to her gluing them shut.
The second thing she felt was pain. It was as if her whole body was on fire. She gingerly moved her arms, trying to get a sense for how injured she truly was, and whether or not she would be able to get away from the smoke and fire.
She vaguely registered the scraping of stone until it was right next to her.
“We’ve found another one!” A voice called, rough hands feeling around her neck for a pulse. “And they’re alive!”
“Maker! Another?” A second voice replied, with a second set of hands joining the first.
Athari tried to speak, but her throat was so dry she only managed to cough weakly.
“We’d better make haste to get them to the Seeker,” was the only reply.
---
The second time Athari woke, she could open her eyes, which she counted as a plus. She shivered as her body registered the cold stone she was lying on, accompanied by heavy manacles on each of her wrists.
“Hello? Are you awake, Da’len?” A masculine voice said softly from somewhere in front of her.
She looked forward and saw an elven man. He was sitting cross-legged in the middle of what seemed to be a dungeon. It was then that she realized she was in a cage, thick iron bars separating each of them.
Athari slowly raised herself into a sitting position, and faced the man properly.
“Who… who are you? Where am I?” She asked. The man across from her frowned and shot a glance towards the stairs that led out of the dungeon. She followed his gaze and noticed three soldiers who seemed to be guarding them. Their eyes followed every move that Athari and the man in front of her made.
“I’m… not too sure myself, actually,” His brows furrowed. “The last thing I remember was arriving at the Conclave. I’ve only just woken up myself.”
Athari used the moment of silence to examine him closely. He was elven, same as her, with dark red hair and a cut in his eyebrow, his vallaslin being that of June. While he appeared intimidating, he was looking at her with kindness in his eyes.
She saw him grimace in pain, and that was when she saw the green glowing mark on his hand.
“What’s- what's that?!” She exclaimed. “Is it hurting you h-hahren?”
He took a moment to breathe through the pain, before admitting, “I do not know what it is. Just as I am sure you do not know what has appeared on your heart.”
“My… my heart? Wh-what do you mean?” She looked down at her chest, which was still covered by the tunic she had been wearing earlier. Pulling at it, she could see a faint green glow, and promptly stopped looking, feeling queasy.
“I saw it earlier, only for a moment. It is much like the one I now have on my hand,” He paused for a moment, his dark green eyes narrowed in thought. “Though it seems as though it causes you no pain, which I am grateful for.”
Before Athari could properly register the fact that she apparently had a mark glowing on her chest, the door at the top of the stairs was flung open. The man in front of her whipped his head around at the same time she did.
Two women descended the stairs, with a fourth soldier behind them.
The four soldiers took formation around the man in the center, their swords drawn and pointed towards him.
Athari’s eyes widened as she took them in. The first woman she saw was angry, her sharp brows were furrowed and she had a scowl on her lips. She had short, cropped black hair, and a thin scar that was on her right cheek. Her skin was tanned and she was wearing armour. It was evident to Athari that this woman was a warrior. And she was not to be messed with. She had one hand on her sword as she strode towards them.
The second woman was wearing a hood and she moved with purpose. Underneath her hood she had red hair that went just past her chin. Her eyes were calculating as they swept from the man to Athari, and Athari stilled. It felt like she could see right through her.
The two women stopped before the man chained to the ground as he gasped, the mark flashing once more.
“Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you now. The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead. Except for you two.” The woman with the black hair said, venom in her voice.
Athari felt ice seize her heart, her eyes widening in shock. Dead? All of them? It couldn’t be true! She saw the man’s eyes widen.
“What do you mean everyone’s dead?” He said, horror lacing his tone.
The black haired woman took a large step toward him, grabbing his hand that had the mark. “Explain this!”
He started. “I… can’t.”
“What do you mean you can’t?”
“I don’t know what that is, or how it got there.” He said, confusion evident on his face. Athari was impressed that he managed to keep his eyes on her, and was extremely grateful that her wrath was not, at the moment, turned towards her.
“You’re lying!” She snarled, grabbing his collar. The second woman took a hold of her shoulder and pulled her back.
“We need them, Cassandra.”
The armoured woman turned her head sharply away, and her gaze fell upon Athari. Much to Athari’s terror.
“Are you able to explain yourself?” She asked severely. Athari shrunk back as far as she could away from Cassandra. “I suppose you have a convenient story to explain that mark on your chest?”
Athari’s eyes widened, not daring to look away from Cassandra’s piercing eyes. She clutched her arms before answering, knowing that the woman would not be happy at all with her response.
“I- I don’t remember,” her eyes were drawn to Cassandra’s gleaming silver sword, held loosely in her hand. “I- I swear- please.”
The hooded woman’s calculating gaze studied her closely, while Cassandra practically seethed, her shoulders rising and falling in a poor attempt to control her emotions. The man who was chained to the floor had turned his head to watch the conversation, his thick eyebrows drawn together in fear, and, to Athari’s surprise, what looked like a need to protect.
“I don’t understand,” he interjected. “How would we be responsible?”
Cassandra and the hooded woman turned back to him.
“Do you remember what happened? How this began?” Leliana asked them.
“I remember… running. Things were chasing me, and then… a woman?” He said.
“A woman?” Leliana prodded when he didn’t continue speaking.
“She reached out to me, but then…” He shook his head.
“And you?” Leliana turned to Athari. She blanched, hating that the attention had gone back to her.
“I- I remember… flashes, mostly.” She closed her eyes, trying her hardest to recall the fleeting memories. “There was… fire, and pa-pain. It- it hurt.” Her voice broke, feeling the phantom pain. “And then it, um, st-stopped, and all, all I remember after that was, well, waking up h-here.”
She met the gaze of Cassandra and the hooded woman tentatively, hoping that they would tolerate her answer. It wasn’t like she was lying to them, she truly couldn’t remember more than flashes of what had happened.
Cassandra let out a sharp breath, before tearing her eyes away from Athari and turning to the hooded woman.
“Go to the forward camp, Leliana. I will take them to the rift.”
Leliana sent one more brief glance at the mark on the elven man’s hand, and at Athari, before she nodded briskly, turning on her heel and ascending the stone stairs to leave the dungeon.
“What did happen?” The man asked Cassandra.
She kept her eyes on the door Leliana had walked through, before she turned toward him.
“It will be easier to show you.”
She kneeled and unlocked his manacles, leaving his wrists bound in rope. She helped him stand, his legs unsteady from who knows how many hours sitting on the cold stone floor.
One of the guards unlocked Athari’s cell after they got a nod of approval from Cassandra. She undid Athari’s own manacles, replacing them with a rough rope similar to the elven man’s. Athari’s arm was grabbed roughly as Cassandra helped her stand, and Athari made her way over to the man as quickly as she dared, meeting his reassuring gaze. Cassandra led them outside, Athari keeping close behind the man, who’s name, she discovered, was Thelaros Lavellan.
He quirked an eyebrow, as if to ask hers in return.
“Athari Nolarannis,” she whispered back, trying to stay as discreet as possible.
Once they made their way outside, Athari and Thelaros both had to shield their eyes from the blinding green light that accosted them.
It was terrifying, green tendrils reaching out, ever shifting. She could see jagged rocks being shot out, and if they were big from where she was, that must mean that they were huge--
This was what the explosion at the Conclave had created.
And they thought Athari and Thelaros were responsible.