Ow That Hurt
The tavern was alive with noise—the clink of tankards, the murmur of deals being struck, the occasional sharp burst of laughter. Sera sat at a worn wooden table in the far corner, her legs swung casually over the bench as she tossed a coin between her fingers. Across from her sat a Red Jenny operative, a wiry man with a sharp grin who spoke in quick, clipped bursts.
“Big conclave,” the operative said, leaning in conspiratorially. “All the important ones squawking together like hens. You’d think they’d sort the mess out with more stabbing and less talking, but no. They’ve got to have their politics first.”
Sera smirked, her storm-grey eyes glinting as she pocketed the coin and leaned back lazily. “Talking’s useless anyway. All it does is make the nobles’ heads fatter. They’ll talk, talk, and talk some more, and we’ll still be left cleaning up their shite.”
The operative chuckled, his grin widening. “So what’s your bet, Sera? Grand speeches, handshake deals, or just a bigger mess when it’s done?”
Sera tilted her head, pretending to consider the question, though her smirk never faltered. “Bigger mess, easy,” she replied breezily. “And maybe a brawl at the end, if we’re lucky. No one ever sorts anything by waving papers around.”
The operative laughed, raising his tankard as though to toast her prediction, but before Sera could grab her own drink, the room shifted.
The first rumble was faint—a subtle vibration in the floorboards that barely stirred her boots. Sera frowned, sitting upright as her storm-grey eyes flicked toward the windows. “What was—?”
And then the scream came.
It tore through the air like a jagged blade, raw and unrelenting, followed by a flash of blinding green light that shattered the darkness outside. The tavern plunged into chaos. Patrons scrambled for cover, their shouts tangled with the roar of something impossible. Sera shot to her feet, her hand instinctively reaching for her bow as her heart pounded against her ribs.
“What the bloody shite is—” Her words broke off as a searing pain flared in her arm.
She gasped, clutching her forearm as heat so sharp it burned erupted beneath her skin. Her storm-grey eyes widened in panic as a mark flared to life—a single sentence blazing into existence, its light harsh and brilliant against the emerald glow now tearing through the sky. The pain was unbearable, the mark’s etching pressing into her flesh as if branding her with something far beyond her understanding.
Her boots scraped against the floor as she stumbled, her breath hitching as the noise of the breach swelled around her. Emerald light splintered the heavens, jagged and unrelenting, casting shadows that danced across the tavern walls like a macabre spectacle. The operative grabbed her arm, his voice frantic, but she couldn’t hear him over the pounding of her pulse and the deafening hum of the mark beneath her skin.
“What is this?” she muttered, her voice trembling. “What’s happening?”
The mark pulsed again, matching the jagged rhythm of the breach outside, its glow unrelenting. Sera staggered toward the wall, slamming her shoulder against it as she clutched her arm tightly. For the first time, words appeared—foreign, yet somehow familiar, etched into her flesh with a precision that felt alive.
Her storm-grey eyes darted wildly down to her arm as she rasped out the words aloud, her voice catching. “Someone who’s been waiting for you for a long time.”
The air left her lungs in a rush, her heart pounding so hard she swore it might shatter through her ribs. Her fingers traced over the glowing words as though they might disappear at any moment. It wasn’t just the pain—it was the weight, the feeling of them. They weren’t random. They meant something, even if she didn’t know what.
The operative tightened his grip on her arm, his own panic spilling over. “Sera. What the hell is that supposed to mean? ‘Someone who’s been waiting’—waiting for what? And why now? What is this? Some kind of bloody magic? The breach?”
“I don’t know!” Sera snapped, yanking her arm free as frustration and fear bubbled in her chest. “You think I’ve got answers? It’s not like I asked for this. One moment, I’m minding my drink, and the next—this!” She thrust her arm out, displaying the still-glowing words. “And the sky—look at the bloody sky. You telling me this isn’t connected?”
Her voice cracked slightly, and she took a shaking breath, leaning heavily against the wall. She could still feel the dull ache of the mark, the lingering heat of its creation, like an echo reverberating through her very bones. Her storm-grey eyes flicked to the jagged emerald light splitting the heavens, the breach looming above with unrelenting power.
“It can’t be coincidence,” she muttered under her breath, her fingers curling around her arm again. Her voice shook, quieter now but edged with desperation. “It’s the same moment. Same bloody moment. Whatever this mark is... it’s tied to that thing up there. It’s gotta be. It’s too big not to be.”
The operative stared at her, his sharp grin from earlier replaced by a tense, drawn expression. “What if it’s... a curse?” he asked tentatively. “Or some kind of... soul-binding spell? Something old, dangerous.”
Sera gave a shaky laugh, though it carried no humor. “Brilliant,” she muttered. “Just what I need—some old, dangerous magic bollocks tattooing me with words I didn’t ask for.” Her voice softened, her hand brushing over her arm again. “But why these words? Why... waiting?”
The tavern’s cacophony swirled around her as the patrons shouted and scrambled for cover, yet the noise barely registered. Sera slumped against the wall, her legs shaking as the reality of the moment crashed over her like a wave. She wasn’t just scared—she was angry. Angry at the breach, angry at the pain, angry at the universe for throwing this at her without so much as a warning.
But beneath the anger was something quieter, something she didn’t want to admit: curiosity. Whoever had been waiting for her—they were out there somewhere. And that thought, for all its confusion, wouldn’t leave her mind.
“Bloody hell,” she whispered finally, her storm-grey eyes wide as she stared at her arm. “What’s happening to me?”
*Meanwhile I̶n̶ T̶h̶e̶ L̶e̶g̶i̶o̶n̶ O̶f̶ D̶o̶o̶m̶ on the Storm Coast*
The storm rolled over the Coast with a deafening roar, waves crashing violently against the jagged cliffs as the Chargers trudged through the rocky terrain. The wind whipped fiercely, carrying the scent of brine and the grit of sea spray, but Iron Bull pressed forward, his broad frame shielding his mercenaries from the worst of it. Krem jogged a few paces behind him, barking orders to keep the Chargers in line.
“Stick together!” Krem called over the gale, his voice firm. “We’ve got enough trouble without someone getting swept out to sea.”
Bull smirked faintly, his single golden eye scanning the horizon. “You heard the man!” he added, his deep voice cutting through the storm. “Keep your heads on, and we’ll make it through this!”
But then the world shifted.
A strange hum rippled through the air, low and ominous, carrying with it a pressure so intense it felt like the earth itself might crack. Bull stopped mid-step, his instincts prickling as he glanced upward. The clouds churned violently above, twisting and writhing as a piercing emerald light tore through the sky.
“What in the—” Bull began, but his words faltered as the Breach erupted.
A deafening scream filled the air, a sound so raw and unnatural it sent a shiver down his spine. The emerald light split the heavens wide open, casting jagged shadows across the storm-laden coast. The Chargers froze, their panic evident as they scrambled for footing, their shouts barely audible over the chaos.
“Bull!” Krem shouted, rushing to his side. “What the hell is that?”
But Bull couldn’t respond—not as a searing heat suddenly erupted in his arm.
He staggered, his massive frame nearly crumpling as a violent burning sensation flared beneath his skin. His breath hitched, and he clutched at his left forearm, where a mark pulsed with blinding light. “Shit,” he growled through gritted teeth, the pain threatening to buckle his knees. “What is this?”
“Bull!” Krem was at his side in an instant, his tone sharp with concern. “Are you—what’s wrong? You’re burning up!”
Bull could barely hear him over the roar of the Breach and the pounding of his own pulse. His arm blazed with heat as words—clear, deliberate—etched themselves into his skin. He gasped, his golden eye wide as the mark burned its message into him:
"It’s you."
The words pulsed with a life of their own, their glow mirroring the chaotic rhythm of the emerald light above. Bull’s mind raced, the agony in his arm tangling with the impossible reality unfolding around him. The Breach loomed like a jagged wound in the sky, raw and unrelenting, and yet somehow... this mark, these words, felt connected to it.
“Bull, talk to me!” Krem demanded, his voice breaking through the haze. He gripped Bull’s shoulder, steadying him as the Qunari’s massive frame sagged under the weight of the burning mark.
“I’m fine,” Bull grunted, though his voice was strained. He straightened with effort, his golden eye meeting Krem’s with a mix of resolve and confusion. “It’s... just a mark. Nothing to worry about.”
Krem frowned deeply, his sharp gaze flicking to Bull’s arm. “That’s not just a mark,” he said. “That’s glowing, Bull. That’s... that’s magic, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know,” Bull admitted, his tone low as he flexed his fingers, the pain finally dulling to a steady thrum. The words remained etched into his flesh, undeniable and unyielding. He glanced up at the Breach, its unnatural light casting jagged shadows over his face. “But it’s not coincidence. That thing up there—” He gestured toward the sky with a sharp jerk of his chin. “—and this? They’re tied together. Somehow.”
The Chargers’ voices rang out in the background, their panic rising as they scrambled for order amidst the chaos. Bull inhaled deeply, forcing himself to push the pain aside as he barked out, “Hold the line, Chargers! Panic later—move now!”
The group hesitated, then fell into motion, their trust in Bull overriding their fear. Krem lingered at his side, his expression still tight with worry. “We need to get out of here,” he said grimly. “Whatever’s happening—it’s bigger than us.”
“Yeah,” Bull agreed, his voice steadying despite the chaos around them. He glanced at his arm one last time, the words “It’s you” still glowing faintly against his skin. “Bigger than us. And it’s not done yet.”
With that, he hefted his weapon, his massive frame cutting a path through the storm as the Chargers followed in his wake. The Breach loomed ominously behind them, its jagged light casting a shadow over the path ahead.