#tranquilweek24

[sweetmage]

Click for full res! ☀️

A little doodle for @tranquilweek! Today's prompt was Mage Rebellion.

This is also inspired by my ongoing Tranquil!Hawke longfic Your Fading Light (updating soon!)

[tranquilweek]

Welcome to Tranquil Week!

Join us for a week dedicated to exploring the Tranquil characters from Dragon Age!

To participate, create a fanwork (art, writing, podfic, moodboard, etc.) that features a canon Tranquil character (list here!) or a Tranquil OC. Then post your work here on Tumblr from August 25th - August 31st and tag @tranquilweek so that we can reblog your post. If you have a question that isn't answered in this post, send us an ask!

Optional Prompts

image description in alt ID || text version of prompts under the cut ⬇️

You are welcome to follow our daily prompts, but it's not required! As long as your creation features a Tranquil character and follows our guidelines, we'll reblog it here.

Submitted creations must adhere to the tagging requirements detailed below and in the post here. Creations that are improperly or inadequately tagged will NOT be promoted on this blog.

This event is not a moral statement about the Rite of Tranquility. Exploring darker or potentially triggering content in fiction is not an endorsement of that content in real life. Tranquility is an element in Dragon Age canon and this event will not pass judgment on how participants choose to explore Tranquility in their works.

That being said, this event will not tolerate or promote:

Harassment of fans or moderators, including unkind or needless criticism of individual players' choices

Character hate or bashing, including blanket hate or bashing of Tranquility, the Chantry, Templars, Mages, the Circle, or other elements of Dragon Age. Criticism and critique of these elements are allowed as long as they are presented in a respectful manner.

Callouts or intentionally inflammatory language

Hate speech or bigotry against any particular group of people (minority & majority groups alike)

Art, writing, or other works created using generative AI, such as ChatGPT or Midjourney

Remember: don't like, don't read; ship & let ship; your kink is not my kink - and that is okay! If you cannot agree to these terms and participate in good faith, this may not be the event for you.

Required Tagging

See the full post about required tagging here

Dragon Age specific content tags:

chantry critical

anti-templar

anti-mage

pro-chantry

pro-templar

pro-mage

[character] critical

General content tags:

nsfw (including, but not limited to, explicit sexual content)

major character death

drugs, alcohol abuse, or addiction

eating disorders, fatphobia, or dysphoria

graphic medical descriptions or bodily fluids (esp. blood, vomit, or birth)

guns (anything to do with them)

harm to a child

fantasy hate speech, slurs, or racism

pregnancy, miscarriage, or abortion

racism, homophobia, transphobia, ableism, etc.

self-harm, suicide, or suicidal thoughts

sexual violence, referenced or explicit

stalking or harassment

violence toward animals

Prompts

Use of prompts is optional! Mix and match, switch the days, don't follow our prompts, or don't use prompts at all, as you prefer.

Any form or level of human-made art is allowed! Drabbles, sketches, fiber art, podfic - if you made it, it counts.

Sun 25: Enchanting || Rite of Tranquility || Skyhold Mo 26: Focus || Mage Rebellion || Kinloch Hold Tu 27: Logic || The Breach || Wonders of Thedas We 28: Free Will || Oculara || The Gallows Th 29: Research || Cure for Tranquility || Haven Fr 30: Dreams || The Harrowing || Ostagar Sat 31: Lyrium || The Conclave || Redcliffe Village

Alternate Prompts: A once fond memory || The Fade || Spirits & Demons || The Gull & Lantern || A friend they knew before

✨We hope you'll join us in August and we're excited to see what everyone creates!✨

[midmorninggrey]

A short piece for the last day of @tranquilweek! I took inspiration from the prompts Redcliffe Village and A once fond memory.

After lunch, Owain finds an unusual visitor in the storeroom.

Rating: G

WC: ~800

CW: Includes a young child trying to cope with life in the Circle.

The kitchens had served the stale seeded bread again at midday meal. Owain had eaten it without complaint, soaking the slice in the thin broth of his stew, but the gritty texture against his teeth remained uncomfortable. He felt no annoyance or pain at this inconvenience; he only preferred when the bread was plain and did not leave seeds between his teeth for the rest of the afternoon.

His morning in the storeroom had been spent sorting a shipment of dried bloodroot stems. Although the Circle had specifically requested bloodroot harvested from the Korcari Wilds, the supplier had sent a mix of plants from the Korcari Wilds and Brecilian Forest. Owain had noticed the discrepancy as soon as he had opened the first crate. Bloodroot sprouted earlier in the Brecilian Forest, and therefore had darker, thicker stems than the Korcari variety. However, although it looked sturdier, the strength of Brecilian bloodroot was unpredictable; the stalks could turn reliable, tested potions into disasters. Owain had gone to work and had methodically sifted through a quarter of the irregular plants, using tweezers to pluck out the larger stalks, before his grumbling stomach became a distraction. He estimated he would be done with all three crates by nightfall.

Tranquility had rid him of any painful and conflicting emotions, but he was able to acknowledge the strangeness of the sight waiting for him when he returned to the storeroom. A small boy was standing among the crates, hands folded. He was a ward too young to be considered a proper apprentice, instead acting as a page for minor messages and tasks throughout the Circle, and through his errands his face had become familiar to Owain. He had found the boy to be of no particular significance.

Today the boy was different. Today, showing through the yellow curls across his brow, there was a red sunburst.

“Hello, Callahan,” Owain said, recalling how Enchanter Wynne had once introduced the boy. “What is the purpose of this costume?”

The boy kept his face still and answered in a flat echo. “I’m like you.”

“No, you are not,” Owain corrected him. “The Rite of Tranquility is not performed on children. You have put ink on your face.”

The boy’s sunburst was drawn in the same scarlet ink that mages used to correct apprentice’s work. Owain used to be afraid of the bright marks that would come back on his papers, he recalled. His fears had often been illogical.

“Maybe I’m an...anomaly,” the boy said seriously, taking care to enunciate the word while maintaining his monotone impression. Owain had heard mimicry of his speech before, made with what he understood were crude intentions. They did not offend or amuse him, and he was just as unbothered by the boy’s display. It was, however, unusual.

“This is abnormal,” Owain blinked. He decided that the boy was trying to amuse himself as he could within the walls of the Circle. His own childhood joys had been found in the golden fields and stretches of woods surrounding Redcliffe village. The tall grass had snapped around his legs as he ran with his sister up to the meadow to catch fireflies. She had been faster, but she had always let him hold the ones she caught, and he had waited eagerly for the gentle, giggling transfer of light into his plump hands. Watching the glow between his fingers had felt like magic.

Owain could remember he had experienced wonder by his sister’s side, and he could remember that he had felt fear when he was taken away from her, but neither emotion reached him now. He had made the decision to leave them behind, to free himself, like when he’d opened his hands and released the fireflies back into the twilight dark.

“I must concentrate on my work,” Owain said and stepped around the boy. “Please take your distractions elsewhere.”

Disappointment cracked the boy’s thin mask. “I’ll be quiet.”

“It would not be useful for you to stay here.”

“I-” The boy’s eyes dropped to the floor. “Please, can I stay? I like it here.”

Owain considered the request. Now that he had reason to review their encounters, he realized the page had lingered in the storeroom after his deliveries several times. He had been quiet on those occasions, and instead of prodding with clumsy hands and questions like other apprentices, he had only watched Owain work. He had not become a distraction to his work then; if Owain continued this conversation, the boy would likely continue to be a distraction now.

“If you are quiet, you may stay until someone comes to collect you.”

The boy’s round face split into a smile below the ink sunburst, a contradictory sight with even a false brand. However, Owain had picked up his tweezers, and from then noticed him no more than the seeds stuck in his teeth.

[flowersonpebbles]

Rite of Tranquility- Day 1

Jowan thought Dallas might have taken him with them after he helped keep an eye on Connor whilst they left for aid from the Circle, from their home that they both only knew for most of their lives... Dallas did not take him, merely said that Jowan did in fact aid in keeping the people in the castle safe after they left for more help... Eamon did not care, he was still sent off, back to the Circle for them to punish him for being a bloodmage... poor Lilly... she must have been just as frightened as he is now.

He stares sadly down at the lyrium brand, burning with white fire. The rod shaped like the sunburst symbol so fondly looked upon by Andrastians... Jowan blinks back tears before just squeezing his eyes shut, pursing his lips to try and stop them from trembling as he's held down on his knees by Templars surrounding him.

"Dallas, do you ever think the Tranquil hates us for being more like people than they ever will be..?" little Jowan asks, struggling to fall asleep. Dallas frowns deeply at the thought, hanging upside down to glare at Jowan.

"They're people like us, just different, Jowan. They're really nice and Owain even taught me how to read!" Dallas whispers earnestly, cheeks puffed up. "They don't hate us and we shouldn't be scared of them just because they're different than us, they still feel! They just express it differently!"

Jowan takes a deep, shaking breath at this little memory... he can only hope Dallas might come visit him then. After learning of Jowan's bloodmagic and feared him, then hopefully Dallas would no longer fear now.

Now he only needs to calm himself, there is no escaping this... he brought this upon himself, after all. He should have never dabbled with the forbidden arts...

He opens his eyes, steadying himself as he stares the rod down, gritting his teeth as it is pressed against his forehead, sudden magic coursing through his veins and then just bursting into... nothingness...

Jowan blinks slowly, jaw slowly going lax as the Templars let go of him. He stands up slowly, feeling a light headache at the front of his head. A headache that will never go away again, though...

Jowan stares at Dallas calmly, smiling ever so softly, "Dallas, it is good to see you again." his friend looks so much older than he should though, and sickly, even...

[inquisimer]

the answer will be an echo

Day 4 of @tranquilweek! As Cadash & Avexis investigate Redcliffe Village, they learn what became of the other Tranquil.

read it on ao3 here!

Avexis & Female Cadash | Rated T | 1139 words | CW: implied/referenced abuse, chantry critical

-

Cadash liked picking locks. It made Avexis wonder, as they waited outside the dilapidated shack in Redcliffe, if that was why the dwarf was always carting her places. She was a puzzle, an oddity—she wondered if Cadash simply saw her as a lock that could only be picked over time.

Well, she mused, thumbing the hilt of her dagger, hopefully she figures something out.

Being in Redcliffe made her itch. There were mages everywhere and odd magic on top of the rifts. It set her teeth on edge. The whole place was a disaster waiting to happen. Or maybe it had already happened. It was hard to say.

Their fear was as palpable to Avexis as her own. It hung in the air like a dense fog, coating her throat when she breathed and sitting on her skin like a cold, sticky sweat. Fear of the Templars, fear of the Breach, fear of the Tevinters and what their presence spelled for the mage rebellion.

Cadash grunted and the door clicked open, creaking ominously. Within, the cabin’s dirt floor was dappled with sunlight through the rotting roof.

“Why was it even locked?” Varric huffed.

They found out soon enough. Over a dozen skulls watched them from makeshift shelves, their empty eye sockets gleaming with Fade-touched crystals. Pointed stumps with odd runes etched into their ends were stacked against the wall and tipped over on the floor. When Avexis brushed her fingers across the runes, they flared a bright green.

For the briefest moment, she saw a face—square jaw, blank, gray eyes, freckles that sprayed up to the sunburst brand that marred his brow. Before she could dig up a name, or even where she knew him from, the vision was gone; the part of her mind that she knew was Cole slipped between her and the magic and whatever it meant.

And that meant only one thing. “Something's not right,” she murmured, skittering back a few steps. Cole was matching her rising panic with soothing comfort, but it was a cycle—the more he soothed her, the more she feared what, exactly, she needed soothing for.

She flinched at the too-loud crunch of parchment in Cadash’s fist. “That is fucked,” the dwarf hissed.

“I had noticed their disappearance, but imagined nothing like this.” Avexis could hear Cassandra’s scowl and that defensive mix of guilt and shame that the Seeker usually directed at her. A horrible realization was coming to her, sinking in her mind like boots in cold swamp mud. As if in a trance, she paced back to the shelf of skulls.

Varric coughed pointedly; she could feel his gaze boring into her. “Maybe we shouldn’t—“ he began loudly.

“It’s them, isn’t it?” she whispered. One hand cupped the smooth arch of a skull, thumb tracing the sharp edge of the dormant crystal. “We found the Tranquil.”

No one answered, not that it mattered. Their silence was all the confirmation she needed.

“Avexis—“

“Don’t,” she choked. Before she’d even taken a breath, her eyes glossed over with tears. She made no move to stem their tide. Her grief fell in heavy drops, each one sending poofs of dust up where it landed on the earthen floor.

Her other hand clasped the same skull and she stared into its empty sockets as though she could divine their identity that way. Who were you? she thought desperately. Did I know you? Is anyone missing you?

Of course not. No one missed the Tranquil. That was how this had happened; how the evidence of it existed right under the noses of the mage rebellion, and yet no one cared enough to know, or even ask.

Avexis trembled, an inappropriate laugh bubbling from her lips as anger ripped through her like an earthquake.

That should be me. Then, out loud: “I shouldn’t have— that should be me, too.”

“No.” Cassandra’s voice was closer than she’d expected and Avexis flinched. Her gloved hands caught the skull where Avexis’ grip left it bare and she slid it gently out of the mage’s grasp. Setting it back on the shelf, the Seeker put herself directly in front of Avexis instead.

“It should not have been you, and it should not have been them either.”

“Why don’t we mean anything to anyone?”Avexis whispered. She clenched her fists. “Why doesn’t anyone care?”

“Hey, we care.” That was Varric, and Cadash, coming closer as well but—thankfully—leaving the path to the door wide open. “We’re here, we see you. We care.”

“You see me,” she repeated, shaking her head. “As I am now. Would you still see me if I remained Tranquil? Would you have noticed that I was gone? Because apparently no one—” she gestured angrily to the shelves “—noticed them.”

Cadash caught Avexis’ fist in her roughened palm. “Hey. You’re right.”

“I—what?”

“You’re right,” Cadash said again. “The Circles used the Tranquil because they were conveniently controlled. Because the comfort of those in power was more important than those lives. Because they could.”

Her voice was steady and grounding. Though Avexis' sorrow remained heavy, the tension wound in her relaxed. She pressed her palm flat against Cadash’s and curled her fingers down over the dwarf’s blunted nails. As she searched her eyes for answers and assurances, the filtered sunlight shifted and caught the casteless brand burned into her cheek.

“But the Circles are gone,” Cadash said firmly. At her back, Cassandra scowled, but wisely bit her tongue. “We’re not putting them back unless we’re sure they can do better. For the mages, the Templars, and the Tranquil.”

Avexis exhaled slowly. She knew that was what Cadash thought, but it was good to hear her say it anyway. And yet—

“They’re still gone, though,” she whispered, nudging her chin toward the shelf of skulls. “They still died like that. Were murdered like that. It’s not something we can fix.”

“They were. And it’s not.”

“That hurts,” Avexis whimpered. She ground her teeth together. “It hurts, and I want it to stop hurting. How do I make it stop if I can’t fix it?”

“Sometimes, you can’t.” It was Varric who answered, but Cadash nodded. “Sometimes you just have to sit with it. It might never go away, but you’ll go on. And eventually, you’ll grow around it, instead.”

“That bloody sucks.”

Cadash snorted. “Yeah. It does.”

“Can we…” Swiping at her eyes, Avexis took a shaky breath. “I don’t want to leave them here. Not like this.”

“There is a Sister up the hill—“

“No.” Cadash cut Cassandra off. “We have time, and they deserve better than the Chantry’s biases. We’ll take care of them ourselves.”

Relief flooded Avexis where she hadn’t realized she’d grown tense. “Thank you,” she murmured, ducking her head. Cadash laced their fingers together and squeezed.

“Let’s go.”

[oftachancer]

Final day of Tranquil Week 2024!

So this arc of the tale reaches its strange conclusion. Another perspective begins soon. Thank you for reading!

@tranquilweek

A snippet of Ch 15:

Cecily rolled onto her stomach to see if that made her any less queasy. It didn’t, but the new pressure was better. “You and Anders are on the same side of things, you know," she told Fenris. "It’s just that you both tend to be assholes about it.” “Hn.” “Karl agrees with me,” Cecily muttered. “I’m not crazy.” “Karl agrees with everyone. He has no choice.” “He does, though. I met him.” Fenris groaned. “We all did.” “No. I mean: he’s back. From Tranquility. Da did it. Da and Anders, while we were with Merrill.”  Fenris stilled. “…he is a mage once more?”

[plisuu]

[previous]

A continuation of my lil @tranquilweek fic about Avexis! A flashback to when her magic manifests, and off to the Circle she goes.

wc: 425 cw: mentions of alienage/elf injustice

Avexis didn’t remember much of her life before the Circle, taken from the alienage as young as she was. If she tried, she might recall a mother’s lullaby, but the only thing that came back to her easily was the memory of too many bodies—too many elves, not enough food, not enough space. She remembered the day her magic manifested, when she realized she could understand the local strays, pleading with them over scraps.

She also remembered the day it changed her life, when she was being chased by some of the older children in the alienage. Bullies. She asked the stray dogs to teach them a lesson, and they did.

The templars came with little announcement—no one was sure who had reported the child, but the alienage knew they couldn’t risk more attention than they were already paid. She left with little fuss. Truth be told, she couldn’t remember if she even cried… not that it mattered. After spending her early years in filth and squalor she thought one thing as she was escorted trough the streets of Val Royeaux: that this could only be a blessing.

The White Spire was clean, the mages around her kind enough. She remembered the prick of her finger when the Senior Enchanter, an elderly man with sunken eyes, took her blood. It left a scar, but she hardly noticed as the phylactery glowed before her eyes. She was clothed and fed and placed in lessons where she was taught to read, taught the Chant and the dangers of magic, and how the Circle was meant to protect them from the outside world that spurned them. She was taught to avoid the templars’ scrutiny, which she gladly avoided, still frightened by the gleam of their armor and the swords at their sides.

Her closest friends were the cats that roamed the halls, watching them catch the mice that scurried across the kitchen floors. She was quiet and self kept, and she knew the instructors talked about her in hushed tones, about her magic, about her progress. They didn’t know that the cats told her what they said until she asked them why they worried.

Lessons became more intense, after that. She was watched more closely, given private lessons by one of the older enchanters. She didn’t understand why. She could not produce fire or ice like the other apprentices.

You have a rare gift, the Senior Enchanter told her. You must learn to use it carefully and wisely.

The cats remained her only friends.

[next]

[tranquilweek]

Known & Conditional Tranquil Characters

For the purposes of this event, your creative works must feature one of these characters or a Tranquil OC. This includes formerly Tranquil characters that have been cured, but it does not include conditional Tranquil characters if they are never made Tranquil.

If the character has a dedicated page on the Dragon Age Wiki, it is linked here!

Known Tranquil

Avexis

Caleth the Renegade

Ceridweth

Clemence

Eddin the Meek

Eiton

Elsa

Embri of Gwaren

Felim

Helena

Helisma Derington

Karl Thekla

Maddox

Molly Hesslan

Orana

Owain

Pether

Pharamond

Tranquil Mage (Ostagar)

Tranquil Merchant (The Gallows)

Tranquil Proprietor

Conditional Tranquil

The Anchoress

Erasthenes

Feynriel

Gereon Alexius

Livius Erimond

[flowersonpebbles]

Cure for Tranquility at Haven - Day 5

Avexis tilts her head, staring at this Mother Giselle. The person with the glowing hand is now being called the Herald of Andraste. Avexis wishes almost she was the Herald... would she have been save then from possession and gotten her talents back completely..? She felt like herself once more, more awake than ever, when the Herald passed by her briefly. She has been cautious to be near them since then. Not wishing to be possessed... And now this Mother asks her if she'd ever want to be cured of Tranquility... what an odd question... she shakes her head, frightened at the thought, "I do not think it will be wise as the number of demons would leave me vulnerable to possession... I might experience feelings of discomfort over events that have occurred while I was Tranquil. I believe I can survive in this fashion but might not if I was made whole again." she whispers in a small voice.. careful to sound hopeful. She misses Galyan, she would have been able to confide in him... Cassandra is being so distant...

Avexis stares at the whimpering, defiled dragon. The same one from her dreams a few nights ago... it curses and screams at the monstrous man sauntering towards the Herald. She was trying to help with the trebuchets, aware and completely overwhelmed by emotions right now as she crawls back, tears streaming down her face. Screaming out her lungs as the avalanche comes down at them all with no mercy for who is below it. The dragon being forced to save this monster -this twisted creature- of a man. The snow crashing down, sending her down into a dark, freezing cave, after the Herald. The Herald clinging to her as they both tumble down deeper with the momentum of the avalanche. And at the touch of the newly unstable Anchor, she feels free. She feels everything at once, too much. And once everything stopped moving, she got up shakily and staggered further down the cave, trembling from the cold and feeling completely undone, no longer herself any more... not alone in her mind...

Nor will she ever be again...

How will Cassandra know...? Will she think Avexis dead - that it will be better off like that for her now?

[inquisimer]

A Promise Kept

For @tranquilweek day 3: As Cassandra fights through the carnage wrought by the Breach, she searches for a sign that Regalyan survived.

read it on ao3 here!

Avexis & Cassandra, Minor Cassandra/Regalyan, Minor Cassandra & Cullen | Rated T | 1637 words | CW: minor character death

-

Cassandra’s attention, which should have been solely on the demons pouring from the sky, was inescapably divided. Slash, parry, block—and search. She could not stop herself from hoping for a glimpse of unburned flesh amidst the wreckage.

Worse, she wasn’t even looking for the Divine. Or at least, not the Divine alone. The Maker and Andraste forgive her, but she wanted nothing more than to see Regalyan’s face, unconscious, perhaps, but alive, Maker please, if anyone is alive—

She slammed her shield against a shade’s hooded face and it dissipated back into the rift above. Not that it mattered. It would return, or another in its place. It was only a matter of time.

Still, they had to take the respites when they could. But as they broke to sit and rest their weary limbs, something brushed against the far edge of Cassandra’s awareness.

Something familiar.

“Galyan,” she breathed. The magic’s signature was unmistakable—she knew it well as the back of her own hand. Without a word, she leapt over a crumbling stone wall and sprinted toward it.

“Seeker?”

“Seeker!”

Her companions’ shouts were lost to the wind. Hooking her shield to her back as she ran, she focused her senses on the magic, Regalyan’s magic, letting it guide her up the hill, closer to the center of the temple. It grew and sharpened and clarified in her awareness, until finally it overwhelmed her and she skidded to a stop in what might have been the Temple’s foyer. She saw only corpses when she looked around, burned to a crisp as every one they’d found—

There.

Nearly invisible against the snow was an opaque semi-circle of magic. To Cassandra’s eyes alone, it pulsed and drew her in, the taste of bitter elfroot and a threatening storm on her tongue.

Regalyan had cast this spell, that much she knew for certain. She could only pray that he was the one beneath it, rather than one of the corpses littered around it.

“Seeker, what’s going on?” Varric, the apostate, and the Commander finally caught up to her, panting to various degrees. She heard the shink of Cullen’s sword as he, too, immediately saw why she had stopped.

“Wait,” she said, holding out a hand. “I know the mage who cast this. It is a shield. There is likely someone—or something—beneath it.”

“A survivor,” Cullen breathed. “Your mage?”

“Maker willing.” Taking a deep breath, Cassandra stepped within reach. “I will dispel the magic. If it is demons—“

“We stand ready, Seeker.”

Cassandra nodded. She reached for that place of peace and certainty within her, the font from which she drew her skills. Her gloved fingers brushed against the misty exterior of the shield and she pushed against its construction in the Fade.

It collapsed.

The entire party cringed as a scream of utter anguish cut through the momentarily quiet air. It reverberated within Cassandra as she realized that it was not Regalyan within the shield, but a woman. Biting back grief and anger, even as she understood what he had done, Cassandra fell to her knees and clasped the woman’s shoulders.

“Avexis,” she said, struggling to comfort the girl. What little instinct she had for this sort of thing was rusty from disuse. “Avexis, please. It is okay. You’re safe.”

“I’m not,” she cried. “He kept me that way, but he’s gone! He told me not to lose him, but I lost him, I messed up. Of course I did, of course I did—“

“You did not—“

That was the wrong thing to say. Avexis struggled against Cassandra’s grip. Around them, the Fade pulsed dangerously under the force of emotions she was failing to control. The air crackled and behind Cassandra a loud crack echoed as Avexis’ terror made itself know. If they did not act soon, her tenuous control would give way, and the Veil here was in no state to bear that kind of assault.

“Avexis, you must calm yourself,” Cassandra urged.

“I can’t,” she sobbed. “I don’t know how.”

“You do. Galyan was teaching you—”

Mentioning Regalyan was a mistake, as well. As soon as his name fell from her lips, a fresh wave of sobs overcame Avexis and Cassandra felt the Fade bow dangerously at her back. Then, that hiss and spark that was becoming all too familiar.

“Seeker, we must calm her!” Cullen snapped, the tension of days without sleep wearing through his patience. “If not by words, then by force—we cannot have more rifts opening!”

By force. Purge her, he meant. But as Cassandra stared down at the brand that no longer sequestered Avexis from the Fade, as she remembered Regalyan’s grief over the girl’s fate, years ago, she froze.

Demons spawned from the new rift; their talons clattered against the ice and screeching hisses split the air. Solas’ staff and Varric’s bolts whistled by with deadly accuracy, but there was only so much they could do. As Cullen said, they could not have more rifts opening while they had no way to close them.

A Silence was at the tips of her fingers. But Cassandra could not find the strength needed to call it forth.

She had so many doubts.

“Seeker!” Cullen’s boots crunched on the snow, closer now. If he recognized what ailed her, he did not berate her for it. His Purge took hold and reality reinforced its existence, tight and sharp around them.

Avexis’ sobs quieted, gentle hiccups through the tears still streaming down her face. It did not hurt her, Cassandra knew, not the way it did when called with intention. But somehow that did not soothe her conscience as it should have.

Cullen’s gauntlet fell briefly on her shoulder. “Take her back to Haven,” he said gruffly. “We will deal with the demons as best we can. Just get her out of here before it wears off.”

Cassandra scooped Avexis into her arms, and this time she gave no resistance. Just sobbed quietly, her tears streaking through the ichor and blood on Cassandra’s armor. She seemed unharmed, physically at least, but her psyche teetered precariously.

As they descended off the mountain, Cassandra’s exhaustion and grief coalesced into anger. Galyan had had enough time to throw up a shield, yet he used it to save Avexis, not himself. He was the healer—if he yet lived, they could save countless others. Many more than a single, unpredictable mage. His control was not so unstable that it would open yet more rifts, and allow yet more demons into the world.

If he had saved himself—oh, who was she fooling? All she could think was that if he had saved himself instead, her heart would be just a bit less broken. As it was, it beat a steady ache, weeping grief into her chest behind the stoicism that the people needed to see.

“I’m sorry,” Avexis mumbled. Her tears had slowed and though she spoke, she cast her eyes aside. “It should have been me.”

It was her own thought, reflected back at her, but shame immediately crashed over Cassandra. Of course Regalyan had saved her—hadn’t that been what he was after all along?

We failed her when we left her, Cassandra. I failed her. There has to be a way to make that right.

“He would not have wanted that,” she said. “He would never have been able to live with himself if he lost you again.”

“What good can I do?” Avexis sniffled. “I’m less than useful—I’m a danger.”

It might not even matter, Cassandra thought, looking up at the Breach. Justinia was dead, the sky torn open, the balance of the Fade and reality rent asunder. In all likelihood, they would be overrun with demons in a matter of weeks, and dead long before then.

“You do not have to be useful,” she said, belatedly, climbing the wide steps to the healer’s cabin. “You can simply be. What the future holds beyond that…well, the Maker knows, and you will find out.”

She stopped short of telling Avexis they would keep her safe. A promise she knew Regalyan had made—but that guarantee had died along with him. But it was not a function of who, or what, she was. They could no more keep Avexis safe than anyone else in Haven.

As she laid the woman down on one of Adan’s empty cots, a breathless messenger burst through the door.

“Lady Cassandra, Lady Cassandra, urgent word from the commander—“

She caught the messenger, by the shoulder, holding him upright as he swayed. He was a boy of few summers, swimming in a hood several sizes too big. “Slow down and breathe. What has happened?”

“A woman—there was a woman in the Temple! A dwarf! She fell out of a rift! And her hand—”

“Fell out of a rift…” Cassandra’s eyes widened. “A survivor? A dwarf? And what is this about her hand?”

“It’s magic like—“ the messenger gestured upward, where the cabin roof hid the Breach from sight. “All—green, and going crazy!”

Cassandra’s hand flew to her sword. “Back up the mountain,” she ordered. “Fetch the apostate, Solas. I want him in the Chantry at once.”

He pressed a fist to his chest and vanished, slipping and stumbling in his oversized boots. She started to follow him out, then remembered why she was here, and looked back at Avexis’ frightened, but curious face.

“Stay here,” she said, trying and mostly failing to soften her voice. “Rest.”

She took off for the Chantry, tamping down the hope that wanted to leap in her chest. If this survivor had any information, any explanation—

Maybe they would be able to save these people after all. Maybe, just maybe, if the Maker was merciful, Galyan hadn’t died in vain.

[inquisimer]

which should I regret

A piece where Avexis refuses her Harrowing, for the prompt 'rite of tranquility' as part of @tranquilweek! Shout out to @kiastirling-fanfic for sparking the idea of an AU where Avexis takes Cole's place in Inquisition - it's only hinted at here, but more to come as the week goes on👀

read it on ao3 here

Avexis (Solo) | Rated T | 1255 words | cw: guilt, fear & despair, self-doubt, elective Tranquility

-

Avexis trembled as she stared down at the ornate font. Its surface was still and smooth, like glass, but it radiated a power that thrummed within her bones.

Pure lyrium.

Enough to send her into the Fade, where a demon waited to tempt her, test her, trick her. She closed her eyes and swallowed hard. The first enchanter had been apologetic when they fetched her from the apprentice quarters; she wasn’t ready, and they both knew it. Under ordinary circumstances, she wouldn’t be put to the Harrowing for another few years, in her late teens, after more lessons and instruction and practice.

But hers were hardly ordinary circumstances. All things considered, she was lucky the Templars had given her as long as they had.

Not long enough, she thought desperately. Her gaze darted to the circle of Templars that trapped her here, stoic behind their faceless helms. Each held a downturned sword and one, she knew, bore the task of striking her down, should she take too long, or return as an abomination.

Even thinking the word brought bile to her throat. How could she not fail, with so many doubts? With her history? Surely this demon would see the fingerprints of blood magic that time could not erase, and immediately claim her for its own.

Since the Seeker returned her to the Circle, each day was an opportunity for every enchanter, every Templar to remind her: she was vulnerable. A beacon for demons. Susceptible. Their suspicions of her weakness lingered like fog on the Waking Sea—almost an expectation, an inevitability.

Despair dripped like ice down her spine. What was the point? The doubt coursing through every Templar and the observing senior enchanters rippled through the Fade and left a bitter, metallic taste on her tongue. They had decided she would fail. Those maleficar had decided it, when they stole a child from her bed, because she favored beasts. The Maker had decided it, when He gave her magic and allowed that to happen.

Desperately, she tried to step forward, to force movement from her quaking legs. Get it over with quickly. But she found she could not move; her body fought to live, even when she knew she was about to die.

“You cannot delay, apprentice,” intoned the Knight-Commander. “Make your choice.”

Between her pounding heart and racing emotions, Avexis nearly laughed. Choice? What choice was there to make? She never had a chance, let alone a choice.

Except—

There was a choice. And she found that, unlike when she’d been younger, the mere idea of Tranquility no longer choked her with dread. Rather, the persistent tremor of her hands stilled. The fear that permeated her every waking moment and pressed unbearable pain into her chest vanished with a single thought: she could be safe.

She could be safe, without being dead. Without giving whatever influence the maleficar had left in her mind even a chance to see the light of day.

For the first time since the Templars woke her, she drew a deep, full breath. Relief seeped through her. She looked up from the font of lyrium and locked eyes with the Knight-Commander.

“I refuse the Harrowing,” she said, clearly, if a bit quiet. Aborted gasps echoed through the cathedral-like chamber as the gathered enchanters stifled their shock. It was unthinkable to them—they would no sooner give up their magic than cut off a limb. But for Avexis, the gift had become a curse; dead weight that needed severing.

Knight-Commander Laroche’s gaze sharpened. “You know what that means.”

“I do.”

“And you accept those consequences?”

“I do.”

“Very well.” Laroche gestured. The aide at his side pulled a small lever and the floor beneath Avexis’ feet creaked and groaned. She flinched back as the stone under the lyrium font pulled apart. The device receded into the depths of the Spire, and where the floor sealed atop it, a tile mosaic of the Templar insignia slotted into place.

“Kneel, apprentice.” At the Knight-Commander’s order, feeling flooded back into Avexis’ legs. She stepped forward, one pace, two, and knelt atop the flaming sword. The tile pressed roughly against her knees, but she barely noticed.

Knight-Commander Laroche drew a long, gleaming brand from the forge built into the chamber wall. Magical blue flame licked at the narrow opening, heating the lyrium-infused sunburst. It gleamed and hissed in the cool air.

“Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him,” he chanted, voice and footsteps booming off the walls as he descended from the dais and approached her. “Foul and corrupt are they who have taken His gift and turned it against His children.”

The circle of Templars shifted and tightened, closing in on her with every step the Knight-Commander took. From the corner of her eye, Avexis thought she saw a scuffle, someone struggling to breach the barrier, but then they vanished, replaced in her periphery by Templar plate. The Knight-Commander’s shadow fell over her, then, and she forgot all else. Her focus narrowed to the pulse of the brand above.

Her heart thudded against the cage of her ribs, but she could no more look away from the lyrium-infused metal than she’d been able to look away from the font. Transfixed, she awaited the solace it offered.

“The one who repents, who has faith, unshaken by the darkness of the world; she shall know true peace.” Laroche held her gaze neutrally. If he passed judgment, one way or the other, for her magic, or her decision, or her history, it did not show in his face. “Do you repent?”

Avexis took a slow, calming breath. In that beat, she felt warmth, a hopefulness that slipped across the Veil and shielded her from the shadow of icy Despair. You don’t have to do this, it whispered.

“I do,” she said.

That comforting presence tinged with sorrow, but with understanding as well, and it soothed the ragged edges of her conscience that still had doubts. It curled tighter within her chest as Knight-Commander Laroche raised the brand. In tandem, the Templars drew closer as well, and a film coated her teeth as they pressed the Fade back from this place.

“Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter,” they all chanted. “Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just. Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow.”

The room went utterly still, a dozen Purges overlapping at once. In the silence, Avexis gasped—but she made no sound. She could not draw breath. That strange, hopeful something clenched once around her heart—

Laroche pressed the brand to her forehead.

She had expected pain. But after a brief spike when metal met skin, there was none. Only a hiss as the lyrium and the Templars’ not-magic worked its way through her, took root in her soul and sliced cleanly through her connection to the Fade. The warmth in her chest fled, along with the comfort it had offered, but so to did Despair from her throat, and the Fear that had haunted her for so many years. Like cotton in her ears, the world about her muted, faded to dull, unsaturated tones.

Comfort was gone, but she no longer needed it. She was safe. She would be useful.

Knight-Commander Laroche dropped the rod to his side, lyrium spent and cooling, and looked down at the newly branded Tranquil. Alone, in his deep baritone, he finished,

“In their blood the Maker’s will is written.”

-

"tell me, father, which should I ask forgiveness for: what I am, or what I am not? tell me, mother, which should I regret: what I became, or what I did not?" -dvoyd

[flowersonpebbles]

 A friend they knew before - Day 2

Dallas stares guiltily at Jowan... he heard what was done to him after Arl Eamon sent him back to the Circle, he just never had the balls to come see him, to just visit. Yes, Tranquil are people, but he knew Jowan wouldn't be the same as he remembered. And it was all his fault... Now Dallas visits his old friend before travelling to his beloved Zevran in the Northern parts of Thedas and he wishes to say his goodbye, for he knows his time for the Calling won't be far... he can feel it in his body.

Jowan stares at Dallas calmly, smiling ever so softly, "Dallas, it is good to see you again." his friend looks so much older than he should though, and sickly, even... "Now you will not have to fear me any longer, for I can no longer perform blood magic. I hope we can spend more time together again now, the Blight is over, after all." he offers softly, gesturing to a seat beside him at the table. Grateful to be home and having his friend here once more. But Dallas blinks back tears at his old friend's words, falling to his knees in front of him and clutching onto his hands gently...

"I never feared you, old friend. Not once. I trust you, I always did... I am sorry that you ever thought I feared you.." Dallas chokes out apologetically and Jowan is slightly taken aback by this response, frowning softly as he grips his hands in return...

"I... I am grateful to know this now..." Jowan admits tenderly, lowering his head for Dallas as the red headed-although beginning to gray- elf reaches up gently, tenderly caressing the now long healed sunburst scar. Jowan's eyes drooping shut, leaning into the cold hand... "But I sense this will be the last time we meet..." he whispers sadly.

Dallas swallows thickly, "Indeed, Jowan... old friend... I fear I'll not be returning from my trip abroad..." he admits with a rasp.

"I never blamed you... I still do not." Jowan offers gently, opening his eyes. Dallas laughing wetly, resting his cheek now on Jowan's knee, tears falling... Jowan staring at him intently to take all the details in so he won't forget his friend's face... he's gotten so thin.. so pale, his eyes are no longer pure green, rather a eerie blue-green... oh, how they both have changed...

[inquisimer]

her mind was once a battleground

the Avexis-as-Cole AU continues for @tranquilweek day 5! Cole helps Avexis remember how to control her dreams, and she agrees to help him in turn.

read it on ao3 here!

Avexis & Cole | Rated G | 1200 words | No CW

-

The wheat field stretched endlessly around Avexis, swaying gently in the wind. Her imagined breeze was warm and it curled around her ears like a playful spirit. Maybe it was a playful spirit; the thought furrowed her brow and sent a chill down her spine that compassion quickly whisked away.

“You can tell, if you look.” Cole’s back was warm where it pressed against hers. He sat cross-legged, idly twirling a plucked shaft of wheat between his fingers. “They’re friendly.”

Avexis frowned. “If I look at them, I might corrupt them. Aren’t we all a bit safer if I just pretend not to notice?”

“Maybe, might, misguided. They didn’t know better than to teach you wrong. To see a thing and know it is to understand it. It only changes if you make it.”

“What if I make it change on accident? It’s not like I’ve had a lot of practice. Or been tested on it.”

“If you never try, how will you know?”

“I did try,” she muttered. “Sort of.”

“Fear, falling, frightened. Not like that.” She caught the barest glance of blue eyes as Cole cast his wheat aside. “I’ll help you.”

He stood next to her and cupped a hand just behind her ear. When he drew it forward, a little ball of pale green energy bounced happily in his palm, and the wind about Avexis’ face faded away.

“They like you,” Cole said, holding the wisp out like a baby bird. “You’re learning. Like them.”

Hesitantly, Avexis raised her fingers to brush against the wisp’s aura. It buzzed around her skin like bubbly wine and a delightful spark raced up her arm and into her heart.

“Oh,” she whispered, bringing her fingers to press against her lips. They were still hers, and the wisp was still the wisp, and the dream around it rippled with joy as Cole launched it back out into the Fade.

It reminded her of the baby animals the enchanters used to bring her. The injured ones, usually, who needed calming before the mages could heal them. As a child, she’d loved their soft feathers or fur, and they’d seemed to understand that her fumbling fingers against velvet snouts were well-intentioned and full of heart. As if they had seen something within her that she could not put into words.

“You do not have to hurt them,” Cold told her. “It is a choice and you can learn how to choose.”

Avexis nodded, linking her arm through his. The wheat flattened around the pair of them as she pulled them back down into it. “I need time, I think. But thank you for showing me.”

“Time it ticks away, will they change us, will we change things? Things to fix, duty to be done, wasting, wasting, wasting away.”

“The Templars?” Avexis guessed, sighing a little when Cole nodded.

Cadash had taken care of the more rebellious elements in the Hinterlands, but the main contingents were still locked away in Redcliffe and Theirinfall Redoubt. Technically, the Inquisition hadn’t made any final decisions. But that altus had come back with them to Haven, and Avexis suspected that the magister’s pompous attitude had upset Cadash more than the Lord Seeker’s silence.

“It’s not only that,” Cole said. They were laying on their backs, staring up at a half-formed sky. Avexis simply hadn’t spent that much time looking up; the only sky her dreaming mind could conjure was like a painting, smudged and streaked with shades of blue. “She promised. You, and others, change and vengeance go hand in hand.”

The oculara, of course. Part of Avexis was glad—she would see the Venatori burn for what they’d done to the Tranquil. What they would have done to her, given the chance. All grievances against the Templars aside, their abuses were rarely so blatant, or so blatantly cruel. Another thing Regalyan had saved her from.

Thunder rolled lowly through the dream before her train of thought could continue, a dark cloud forming in the far off distance. In a blink, Cole was sitting above her head, stroking soothing fingers through her hair and against the tender skin around her ears.

“Regret within reason, reign it in,” he said. Avexis took a deep breath and hesitantly felt for the woven threads of the dream, then traced the one that ran red with Regalyan’s blood.

“It is part of you too,” Cole murmured. “Not bad, not good, but you control it. It doesn’t control you.”

She felt the nature of the thread, the guilt and anger and sorrow that were always there, an indelible part of her. She found them and separated them and named them in her mind. She exhaled and her breath banished the rising storm from the horizon. When she opened her eyes, there was only the imagined warmth of the sun, and Cole laying back at her side.

“Thank you,” she murmured. He nodded, rocking ever-so-slightly to the rhythm of the world’s sorrows. “You can still hear them hurting?”

“They’re very loud, and very red,” Cole confirmed. “I could help, but it would hurt you if I left. Not the hurt that helps, just hurts.”

“Do you have to be just you to help, or could we do it together?

“We could, but we need to be there.”

“Alright then.” Avexis sat up, brushing crumpled bits of wheat from her robe. “Let’s go. I’m sure I’ve earned enough rapport with the horsemaster now to take one mount for a time. If we go early enough, Cassandra, Cadash, and the Commander will all be in their council meeting until well after we’re gone.”

“Sneaking isn’t safe,” Cole said, his disapproval clear. “They would want to know.”

“And they would stop us if they did. It’s not like Cadash is going to ask me to go back to Redcliffe with her, not with the unpredictable time magic they’re messing with. And if any place is going to be free of demons, it’s a stronghold of Templars.”

She squeezed Cole’s hands. “We have to, if we want to help them, right? And if Cadash doesn’t, and we don’t, who will?”

“They were needed, not noticed, until they left. People were angry, but anger doesn’t make them care.”

“Of course it doesn’t.” Avexis frowned. She was still teasing apart the bits of her that were genuine, and those that felt genuine, but were really just the Chantry’s lies wrapped up in trauma and fear. Most would find her empathy for the Templars appalling—but it didn’t feel false.

“Cautious, caring, outside the cage but caught in the trap, too. Most of them meant to do right, but the right they were given was wrong.”

Avexis nodded, sighing. There were so many things in this Fade-Touched world that had no good answers.

“If you say they need help, I trust you.” Gratitude swelled through the dream as Cole vanished—from sight, at least. A familiar comfort curled in her chest as she dismissed the dream with a wave of her hand.

Thank you for asking, she thought—or thought she thought, as the Fade melted away and she began to wake.

Thank you for not simply leaving me behind.

[flowersonpebbles]

Oculara - A once fond memory - Day 4

Elsa stares at her fellow Tranquil quietly.. thinking back to Meredith, the first time she met the kind, broken Templar Commander...

Meredith stares down at Elsa with a sudden softness in her eyes. "What are your duties?" she asks calmly to the Tranquil.

Elsa bows her head, "I take stock, order any necessities and organize any paperwork for the stockroom, Commander." she informs calmly, Meredith humming thoughtfully. "I would like to have you as my personal assistant instead, if you'd like. What's your name?"

Elsa looks up at her in surprise, "It would be an honor. My name is Elsa." she responds, still surprised. "I need only train someone to take my place first." she adds timidly.

"Very well, you can train anyone you deem fit to take your place. I shall be waiting patiently, Elsa." Meredith nods before taking her leave.

Elsa smiles sadly at the fond little memory of her once beloved Commander. Always so patient with her, like a mother or sister. She grits her teeth as she is made to kneel, overlooking a farm. Meredith once told her she was born and raised in a farm before her sister turned into an abomination and Meredith left with Ser Wentworth Knell... She closes her eyes, feeling sudden bursts of pain and magic once more only to scream in pan. A loud voice clawing at her mind and heart, only for it all to mercifully end as quick as it started...

[flowersonpebbles]

The Breach - Day 3

Avexis frowns as she stares up at the hole in the sky, everyone is calling it the Breach... it tugs at her headache in such a painstaking way... the last it ached this much was when she had received the sunburst brand, and when the explosion happened - but that pain hasn't gone. It is uncomfortable. She stares intently at Cassandra now, watching her mournful glare, similar looking to all those years ago when she could not stop her from being branded... She lost her Divine, after all. A fellow woman in power with great passion and hope, just like Cassandra. As well as the love of her life, Galyan... he is now gone... Cassandra saved an unconscious Avexis from oncoming demons and made sure Avexis was sent the other halfway back to Haven for safety, but otherwise the Seeker has kept away from her once more. Just as she did after she received the brand...

The Breach pulls and lulls Avexis though, faintly hearing the birds chitter, the rams bleat and the druffaloes bellow in a panic and - for brief moments, she swears she understands them again. Yet it scares her. She would be very emotional, broken over Galyan's death, Cass' avoidance even though Galyan stayed with Avexis all these years. She sits and stares at a druffalo sadly as it lays down. It is old, tired... that will be Cass one day, for who will she live..? She always seemed to live for someone else's sake... will she live to avenge the Divine? That person with the glowing hand hasn't been killed yet by her though... soon, then? Possibly, or they will be their savior in all this...

For now, Avexis cautiously watches Cassandra from afar and tries to ignore the animals when she hears their distress.

But she could not ignore the roaring dragon she heard, screaming in defiance one night in her dream. The same night they lost Haven...

[inquisimer]

in spite of the way that it is

My Avexis-as-Cole AU continues for @tranquilweek day 2! Loosely fills the 'mage rebellion' prompt, though it really better suits the alternate prompt 'a friend they knew before'.

Avexis & Regalyan D'Marcall, Avexis & Cole | Rated T | 2721 words | No CW As the White Spire teeters on the brink of rebellion, Regalyan seizes the chance to change one of his biggest regrets. Cole helps.

read it on ao3 here!

Regalyan knew the Spire’s dungeons were cold and dark and harsh, but he’d never expected to experience them first-hand. His views regarding mages and Templars and their respective roles within the Circle were relatively bland, in comparison to some of his fellows. But Rhys had changed all of that, hadn’t he?

His back ached from being pressed against stone all day, but his feet were just as sore from pacing. Worst of all was the ever-present exhaustion caused by the mana-drain enchantments on the cells. Not only could he not cast any spells, but his body felt as weak as if he’d expended all of that power, rather than having it sapped from him.

How long had he been down here, now? Days? Weeks? It seemed excessive, just for mouthing off to the Knight-Captain in a moment of anger.

If they’d hoped to dissuade him from the more radical beliefs the Libertarians whispered, they hadn’t thought this plan through. All this was doing was proving them right.

A loud gurgle echoed through his cell—his stomach, complaining at the sudden switch to a lean diet of bread and water. Like clockwork, he heard the click and creak of the dungeon’s main door. The Tranquil, with sustenance enough to keep him alive, nothing more.

As always, he held his breath. They hadn’t sent her yet, but it was only a matter of time. His gut clenched as a key scraped roughly in his cell door.

Guilt and grief and shame sharpened like a spike within him as the dull torchlight flickered around her. And it was her, finally. If Regalyan didn’t know the Knight-Commander to be woefully ignorant of the Tranquil, he might have thought the man ordered it on purpose, to twist the knife and break him.

“Avexis,” he whispered. She set the tray down on a jagged outcropping from the wall and turned to face him, expressionless.

“There is little I can do to assist you in your current position,” she said, brow furrowing. “What do you require?”

“I—do you remember who I am?” he asked, unable to keep the shattered grief from his voice, despite knowing that it would mean nothing to her.

“Of course. You are Regalyan D’Marcall, senior enchanter of the White Spire. You assisted Seeker Pentaghast to rescue me from maleficar as a child.”

He swallowed and nodded. “Yes, that’s—good. I just—“ He took a harsh, moist breath through his nose and had to stifle a cough as whatever mold he’d breathed in coated his throat. “I wanted to apologize.”

Avexis’ frowned. “I do not have the capacity to feel offense.”

“That doesn’t mean you cannot be wronged,” he said gently. “Nor that you do not deserve an apology when it happens.”

“If it will ease your conscience, I will listen.”

“It will.” Regalyan scooted forward on the stone. “I should have looked after you more, when we came back. What you went through, the way you were treated…” he broke off, coughing to clear the choke in his throat. “I should have stood with you. They made you feel weak for what happened, but they were wrong. You were strong, to come through that as you did.”

“It is my fault that you thought Tranquility was the best option,” Regalyan said. “And for that, I am sorry.”

Avexis blinked at him. Of course, she did not regret her choice. Couldn’t regret her choice. And he did not begrudge her that. But he had witnessed her Harrowing—or the lack of one. He had seen the crippling fear that made her hesitate; felt her relief when she decided. If he had been a better mentor, a better man, her choices might have been made from a place of confidence and courage, rather than despair and hopelessness.

His own grief and regrets were palpable. Even weakened as his connection to the Fade was, they leaked out and left imprints and echoes in this place. Exhausted and burning with shame, Regalyan forced his eyes to stay open as tears dripped down his cheeks. To look away would be to forget, and he had to remember. It was his fault that she had given up her magic; his fault that she no longer smiled so brightly, or snuck out saucers of milk for the cats that lurked in the tower.

It was his fault she no longer spoke with dragons.

Before she could muster the appropriate response—certain to be a flat acceptance of the apology, without any meaning behind it—a shadow materialized in the corner of the cell. Still not quite used to his sudden appearance, Regalyan flinched.

He knelt on the floor, face downturned and almost completely concealed by an overly floppy hat. Regalyan swiped at the tears that had surely summoned him. “Hello, Cole.”

“Running, racing to rescue but it ends in regret,” he murmured, tracing a finger through residual moisture on the stone floor. “I can help you, but you want to help her. I don’t think I can.”

A sudden idea burst through Regalyan’s suffocating grief and his gaze sharpened on Cole. He wasn’t sure exactly what the boy was—there hadn’t been time to pin Rhys down and ask—but there was something Fade-touched about him. According to Pharamond, though there was a ritual, that Fade aspect was the key to reversing Tranquility.

He glanced at Avexis. Whatever the circumstances, she had chosen this. Did he have any right to take it from her?

“Avexis,” he said hesitantly. “Have you heard the news from Adamant? That there is a cure for Tranquility?”

“I have heard rumors, yes.”

“Do you—“ he bit his tongue around the word wish, because the Tranquil did not have wishes. “Is that something you would want?”

“I do not have desires in the way that you describe. If my connection to the Fade were to be restored, I would be untested and vulnerable to possession once more. It is inadvisable.”

Regalyan swallowed back the objection that sprang to the tip of his tongue. Such an impassioned argument about how the Chantry warped the purpose of the Harrowing would mean nothing to her.

“If we could safeguard you against possession, what about then?”

Avexis paused, considering. “Perhaps. If such safeguards existed, and the need outstripped the mitigated danger.”

Good enough for him. Silently, Regalyan promised the Maker, on his life, that he would be the safety he was promising her. He could set things right. He would.

“You pull my thoughts out of me, right?” he asked Cole. “That’s why you come?”

“Yes. Painful and pressing, persistent. They told me you’re hurting, and how to help.”

“Could you do it the other way around? If someone didn’t know they were hurting, but I told you they needed help?”

Cole tilted his head, considering. “I might. But she is muffled, missing, lost. The path overgrown and unused.”

“What do you need to find it?”

“A memory,” Cole murmured, tapping his fingers in a pattern only he could hear against his leg. “Strong and still, singing through the silence. If she thinks of you, I can follow the thread.”

Regalyan nodded. On shaky legs, he met Avexis by the door and grasped her hands.

“Do you trust me?” he asked. “It is okay to say no.”

“You are here because the Knight-Commander is angry, and afraid. His definition of wrongdoing has exceeded the accepted level.” She cocked her head, “And though you believe you have hurt me in the past, the memories I have do not confirm this. Yes, I trust you, Regalyan D’Marcall.”

“Good.” He wet his lips. “Tell me, what do you remember of how we met?”

-

Avexis jolted into being. It was as though her eyes had snapped open, except they were already open, and she didn’t remember going to sleep, or closing them at all in the first place.

Where am I?

“We’re inside you. Or I am. You’re always inside you, even if they made you forget.”

“Who—“

“I’m Cole.” A boy blinked into existence before her. Something about his presence was familiar. From deep in the shadows of her mind, she dredged up that last memory before things went dark. Of Doubt and Fear and Despair, and the smallest voice that told her they were wrong. It had felt like Cole did now, the edges of him rippling with that same comfort, softening the harshness of the harder things.

“I was there,” Cole said, almost sadly, but understanding, too. “I know why you did it. It’s okay—it helped, then. I can help now.”

Avexis pressed the heel of her hand to her temple. “I was—I brought dinner to the dungeons. I was—telling a story?”

“You’re still there, still speaking,” Cole said. “He’s hurting, helpless, hasty. I tried to help him, but he wanted to help you. Now we’re here, in the hearing.”

Avexis’ thoughts were slow, barely keeping up, like dragging galoshes through quicksand. “He?”

“Regalyan. You remember him.”

And she did. Unbidden, a wash of memories—running through a forest, held safe from the whipping of branches against a leather-clad chest. Strong arms that caught her when she fell, hands that swung her through a crowded, joyous square. With the memories came feelings and they hit her straight in her chest, her throat, her gut. She fell to her knees with a wail.

She understood very little of what was happening. But she knew this…agony, the sharpness of emotion, any emotion, should be impossible.

“What did you do to me?” she groaned.

“I help, heal the hurting,” Cole said. “But you weren’t hurting, you were nothing, empty and existing. It will hurt before you can heal, if you go back.”

“Go back? What do you mean, go back?”

“Thoughts are fast. We’re here. Outside, words are spoken, slower, hanging in the air like a sunset.”

That almost made sense. Avexis frowned. “Does that mean we’re safe here?”

“No. You have to go back, one way or the other.”

“So you keep saying,” she huffed. Amusement and irritation rose equally within her, and both were overwhelming. She did not remember how to quell annoyances, nor contain joy, so they bubbled out of her in laughter, even as she scowled. “I’m still Tranquil. That won’t change when whatever this is, ends.”

“It might.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means…it’s your head. You can change it.”

“Are you saying,” Avexis swallowed—did she even need to do that, here? Maybe it was just a reflex, as a lump of fear lodged in her throat. It was like she’d swallowed a peach, pit and all. “The rumors, what happened to Pharamond. They are true? You can do that?”

Cole hesitated, then nodded. “I’ve never tried before. But you’re here, all of you, whole in the moment. I did something right.”

“All of me…” she murmured. Her fingers pressed against her chest. It ached with Maker-knows-what. She hadn’t felt in years, and before that only fear and despair had been strong enough to leave a muted echo. She thought her heart might be confused, or maybe curious, or some twisted up combination of the two. Not that it mattered now.

“If you leave,” she said hesitantly, “And I go back, I’ll still be Tranquil?”

“I think so.”

Her hands were shaking. She clenched them into fists so they would stop. “That’s the only way to be safe.”

“Weak, wasting, left wanting. They doubted you, but they were scared, too. They didn’t know better. Now, we do.”

“What does that mean?” she whispered, nails digging into her palms.

“It means…you could go back, as you. As this. And it would be okay.”

“How could it be okay? I’m untested, untrained. It isn’t safe.”

“Strong, smart, smiling. He believes in you. So do I. We’ll keep you safe, and others too.”

She remembered warm smiles, the comforting brush of a calloused hand. How sad Regalyan had seemed. The guilt and regret, and his apologies that came to her through a fog. Oh.

She owed him her life. That much was untainted by the dregs of Tranquility in her mind. If what he wanted in return was this…?

“He does,” Cole confirmed. “But it will hurt. He knows, and he would not hold your refusal against you.”

“But he would hurt instead,” Avexis whispered. “Has been hurting, this whole time, because I was afraid.” Cole nodded. Her hands were still shaking.

“You’ll stay with me?” she asked. “Stop me, if I—if I lose control, or if something else tries to come in?”

“A guard, a guide, a gate.” The spirit nodded, and she felt the authenticity of his promise through the Fade like a tsunami. “If I leave, you can’t go back. I will stay and soothe, strengthen, stabilize.”

“Okay.” Her voice was small, fearful. But she pictured the anguished twist of Regalyan’s face—she could fix that, if she went back. But how?

“It’s your head,” Cole said. “I was hoping you would know.”

Her head, maybe, but it was a swirl of emotions that she only loosely recognized as hers. She closed her eyes. Maybe it was as simple as—

-

Her eyes snapped open, and this time it was so much worse. Whether it had been Cole’s influence, or the Fade, or the lingering Tranquility, what she had felt before had been nothing compared to the sensations that washed through and around her now.

Cold wetness seeping through her thin slippers. It was unpleasant, and painful, and the fact that she even registered both of those things threatened to overwhelm her. Dank, moist air in her lungs, coating her throat—she coughed, and hands came to her shoulders.

“Avexis?”

She remembered that voice, and a little nagging in the back of her mind reminded her that that voice was the reason she was here, like this. Instead of cocooned in the safety of Tranquility. Because he had been hurting, and she could help.

“Regalyan,” she wheezed, struggling to stay on her feet. But reality had reasserted itself where she was concerned, and the press of it, so long held at bay, threatened to destroy her. She sank to her knees, head in her hands, and Regalyan sank with her.

“You’re—you—you’re—“

“Not Tranquil,” she managed. “I—it’s so much. Too much.”

“Maker, of course it is,” he murmured. He stroked her hair, soothing. “Don’t try to speak. Just—we’ll figure it out. Take your time.”

Unfortunately, they were out of time for her to take. Way above their heads, a booming crash echoed through the Spire. Both Regalyan and Avexis looked up, then back down at each other.

For something to have echoed that loudly, this far down…

“Rhys,” Regalyan hissed, his friend’s name nearly a curse in his mouth. Of course they would choose now to make a move. With the door to his cell still open, he heard his fellow prisoners shifting anxiously, their cries for help muffled behind closed doors. They would be trapped here, at the mercy of the building, if it fell, or the Templars if it didn’t. Doomed, either way.

“We have to get them out,” he muttered. Looking down at Avexis, he was surprised to find her nodding.

“I can help,” she said, and though her voice was weak, her gaze was determined, her hands clenched in fists. “I want to help.”

“You sound like…” Regalyan hesitated. “Wait. Where is Cole?”

“Here.” Avexis touched the side of her head. “He brought me back.”

Maker’s tears, what had he done? Regalyan’s eyes widened, but Avexis struggled out of his grip and pulled them both to their feet.

“We have to help,” she said. “We’re the only ones who can.”

There was no arguing with that. Regalyan followed her out of the cell, heart pounding in his chest. As Avexis drew the keyring from her belt, he laid a hand on her shoulder and squeezed.

“Don’t let me lose you, whatever chaos finds us,” he murmured. “I won’t fail you again.”

Her face twisted—with what emotion, he couldn’t say. She probably didn’t know, herself. They could sort it out later, if they both lived to have that luxury. For now, she nodded, and fit the key into the lock.

“Alright. Here we go.”