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The sun was bright and high in a sparsely clouded sky. It was Summerday in Ostwick, one of Ariella Trevelyan's favorite days. She adored watching the young gentlemen and ladies clad in their white tunics and gowns. Her own Summerday dress was buried in the chest in her room with several other trinkets, a dried pressed Royal Elfroot, a copy of the Chant of Light.
A cool wind blew in from the south, blowing her long blond tresses as she leaned against the balustrade of the balcony. Ariella gently pulled a white glove onto her right hand, then left. A slight rap on the door behind her brought her out of her daydreaming.
”Darling,” Great Aunt Lucille crooned. “Are you not chilly?” The elderly woman carefully made her way on to the balcony, the scent of Crystal Grace surrounding her.
“Forgive me, Aunt Lucy. Have I been out here long?”
Offering the shawl she carried, Lucille stood next to Ariella. “Not long my dear.” The two women gazed at the line of not quite adults, their own age difference a stark contrast.
Ariella wrapped the shawl around her shoulders, feeling the rough fur against her exposed skin. She stroked the shawl. “Aunt Lucy, where did you get this?” Ariella hadn't ever seen the shawl before, and she certainly hadn't ever seen this kind of fur before. She had spent many days of her youth in Lucille’s dressing room trying on the many different dresses and shoes from Val Royeaux.
“Oh, it's from Orlais! Made of bear fur from the Hinterlands.”
Of course it was from Orlais, Ariella smiled. But, bear fur from the Hinterlands? A wave of fear washed over her and settled in her stomach. “Bear?” She whispered. The temperature dropped quickly, and their breaths came out in misty puffs.
“Yes, Your Worship, bears are native to the Hinterlands.”
“Your Worship? Aunt Lucy, are you quite well?”
Snow began to fall, slowly at first - then increasing to almost blizzard conditions. A jolt of electricity shot through Ariella’s left arm, the searing pain settling in the palm of her hand. In almost slow motion, she dropped to her knees with an ear splitting scream.
“What is happening?!” She screeched, ripping the gloves off as if they were on fire. It was then that she noticed the Anchor, green light twisting and pulsating.
It was then that she remembered.
Haven was destroyed.
She was lost, in the middle of Maker knows where.
There was snow.
So much snow.
How long had she been walking? The snow drifts were thigh high now.
And she was cold, so cold.
Ariella's entire body was numb. It didn't pain her as she actually fell to the ground this time. It didn't hurt as the jagged rock tore her scalp open. Her vision blurred.
“There, it's her!” Cullen’s voice rang out.
“Thank the Maker!” Cassandra exclaimed in her thick, Nevarran accent. “Is she… Is she bleeding?”
“Yes, we must hurry.” Cullen’s voice was low and urgent. His strong arms and quietly muttered prayer were the last thing Ariella remembered before succumbing to the darkness.