Chapter Text
It’s raining.
Lightning tears through the sky, rending it easily as though it were a sword through a chink in armour. It strikes a tree, immediately transforming it into a beacon of flame. Mere minutes after, a booming roar echoes throughout the entire forest, its rumble menacing like the growl of a wolf.
Unbeknownst to the battle of nature and sky raging above, a woman runs barefoot across the leaf litter. She jumps, deer-like, over every hidden branch, the trailing twigs rarely managing to do more than catch her hair for a moment. However, she is obviously tiring quickly, the extra weight in her belly slowing her movements to a fraction of what they could have been.
One foot catches on a trailing branch, causing her to stumble into the unwelcoming bark of a nearby oak tree. The sky flashes stark white again, leaving the water streaming down her face clearly visible. To an outsider it would seem like simple rain, but the droplets on her cheeks are merely tracing the paths of the tears that came before them.
She continues her journey after a moment's rest, one hand now resting protectively on her swollen stomach. Each step takes her purposefully through the undergrowth towards her final destination.
After many long minutes of running, something finally catches her eye. She stops abruptly and places a hand on a tall and thin stone, running her fingertips over the strange glyphs that pepper the surface. Her gaze flicks around the clearing, noting the similar stones of varying shapes and sizes that form a rather rough circle. Her eyes become unfocused as she continues to contemplate her next move, but there is still a slight hint of worry and fear at the edges of her gaze.
With a heavy exhale, she steels her resolve. Her spine straightens, and in a familiar habit she reaches up to brush some choppy dark red hair behind one tapered ear. Sighing, she slips her hand into the sheath at her belt and pulls out a wicked-looking dagger, a lethal hunting knife that is sharpened to perfection.
Hefting the blade, she slices it across her other palm, letting only a small gasp escape her lips. Blinking more tears and rainwater out of her eyelashes, she roughly presses her injured hand to the enchanted stone. She keeps her gaze fixed in the center of the clearing as she begins to chant something in elvhen.
"Elgar'arla, lan ar'inan itha nar'elgar. Lan ar'lan him nar ghil'lin."
The petite elf repeats her mantra several times, until a faint glow appears in the center of the clearing. Then she stops, and using her uninjured hand, pulls a small, flickering flame out of the air beside her.
"Forbidden One, Imshael, come to me. I must speak with you about a deal."
She stresses the final word, and immediately the blurred shape shifts and materializes into a full-grown man. He looks unimaginably beautiful, but he has an unearthly feel to him, as though his beauty is too much to be true. As he steps towards her, the elven woman instinctively recoils, wrinkling her button nose as though she caught the scent of something gruesome.
"Oh, a deal? You are not the first of your kind to come here, but are least you are easier on the eyes. The other one was far too," he pauses, his mouth curling slightly in disgust, “withered.” His voice has a hissing texture to it, almost hidden by the honeyed words, and as he speaks, a grin darkens his face to the point where the elf clearly feels physically uncomfortable.
"Er, yes, of course." She stutters, her eyelashes flickering up and down as she took in every fact about the man. "I-"
He laughs suddenly, cutting her response off. "I know exactly what deal you want. You want me to remove magic from your child. You don't want him to suffer as you have, hiding your magic from everyone in the fear of being sent away.”
She gasps, her eyes widening at the cruel smile that continues to inhumanly contort his face. "Y-yes. I-I'll do anything."
"Anything?" His voice has an intrigued tone to it now, and his tongue flickers out from his lips as he revels in how uncomfortable he is making the pregnant woman. "Well, my lady, that is a steep promise. Would you, for example, give me your own body? Allow me to possess you, to escape this place that your clan so wishes to keep me?" His hand hovers over the closest binding stone as he speaks, his voice tainted with a bitterness that doesn't reach his eyes.
The elven woman nods slowly, putting her hand over her stomach again. "Anything for my child. If you let him live, let him live without the curse of my magic hurting him, I will even give you my own body.”
"Hmm." The grin vanishes, replaced with a stony look that clearly frightens the elven woman with its abruptness. “But what, my dear, would you do if I were to say I do not want your body?” He glares, his face more intimidating by the second. “Instead, I would ask for…” He taps a finger to his lips, before pointing one long fingernail at her neck. “Your life.”
She backs away, suddenly clutching her swollen belly and crying in pain. Tears sparkling in her eyes slide down her cheeks as she falls to the ground and curls into a protective position around her belly.
After many moments pass, she is able to push herself painstakingly into a sitting position. Staring at the demon in front of her, she manages to choke a few words out. "You didn't... warn me... how much it would hurt." Waving a hand to demonstrate that she doesn't want a retort yet, she continues. "I... don't care about the pain. I just... want... you to tell me..." She sucks in a breath, letting it out slowly. "Is... my son, is he okay? Will he be a mage?"
The woman is openly anguished by the smirk that returns to Imshael's face as he listens to her speak. His next words shock her to the core, leaving him to watch as she falls once again to the ground. "Your son is not in danger of being a mage, persay. I will, however, say that he is going to be touched by magic." Pausing for effect, his smug look slowly continued to disfigure his face, until it could no longer be mistaken for something remotely beautiful.
"He will bring about great change, and will be severely hurt by more than one type of magic. He may not be a mage any longer, but he will be far more damaged by magic than you or any mage ever was." He licked his lips, obviously revelling in the thought of pain. "His arrival will shake all of Thedas, set in motion by your foolish decision.” He pauses, his face twisting with relish. “Not that you will be there to see the chaos. You can count on that. Once you give birth to your precious little boy, you will die, leaving him alone in the harsh world you created for him.”
The demon reaches even further across the binding stones, before taking another step. The stones vanish as he does so, leaving nothing but a rain soaked clearing. “Did you really think a pitiful Keeper would have the magic to trap me? No. I simply stayed to help start the next era for Thedas.” He raises his hands and laughs to the sky as the storm flashes around him. “You should all thank me!”