Dragon Age: Chains of the Past

Prologue: The Abduction

The sun had just begun its descent, casting a warm, golden hue over the dense forests that surrounded the camp of Dalish Clan Lenrian. The gentle rustle of leaves in the evening breeze mingled with the soft chirping of birds, creating a serene symphony that echoed through the towering trees. Ashlea Lenrian stood at the edge of the clearing, her dark brown hair catching the last rays of sunlight, her pale blue eyes scanning the horizon with practiced vigilance.

As the clan's skilled herbalist and a formidable archer, Ashlea bore the responsibility of ensuring the safety and well-being of her people. The forest was teeming with life, its secrets known intimately to her after years of gathering rare herbs and defending her clan from threats. But tonight, something felt off. An unsettling quiet had fallen over the forest, the usual chatter of animals strangely absent.

Elora, her seven-year-old daughter, darted around the camp, her blonde hair a bright contrast against the backdrop of green foliage. Elora's laughter rang out as she played with the other children, her pale blue eyes sparkling with innocence and joy. Ashlea's heart swelled with a mix of pride and protectiveness. She often marveled at how much her daughter had grown, inheriting both her mother's spirit and her father's determination.

As twilight deepened, Ashlea gathered her bow and quiver, intending to perform one last patrol before nightfall. She caught Elora's eye and beckoned her over.

"Stay close to the camp, da'len," Ashlea said, brushing a strand of hair from Elora's face. "I'll be back soon."

Elora nodded obediently, her eyes wide with understanding. "Be careful, mama."

With a reassuring smile, Ashlea kissed her daughter's forehead and set off into the forest. The familiarity of the terrain brought her a sense of comfort as she navigated the winding paths. Each step was deliberate and silent, her senses attuned to the slightest movement or sound.

She had ventured no more than a mile from the camp when she sensed it—a presence, lurking in the shadows. Her grip tightened on her bow as she drew an arrow, nocking it in a single, fluid motion. The forest seemed to hold its breath, the air thick with anticipation.

A rustle to her left caught her attention, and she spun, releasing the arrow towards the sound. It found its mark with a dull thud, followed by a pained grunt. Ashlea's pulse quickened as she realized the forest was alive with more than just the usual wildlife. Figures emerged from the darkness, their movements swift and calculated.

Humans.

Ashlea's heart raced as she loosed another arrow, but the humans were prepared. They swarmed her, overwhelming her with sheer numbers. She fought fiercely, her archery skills unmatched, but it wasn't enough. A rough hand grabbed her arm, twisting it painfully, forcing her to drop her bow. She kicked and struggled, her breaths coming in ragged gasps, but the humans were relentless.

"Let me go!" she shouted, her voice echoing through the trees. "I am Dalish! I will not be a slave!"

Her captors ignored her pleas, binding her hands and dragging her through the forest. Ashlea's thoughts turned to Elora, a pang of fear piercing her heart. She had to get back to her daughter, to her clan. She couldn't let them take her away.

As the humans hauled her towards a waiting wagon, Ashlea caught one last glimpse of the forest—the home she might never see again. The thought of Elora's face, innocent and unknowing, fueled her desperation. She had to find a way to escape, to return to her daughter and protect her from this cruel fate.

The wagon was rough and uncomfortable, filled with other captured elves, their eyes filled with fear and despair. Ashlea recognized a few faces from nearby clans, their expressions mirroring her own helplessness. The humans had been ruthless, sweeping through the forest with a cold efficiency that left little room for hope.

The journey to the coast was long and grueling, the wagon jolting over uneven terrain, each bump a reminder of the harsh reality they faced. Ashlea's wrists ached from the bindings, her body bruised and battered from the struggle. She tried to find solace in the memories of her clan, of Elora's laughter, and the warmth of the campfires. But the fear was always there, gnawing at her resolve.

Night fell, and the forest became a shadowy labyrinth. The humans made camp, lighting torches that cast flickering, eerie light over the clearing. Ashlea was dragged from the wagon, her legs barely able to support her weight after the rough ride. She stumbled, earning a harsh shove from one of her captors.

"Move, elf," he growled, his grip tightening painfully on her arm.

Ashlea bit back a retort, knowing it would only bring more suffering. She scanned the camp, noting the number of guards, their weapons, and the layout. Escape seemed impossible, but she couldn't afford to lose hope. She had to find a way back to Elora.

Meanwhile, back at the camp, Elora had sensed something was wrong when her mother didn't return. Fear gripped her young heart as she ran through the camp, searching for Keeper Melafelan. The Keeper was deep in conversation with a group of elders when Elora burst into the clearing, her eyes wide with terror.

"Keeper! Keeper Melafelan!" Elora cried, her voice trembling. "Mama's in trouble! Humans took her!"

Melafelan's expression turned grave, his eyes narrowing as he listened to Elora's frantic words. He placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Show me where, da'len. Quickly."

Elora led the Keeper and a group of hunters through the forest, her small feet swift and sure despite her fear. They reached the site of the struggle, but it was too late. The humans and their captives were long gone, leaving behind only broken branches and the faint scent of smoke.

Back at the human camp by the coast, Ashlea waited, her body tense, watching for the right moment. When the guards were sufficiently distracted, she slipped into the shadows, moving silently through the camp. Her heart raced as she navigated the maze of tents and sleeping humans, each step bringing her closer to freedom. She could hear the distant sounds of the forest, calling her back to safety, to her daughter.

But as she reached the edge of the camp, her escape was thwarted. A shout rang out, and she was quickly overpowered, dragged back to the center of the camp. This time, there would be no leniency. Her captors bound her more securely and threw her into the hold of a waiting ship bound for Ferelden.

The ship's wooden hull creaked ominously as it rocked gently in the harbor, the salty air a stark contrast to the familiar scents of the forest. Ashlea lay in the darkness of the ship's hold, the realization sinking in that she might never see her daughter again. Tears filled her eyes as she thought of Elora, her bright smile, and her innocent laughter.

As the ship set sail, Ashlea made a silent vow. She would find a way back to her daughter, no matter the cost. She would endure whatever trials lay ahead, fueled by the hope of one day reuniting with Elora.

In the Dalish camp, Keeper Melafelan and the hunters returned with heavy hearts. Elora stood at the edge of the clearing, her eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of her mother. Keeper Melafelan knelt beside her, his expression somber.

"We will not give up, Elora," he said gently. "We will continue to search. Your mother is strong, and we must have faith that she will find her way back to us."

Elora nodded, tears streaming down her face. She clung to the hope that her mother would return, that one day they would be together again. The forest stood as a silent witness to their grief and determination, a reminder of the strength and resilience of the Dalish.

And as the ship carrying Ashlea sailed further away, a mother's love and a daughter's hope remained unbroken, a bond that no distance could sever.