Chapter 1
Chapter 1:
Dark. Cold. Dirty. That’s what Phoebe sensed as she slowly rose to consciousness. But, things were always dark in her world. The young woman was born half blind, and had lost the rest of her sight when she was thirteen, during the fifth blight.
Phoebe was confused. Her mind was clouded, her right hand throbbed as if it were on fire, and she had no clue where she was. As she slowly came to her senses her eyes darted across the room, looking for what little light or shadow she could distinguish. She was focused on this mission she’d given herself in that moment; searching for the eyes she felt glaring in her direction. So focused, in fact, that she was completely caught off guard when a firm voice spoke from behind her.
“Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you now.”
The woman paused, letting her words sink in before continuing.
“The Conclave. Destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead. Except for you.” The woman seethed, disgust written in her final sentence.
Phoebe’s freckled face twisted from one of neutral panic to one of absolute confusion. Her voice was raspy, but she made an effort to respond.
“Dead? And you think I’m the one responsible?”
As soon as her mouth had closed, she felt a tight grip form around her wrist as her hand was brought toward her face. A harsh glow overwhelmed her scarcely existent vision. She shut her eyes and turned her head away just as a stern and rather familiar voice halted her companions actions.
“Cassandra.”
No command was uttered, merely a name. Her interrogator’s name. She heard a grunt come from the angered woman, Cassandra, before she spoke again.
“Explain that.”
“I’m not sure what you me-” Phoebe was quick to retort, but her captor was just as quick to cut her off.
“The mark. Tell me. About your mark.”
Phoebe heard footsteps slowly approaching her and her interrogator as she formulated a reply.
“I can’t… I don’t-” again, she was cut off. Only this time, this Cassandra woman had decided to use a physical approach once more. Cassandra gripped her shoulders and shouted,
“You’re lying!” Phoebe felt she was on the verge of being shaken in her captors rage until that familiar female’s voice yet again cut through the chaos like a knife.
“Cassandra!”
All activity stopped. Their attention turning toward the Orlesian in an instant.
“She is blind Cassandra. She cannot see the mark on her hand. Now leave her be. We need her.”
Phoebe couldn’t help but smile the slightest bit as Cassandra removed her iron grip from her shoulders. It had taken her a moment to think, but she knew the woman defending her well. It had been over a decade since she’d last heard the voice, but she would know it anywhere.
“Leliana,” she spoke the name fondly, her head turning in the direction of the kind-hearted redhead she knew long ago.
“Phoebe...”
Leliana smiled as she slowly approached her, kneeling down with the intention of having a far calmer conversation. She continued questioning where her far more aggressive partner had left off.
“What do you last remember? Do you know how this all began?”
Phoebe sighed, trying to force memories to the front of her brain that just weren’t there.
“I remember running… I think there were things chasing me and.. A woman? Yes, a woman’s voice… But I can’t remember what she said.” It was a rather pathetic recollection, but it was all the Fereldener could muster.
There was no immediate answer. Leliana took a moment to absorb what little information was given. She attempted to make sense of it all,
“...a woman?” Her reply was baffled, but truthfully, she couldn’t think of anything else to say. Luckily, she wouldn’t have to.
Phoebe heard the shuffling of feet as Cassandra began to speak again.
“Go to the forward camp, Leliana. I will take her to the rift.”
Leliana sighed, about to contest the notion, but decided against it.
“Keep her alive. That is all I ask,” were her parting words.
Phoebe felt her captors hands grip the chains that bound her, unlocking them in a hurry. She rubbed her wrists as they came off, but they were quickly replaced with rope binding.
“So, nobody made it out? Not even an old Mabari, by chance?” Phoebe had her hopes up that her loyal companion had somehow survived whatever it was that so many others hadn’t seemed to.
“It was a massive explosion that tore a hole in the sky. I would be surprised to see anything else that had survived the blast.”
Cassandra opened the doors of the chantry as she spoke. Phoebe listened carefully not only to her response, but to each step she took. She kept her distance from her captor, but matched her pace, following along whilst making an effort not to run into her. She’d just become familiar with the aggressive woman’s pacing when she felt her hand burn, pain coursing through her hand. She fell to her knees and cried out in agony. Cassandra immediately knelt to help her back up, cutting the ropes she’d just recently placed around the ginger’s wrists.
“The breach grows faster, as does the mark on your hand.”
Phoebe grimaced, confusion still clouding her mind as the pain subsided.
“The breach? Is that the hole you mentioned?”
Cassandra nodded, waiting for another response from Phoebe, only to remember the young woman’s condition.
“Ah, yes.. It is. We believe your mark may be the key to closing it. Perhaps we can stop its spread if we succeed,” she continued to walk toward Haven’s gates as she spoke. Phoebe noticed this and continued forward as well.
“And what if we don’t close this thing? If this fecking thing on my hand keeps growing?” She kept walking, jumping back as she bumped into Cassandra who she could only assume had stopped to give her a serious look.
“You will die,” that was all she said.
“Oh,” was the simple response.
The girls stayed silent and continued walking in silence. They didn’t make it far before the breach spit out a meteor strong enough to destroy the bridge they stood on. Phoebe could not quite describe the sound she heard next, but she safely assumed it was a demon which stood before her. Primarily because Cassandra had shouted “Demons!” shortly after they’d been hit by the green blast.
Phoebe sighed and began feeling the ground for anything she could use as a weapon. She found a hefty piece of wood from the bridge and swung it in front of her, satisfied after feeling it make contact with something. Cassandra made no response, meaning she’d been lucky hitting a demon instead. She swung once more and dashed backward, running into the broken, elevated planks of wood. She jumped up, grazing her leg across a sharp edge, and continued to feel around for anything more effective against her inhuman opponent.
She gasped, feeling the hilt of a longsword at her fingertips, and a shield not much further away. The demon screeched nearby and the Ferelden woman secured her weaponry, grunting as she slashed. Once. Twice. A third time and the demon had finally silenced. It was dead.
“Drop your weapon!” Cassandra had soon commanded her. Phoebe did not like that.
“Are you kidding me? I refuse to stand helplessly when I’m fully capable of hitting what’s in front of me! Keep me informed on whatever’s around and I might actually survive this journey.” She was firm in her response. Firm enough that Cassandra had agreed to let her keep the sword and shield.
They continued on, making small conversation as they went. Cassandra informed Phoebe of her abrupt appearance from the fade, as well as anything else they’d discovered during the time she was unconscious.
They came across another wave of demons, cutting them down as quick as they’d appeared, and finally, approached a small rift, combated by numerous soldiers. The women entered the fight, swiftly cutting down the demons in front of them. A man’s voice cut through the air and Phoebe’s hand was grabbed for the third time that day. The man guided it toward the sky and she felt it burn again, as the rift closed with a small explosion.
“What did you do with my hand?” Phoebe asked, quite baffled.
“I did nothing. Your mark closed the rift before us,” the stranger responded. Before Phoebe had time to respond, another voice cut in.
“And thank the maker for that. Here I thought we’d be ass-deep in demons forever!” The new man chuckled, approaching her to introduce himself.
“Varric Tethras. Rogue, storyteller, and occasionally, unwelcome tagalong.” He winked. Cassandra was audibly disgusted.
“I am Solas, if there are to be introductions,” he bowed his head with a polite greeting, and Phoebe introduced herself as well.
“Phoebe Cousland, a pleasure.” She too had bowed her head politely, not that she had noticed Solas in the first place.
Varric found amusement in her greeting, “Cousland? You don’t mean like the-” Phoebe cut him off quick enough with a nod.
“I do. Now drop it,” her voice was layered with distaste, and she focused her attention back toward Cassandra. “The big one. How much further?”
“Not far once we reach the forward camp. Come, before that mark pulses again.” Cassandra led the group along down the hill. Phoebe felt no pain from her hand, but she did find herself tumbling in the snow as she tripped over a few mounted planks of wood.
“I would appreciate some type of warning next time you lead me into an obstacle, you know.”
Varric chuckled, helping her to her feet.
“You didn’t see it?” he questioned.
Phoebe directed her gaze directly into his, and he winced, realizing what he’d just said.
“Ah, bad question, sorry…” Varric tried to cover his previous statement with half an apology.
Phoebe merely sighed in response. This was going to be a long trip. She just knew it.