Freedom's Price

Another Chain

'Bind her!' The shrill voice attacks me as soon as we enter the large doors. 

I spot the source – a red-faced Chantry cleric pointing straight at me. Without a thought I step behind the Commander and shuffle next to Solas who's been regaleing the long histories of Haven as we've manoeuvred towards the Chantry building.

Soldiers follow the voice; two fresh faces with eagerness in their eyes.

I knew it. They were lying to me, and I'm going to be locked up for the rest of my life until I rot and–

'Disregard that!' A cutthroat command from a voice that makes me feel like I'm kneeling on loose stone and praying to a God I don't believe in. Cassandra – Seeker Pentaghast, that's what they called her, – stands at the foot of a large table that centres the room, alongside the rogue and a finely-dressed noble with sharp eyebrows. 'Leave us.'

I watch the soldiers hesitate from behind Cullen's shoulder. They glance to the Cleric, who's face is scrunched in disdain. 'You're walking a dangerous line, Seeker!'

'Leave us!' Seeker Cassandra booms. After a startle, the soldiers retreat through two engraved wooden doors. She focuses on the Cleric, whilst I try to settle down the harsh beating of my heart. 'The breach is closed, but the threat still remains.'

'What threat?' My voice is a squeak, and I feel my cheeks flush as all faces turn to mine.

The Cleric laughs. I can't blame him. 'You know very well what threat. The threat you caused!' He turns swiftly, gathering up a satchel and plonking it on the table in front of us. Everything inside of me reaches out, the yearning and ache my heart feels almost too much to bare. 'Care to explain?' He asks, smugly.

My mouth bobs on its own volition. Everybody's looking. 'Uh... I think- I think it's a bag.'

'Yes, it's a bag. It's your bag.' He upends it, throwing the contents across the wood. Potions, ingredients, all gurgling with electricity just waiting to explode spilling everywhere. 'Care to explain?'

I can't. I can't, I can't, I can't, and I'm muttering like an idiot when the rogue steps forward.

'Some vials... unused ingredients. What's this?' She runs a finger across the leather of a notepad, opening the pages.

'A book of spells, no doubt.'

'-A diary. Kitsuma Lavellan,' the rogue scoffs. 'A Dalish name. This proves nothing.'

'It proves- these are ingredients for bombs! From the bag of the mage who walked away from a Temple left in ashes! The only one who walked away from the Divine's graveyard!'

'I didn't kill the Divine,' I say in a small barely-there voice, and the only person who seems to hear is the Commander. He glances me from the corner of his eye, frowning.

'She is a traitor! Maker, how else do you explain the... thing on her hand!?'

Cassandra leans across the table. 'Divine intervention,' her eyes glaze over to my hand for a moment before dropping to the floor. 'The Maker has sent us a Herald in our time of need. No matter her status as a mage, she has come at the right time with exactly what we need.'

'You can't mean-'

'I do,' Cassandra snips at the man. She glides across the floor with the grace of a warhammer and picks up an enormous tome, dust slapping from its surface and rising into the still air. She points at the cover, where an etched symbol rises from the leather binding. 'Chancellor Roderick, this is a rite from the Divine, granting us authority to act. At this moment, I declare the Inquisition of old reborn. With or without your approval, we will close the breach, we will find those responsible, and we will make them suffer.'