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Chapter Text

Amaris was stirred awake to a throbbing headache. She went to press at her temples, and found her hands were restricted together somehow. Suddenly very frightened, Amaris opened her eyes and found herself lying in the middle of the floor of what looked like a small dimly-lit prison, surrounded by humans with swords all pointed at her. She got up on her knees and saw that on the cold floor before her was a painted Chantry sunburst. She was in a Chantry prison, but couldn’t remember how she got there.

The last thing Amaris could recall was entering the Temple of Sacred Ashes without her two accompanying clan mates, as they were barred entry. The only reason she got past the guards was because a group of human mages asked her to join them and speak on her experience growing up without templars. Amaris was sent by her Keeper to observe the conclave’s peace talks, not to speak, but she could hardly observe if she was not allowed past the gates. So she agreed, and then… then what?

Before Amaris could question herself further, a great pain burst from her hand, like acid burning right through the flesh. Magical green sparks shot out from a strange mark across her palm, and Amaris winced and looked away from the sudden bright light.

Just then, the door opened swiftly, banging against the wall with a loud thud. The silhouettes of two human women stood in the frame, one in metal armour and the other in leather with a hood pulled up over her head. The first had short black hair and tan skin, a little lighter than Amaris’s own. The other was much paler, and also had a far lither frame than the muscular short-haired woman. They slowly marched forward, then circled Amaris on the floor. Amaris leaned away when the warrior woman bent over to talk directly into her ear.

“Tell me why we shouldn't kill you now,” she said menacingly. “The conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead... Except for you.”

Amaris was very confused. What did she mean, the conclave was destroyed? And everyone dead… did that include her clan mates?

Angry over Amaris’s silence, the warrior woman grabbed at the hand with the strange mark, which was glowing again, and growled, “Explain this.”

“I-I cannot,” Amaris stuttered, afraid to speak to this brutish human. “I do not know what that is, or how it got there.”

“You’re lying!” The woman grabbed at Amaris’s shoulders and shook her, but the other woman pushed her off.

“We need her, Cassandra,” she said, and though Amaris did not know what they needed her for, the words worked on this Cassandra.

The other woman, who Amaris noticed had red hair poking out from under the hood, took over her interrogation. She used a much softer tone, one that wasn’t so frightening, and yet Amaris was still scared. She wanted to ask why she was being held prisoner, but was too afraid that Cassandra would assault her again if she spoke out of turn.

“Can you tell us what happened?” Asked the red-head.

“I…” Amaris squeezed her eyes shut, as if that might help, and got brief flashes of things that didn’t make a lot of sense, but spoke about them anyway. “Something was chasing me. And there was a woman; a human woman, I think. She reached out to me, and then… Then I fell?”

The two humans looked at each other, and nodded. Somehow, that story made sense to them, then.

“Go to the forward camp, Leliana. I will take her to the rift.”

The red-head left in a hurry, while the other one pulled at Amaris’s rope-bound hands to roughly lift her to her feet.

“What did happen?” Amaris asked hesitantly.

“It will be easier to show you,” was all Cassandra would say.

They ascended the stairs and out into Haven; the tiny village that sat below the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Amaris had spent a little time in the village before making the trek to the temple, and confirmed the building they were exiting was the Chantry. She did not have much time to further take in her surroundings however, because the entirety of her attention was stolen by the gigantic green-tinted hole in the sky, right above where the Temple rested.

“We call it the Breach,” Cassandra explained. “It’s a massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour. It’s not the only such rift; just the largest. All were caused by the explosion at the conclave.”

“How do you know that?” Amaris asked, skeptical that an explosion could rip apart the very Veil that separated the waking world from the Beyond—or the Fade, as the humans called it.

“We had an expert on the Fade confirm it” Cassandra answered, then added, “unless we act, the Breach may grow until it swallows the world.”

Just then, a wave erupted out from the Breach, and with it another shock of pain in Amaris’s hand, where the mark was. There was some sort of connection between the two then, she surmised, after catching her breath.

“Each time the Breach expands, your mark spreads, and it is killing you,” Cassandra said, rather dispassionately. “It may be the key to stopping this, but there isn’t much time.”

“You want to take me to the Breach,” Amaris guessed, and Cassandra nodded.

“Will you help us?”

“Yes,” Amaris agreed. Not that she had much choice in the matter, but her response seemed to please Cassandra, as the fierceness in her face softened slightly.

Cassandra drew a knife from her side, and cut the ropes binding Amaris’s hands. Amaris flexed her tingling fingers, then shook out her shoulders, now free in movement. Then Cassandra picked up Amaris by the collar of her Dalish robes, and lifted her off the ground as if she weighed nothing. The woman then used her strength to push Amaris along, making a show to everyone they passed that she was still in control of the prisoner.

Amaris avoided the eye contact of all the humans staring her down, while Cassandra explained that most people viewed her as the one responsible for the Breach, and what’s more apparently, for murdering the Divine. “The people of Haven mourn our Most Holy. Divine Justinia, head of the Chantry. The conclave was hers. It was a chance for peace between mages and templars. She brought their leaders together. Now they are dead.” Cassandra’s voice cracked, her tough exterior slightly breaking under the grief below. She said a little more, spoke promises of a trial, but Amaris was still caught up with trying to conceptualize the astronomical death toll and what this all meant, as they crossed the gates out of the village and began the trip up the mountain. Amaris had little faith the conclave would have amounted to any real change regardless, but to sabotage it at the cost of so many lives, what was the point of that? Neither side of the conflict would make gains from it; it didn’t make sense.

They kept walking, Cassandra still talking, Amaris not truly paying attention. But when they reached a bridge, another pulse from the Breach came, and with it, craters of rock fell from the sky. To their misfortune, one particularly large chunk crashed into the bridge, causing it to crumble and sending both Amaris and Cassandra tumbling down onto the iced-over lake below. At the same time, two shade demons rained down from the sky and landed before them.

“Stay behind me!” Cassandra ordered, while drawing her sword and shield before charging at one of the demons. That would have been a fine order for Amaris to follow, had the second demon not started slogging towards her.

Amaris noticed a staff conveniently laying over a crate beside her, and picked it up. The staff was taller and heavier than what she was used to, but it worked for the purpose of channeling her magic into a much more controlled force, and she needed all the help she could get. Amaris was very proficient with protective spells… not so much with anything offensive. But she knew just enough to be considered dangerous, and used that limited knowledge to call forth a lightning strike on the demon. The lightning hit both her demon and the one Cassandra was attacking, and Amaris followed up with a few simple electric jolts until the demon dissipated in a cloud of smoke.

Just in time, Cassandra’s demon was also bested, and Amaris breathed a sigh of relief. This relief was not shared by Cassandra, however. As soon as she pulled her sword out of the smoke where the demon was, she swung it in Amaris’s direction. “Drop your weapon. Now,” she growled.

“I do not need a staff to be dangerous,” Amaris tried to reason with her.

“Is that supposed to reassure me?”

“I have not used my magic on you yet.”

Catching up to the point Amaris was making, Cassandra grunted, but sheathed her sword. “You’re right. You don’t need a staff, but you should have one. I cannot protect you, and the path ahead is treacherous.” She turned around and began slowly walking up the frozen river. Then turned back and added, “I should remember you agreed to come willingly.”

Amaris resisted the urge to retort that yes, that would be nice, and instead chose to silently follow the gruff woman.

Amaris followed Cassandra down the path of an iced-over stream, making Amaris thankful that she was wearing good boots. She was doubly thankful that Cassandra allowed her to keep the found staff, as they had several more demon encounters. And Amaris had to admit that she was thrice thankful that Cassandra proved her prowess in battle, both in her defence and attacks. It made her wonder further just where Cassandra received her training, as she was clearly no ordinary soldier, to brave demons so nonchalantly. Was she a Templar, perhaps? That would also explain her antagonistic response to Amaris pointing out that she was a mage with or without a staff…

If Cassandra was a Templar though, that made the protection she currently offered in battle far less safe to be around long-term.

As Amaris internally pondered a way of escape after confronting the Breach, reaching the top of a long staircase on the side of a hill ended with another fight in view, as well as what looked like a miniature replica of the giant Breach in the sky. It was a crack in the veil; a glowing green tear that demons were spilling out of. Below the veil tear was a small party of more human soldiers, as well as a stout looking dwarf and a bald-headed elf.

Wasting no time, Cassandra leaped into the fray, sword brandished high. Amaris was not so quick on the draw, but followed the probable-Templar’s lead by shredding the demons with another bolt of lightning.

Just when Amaris thought the demons were all done for, a bolt flew right past her head, shot by the dwarf holding the strangest looking crossbow Amaris had ever seen. She turned around just in time to see the dwarf had saved her from an unnoticed wraith behind her, but didn’t have time to thank him, as the elven man grabbed her hand and pulled her forward.

“Quickly! Before more come through!” he said. Then he thrusted Amaris’s hand up towards the rift, and she felt the mark on her palm flared with its strange magic again. It felt powerful, like she was reaching out and touching the Fade in a more tangible way than ever thought possible. Indeed, a bright beam of light connected her to the veil tear, and Amaris instinctively ripped her hand back, with it, closing the demon’s gateway.

“What did you do?” Amaris asked, because it felt too much like the elven man had broken the mark further open somehow in order to accomplish whatever just happened. The mark didn’t look any different, but it felt both a little stronger, and a little soothed.

“I did nothing, the credit is yours,” the man said with a slight smile that eased Amaris’s concerns a little.

“You mean this,” she looked down at the mark again.

“Whatever magic opened the Breach in the sky also placed that mark upon your head. I theorized the mark might be able to close the rifts that have opened in the Breach's wake—and it seems I was correct.”

“Meaning it could also close the Breach itself,” Cassandra concluded, approaching the elf as well.

“Possibly,” was all the elf said, and Amaris picked up a little bit of concern. It quickly shifted once the elf looked back at Amaris herself. “It seems you hold the key to our salvation.”

Amaris did her best to smile back at him, though it was hard when her nerves were still on such an edge. She hoped the effort came across though, as she certainly appreciated the man bringing a sense of familiarity and security in this mess. He was obviously a well-trained mage from what she had observed in the battle, despite no vallaslin to mark him as Dalish like herself. Still, he could prove a useful ally should she need to flee Cassandra.

“Good to know,” the dwarf interrupted Amaris’s thoughts. Like Cassandra, he bared no concern over the demons either. “Here I thought we'd be ass-deep in demons forever.”

The dwarf then introduced himself. “Varric Tethras: rogue, storyteller, and occasionally unwelcome tagalong,” he added with a wink in Cassandra’s direction. The name Varric Tethras sounded familiar, but Amaris couldn’t quite place where she’d heard it before.

“That is a nice crossbow you have,” she complimented the gadget he had equipped, and Varric’s face lit up.

“Ah, isn’t she? Bianca and I have been through a lot together.”

Suddenly it clicked for Amaris—Varric Tethras was the author of The Tale of the Champion; the book about the Champion of Kirkwall. Amaris had read it more than once, amazed over the half-elf that stood up to the city’s tyrannical Templar Order with the help of her allies… this Varric among them. She now had a million questions she wanted to ask, but no time to ask them.

“My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions,” said the elf. Solas was elvhen for ‘Pride’. It was very uncommon for a non-Dalish elf to bare a name from the traditional tongue, but not unheard of, Amaris supposed. “I am pleased to see you still live.”

“He means, “I kept that mark from killing you while you slept.””

“You seem to know a great deal about it all,” Amaris said, growing even more impressed with him.

“Like you, Solas is an apostate,” Cassandra said with a bit of distrust in her voice.

“Technically all mages are now apostates, Cassandra,” Solas reminded her. Then to Amaris, he explained, “My travels have allowed me to learn much of the Fade, far beyond the experience of any Circle mage. I came to offer whatever help I can give with the Breach. If it is not closed, we are all doomed, regardless of origin.”

“That is very brave of you,” Amaris complimented him, unsure if she would have done the same in his shoes.

“One hopes those in power will remember who helped and who did not,” Solas said. Then, he turned back to Cassandra. “You should know: the magic involved here is unlike any I have seen. Your prisoner is a mage, but I find it difficult to imagine any mage having such power.”

“Understood,” Cassandra said, and it looked like she even believed him. So then, it wasn’t just Amaris that Solas had a way of conveying trust to. “We must get to the forward camp quickly,” Cassandra then ordered, while giving an uncertain look in Amaris’s direction.

“Well… Bianca’s excited!” Varric joked in a poor attempt to ease the tension.

Because the road ahead was blocked, the party was forced to travel down the hill’s bank and back onto the frozen river. There were more demons to battle, but with the four of them now it was a much easier fight. Soon they were hiking up the hill on the other side of the river, with a stone archway in view at the top.

“You are Dalish, but clearly away from the rest of your clan,” Solas vocally observed. “Did they send you here?”

“What do you know of the Dalish?” Amaris asked, instead of answering his question in front of an already suspicious Cassandra.

“I have wandered many roads in my time, and crossed paths with your people on more than one occasion.” Amaris couldn’t help but notice that Solas’s voice turned sour in referring to the Dalish as ‘your people’.

“We are both of the same people, Solas,” she tried to correct him.

“The Dalish I met felt differently on the subject.”

“Can't you elves just play nice for once?” Varric interjected with detectable sarcasm, before Amaris could respond herself.

“Oh yes, because dwarves are known to be so kind to each other,” she spat at him. What business of it was his, to speak of the People in such a manner?

At the top of the hill was another rift, as Solas had referred to the veil tear as, with more demons. It was right in front of the closed gate. The soldiers fighting the demons off looked like they had just about had it when the party finally reached them. Amaris rushed in and pushed her marked hand up towards it, and another beam of light sprung out. She pulled the rift closed, and the soldiers looked at her in amazement.

“Open the gate,” Cassandra ordered.

“R-right away, Lady Cassandra,” stuttered one of the soldiers stationed atop the archway.  

On the other side of the gate was a small campsite, with weapon racks and supplies for the soldiers in the valley below, Amaris assumed.

“Ah, here they come,” said a Chantry man with very bushy eyebrows, as the party approached. Standing next to him was the redheaded woman, Leliana.

“You made it,” Leliana greeted them in relief. “Chancellor Roderick, this is—”

“I know who she is,” Roderick interrupted, while glaring daggers in Amaris’s direction. “As grand chancellor of the Chantry, I hereby order you to take this criminal to Val Royeaux to face execution.”

“Order me? You are a glorified clerk. A bureaucrat!” Cassandra huffed.

“And you are a thug, but a thug who supposedly serves the Chantry!” Roderick hissed back at her.

“We serve the Most Holy, Chancellor, as you well know,” Leliana corrected.

“Justinia is dead! We must elect a replacement, and obey her orders on the matter!”

“Are you joking?” Amaris couldn’t help but speak up. “Is the breach not a more pressing issue than finding a new woman to kiss the feet of?”

“How dare you!” Roderick slammed his fists down on the table in front of him, and leaned forward menacingly.

“We must get to the temple,” Cassandra rerouted the conversation.

“Our forces can charge as a distraction while we go through the mountains,” Leliana suggested, but Cassandra shook her head.

“We lost contact with an entire squad on that path. It’s too risky.”

Cassandra, Roderick, and Leliana debated for a minute amongst themselves, until another burst came from the Breach, and Amaris felt the mark on her hand sizzle again. Everyone turned to look at her.

“How do you think we should proceed?” Cassandra asked.

Amaris was shocked. “Now you ask me?”

“You have the mark,” Solas pointed out.

“And you are the one we must keep alive. Since we cannot agree on our own…” Cassandra trailed off.

Amaris looked at the road leading into the valley, and the mountain above. Charging with the soldiers, as Cassandra had suggested, seemed risker but faster, while the mountain path seemed safer but longer. “Use the mountain path,” she ultimately decided.

“Very well,” Leliana nodded, looking pleased that it was her idea Amaris went with. Cassandra ordered her to go collect the rest of the soldiers to meet them at the Breach’s centre.

“On your head be the consequences, Seeker,” Roderick said to Cassandra, as they departed.

Seeker? A Seeker of Truth, then, Amaris realized. So Cassandra was a Templar of sorts after all… just an even more dangerous one. The Seekers of Truth, Amaris understood, were like special Templars who didn’t even need lyrium to be dangerous. They were supposed to control the Templar Order, serve the Chantry as an elite army above everyone else… and they had a reputation among the Dalish as a force to be feared. It didn’t surprise her when she heard the mages at the conclave say it was the Seekers of Truth who caused the rebellion, when they massacred the circle mages gathered at the White Spire.

The trek up the mountain was surprisingly demon-free, up until the path led into an old abandoned lyrium mine. Unfortunately, at the end of the mining tunnel was a lot of dead bodies; soldiers fallen to those demons.

“This cannot be all of them,” Cassandra shook her head in disbelief.

“It is not—look!” Amaris pointed ahead, where she could see more soldiers holding up against another rift.

The four of them ran as fast as they could towards the rift, just in time to see another slew of demons spring from it, this time including two with long legs and arms featuring sharp claws that raked across the chest of one of the soldiers. While Cassandra, Varric, and Solas took care of the demons, Amaris closed the rift once more.

“You are becoming quite proficient at this,” Solas said, noting how speedy she was getting at it.

“Let’s hope it works on the big one.”

Cassandra helped one of the wounded but still alive soldiers up off the ground. “The way into the valley below us is clear for the moment. Go, while you still can,” Cassandra ordered them all, and they hobbled off towards the mine.

“The path ahead appears to be clear of demons as well,” Solas noted, peering down towards what looked like a gigantic crater in the earth, with large chunks of jagged rock sticking up along the edge of it. The Breach was directly above.

“Let's hurry, before that changes,” Cassandra said.

“So…” Varric began, as they grew closer and closer to what used to be the Temple of Sacred Ashes, “Holes in the Fade don't just accidentally happen, right?”

“If enough magic is brought to bear, it is possible,” Solas answered.

“But there are easier ways to make things explode.”

“That is true,” Solas agreed, thoughtfully.

“We will considered how this happened once the immediate danger is past,” Cassandra stated, as they turned the corner of the jagged rock to see a horrible sight; charred corpses clutching themselves, mixed in between the rubble of what was once a stunning temple. Amaris didn’t quite know where to walk, as every step she took felt like she was desecrating the dead.

Slowly, the group approached the Breach. In the centre of the crater below them was a smaller rift, that shifted, churned, and bubbled in mirror with the Breach above it. Around the rift was large chunks of red crystal that Amaris could have sworn was lyrium, except the lyrium she knew of was blue. Then Amaris recalled mention of red lyrium in The Tale of the Champion.

“Is that red lyrium?” she asked Varric.

“Sure looks like it. Shit,” he muttered under his breath. “Don’t get too close. It’s evil.”

“You're here. Thank the Maker,” Amaris turned around to see Leliana approach, with a group of soldiers behind her.

“Leliana, have your men take up positions around the temple,” Cassandra ordered. Leliana nodded, then motioned for her men to follow Cassandra’s guidelines. They started to spread out, with archers posting up along the broken edges providing higher ground, and swordsmen climbing down to the ground below. Leliana had a bow and quiver herself, and followed the archers.

Cassandra turned to Amaris. “This is your chance to end this. Are you ready?”

“I will try, but I do not know if I can reach that, much less close it.”

“No. This rift was the first, and it is the key,” Solas said with confidence, as he stepped forward. “Seal it, and perhaps we seal the Breach.”

“Then let’s find a way down, and be careful," Cassandra said.

The group followed the soldiers down to the base of the crater. As they grew closer, suddenly a reverberating voice echoed out from the rift. “Now is the hour of our victory. Bring forth the sacrifice,” it said, and something about it sent chills down Amaris’s spine.

“What are we hearing?” Cassandra questioned.

“At a guess: the person who created the Breach,” Solas answered, just as they reached the rift.

“Someone help me!” someone different called out this time from the rift.

“What’s going on here?” Amaris then heard her own voice.

“That was your voice,” Cassandra said. “Most Holy called out to you. But…”

Suddenly from the rift, a cloudy vision appeared of a shadowed figure, hand outstretched towards the Divine, who had her arms extended out and bound by some sort of magic. Amaris watched as she herself entered the vision, only for the shadowed figure to order her death. Then the vision erupted into a flash of light, and disappeared.

“You were there!” Cassandra exclaimed. “Who attacked? And the Divine, is she…? Was this vision true? What are we seeing?”

“I do not remember,” Amaris said again, as apparently Cassandra forgot.

“Echoes of what happened here. The Fade bleeds into this place,” Solas concluded. “This rift is not sealed, but it is closed… albeit temporarily. I believe that with the mark, the rift can be opened, and then sealed properly and safely,” he then explained. “However, opening the rift will likely attract attention from the other side.”

“That means demons. Stand ready!” Cassandra called out, and the soldiers all prepared themselves for what was to come.

Amaris took a deep breath, then lifted her marked hand up to the rift as she had done before. But this time, something was different. It felt like the rift was fighting her somehow; struggling to resist her pull. She yanked as hard as she could, and nearly fell backwards as it opened. What came out was far worse than any shade, wraith, or terror demon though – what came out was a pride demon; a giant, spiky, horned monster with several eyes and a blood-curdling, guttural cackle. Cassandra called for the archers to shoot, but the arrows were all buffeted away by its heavy hide.

The demon manifested two strings of glowing whips that pulsed with lightning, and slashed at the archers, knocking them off their edge. Amaris watched as Cassandra jumped up onto its back and began hacking away between its horns without a single shred of fear. The demon shook her off though, and she nearly crumbled into Varric, had he not stepped back out of the way while loading another bolt into Bianca. Varric fired with such precision as to take out one of the demon’s eyes. This brought its attention to the dwarf though, and Varric did not so easily dodge the hammering blow of the demon’s fist brought down on him as he did Cassandra’s fall.

“Varric!” Cassandra called out to him, seeing that the dwarf was now unconscious. “Cover me!” she ordered the soldiers, while Cassandra hurried to pull what Amaris guessed was a healing potion from her belt.

“Use the mark again!” Solas called to Amaris, while he flung bolts of ice at the demon from next to her.

Amaris nodded, then tried to close the rift. But it felt like the demon’s presence was interfering with it somehow. Instead of closing the rift, the demon shuddered in pain and was brought to its knees.

With the demon vulnerable and Varric awake, Cassandra led the charge once more. But it was Leliana who claimed the killing blow, with a fiery arrow shot right into the demon’s mouth. It crumpled over, dead, and Amaris felt her mark quake. She reached up for a third time at the breach, expecting it to be easier than before, but alas, there was still something wrong with this rift compared to the others.

Amaris fell to her knees, her vision blurring in and out of focus, her ears ringing and her head throbbing. She felt someone try to hold her up as she pulled and pulled at the rift, trying desperately to force it closed with a magic she had no understanding of. Then, the rift exploded, and the force pushed everyone below to the ground. The last thing Amaris felt before losing consciousness was the aching pulse of the mark of her hand, pacified… At least for the time being.

Chapter Text

Amaris awoke to the realization that while she had been unconscious, someone had stripped her of her armour. When she opened her eyes, she saw she was wearing a simple green dress instead. Additionally, they had undone her twin braids; her long, dark brown hair cascading over her shoulders freely now, which angered her even more—she did not approve of a stranger touching her hair!

“Oh!” Amaris heard someone exclaim, and looked up to see a young elven woman drop the box of herbs she was carrying. “I didn’t know you were awake, I swear!” the woman said, shaking like a leaf.

“Please, it is of no concern,” Amaris tried to sooth the woman, but the reaction she got instead shocked her.

The woman fell to her knees in veneration. “I beg your forgiveness and your blessing. I am but a humble servant.”

Was this woman in awe of Amaris’s vallaslin, perhaps? “That is not necessary, really,” Amaris assured with a generous smile. “You are just as part of the People as I am.”

“The People? I-I don’t understand…” The woman lifted her head ever slightly, then rose back up to her feet with caution.

“The People; the Elvhen,” Amaris explained.

“Oh, I am but a simple elf, yes,” the woman nodded feverously. “But you… you are of the Holy kind.”

“Excuse me?”

“They say you saved us. The Breach stopped growing, just like the mark on your hand. It's all anyone has talked about for the last three days,” the woman said.

“Three days?!” Amaris exclaimed.

“Y-yes, my lady. You should really go see Lady Cassandra. She’ll want to know you’re awake.”

“Where is she?”

“In the Chantry,” the woman skittered back, then out the door, leaving Amaris stunned by the entire interaction.

After a moment of taking in the surroundings of the wooden cabin she found herself in, Amaris resigned herself to go find Cassandra. According to the elven woman, the Breach stopped growing, but that made it sound like it was still there, and thus, still a potential problem.

Amaris opened the door to the cabin to see at least a hundred people standing outside waiting for her, and so she quickly slammed the door shut again in a panic and leaned up against it. Someone then knocked. “Herald? My lady, are you okay?” said a man with a deep Fereldan accent. Amaris did not understand why he called her Herald, though—some foreign title of formal address, perhaps?

“I-I am just fine,” she said, trying to calm her breathing the best she could. “Please, just… I need a moment.”

Amaris heard the man try the doorknob, and though she had her full body pressed against it, she was small enough that he was more than capable of opening it, sending her falling back on the floor. “Herald!” the human man exclaimed, and bent down to help her up. Amaris would have perhaps appreciated it more if she was not still in a panic.

“Please, do not touch me right now…” she managed to get out, and the man very quickly backed up.

“Forgive me, my lady,” he bowed deeply. “Should I call for a healer?”

“That is… unnecessary,” Amaris squeezed her eyes shut, steadied herself, and stood up again. “I am fine. Really.”

Amaris brushed herself off, and offered a smile the best she could, to encourage the man to stop looking at her with such concern. “I must speak with Cassandra.”

“Would you like someone to escort you to the Chantry?”

“I will be fine,” Amaris assured.

Amaris walked outside, and the crowd parted for her to get by. As she made her way to the Chantry, she could feel the eyes of every soul in Haven on her, and hear them whisper things she couldn’t quite pick up, aside from that title again, Herald, and Andraste, the Chantry’s holy figure next to the Maker. It was unsettling.

The entry doors into the Chantry pushed open easily enough, which was surprising considering how huge they were. Amaris breathed a sigh of relief to be away from all those people. The Chantry’s main hall was empty, with the only voices she could hear coming from behind the door at the very end of it. One of those voices was Roderick, the angry Chantry man they had met below the mountain, and the other was Cassandra.

Amaris opened the door, and was immediately greeted with a disgusted look from Roderick, and one of relief from Cassandra and Leliana.

“Chain her. I want her prepared for travel to the capital for trial,” Roderick ordered the two Templars flanking the door Amaris just passed through. Amaris immediately clutched herself in fear.

“Disregard that, and leave us,” Cassandra then said, and fortunately it was Cassandra’s word that the Templars followed.

“You walk a dangerous line, Seeker,” Roderick warned, but Cassandra only looked annoyed with his presence.

“The Breach is stable, but it is still a threat. I will not ignore it,” she said. “And the Breach is not the only threat we face.”

“Someone was behind the explosion at the Conclave. Someone Most Holy did not expect,” Leliana joined the conversation. “Perhaps they died with the others—or have allies who yet live.”

“I am a suspect?” Roderick balked.

“You, and many others,” Leliana stood strong.

“But not the prisoner?”

“I heard the voices in the temple. The Divine called out to her for help,” Cassandra looked over to Amaris.

“So her survival, that thing on her hand—all a coincidence?” Roderick crossed his arms.

Cassandra shook her head. “Providence. The Maker sent her to us in our darkest hour.”

Amaris couldn’t help but speak up at that. “You realize I am an elf. A Dalish elf.”

“I have not forgotten,” Cassandra said, though her words certainly led one to believe otherwise. “No matter what you are, or what you believe, you are exactly what we needed when we needed it.” She then turned away to fetch something from the small table behind her, while Leiana continued to speak.

“The Breach remains, and your mark is still our only hope of closing it.”

“This is not for you to decide,” Roderick argued, until Cassandra slammed a large, heavy book down on the large table between them all.

“You know what this is, Chancellor?” she began. “A writ from the Divine, granting us the authority to act. As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn.” As Cassandra stepped towards Roderick, he backed away. Still, she continued as she pointed to his chest. “We will close the Breach, we will find those responsible, and we will restore order. With or without your approval.”

Roderick looked between Cassandra, Leliana, and Amaris, then with a deepened grimace, scurried off without another word.

“This is the Divine's directive: rebuild the Inquisition of old. Find those who will stand against the chaos,” Leliana looked down at the book. “We aren't ready. We have no leader, no numbers, and now no Chantry support.”

“But we have no choice: we must act now… with you at our side,” Cassandra shifted her gaze to Amaris.

“I am not familiar with this ‘Inquisition of old’ you speak of,” Amaris admitted, a little embarrassed. She prided herself in knowing things, and hated admitting when that was not the case—even in regards to human history.

“It preceded the Chantry: people who banded together to restore order in a world gone mad,” Leliana explained. That didn’t sound as bad as the title sounded.

“After, they laid down their banner and formed the Templar Order,” Cassandra continued. Oh no, it was exactly as bad as it sounded. “But the Templars have lost their way.”

“That implies they were ever in the right to begin with,” Amaris muttered, and shook her head. “I refuse. The Chantry and the Templar Order has done nothing but oppress my people. You cannot honestly expect me to join a new arm of it!”

“Cassandra and I may belong to the Chantry, but the Inquisition will not. The Chantry will take time to find a new Divine, and then it will wait for her direction,” Leliana said.

“But we cannot wait,” Cassandra huffed. “So many grand clerics died at the Conclave… No, we are on our own. Perhaps forever.”

Amaris supposed that softened things a little, but she still felt extremely hesitant. Cassandra clearly saw that, and turned to a different form of reasoning. “You should know that while some believe you chosen, many still think you guilty. The Inquisition can only protect you if you are with us.”

“We can also help you,” Leliana added. “Help you discover the source of your mark, and what happened to you at the Conclave.”

Now that was finally a good point. “We shall see how this goes,” Amaris nodded finally.

“That is all we ask,” Leliana agreed with a smile.

Cassandra extended her hand. “Help us fix this, before it’s too late.”

Amaris took the hand offered, and they shook on it.

…

The three weeks that followed passed in a flurry of business that turned the small village of Haven into a working military base of operations. People poured in from Orlais and Ferelden, pledging themselves to the cause. The tents in the valley grew in number until they spanned into the side of the mountains that cradled the village. With the new numbers also came more supplies – mostly gear for the agents and soldiers, but also enough to turn Haven into a small working hub of trade. Spirits were very high; the air practically buzzed with excitement of what was to come. They were going to fix everything, the people said. It should have been infectious, but Amaris remained an outlier in her sullen attitude.

Amaris spent most of her time in the cabin they dedicated as her personal quarters, the one she first woke up in. It was her only escape away from the constant, agonizing worship from everyone around her. They wanted her to be their “Herald of Andraste”, their “chosen one”, so badly that they flat out refused to listen to her protests of the title. It was sickening. Worse than sickening, it was scary.

Varric stopped by a few times to try and cheer her up. At first he wasn’t very interested in talking about his experience with the Champion of Kirkwall, but when he realized it actually lifted Amaris’s spirits a little, he relented. In some ways, Amaris now felt a little bit like a kindred spirit to the Champion, despite never having met her. She was also someone pushed into a role she had no control over. And perhaps if the Champion could survive the ordeal, so could Amaris.

When Amaris heard a knock at her door, she expected either Varric or Cassandra. “Come in,” she said while seated at the edge of her bed, and instead, it was Solas.

“The Chosen of Andraste, a blessed hero sent to save us all,” he greeted.

Amaris rolled her eyes. “Please, not you too…”

“You resist, but posturing is necessary,” he said with a slight shrug of the shoulders. Solas then pulled the chair out from her desk, turned it around and took a seat across from her. “I've journeyed deep into the Fade in ancient ruins and battlefields to see the dreams of lost civilizations. I've watched as hosts of spirits clash to re-enact the bloody past in ancient wars both famous and forgotten. Every great war has its heroes. I'm just curious what kind you'll be.”

“I have never heard of anyone going so far into the Fade. That is extraordinary,” Amaris replied.

Solas visibly lightened, a little surprised. “Thank you. It's not a common field of study, for obvious reasons. Not as flashy as throwing fire or lightning.”

“But what stories you must witness! And the civilizations you speak of, they are not lost, so long as we can still learn from them as you do.”

Solas nodded with a pleased grin, now. “What delight, to hear those words from someone else. The thrill of finding remnants of a thousand-year-old dream? It would not trade it for anything.” His smile then faded into a pensive look, as he shifted the conversation. “I will stay then, at least until the Breach has been closed.”

“I would not blame you for leaving if you did.”

“You understand my caution, then,” he nodded. “I am an apostate mage surrounded by Chantry forces and unlike you, I do not have divine mark protecting me.”

“You came here to help, Solas. So long as you wish to stay, I will not let them use that against you.”

“How would you stop them?” he asked.

“However I had to. Perhaps ‘posturing’, as you put it, as their ridiculous Herald could have some use.”

“Thank you,” Solas said again with a nod. “In any case, I was asked to pass along a message from Cassandra: you are needed in the Chantry. The Inquisition’s leaders have assembled to discuss the next steps.”

“Understood,” Amaris sighed.

Cassandra was waiting for Amaris in the Chantry’s main hall. The two had barely spoken in the weeks that passed since an agreement was made that Amaris would remain with the Inquisition. Without an urgent matter to overpower it, the tension between them became much more obvious.

It surprised Amaris when Cassandra spoke up, noticing Amaris staring at the mark on her hand. “Does it trouble you?” she asked.

“I just wish I knew what it was. Or how I got it,” Amaris answered.

“We will find out,” Cassandra assured. “What's important is that your mark is now stable, as is the Breach. You've given us time, and Solas believes a second attempt might succeed—provided the mark has more power. The same level of power used to open the Breach in the first place. That is not easy to come by.”

“Clearly you have something in mind.”

“We do,” Cassandra nodded.

Cassandra opened the door to the room that had been turned into something of a council chamber. The large table in the centre now displayed a map of southern Thedas, stretching across Orlais and Ferelden. Standing on the other side of it was Leliana and two strangers; a pale human man wearing Templar bracers, and a human woman with brown skin holding a writing board.

“May I present Commander Cullen, leader of the Inquisition's forces,” Cassandra first introduced the new man.

“Such as they are. We lost many soldiers in the valley, and I fear many more before this is through,” Cullen tilted his head at the desolate thought.

“This is Lady Josephine Montilyet, our ambassador and chief diplomat,” Cassandra moved on to the new woman.

“Andaran atish'an,” Josephine said in elvhen, though held a notable Antivan accent.

Amaris immediately perked up. “You speak elvhen?” she asked. Perhaps she was of elven descent, or perhaps she was just one of the very few humans who cared to learn a polite greeting.

“You just heard the entirety of it, I'm afraid,” Josephine admitted.

“I could teach you more, if you had any interest,” Amaris offered.

“That would be lovely,” Josephine nodded with a warm smile. Amaris immediately decided she liked this lady.

“And of course you know Sister Leliana,” Cassandra moved on.

“My position here invovles a degree of...”

“She is our spymaster,” Cassandra finished.

“Yes. Tactfully put, Cassandra,” Leliana rolled her eyes.

“Cassandra tells me you have a plan,” Amaris decided to push things forward, now that introductions were out of the way.

“I mentioned that your mark needs more power to close the Breach for good,” Cassandra began.

“Which means we must approach the rebel mages for help,” Leliana said.

Cullen scowled at that. I still disagree. The Templars could serve just as well.”

“We need power, Commander,” Cassandra tried to reason, most surprisingly. “Enough magic poured into that mark—”

“Might destroy us all,” Cullen interrupted. “Templars could supress the Breach, weaken it so—”

“Pure speculation,” Leliana then interrupted him in turn.

“I was a Templar. I know what they're capable of,” Cullen insisted.

“I will not work with the Templar Order,” Amaris said, stopping the argument.

“I’m aware you are a mage, but surely you would not put petty cynicism over the fate of the world?” Cullen shook his head in disbelief.

“There is nothing petty about it. I will not work with the Templar Order,” Amaris repeated.

“Neither group will even speak to us yet regardless,” Josephine tried to settle the daggers Amaris and Cullen were glaring at each other. “The Chantry has denounced the Inquisition—and you, specifically.”

“So?” Amaris did not understand why that mattered.

“Some are calling you—a Dalish elf—the “Herald of Andraste.” That frightens the Chantry. The remaining clerics have declared it blasphemy, and we heretics for harbouring you. It limits our options. Approaching the mages or Templars for help is currently out of the question,” Josephine explained.

“Just how am I the Herald of Andraste?” Amaris figured this was a chance to ask how that even started.

“People saw what you did at the temple, how you stopped the Breach from growing. They have also heard about the woman seen in the rift when we first found you. They believe that was Andraste.”

“Ridiculous,” Amaris huffed. “I am no “Herald”, nor am I “of Andraste”!”

“I’m sure the Chantry would agree,” Cullen laughed.

“The Chantry is telling everyone you’ll make things worse,” Josephine added.

“But there is something you can do,” Leliana said. “A Chantry cleric by the name of Mother Giselle has asked to speak with you. She is not far, and knows those involved far better than I. Her assistance could be invaluable.”

“You wish me to meet her?”

Leliana nodded. “You will find Mother Giselle tending to the wounded in the Hinterlands near Redcliffe.”

“Then I should leave as soon as possible,” Amaris nodded, eager to get out of Haven for whatever reason presented itself.

“I will accompany you,” Cassandra offered.

“I would like to take Varric and Solas as well,” Amaris suggested. “They proved proficient allies in the assault on the Breach.”

“Very well,” Cassandra folded her arms behind her back. “We should prepare for travel, then, and meet at Haven’s gate in twenty minutes.”

Chapter Text

Normally Amaris appreciated the quiet. But the silence hanging over the party as they travelled into Ferelden’s Hinterlands was of an awkward sort; the kind that tasted bitter rather than peaceful. Varric occasionally attempted to strike up a conversation with one of them, but the overly cordial responses lacked the enthusiasm to keep it up.

Still, Varric tried yet again to prompt a discussion. This time at least he fished for something Amaris was capable of answering. “You know, you remind me a little of another Dalish elf I knew,” he prompted.

“Do you speak of the elven mage in your Tale of the Champion book?” Amaris questioned.

“The very same,” Varric said with a smile. “Daisy’s also a smart one – too smart for her own good, one could even say. But a little on the naïve side.”

“Is this supposed to be a compliment or a complaint?”

“Neither; just an observation,” Varric shrugged.

“I met Merrill once, you know,” Amaris recalled.

“Really?”

She nodded. “At an Arlathvhen. We were children at the time, but as Firsts, we were still given the responsibility of accompanying our Keepers to the council meetings, to observe. I recall her Keeper being very… stern with her,” Amaris decided was the politest word to use, in lieu of ‘needlessly harsh’.

“What exactly is an Arlathvhen?” Varric asked.

“It is a gathering of the People. Every ten years, we converge to share knowledge and resources in the continued pursuit to reconnect with and preserve what we can of elvhen culture,” Amaris explained, and then turned her head at the sound of Solas huffing disapprovingly. “You have something to add?” She asked him with a challenging tone.

“The Dalish are nothing but children acting out stories misheard and repeated wrongly a thousand times,” he said coldly. “While your people pass on stories, mangling details, I walk the Fade. I have seen things they have not.”

Amaris couldn’t help but feel insulted. “Nearly everything our people had was stolen from us! Our land was taken. Our language was taken. Our history and culture was taken. If our stories are wrong, as you so claim, that is not by our doing.” She watched Solas’s face soften slightly, with a touch of something else – something she couldn’t discern.

Solas sighed. “You are right, of course. The fault is mine, for expecting too much. Ir abelas, da'len.”

“Da’len, is it?” Amaris raised an eyebrow. “I am thirty years old, Solas. Surely not that much younger than you.”

Solas turned his head away.

“There,” Cassandra interrupted, pointing ahead at the sight of an Inquisition flag. It marked the campsite near where they were supposed to meet the woman called Mother Giselle. As they got closer, Amaris took notice of the surprising number of people wearing Inquisition branded gear. Within just a few weeks, the organization had already somehow grown into the size of a small army. All because they believed Amaris was the ‘Herald of Andraste’.

“Herald of Andraste,” a dwarven woman greeted the four as they approached. She had beautiful green eyes, a spray of freckles over her face, and sandy brown hair.

“Please do not call me that,” Amaris shook her head, so tired already of hearing it. Cassandra frowned, but said nothing.

“Ah, I, uh…” the dwarf floundered for a second. “Lavellan,” she corrected, “Scout Harding, at your service. It's odd for a Dalish elf to care what happens to anyone else, but you'll get no back talk here. That's a promise.”

Amaris felt instantly soured. “Tell, me, Scout Harding: have you ever actually met a Dalish elf before?”

“Well, no, Her—I mean, Lavellan.”

“So the oddity you describe, what right do you have to judge an entire people you have just admitted to never even meeting before?”

“I…” Scout Harding pursed her lips in thought. “I’m sorry. You’re right, I shouldn’t say that kinda thing.”

Amaris nodded.

“We should get to business. The situation’s pretty dire. We came to secure horses from Redcliffe's old horsemaster. I grew up here, and people always said that Dennet's herds were the strongest and fastest this side of the Frostbacks. But with the mage-templar fighting getting worse, we couldn't get to Dennet. Maker only knows if he's even still alive,” Harding explained. “Mother Giselle's at the crossroads helping refugees and the wounded. Our latest reports say that the war's spread there, too. Corporal Vale and our men are doing what they can to help protect the people, but they won't be able to hold out very long. You best get going. No time to lose.”

Amaris and her three travelling companions followed the trail from the camp down to the crossroads with haste. Even before it was in sight, you could hear fighting, and that increased the urgency. Sure enough, when they arrived there were mages and templars fighting each other, with Inquisition soldiers doing their best to provide cover for the terrified civilians caught in the crossfire.

“Hold, we are not apostates!” Cassandra shouted, while blocking a templar’s blow from her shield. But the templar and his allies continued to attack seemingly anyone at random. The mages here were no better—Amaris saw a man aim his staff at a group of unarmed people cowering behind a pile of firewood, and could feel his magic about to unleash a huge burst of flame.

“Stop!” Amaris shouted, running towards the mage. “They are innocent! Stop!” But it was too late. The fire shot out from his staff. Amaris closed her eyes, waiting to hear the noise of impact… but there was none. She peeked one eye back open, and saw Solas had stepped in front of the group of civilians, with a powerful barrier up. He had successfully blocked the attack.

Amaris felt her nostrils flare with anger at the mage who attempted the attack. She turned to look at him, and her expression must have properly reflected her fury, because he balked in fear. Amaris then raised her gnarled wooden staff in a sweeping arc, and lightning erupted in its wake. The mage fell to the ground, dead.

Looking up, Amaris saw another mage was watching, but when they met eyes, he ran. A number of others followed him, until it was only two templars left who refused to quit. Both were marching towards Solas and the civilians with their swords drawn.

Amaris quickly placed a rune of ice in their path, and when the first templar stepped into it, he froze in place, a shiny coat of ice now glistening over his armour. The other templar backed up, and not a second later, a bolt went through his chest. Amaris had witnessed Varric’s strange crossbow against demons, but it seemed it was powerful enough to even pierce through heavy plate. Cassandra then dug her sword into the frozen one, and the chaos settled.

The Inquisition forces began cleaning up the area, and offering support to the wounded. Also doing the later, was an older human woman in Chantry robes. Since she was the only one dressed like that around, Amaris assumed it must have been the woman they were looking for; Mother Giselle.

Mother Giselle was trying to coax a man into accepting help from a mage healer with her, which surprised Amaris. It wasn’t something she expected to hear from a face of the Chantry. It eased her anxiety at least a little, to know that this woman did not oppose magic at least.

“Mother Giselle?” Amaris asked, approaching her hesitantly all the same.

The woman stood up and approached Amaris. The mage took her place by the man on the cot, and began soothing his wounds. Mother Giselle had dark skin and tired marks under her eyes, but despite the visible fatigue on her face, she held attention.

“I am,” she said with an easy smile. “And you must be the one they’re calling the Herald of Andraste.”

“Not through any choice of mine,” Amaris immediately argued.

“We seldom have much say in our fate, I’m sad to say.”

“What you call fate, I call foolishness.”

“I did not ask you to come simply to debate with me,” Mother Giselle shook her head.

“Then why am I here?”

“I know of the Chantry’s denouncement, and I’m familiar with those behind it. I won’t like to you: some of them are grandstanding, hoping to increase their chances of becoming the new Divine. Some are simply terrified. So many good people, senselessly taken from us…”

“And that is an excuse? They are making things worse!”

“They don’t know that. This is my point,” Mother Giselle tried to reason softly. “Go to them. Convince the remaining clerics you are no demon to be feared. They have heard only frightful tales of you. Give them something else to believe.”

“Do you not see the vallaslin on my face?” Amaris asked, raising her hand to touch the markings of Dirthamen. “I am Dalish! The Chantry prospers from spreading frightful tales of my people! If they were willing to listen to someone like me, would they not have done it already?”

“You may be Dalish by birth, but you are more than that, now. You are the very hope we need; you are the Herald of Andraste.”

“No, I am not!” Amaris felt tears welling up in her eyes, and wasn’t sure if it was from all the built up anger or the built up despair. Probably both. Feeling embarrassed to cry in public like this, she whipped around and stormed off into no particular direction. She heard Cassandra tell Mother Giselle that she would convince Amaris, so she wasn’t surprised to be followed. What did surprise her, was that it was Varric.

After getting some distance from the bustle of the crossroads, Amaris found a fallen log to sit down on. Varric joined her. He said nothing at first; just let Amaris catch her breath and calm herself in quiet.

“You know,” Varric then began, “that was probably the first normal thing I’ve seen you do.”

“What, cry and run away?” Amaris sniffed.

“Exactly,” Varric nodded with a bit of a cheeky smirk. “Most people would’ve broken by now, but you… you fell out of the sky, and kept going. You fell into the Inquisition, and kept going. So what I’m saying is… maybe don’t call it quits just yet. Maybe… you just keep, keep going.”

Amaris thought about what he was trying to say for a moment. Then, she sighed. “Vir Bor’assan: bend but never break… As First to the Keeper, I was not taught to follow the Vir Tanadhal as the hunters do. Perhaps if I am to continue, I must learn to adapt to their ways.” Then, she looked at him. “You have no mark on your hand required to repair the Breach, Varric. Why do you remain?”

Varric barked a short laugh. “I like to think I’m as selfish and irresponsible as the next guy, but this…” He then looked up at the spot where the Breach blemished the sky in the distance. “Thousands of people died on that mountain. I was almost one of them. And now there’s a hole in the sky. Even I can’t walk away and just leave that to sort itself out.”

Amaris and Varric returned to the others, and Amaris looked to Mother Giselle. “I will do as you suggest. I will travel to Val Royeaux and confront these clerics you speak of.” Mother Giselle looked pleased in response. “But I refuse to be some ‘Herald of Andraste’ just so your people can pretend I am an exception to their prejudice,” Amaris added.

“I honestly don’t know if you’ve been touched by fate or sent to help us… but I hope. Hope is what we need right now.” Then, Mother Giselle looked the Breach just as Varric did. “I will go to Haven and provide Sister Leliana the names of those in the Chantry who would be amenable to a gathering. It is not much, but I will do whatever I can.”

“We should begin or travels to Val Royeaux immediately.” Cassandra suggested. “Corporal Vale can handle things in this area. The only thing we need is to acquire some horses.”

“Then let us make haste to the horsemaster Scout Harding mentioned,” Amaris nodded.