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heavymetalmuppet · 5 months ago

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sycamore girl || chapter 1: awaken

"What didn't you do to bury me but you forgot that I was a seed." - Dinos Christianopoulos Adahlee, a girl from the Ostwick alienage, wakes up in a place where no one knows her, with the unraveling world's last chance in her palm. Orphaned and with nothing left to lose, Adahlee makes the choice to live, or die trying—a choice that teaches her her own worth.

HELLO EVERYONE!!!! since da4 is really happening, im finally finishing up and publishing this story that means so very much to me. anyone could have grabbed that orb, and a couple years back i thought: what if it was a teenage girl, and how would that make inquisition different? and adahlee came into being. also just a general dai rewrite b/c i can do it better and so can adahlee lol. hoping to have it all out before the fall release so wish me luck!!!! this can be a mostly recap of inquisition for everyone before the new game :)

please check out the chapter masterlist for general series tags/what to expect and to jump to different chapters as i post them. not all chapters have accompanying art (this one does) but all art is by me!!!! i apologize for the length of this chapter, the others won't be nearly so long lol

ADAHLEE STORY START!!!!!

word count: 7820 warnings: canon-typical violence, familial death, panic attacks, some description of injuries/blood and corpses (not gory tho) next >

also available on ao3

—

There was nothing of the world but a strange hum, and crackling like fire. Everything was a haze; dirt and stone beneath her hands as she wobbled, then stood, and opened her eyes to green fog. It was some murky in-between, where the earth beneath her feet didn’t feel real, and there were whispers in the mist.

Then—a skitter. And another, and another. She whipped her head around, frantic, the nothingness was pressing in on her—

Monsters came shrieking from the dusk, eyes beady and fangs dripping, shapes familiar yet broken, and they were vicious and hungry, screaming, screaming, and she didn’t have breath to scream herself as she ran. The pound of her sprint against dirt was like thunder, too loud, too much, but not enough—so small she could be torn to shreds by the creatures that clawed at her heels. She clambered up steep stone stairs with a sob wrenching from her throat, echoing in the vast hollowness. They were coming. Something was coming.

A beacon shone above her like a beam of sunlight in a cave. She wasn’t sure if it was quite real, but the light offered a hand, and it was genuine. A woman, a protective force, a guide, soft like she had never known.

The sickness was shrieking up behind her, and she wanted out, out, out. She took the guide's hand. Her stomach flipped as she was rendered weightless. She could fly.

Racing towards an open emerald curtain, ushered surely forward with a shield at her back, her palm cracked open like dry ground in summer, and a green sun poured forth, searing and instant and she thought she would die—

Ashy stone rushed up to greet her. Real stone. Real scratches on her cheek. But the fire in her blood remained as she plunged into darkness.

—

“Is the child—”

“Yes, hush. We mustn't startle.”

More whispers, barely tangible, but decidedly real. The air felt wrong, and the burn pulsed up her left arm, all through her; she whimpered, and tried to shift away. Away from who? From what? Just away, she wanted away. Curling up, she realized she was on something soft. Blankets—she was covered by blankets, layered against cold that brushed her cheeks and pointed ears. She slid her head beneath the covers, eyes still squeezed shut.

“Don’t be afraid; you’re safe.”

It was a murmur from the second voice that spoke, by the edge of what must have been her cot. She froze—maybe if she was still, they would think her still asleep. These strangers would leave her alone, and she could run back… somewhere.

Where? Where was she? What happened in that fog? Those demons—those were demons, but the light wasn’t, her hand still throbbed and the air tasted sharp, and that wasn't fully real but this was—

A sob of fear broke through her parched throat, and she slapped both hands over her mouth, then winced. Her cover was blown.

“We will not hurt you,” said the first voice firmly.

She shook her head, tears stinging her eyes.

Those eyes flew open to an emerald spark, a cry of pain ripping from her throat. Her hand seized as she thrashed, tearing her from the covers and into the cool, electric air.

“It’s alright.” The second voice was steady and soft against her terror, long hands with warm light hovering over hers. Magic! She looked up, and there was an elven man at her bedside with his brows furrowed, his magic seeping into her palm and flooding her veins. The girl sighed with relief as the pain dulled.

Her palm still shone, and she looked closer. The crack was like an open wound, but strangely beautiful; green like the fog swirled within, light dancing across her skin.

Eyes were watching her, she could feel it. She looked back up at the strangers now: there was the elven man, a mage, sitting on a stool. A human woman sat next to him, her features sharp and lined with scars, eyes intent. Another stood further back, red hair peeking from a hood, cloaked in the shadows of the dimly-lit room. The girl knotted her hands in the hem of her blankets, pulled them to her chin, and backed away til she hit the stone wall.

“What is your name?” Asked the woman closest to her; so she was the first voice. The girl shifted uncomfortably and said nothing.

The third in the back, she noted, had been quiet. This woman radiated calm. “How old are you?” The redhead tried instead, careful and accented Orlesian.

She looked between the three, then around at the room. It held only another empty cot on the other side, and a table stacked with herbs, bottles, and parchment. The door was out of reach, behind the redhead. No windows.

They weren’t attacking her. She was being healed—by an elven mage, no less. The closer human seemed intent, but not aggressive. The girl's instincts were on edge, yet found nothing to spark it into action.

Slowly, she cracked open her dry mouth. “Fifteen.”

The closest human drew her brows together. Slightly, the woman in the back hung her head. The elven man tried to school his expression, but she could see something change in his eyes.

She had a million questions turning over in her head, but the first to come out were, “Who are you? Where am I?” Shakily, she held up her hand. “What—what is this?”

The nearest woman sighed. “I am Cassandra Pentaghast, Seeker of the Chantry.” She turned and presented the other behind her. “This is Leliana.” Leliana only nodded.

“My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions,” the elven man spoke. “We are in Haven, the village at the base of the Temple of Sacred Ashes.”

Haven? She didn’t remember coming here. She looked between them again, but still didn’t move. Names didn’t tell her much, and she had never heard of a Seeker.

“As for that mark…” The Seeker clasped her hands together, all her focus bearing down in a way that made the girl gulp. “It is a strange magic, the likes of which we have never seen. You do not know what it is?”

The girl shook her head frantically. “I—I’ve never seen this before, I promise!” Her lip trembled. “I don’t know what it is, I'm sorry—”

Solas held up a hand. The girl trembled. “You are frightening my patient, Seeker.”

Cassandra leaned back, her eyes going soft. “My apologies,” she said quietly. Gentler now, she asked instead: “Do you recall what happened?”

The girl shook her head again.

“Do you remember the Conclave?” asked Leliana. The girl nodded, and Leliana continued: “The temple was destroyed in a great explosion; our soldiers found you among the rubble. The blast itself was, apparently, of magical means.”

Solas jumped in. “Yes. We do not know how, or why; only that it was powerful enough to tear a hole in the Veil.”

She lurched forward. The soundless thrum in the air made sense now, and a shudder ran down her spine. “A hole in the Veil?” She repeated in a trembling voice.

Solas nodded. “And, it likely put that mark on your hand.”

She loosened her iron grip on her blankets to look at it again, gleaming and buzzing, and her insides twisted with confusion and fear.

Then, her breath stopped, and she lifted her head, wary of the answer to her question: “Where is my mother?”

The room was deathly silent, and coldness spread in the pit of her stomach.

“Was your mother at the Conclave with you?” Leliana asked quietly.

“Yes.” The word tremored. “We were hired as servants…”

More stony silence.

It was Solas who broke it. “I’m sorry.” He met her eyes, stark and grim. “You were the only survivor.”

The world stopped.

She could feel the breath leave her, she could feel the tears well and fall, but she was blank. Her face felt slack, and she shook, and shook. There was nothing before her eyes, and nothing within her, like her heart was suspended in midair. Another in-between.

“I am sorry.” Cassandra’s tone was genuine and empathetic, and the girl heard the words, but they were lost to her.

“It’s shock. We must allow for time, if we can…” Solas murmured.

Leliana spoke quietly: “I don’t know if we have time.”

She was torn from her suspension with a scream as the mark burst again, blazing through her veins. Firm but gentle, Solas took her forearm, and his magic flowed against the mark, but it still hurt, and there was something like thunder outside but wrong, and she gasped like she couldn’t breathe—

“Look at me,” Cassandra insisted gently. “Follow my lead. We are going to breathe deeply into our bellies.” The girl nodded, panicked. “In through our noses.” She followed as Cassandra took a deep breath in, letting it fill the emptiness in her. “And out slowly through the mouth.” It was shaky, and a bit too fast, but it was air in her lungs. “Again now. In… and out.”

She breathed with Cassandra through the pain until it settled, like a growling beast backing down. Solas gestured behind him. “A potion, please.”

Leliana handed him a bottle from the desk, and he uncorked it and held it out. “Drink all of this. It will help.”

She stared at the potion. Mother told her not to eat or drink anything she didn’t say was okay. But Mother wasn’t here anymore, was she?

“I promise, it will help. It's bitter, but not poisoned; we have no reason to bring you harm.”

Mother wasn’t here anymore. She took the potion. It was bitter, but she drank it all down, and already it smoothed the sharp edges of the mark and brought colour to her cheeks. She handed back the empty bottle with a quiet, “Thank you.”

Cassandra began: “Child, I know this must be frightening, and devastating. You need rest, and time… but I am afraid we need your help.”

Wide-eyed and confused, she looked between them all. “The tear in the Veil,” Solas explained, “we call it the Breach. Demons are pouring forth from the Fade into this plane. There are smaller rifts opening in its wake, and I theorize that your mark may be the key to close them; possibly the Breach, as well.”

She stared, shocked. “Why?”

Cassandra shook her head. “It is our best guess. You fell from a rift at the site of the explosion.”

Her head spun, remembering the emerald curtain and the taste of soot. “I—” her voice tremored, “I was in the Fade?”

“Bodily, yes,” Cassandra replied starkly. “The first and only since the magisters walked the Golden City.”

The notion weighed so heavy, she thought it would crush her. She could practically feel the blood drain from her face again. “I know it is unsettling—but the threat at hand is urgent,” Cassandra continued. “Your mark flares when the Breach does… and it is spreading until it will swallow the world.”

Solas' face was set stern. “As it grows, so does your mark. I am doing all I can, but… it is slowly killing you.”

Tears sprang to her eyes again, and she quickly wiped them away. The slow memory of fire from the mark crept up her arm. Her lip trembled, but she bit down; she would not cry out.

Leliana spoke again, careful: “We do not wish for your harm, or your death. We may be able to save you; and you, in turn, would save us all.”

Despite her best efforts, words still choked out: “Why me?”

Cassandra’s expression crumbled in sympathy. “I wish I knew; and I wish I could carry the burden in your stead. But we can at least share it with you.”

Solas looked away, and scooted his stool back. “Do you think you can walk? We must take you to the Breach—but first, we need to see if that mark can close smaller rifts.”

Cassandra stood. “We will protect you.”

She trembled still, and shivered as she pulled back the blankets. The floor was cold beneath her bare feet. Cassandra offered a hand, and hesitantly, she took it. It was wobbly, but she stood, and took a few steps. “I can walk.”

Leliana nodded. “I will send for some boots, and warmer clothes.”

“Find a waterskin and something light to eat as well, if you can,” Solas added. Leliana nodded again and slipped out the door like a shadow.

Solas began packing more potions, and Cassandra let go of her hand, talking as the girl stretched. “You have been unconscious for three days. The mages and templars' leaders died in the blast, as did Divine Justinia.” Cassandra sounded unsteady again, but breathed, and continued. “Do you have any other family?”

The girl paused, and shook her curly head. She was alone; and she felt it.

“My condolences will not do much, but again… I am so sorry for your loss.”

She hung her head, and said nothing.

“My apologies. We need not speak of it now.”

As quickly as she had left, Leliana stepped back in. “Your supplies will be here momentarily.”

“… Thank you,” the girl said meekly.

“There is no need for thanks,” Leliana assured. There was a knock, and Leliana opened the door just enough for a murmured exchange and a bundle. Then, she handed it over as the door shut. “Here.”

“That food and drink is for you,” Solas said as the bundle was set on the cot. “Don’t eat too fast, or you may feel sick, but you will need your strength.”

As the girl layered up between nibbles of bread, Leliana asked: “What do you remember?”

“I…” She perched on the edge of her cot. All eyes were on her, and she shrunk back.

“We are your allies in this,” Cassandra reassured. “You need not be afraid.”

Hesitantly, she continued. “I was in the Temple. I was… fetching something? We—my mother and I—” Her voice trembled. “We were employed to observing knights, from the Free Marches. And then… I don’t know. The next thing I remember is—is the Fade.” She was edging into dangerous territory now, and she swallowed. “There were… creatures,” she decided to say.

“Demons,” Solas clarified what she would not, and she went cold. Her fear must have been apparent, because he reassured: “We will not hurt you. We know you are not possessed; I would have been able to sense a demon within you. There is none.”

Her hands were shaking where they clenched around her piece of hard bread, and her words, forbidden words, came out in a strained whisper. “You know I'm a mage?”

Solas gave her a very small smile. “It is possible to feel another’s magic, with the proper attunement. You will not be harmed for it here, da'len.”

The Elvish was semi-familiar, a whisper of a memory that slightly eased the clench around her neck. She glanced fearfully between the two humans, but neither were phased. Instead, Leliana spoke with steel, not sharp, but strong: “None of our people will hurt you.”

“We will keep you safe.” Cassandra's words were fierce, but the ferocity wasn’t pinned to her throat. For once, she believed it.

“Okay.” It came out in a breathless rush. “Okay.” She considered for a moment, and then continued. “There were… demons. They were chasing me. But then there was… a woman.”

“A woman?” Leliana repeated. Cassandra's eyes widened, and the two glanced at each other.

“What was this woman doing?” Cassandra pressed.

“I… I think she was protecting me. She was leading me… out? And then... the mark.” She frowned at the thing. “It lit up. And burned. And then I wasn’t in the Fade anymore… and I woke up here.”

Leliana nodded. “This may help us. Thank you.”

Surprised, she blinked. “I… you're welcome.”

Solas grabbed a staff that was set near the desk. “Come now, we must make our way.”

“Sorry,” she muttered, trying to close clasps with shaky hands.

“You need not apologize.”

She was about to say sorry again, then held back. Throwing her hood over her head, she stood, waterskin hooked to her belt and wrapped bread in a pocket. “I’m ready.”

The door opened, and she was led down the hall of what she realized was a chantry. There were people bustling to and fro, heads low and muttering or toting supplies. The great wooden doors were thrown open, and she winced; green-grey light reflected brightly off the snow. And up in the sky—she gasped.

“That is the Breach,” Solas confirmed solemnly.

It really was a hole in the heavens. Bright green clouds swirled like the center of a storm, pulsing with the mark shining even through her glove. She could feel it like a second heartbeat.

“Come.” Cassandra gestured forward, and the four walked a trodden path. A sea of unfamiliar faces stared as she passed, clamour dropping to murmurs. She pulled her hood down further, and wrapped her cloak closer. Cassandra's hand landed lightly on her shoulder, guiding and careful. Mother isn’t here anymore. She leaned into the touch.

“I will meet you all at the forward camp,” Leliana said. “Alright?” The woman seemed to be asking her. The girl nodded.

“Can you fight?” Cassandra inquired.

She shook her head, frantic. “Will I need to?”

“I will direct a party to accompany you, so we can avoid that. You will be protected,” Leliana assured. Then, she walked ahead, talking to a hooded figure along the path, and she lost sight of the woman as they passed.

“Do you know how to use your magic?” Solas asked as they continued.

“I know how to hide it,” she muttered.

“How long have you been hiding it?”

Her shoulders slumped forward, like she was trying to curl in on herself. “Over a year. Mother told me to.”

“Hmm.” Solas sounded displeased.

“I’m sorry,” she rushed out again, “I know it came in late, Mother was so angry, she said I would put us in danger—”

“She had no reason to be angry with you.” She looked up, and Solas was looking back down at her steadily. “If she was concerned with danger, she should have blamed those harbouring hatred for magic, not you. Magic is not a curse. You have done nothing wrong, and there is nothing wrong with you.”

She stared. Then whipped over to Cassandra, who considered her, and then simply nodded. “Oh.” It was a quiet sound, barely heard over the crunch of snow and whistle of wind. They fell silent now, but the words turned over and over again in her head, trying to fit like a disjointed puzzle.

The path sloped steadily up. Scouts and soldiers came to flank them, and more dotted the sparse mountain path, crouching behind spiked barriers. She kept Cassandra in her line of sight before her, and inched closer to Solas when she heard shouts in the distance; he reassured her, and reminded her to drink her water. But she flinched when an unnatural shriek echoed in the wind.

“You’re okay.” The quiet reassurance came from an elven soldier behind her. She observed their calm demeanor, took a deep breath, and nodded.

As they climbed, she spotted a templar lying face down in the snow. Unmoving. Twisted wrong. She barely bit back a cry, and stumbled away, into Solas. He steadied her with a hand on her shoulder. “Keep moving,” he murmured, guiding her forward. She swallowed, and was torn between looking away and staring at the corpse as they passed. The violence wrought in the broken, nameless form brought a lump to her throat, which remained even once it was out of sight. That was a person, she thought. She hastily, covertly wiped away tears before they could fall.

Frosty earth turned to cobbled stone beneath her; they had reached a bridge, arcing over a frozen river. The pebbles about her feet began to rattle as a rumble started in the sky and within her. Her hand clenched, and she screamed, falling to her knees as green fire burst from the swirling clouds and something big whistled down—

“Look out!” She didn’t know who yelled, but there was a massive THOOM as the bridge shattered, and the world was sent tumbling as they all landed and slid along ice. Her side ached, her hand burned, yet she managed to place both palms on the ice, trembling as she tried to push up. Someone rushed over.

“Are you hurt?” It was Cassandra, sounding soft for all the chaos around them.

A ghastly wheeze filled the air before she could reply, and she looked to the sound—and scrambled back with a cry. Gliding towards them was a nightmare made manifest, like she had seen of the demons that clawed at her dreams, a shade whose darkness curled ever closer across the ice. Before she could scream, before she could run, Cassandra drew her sword and charged.

A flurry of battle erupted as another shade ghosted forth, green wisps danced in the distance, and ice bolts were flying along with arrows. All she could do was slide helplessly backwards until her back hit a snowy bank, watching the chaos as pain pierced her arm.

It was over as quickly as it began, the last shade howling as it faded into nothing, and Cassandra rushed over and helped her stand. “Come, quickly!” She was led up the frozen riverbank with an arm around her shoulders. “We must make it to the forward camp.”

She huddled close to Cassandra and trembled, but kept going, making haste through the snow. Magic and arrows streaked ahead to hit strange wisps, dissipating them in the wind before they could come near. She was ushered down an icy path, grasping Cassandra for purchase, and it opened up into another expanse of the riverbank. Cassandra let go of her to slide down with fierce grace, the other soldiers at her heels, and let loose a cry at the demons that bubbled like lava. Even as the creatures roared unlike anything on that plane, even as a bowstring twanged and Solas' staff cut through the air like a whip, her world narrowed to the burnt husks of two homes on opposite ends of the bank. One had its door hanging on its hinges; one didn’t even have a door. The emptiness seemed to swallow her whole.

She was urged forward again, and with help, slid down one side of the river and clambered up the other. “We’re getting close to the rift!” Cassandra panted, “You can hear the fighting!”

“Who’s fighting?”

“You will see soon. We must help them.”

They rounded the path, jumped down a stone ledge, and Cassandra leapt into the fray. A group of people and demons alike were clustered beneath swirling green light, shouting and shrieking. Magic blasted and crossbow bolts thump thump thumped into strangely real phantoms, she could feel the rift whispering, and she stumbled back—

A rattle sounded to her right. A shadowy demon crawled from the murk, clawing through the snow, towards her—she threw out her hand with a shout, lightning crackling in an arc and shocking the thing apart. Her fingers buzzed, and she stared in awe.

“Quickly, before more come through!” Solas grabbed her other wrist and held it to the tear. She startled as power sprung forth, a bright thrum that streamed from the mark to the hole in the Veil and rattled her bones—and with a final burst, the light faded into faint mist, then nothing.

All was quiet. Then, a palpable sigh ran through the whole group.

“What did you do?” She asked Solas quietly, holding her left hand that still tingled.

“I did nothing. The credit is yours.”

“Me?” She gazed at the strange light in her palm, shifting as though through patterned glass.

“Yes. It seems my theory was correct.”

Cassandra joined them. “Meaning the mark could close the Breach itself.”

“Possibly,” Solas reminded her.

“Good to know!” A voice piped up. “I thought we'd be ass-deep in demons forever.” A dwarf stepped forward, shouldering his crossbow. He smiled at her. “Varric Tethras: rogue, storyteller, and occasionally,” he winked at Cassandra, “unwelcome tagalong.” Cassandra simply scowled.

“Varric Tethras?” The girl blinked in surprise. “The author? The Champion's friend?”

“Well, I'm certainly not Varric Tethras the court jester, though I may as well be. Maybe I should consider a new career path.” Despite everything, it managed to get a quiet little laugh from her. “My point exactly.” Varric grinned. “But for now, there’s demons to fight.”

“Absolutely not,” Cassandra said sharply, stepping forward. “Your help is appreciated, Varric, but…”

“Have you been in the valley lately, Seeker? Your soldiers aren’t in control anymore. You need me.”

Varric's sly grin held steady, and the two faced off for a moment. The girl glanced between them, until Cassandra backed off with a grunt. “We must make our way to the forward camp.”

She realized the other soldiers and scouts had dispersed, some moving ahead already, others picking their way back down with injured. The elven soldier raised their hand to her in a silent wave, and she waved back shyly before they turned the path.

“This way,” Cassandra beckoned over a heap of rubble, “the path forward is blocked.” She took Cassandra's hands and stepped over, and the four of them now picked their way along a rocky outcrop.

“Well.” Varric chuckled. “Bianca’s excited.”

“Bianca?” The girl asked.

Cassandra scoffed. “His crossbow.”

“Hey, don’t use that tone with her. Bianca’s been out here saving your soldiers, Seeker.” Varric looked over his shoulder at Bianca, gazing lovingly, before turning back to the girl. “What about you, kid? What’s your name?”

She fell quiet again. She shied away, into her cloak, and looked down at the path as it steadied and widened.

“Ah, don’t worry about it.” Varric waved it off in a well-meaning manner. “Some folks, I could go through a bar’s worth of drinks with, and I still won’t know their name. A mountain’s worth of demons—probably the same thing, right?”

She chuckled lightly again, one hand against cool rock as she made it up the slope. Something brushed her head, and she looked up—it was a pine branch, the needles catching on her hood. They were heading into a little grove now, a quiet place winding between the trees. She looked out over the mountain range, and her breath caught; the icy caps glimmered, snowflakes drifting on the breeze beneath an endless sky. The air still buzzed with unknown magic, but the wind blew the smoke away from here, and it tasted crisp—it tasted like freedom.

The girl filled her lungs with cold mountain air, and breathed out steam. As they climbed deeper into the pines, she said softly: “Adahlee.”

All three looked to her, and she was nervous, but she imagined the roots of the evergreens deep in the earth, and she stood just as strong. She placed her hand on a sticky trunk as they climbed. “My name is Adahlee.”

“Adahlee,” Cassandra repeated, and a smile bloomed on Adahlee's face. Cassandra held out a hand for her. “Thank you for trusting us.”

Adahlee beamed as she took Cassandra’s hand, stepping over a jagged rock.

Solas hummed, looking contemplative. “Do you know what your name means, da’len?”

“Yes—'tree!'” Adahlee chirped excitedly. “With '-ee' on the end… cause it sounds pretty.” It came out a shy murmur.

Varric grinned, and there was something in his eyes that gave the impression of understanding. “That’s a great name. Y’know, I picked my own; Varric Tethras just rolls off the tongue, don’t you think?”

Adahlee's curls bounced as she nodded, eyes wide and hopeful. She opened her mouth to say something, but closed it again. Maybe not; or maybe so, but now wasn’t the time. Varric must have noticed, because he gave her a kind and knowing smile.

When the camp's gates creaked open, Solas said to her, “I saw your lightning strike by that first rift. For having no training, it was surprisingly streamlined. Well done.” Adahlee smiled wide.

“And hey,” Varric added, “whatever that thing on your hand is, it’s useful.”

She walked into the forward camp feeling better for the praise, but Adahlee was still wary of all the faces. Some looked at her, some didn’t. There were people tending to injuries, and her eyes widened at the sight of skin ripped in long, bloody claw marks. There were some lumps like bodies under sheets in rows, and past the bustle around them, she stared dismally. Who were they? Who were their families? Did they have anyone to see them off? There were bloodstains on the canvas in some places, and it almost made her sway on her feet.

Gently, Cassandra guided her forward by her elbow. “Come,” she said softly. “There will be time for mourning later.”

Adahlee said nothing. Along the bridge, she could see Leliana standing across from someone in white Chantry robes.

“I have caused trouble?” Adahlee heard her say, distantly.

“You, Cassandra, the Most Holy—haven’t you all done enough already?”

“You are not in command here!”

“Enough! I will not have it!”

The man in white looked over Leliana's shoulder, scowling. “Ah,” he scoffed, “here they come.”

Adahlee shrank back from the scrutiny, but Cassandra stepped protectively in front of her. Leliana gave the man a cold look, then turned to the group. “You made it.”

Adahlee peered around Cassandra. “Um, Leliana?”

“Yes?” Leliana gave Adahlee her full attention.

Adahlee nervously shifted from foot to foot, and the glowering man behind Leliana did her no favours, but the woman's gentle tone eased her. She took a deep breath. “My name is Adahlee.”

Leliana's smile was small, but by no means strained or false. “Thank you, Adahlee.”

Adahlee smiled in turn, bright among the havoc and gloom. Leliana gestured to the man in white. “This is Chancellor Roderick. Chancellor, Adahlee is—”

“I know who she is,” the Chancellor sneered. He looked down his nose at her, and Adahlee’s smile fell away. The butterflies at ‘she’ were quelled by his glare; she wanted nothing more than to hide. “As Grand Chancellor of the Chantry, I hereby order you to take this criminal to Val Royeaux to face what punishment awaits.”

Adahlee's stomach dropped, and she locked up like a statue, staring at the Chancellor in terror. Criminal? What did I do wrong? What did I do wrong?

Cassandra slammed her hand on the table, making Adahlee jump. “Adahlee has committed no crime!”

“Oh? According to whom?” He looked at Solas with distaste. “This apostate?”

“It does not take a mage to see that no child could tear a hole in the sky,” Solas said coldly, “only someone with sense.”

Adahlee’s jaw dropped, and the words were pulled out of her before she could stop it: “You think I did this?”

The Chancellor's glare shut her mouth so fast her teeth clicked. Cassandra placed a strong hand on her shoulder. “I don’t.”

“Nor do I,” Leliana added.

Emboldened, or perhaps pushed to the edge, Adahlee spread her hand to the destruction around them. “Why would I do this to other people?” The words grew strained, and her cheeks were hot with shame from the tears in her eyes, but she felt the weight of the dead bodies and hollow homes, and couldn’t hold back. “Why would I do this to myself?” She held her hand up now, where the mark burned bright through her glove.

“We know you didn’t. It’s okay,” Varric soothed. Adahlee didn’t respond, her mouth twisted up in an attempt not to cry.

She didn’t want to look directly in the Chancellor's face, but she could see something in him drag down, and he hunched his shoulders—in defeat, or in an attempt to block the icy glares his way, Adahlee wasn’t sure. “Call a retreat, Seeker,” he finally said to Cassandra. “Our position here is hopeless.”

Cassandra leaned forward instead, her eyes hard. “We can stop this before it’s too late.”

“How? You won’t survive long enough to reach the Temple, even with all your soldiers.”

“We must get to the Temple. It’s the quickest route.”

“But not the safest,” Leliana interjected. “Our forces can charge as a distraction while we go through the mountains.”

Cassandra shook her head. “We lost contact with an entire squad on that path. It is too risky.”

“Listen to me.” Chancellor Roderick leaned forward with his hands on the table, and there was something desperate in him. “Abandon this now, before more lives are lost.”

There was a flash as the Breach thundered overhead, and Adahlee's hand shuddered and glowed with power, a strange hissing in the air. Cassandra still held her shoulder, steadying, and gave her a gentle squeeze. “How do you think we should proceed?”

Adahlee whipped her head up. “Me?”

“Her?” Roderick gaped.

Cassandra glared daggers at him. “We cannot decide amongst ourselves.” She looked back to Adahlee. “You have the mark, and you are the one we must protect. You should have a say.”

Adahlee stood, disbelieving. She glanced between the faces; all wore patient looks, except for Roderick. She knotted her hands together, looked away, then between Solas and Varric. “Uh… what do you think?”

“It does not matter to me either way,” Solas said. “What is important is that we get you there safely.”

Varric expressed much the same in a simple, helpful shrug. Adahlee wrung her hands. The thought of using people as distractions made her feel sick. If it was up in the air how safe the pass was, and they had to get there alive…

“I think…” She began, hesitant, but no one took back their word. She continued: “If it’s risky either way, I'd rather take a risk in numbers. I want to march with the soldiers.”

Cassandra smiled lightly, and it set Adahlee's frayed nerves at ease. “Then we march.” She turned to the other woman. “Leliana, bring everyone left in the valley. Everyone.”

Adahlee walked in step with Cassandra as they moved forward. In passing, Adahlee heard the Chancellor mutter: “On your head be the consequences, Seeker.”

Cassandra continued on with her sight set, and Adahlee turned from the camp, looking determinedly up at the mountaintop, too.

—

“The Temple of Sacred Ashes,” Solas murmured when they reached it.

“What’s left of it,” Varric added.

The magic was stronger here, a palpable buzz along her skin. Jagged spikes of rock shot up from the ground, some crackling Fade green.

“That is where you walked out of the Fade, and our soldiers found you,” Cassandra noted softly. Adahlee followed her sight, and found rocky ground blasted flat, signs of scuffles in the ash. “They say there was a woman behind you, just as you mentioned.” Cassandra paused. “Do you know who she was?”

Adahlee stared out at the flaming rubble. She bowed her head. “No.”

“That’s alright,” Solas assured, “We can figure that out later. Let’s get to the Breach.”

In the midst of the ruin, spiked edges of the torn Veil contused in midair, shattered pieces of a divine image floating disjointed where it jolted. Fade essence swirled from the rift, up, up into the Breach. Adahlee craned her neck, but could only see light and stormy clouds.

“This rift was the first, and it is the key,” Solas said quietly. “Seal it, and perhaps we seal the Breach.”

Cassandra stood unwavering at her side. “Are you ready?”

Adahlee didn’t tear her gaze from the Breach. Her hand throbbed, and she felt stretched thin, like a breath of wind would blow her away.

Somehow, she managed to swallow. Somehow, she stayed upright. “I’m ready.”

And somehow, she managed to put one foot in front of the other. But a chill rattled in her bones as a drone echoed through the temple: “Now is the hour of our victory.”

Adahlee felt the hair of her neck stand on end. Something about that was wrong. Something was very, very wrong.

“Bring forth the sacrifice.”

“What are we hearing?” Cassandra asked, wary. Adahlee could feel Cassandra’s hand hover protectively at her back as Leliana's scouts glanced around.

“At a guess,” Solas said, “the person who created the Breach.”

Adahlee shivered.

Picking down a path and clambering over debris, with archers guarding her way, Adahlee spotted something up ahead. It was a shock of bright, bright red, like a bleeding wound from the rock.

“You know that’s red lyrium, Seeker,” Varric said, cautious.

“I see it, Varric.”

“But what’s it doing here?”

“Magic could have drawn on lyrium beneath the temple, corrupted it…” Solas trailed off.

Varric sighed, and steered Adahlee away from the spire. “It’s evil. Whatever you do, don’t touch it.”

“Keep the sacrifice still.” The voice shuddered through again; not a boom, but a slithering sound that made Adahlee feel cold.

“Someone help me!”

Adahlee startled at the words, spoken by another—

“That is Divine Justinia's voice!” Cassandra gasped.

They made haste now, Cassandra jumping down over a ledge, and holding out a hand to Adahlee. Once her feet touched the hard ground, the mark snapped and hissed; Adahlee held her wrist and tried not to whimper in pain as the rift sparked.

“Someone help me!” The Fade repeated.

A frightened cry echoed out, and Adahlee whipped her head up so fast her vision reeled—it was her own voice, a high-pitched shriek that vibrated in her ribcage, though it didn’t come from her throat.

“That was your voice.” Cassandra placed a grounding hand on her shoulder, but looked just as puzzled. “Most Holy called out to you, but…”

The mark glowed brighter and hotter, something like mist rising from it, and the crystalline shapes in midair burst to reveal a faded image. An old woman was suspended, her arms restrained; Adahlee didn’t recognize her, but could guess from her ornamental Chantry garb that it was Divine Justinia, her face contorted in fear. A shadowy figure loomed over her, impossibly tall, with fiery pits for eyes that bored into the Divine.

And then—her. Adahlee couldn’t breathe as she saw this projection of herself coalesce, seeming to peek out from nothing. The mirror image half-stifled a scream as it slapped a hand over its mouth, eyes wide in terror.

“Run while you can!” The Divine begged, struggling in her bonds. “Warn them!”

“We have an intruder.” The shadow turned its head to her, fire smoking in its wake. Her knees felt weak. Then, the thing raised a long, thin arm, and pointed a needle-like finger at her. “Slay the elf.”

Adahlee’s image collapsed to its knees, and in real time, she hit the ground with it as the apparition disappeared in Fade-flame.

“Adahlee!” Cassandra had a strong arm around her shoulders in an instant, but Adahlee could hardly feel it as her whole body tremored, panic shooting up her spine.

“Adahlee, look at me,” Solas said calmly, kneeling to meet her eyes, but she stared past him.

“It was going to kill me,” she sobbed, scrabbling back from where the Veil was broken and wrong, and she gasped, couldn’t find enough air. “It was going to kill me!”

“But you're alive.” Varric's voice was quiet next to her. “You’re alive! Whatever that thing was, it didn’t get you. You're right here, and you're alive, and breathing.” His face was a blur through her tears. “Breathe, okay?”

“Just as we did earlier,” Cassandra reminded her, and she remembered the movement. In through her nose, hold, out through her mouth. Deep and steadying in the belly. Adahlee’s tears fell, and then she could see her companions. Cassandra took a few more deep breaths with her, and offered her hand. Adahlee gladly held on tight.

“Do you remember none of that?” Cassandra asked gently. Adahlee shook her head, and Cassandra looked to Solas. “What was that vision?”

He gazed up, where strands of green flowed from the rift to the Breach. “An echo of what happened here. The Fade bleeds into this place.” Solas turned back to them. “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. However, opening the rift will likely attract attention from the other side.”

“That means demons,” Cassandra stated. Both of her hands covered Adahlee’s now. “Adahlee, are you ready?”

“We will protect you.” It was Leliana, standing quietly on the ledge above them. She already had an arrow notched loosely in her longbow. “Whatever comes through the rift, nothing shall reach you.”

“You got that right.” Varric patted her shoulder.

“When the demons come through, stay well back and let us deal with them.” Solas' tone was calm and even, quiet in the vast ruin. “Focus on opening the rift, and seal it after, just as we did before.”

Adahlee trembled still. “I don’t know if I can do it.”

“You can.” Cassandra said it with such startling certainty, and her eyes held a sort of determination Adahlee had never seen in another. “I know you can.”

“Give yourself more credit, kid.” Varric offered her a kind smile. “You survived so damn much up to this point, you can survive this, too. And you've already sealed a couple rifts.”

“Opening one should not be too different,” Solas pointed out. He reached into his pack for another small bottle of the bitter potion. “Here, have some for your strength. I will guide you through opening the rift. Alright?”

She took the bottle, and uncorked it. “Alright.” Adahlee downed half of it easily, then corked and handed it back. She wiped away the last of her tears. Cassandra helped her stand, and though her stomach was still in knots, her knees didn’t give out again. Cassandra gently squeezed her hand. Adahlee was so scared.

“You can do this,” Cassandra reminded her. “Say it with me, please. Even if you do not believe it.”

She didn’t believe it. But she would try. “I… can do this,” she said unevenly.

Satisfied, Cassandra nodded. “Stand ready!” Her voice echoed off the crumbled walls, and metal sang through the desolation as soldiers unsheathed their swords. Behind Adahlee, she could hear bowstrings pull taut, and Varric clanking Bianca into position.

“Raise the mark to the rift,” Solas instructed, his staff at the ready. “Focus on it as you would open a jammed lock.”

Shakily, Adahlee raised her hand, and a stream of light flickered before beaming to the rift. It felt like a crooked bone, in need of breaking to set it right. Her whole arm thrummed with the power of it, and she gritted her teeth, grounding her feet in the dirt.

She stumbled back as the rift blasted open, magic crackling in the air like lightning, and she watched as something massive crawled out. The ground shuddered as a giant, spiked demon landed, and rose with a thunderous roar.

A wall of arrows streaked towards the thing as soldiers charged, Cassandra with them, and Adahlee backed up shakily until she hit the stone ledge where Leliana stood, firing above her. The thing swatted at the arrows and blades, swordsmen at its feet dodging the swipe of gnarled claws. It growled and stomped across the ground, sparking with twisted magic.

Solas muttered an incantation and grasped in midair, and for a moment the demon's feet were encased in ice, long enough for Cassandra to sink her blade in the back of its knee. Its howl shook the pebbles at Adahlee’s feet, and it broke free of the ice—and with a terrifying crack, it conjured a lightning whip from nothing, Cassandra just dodging the sharp lash. Its ghoulish cackle rendered Adahlee paralyzed.

“Adahlee, try using the mark to disrupt the rift!” Solas couldn’t look her way as he said it, dropping shimmering barriers over two archers for the lightning to bounce off. “Jostling it may stun the demon, the rift is its connection to this world!”

“How?!” Adahlee cried; she stayed in her corner and trembled, the rift’s glow out of reach, and felt like nothing for it. “It’s too far away!”

“I got it! You cover her!” Varric took a running slide to the other end of the hollow ruin, and with a well-aimed shot, a bolt lodged itself deep in the demon's side. It bellowed with rage, and turned snarling in Varric's direction. For a moment, Adahlee stood horrified as it slowly advanced, and Varric just kept backing out of reach with a grin as soldiers lashed at its legs.

“Go!” Solas waved her over, and she remembered how to move again, sprinting just past him and engaging the tear. The force of the power physically vibrated her arm—but with something like a tug, the connection jolted, and the demon went crashing to its knees.

“Now!” Cassandra yelled, jumping on the creature’s back with her sword swinging.

Something skittered and hissed, and Adahlee didn’t have time to react before seeing an arrow shoot through a shade’s gleaming eye, then clatter to stone as it faded into nothing.

“More coming through!” Solas shouted, shards of ice dissipating a wisp as more floated like strange lights around the battlefield. One threw its arms forward, and a bolt of energy shot forth, straight at Adahlee—she curled her arms over her face and screamed—

The impact never came. She peered around her arms to see a barrier over her, its glimmer only just beginning to go out. In front of her, Solas fiercely swiped his staff, sending searing purple light flying. The wisp wasn’t there anymore. The air smelled of dirt and burning. Another demon slithered from the shadows, and Adahlee held her arms out like the wisp, willing something to come forth. “Leave me alone.” She gritted her teeth, and physically pushed; lightning from her hands blasted the demon into mist. “Leave me alone!”

The giant demon roared as Cassandra hung tight to its horn, and sank her blade deep behind the crest on its head. With a guttural, echoing scream, it crumbled and drifted like dust in the air; Cassandra landed easily with a roll in the dirt. “Now!” She cried to Adahlee, “Seal the rift!”

“Just as before!” Solas encouraged.

Stones crunched beneath her feet as Adahlee ran, then held her hand to the tear. Stitch the wound. Sweat beaded on her forehead. She could feel the power of the Veil through her whole being, shaking her core, a tremendous and terrible symphony from depths to stars. Everything was emerald, like before. But this—her final thought in the moment—this was real.

The blast was so loud it was silent, then thundering as it streaked and exploded, racing through the sky, and Adahlee's vision went green-white before black.

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #dai #sycamore girl #adahlee #writing #art #im zapping everyone with the trans beam jsyk

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