Chapter Text
The words came to her slow and muddied, warped by the pounding behind her eyes and the sparks of pain slicing through the nerves in her left hand.
“Kill you now…” the voice, foreign in expression and sound, growled. “The Conclave… destroyed… Everyone who… dead. Except for you.”
An armored hand yanked her forward by the chin, forcing her eyes to take in the swirling room. These were not her siblings; this was not her dungeon; not her shackles. There were guards in the corners: four of them, armed with swords. Either they did not know what she truly was, or they simply wished to torture rather than kill, at least for now.
Another searing pain ripped through her hand, drawing her attention to it as tears slipped down her cheeks. Her left palm was entirely consumed in a sickly green light. She screamed and her still heart froze in her chest; she could scream. The throbbing in her head… the compulsion over her was broken—the connection to her sire severed.
“No! No, no, no,” the words tumbled through her lips and tears began streaming down her face. “You can’t!” she wailed, snapping her eyes back towards the woman who grabbed her face. “You can’t, you must bring me back! You must! My brother, he’ll bury him. Please, please, please,” she sobbed.
“What are you talking about! Explain yourself,” the human woman demanded, releasing her face with a shove.
“You must bring me back! My master will punish my brother if I do not return. He’ll torture him. Please!”
“Who is your master? What do you remember?” She interrogated.
“No, I can’t,” she bawled. “If he found out that I told, things would be so much worse. I can’t! And I don’t know, I can’t remember anything: where I am, how I got here. Please, you must bring me back!”
The human eyed her sharply and turned to a shadowed corner where another woman, this one cloaked and quiet, emerged. They convened in rushed, pointed whispers. Closing her eyes and listening in despite her pain and tears, all she was able to make out was the word “slave,” and something or someone called Tevinter.
There was a lull in the conversation, and she opened her eyes to see the women looking straight at her while the guards approached. “Please, you mustn’t kill me!” She cried. “My brother, he’ll be stuck there alone! Things will be so much worse for him, please!”
The guards pressed silently closer. She shut her eyes tight, expecting a sword to her throat or a stake to the heart. But one of them bent down and unclasped her shackles while the others hoisted her to her feet. Disoriented, she was dragged towards a barred door gleaming with rays of light.
“No, please! I’ll burn! I’ll burn!” She howled, but they only continued dragging her towards a certain and excruciating death. Too weak to stop the guards, she shut her eyes and braced for impact. As she was shoved through the doorway, she fell to her knees, curling her body as far as it would go to minimize exposure. But then a moment passed, and another, and she did not feel the familiar torment of blistering flesh.
“Get up,” the human with the strange accent demanded.
She lifted her head and looked up at the bright, blinding world. The snow was soft and white, and there was a bright viridescent swirl consuming the whole sky. It was terrifying and utterly beautiful.
“We call it the Breach,” said the woman. “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.”
“It’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” she whispered.
“Hundreds are dead and more will die because of it!”
“I’m sorry. I just have not seen the sky in… a lifetime,” she confessed.
“Stand up,” the woman ordered. “What is your name?”
“Thaya,” she answered as she stood on shaky legs. “And what may I call you, ma’am?”
The human looked at her oddly, but responded, “Cassandra.”
“It’s a pleasure to—” Thaya began to respond before a flash of green shot through the sky and sent shooting pains up her marked hand. Her knees buckled beneath her, and she’d have fallen back over if not for Cassandra’s tight grip on her arm.
“Each time the Breach expands, your mark spreads. And it is killing you. It may be the key to stopping this, but there isn’t much time.”
“You think I can close it with the mark? If it might keep me alive, I’m willing to try, but you must help me get home after; my master—!”
Cassandra had a strange expression on her face. “Fix the breach and we’ll see what can be done,” she cut her off, walking away.
Thaya struggled to keep up with her. Everything was so bright and there were hordes of people just standing around, watching. Thaya curled in on herself a little, radiating a timidity and demureness that always seemed to win her favor. The crowd scowled and whispered harshly, but did not jeer.
Word must have gotten around that she was an escaped slave. She knew how they saw her: a deathly pale, starved and gaunt—yet undeniably beautiful—little elf girl. Pitiable. She could work with that. If Cazador had taught her one thing, it was how to take advantage of her appearance and the assumptions it brought.
Taking gasping breaths, she half-jogged after Cassandra and kept her head down meekly as she followed her through the village.
“The people of Haven mourn our Most Holy, Divine Justinia, head of the Chantry,” the woman said. “The Conclave was hers. It was a chance for peace between mages and templars. She brought their leaders together. Now, they are dead.”
Thaya did not recognize some of the words used. It seemed like she was caught in the middle of some religious conflict, opposing cult factions, perhaps. They must be far north, given all the ice and snow. It would take days to return to Baldur’s Gate—days in which her brother would be tortured for her absence.
Soldiers opened the gate at the edge of the village for them.
“We lash out, like the sky. But we must think beyond ourselves, as she did. Until the breach is sealed,” Cassandra said, waving her forward. “There will be a trial. I can promise no more... Come, it is not far.”
“Where are you taking me?” she whispered, looking up at Cassandra through her lashes.
Thaya hoped she wasn’t guilty of such a heinous crime against nature, but she could not be sure. She had no memory of how she got to such a strange place, but she had been committing atrocities under the thrall of her master for as long as she could remember; she could have been made to tear apart the sky whether she wanted to or not. Either way, she could not let her doubts show. She just needed to survive long enough to make it home.
“Your mark must be tested on something smaller than the Breach,” Cassandra said, not looking her in the eye, marching forward.
There were dozens of wounded soldiers and bloody corpses lying about the bridge they crossed. It was a terrible sight and it made Thaya ravenous. She had never been allowed more than rodents before, but her compulsion was broken, and all the blood and gore clung to the bridge in a mouthwatering miasma. She was so, so very thirsty. But the humans did not seem to know what she was, and she could not give herself away if she had any hope of surviving. So, she kept her head down and followed diligently after Cassandra, even as her vision spun and stomach churned.
“Open the gate! We are headed into the valley,” Cassandra shouted to the soldiers at the end of the bridge.
They passed through the gate and followed a path up the mountain. There were horrible, tempting corpses everywhere.
When they reached the top of the hill, the magic in her hand flared, sending a wave of indescribable pain coursing through her body. She crumbled to the ground, unable to hold herself up as it passed.
“The pulses are coming faster now,” Cassandra said as she hauled Thaya up to her feet. “The larger the Breach grows, the more rifts appear, the more demons we face,” she explained. “They said you stepped out of a rift, then fell unconscious. They say a woman was in the rift behind you. No one knows who she was. Everything farther in the valley was laid waste, including the Temple of Sacred Ashes. I suppose you’ll see soon enough.”
“Could it… have been a man with long hair behind me?”
Cassandra’s eyes snapped towards hers, and Thaya cowered under her harsh gaze. “Is that what your master looks like? Could this have been his doing?”
“Yes, but I don’t think so… I can see no reason why he would do this. I don’t know where we are, but I know we’re not anywhere near home—he has no stake in this conflict. And he would never have relinquished control over me, not intentionally,” she whispered.
Cassandra eyed her over, nodded, and they continued onto a second bridge.
Even if Cazador had orchestrated the hole in the sky, and got caught up in the blast, it wouldn’t have killed him permanently. His body would simply turn to mist and return to its resting place. True vampires did not go down so easily.
He was out there losing his mind over her absence, and he would take it out on all her siblings, but her brother would suffer the worst. She needed to get home.
As they stepped onto the cobblestone, a blast of green light shot out of the Breach and sent the bridge beneath their feet crumbling towards the ground. Thaya yelped as she tumbled hard down onto the frozen river below. Her body ached terribly, and the brightness of the ice, snow, and sky were causing violent pulsations to radiate behind her eyes.
Another blast of light struck the river a few yards in front of where she was knocked to the ice. A strange green shade-like creature manifested out of thin air and slunk towards Cassandra, who was picking herself up and rushing forward with her sword.
“Stay behind me!” she shouted, attacking the green mist.
Thaya struggled to rise to her feet. She managed after a few deeply taxing attempts, only to find another shade forming just a few feet away. Her heart was forever still, and yet she swore she could feel it throbbing.
Cassandra was occupied with the other monster and could not save her.
She glanced around at the wreckage behind her, desperately hoping for anything she could defend herself with. There were no weapons nor blades, only a splintered length of support beam. Thaya lunged towards it, picking it up and wielding the unruly piece of wood like a quarterstaff.
The shade floated towards her, and she swung her makeshift staff at it. The stick passed straight through the shade’s transparent body but seemed to do some damage. So, she swung and swung, and eventually the green monstrosity faded back into the mist from whence it came. Thaya crumbled over, resting the stick against her knees, and sucking in deep breaths.
When she finally had the strength to straighten up, Cassandra was in front of her, pointing her sword at Thaya’s face. “Drop your weapon, now,” she ordered.
The stick tumbled from her hands, and Thaya dropped to her knees habitually. “My apologies, Miss Cassandra,” she said, bowing her head onto the ice.
Flustered, Cassandra reached down and pulled her back up by the arm. “Get up,” she barked. “You can take the branch with you. I cannot protect you, and I cannot expect you to be defenseless.”
Thaya gingerly picked the scrap of wood up and used it to support her weight. “Thank you, Miss Cassandra.”
The woman made a garbled sound in the back of her throat in response and said nothing more as she continued along the river. They trudged up a small hill, and then another, covered in old stone steps.
“We’re getting close to the rift. You can hear the fighting,” Cassandra announced.
“Who is fighting, if I may ask?”
“You’ll see soon. We must help them.”
They jumped over a stone wall at the top of the stairs and landed in a demolished courtyard of sorts. There were two nondescript soldiers, a high elf, and a dwarf with a fancy crossbow fighting a number of strange looking demons and shades that had poured out of the swirling green gap in the air. Cassandra rushed forward to help, and Thaya followed suit, doing what she could with just her stick.
When all the monsters had fallen, the elf rushed towards her.
“Quickly, before more come through!” he bayed, grabbing her marked hand and directing it towards the rift. A flash of green light blasted out of her palm with a fierce tingling sensation, closing the small chasm. He released her hand, and she examined it gently.
“Do you think it can close the big one?” she asked him shyly.
“Possibly...” he answered, cataloging her appearance with a strange, somewhat suspicious expression. “Whatever magic opened the Breach in the sky also placed that mark upon your hand. 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... It also seems that you hold the key to our salvation.”
The dwarf stepped towards them, and the elf dampened the look on his face. No one had questioned her appearance yet: the unnatural pallor of her skin, the bloody color of her eyes, or the sharpness of her teeth. But he couldn’t have figured her out already, not with the way she was miraculously standing in broad daylight. She would have to be careful around him, whatever his suspicions were.
“Good to know! Here I thought we’d be ass deep in demons forever,” the dwarf butt in. “Varric Tethras: rogue, storyteller, and occasionally unwelcome tagalong,” he introduced himself charmingly, winking at Cassandra—who scowled.
“Pleased to meet you, sir Tethras,” Thaya inclined her head.
“No need for the formalities, kid,” he laughed awkwardly. “So… we ready to go?”
“Absolutely not,” Cassandra scoffed. “Your help is appreciated, Varric, but…”
“Have you been in the valley lately, Seeker? Your soldiers aren’t in control anymore. You need me,” he countered.
Cassandra scoffed but did not object any further.
“My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions,” the elf smiled faintly. “I’m pleased to see you still live.”
“He means, ‘I kept the mark from killing you while you slept,’” Varric interjected.
“Thank you, sir,” she nodded softly to Solas.
“Save your thanks until we manage to close the Breach without killing you, da’len,” he replied softly. “Cassandra, you should know: the magic involved here is unlike any I have ever seen… I find it difficult to imagine any one mage having such power.”
“Understood,” Cassandra nodded. “We must get to the forward camp, quickly,” she said, leading the way down the bank before anything else could be said.
The four of them climbed through the rubble, down a steep, narrow path. Demons kept manifesting along the way. The endless fighting was exhausting.
“You are not Dalish, are you: too young for vallaslin, or are you from a city?” Solas questioned as they traversed along a frozen riverbank.
“I’m from Baldur’s Gate,” Thaya answered timidly. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean by Dalish.”
“You’ve never heard of the Dalish?” Varric asked incredulously.
The gossip surrounding her origins clearly had yet to spread up the mountain proper. The ‘timid slave far from home’ visage would suit her well. It was real enough that she would be able to keep up the appearance with no trouble, so long as she could hide her true nature.
“My master forbade us from leaving the city,” she said with a small, self-pitying smile. “I am sure there is much I’ve never heard of.”
Solas sucked in a sharp breath. Varric looked towards Cassandra with wide eyes, searching for confirmation, and the woman’s face softened uncharacteristically.
“Well... shit, kid,” he murmured.
They continued walking silently, until the mark flared again, sending shooting pains up Thaya’s arm. She inhaled sharply and clutched the cursed hand to her chest.
“Are you alright?” Varric asked, eying her warily.
Thaya hummed, but it came out pained and watery. She could feel them watching her as they climbed some wide stone steps, getting closer and closer to the mountain top.
“So... are you innocent?”
“I cannot remember a thing,” she confessed.
“That’ll get you every time,” Varric said. “Should have spun a story.”
Cassandra scoffed, “That’s what you would have done.”
He had nothing to say in response.
The steps narrowed before them, winding upwards. There were more demons and shades along the way that they had to take down. It was beyond grueling. Thaya was usually not allowed so much physical exertion; her master and his “friends” liked her soft, spare, and pliant.
Eventually, they arrived at what Cassandra referred to as the forward camp.
They approached a bridge, where a cleric of sorts was arguing with the cloaked woman from earlier. There were more corpses lying around, thinly veiled in shrouds of canvas and rope. The leaking bodies called to her gnawing stomach, even as stale and half-congealed as they were. She let her eyes flutter closed briefly as she grounded herself with deep breaths.
The cleric was yelling.
“Ah, here they come,” he spat derisively.
“You made it,” said the woman from earlier, raking her eyes over Thaya’s body. “Chancellor Roderick, this is—”
“I know who she is,” he snapped. “As Grand Chancellor of the Chantry, I hereby order you to take this criminal to Val Royeaux to face execution!”
Thaya kept her head low, affecting her best innocent impression. She had never heard of Val Royeaux, or the Chantry; this was definitely some strange mountain cult, she decided. Her eyes watched the shadows of those around her as she played timid and scared. She would need to drain at least one of them to muster the strength to take down the rest, but if she timed it right…
“'Order me’? You are a glorified clerk. A bureaucrat!” Cassandra shouted back.
The cleric did not like that. He raised his voice, tossing around some insults. It seemed like he did not have quite as much authority as he tried to claim. Cassandra and the cloaked woman—Leliana, it seemed—held more power. Thaya would have to endear herself to them; she would do whatever it took to get home.
Cassandra and Leliana argued about which route to take, ignoring Chancellor Roderick’s protestations.
“How do you think we should proceed?” Cassandra asked, turning around towards Thaya—who had been hanging behind, seen but not heard.
She gaped up the women, genuinely surprised they would put such a choice in her hands, but playing up her reaction regardless.
“If I may be so brash, Miss Cassandra,” she paused, carefully considering her words. “The soldiers should be able to hold their own either way, but the scouts…” she trailed off, letting the implication hang in the air. It would make her seem kind, soft.
Cassandra frowned slightly but nodded. Varric, however, seemed to approve wholeheartedly. The dwarf gave her a thumbs up from where he leaned against a barrel off to the side of the table the cult leaders were arguing around, looking proud of her for speaking up. He gave off a rake-with-a-heart-of-gold impression, one that she would make use of if it came down to it.
“Leliana, bring everyone left in the valley,” Cassandra ordered.
Once again, their little group set off.