The Blood that Binds

The Trust of a Friend

The Harrowing Chamber. It was a place in the Circle Tower that Solona had never been. Her hands trembled as she approached the group of Templars that were congregated around a small pedestal topped with a bowl full of glowing Lyrium. There had been no warning. She had gone to bed that night thinking it was just any other night. She had been sound asleep when the youngest of the Templars in the tower, Cullen, had gently shaken her awake and asked her to dress and follow him. In a way, she had been preparing for this moment since the day she had been ripped from her parents at age 6 and brought to the tower. She could not remember a life without magic. Her power had flared early in life. One of her most vivid memories was the one of the woman she remembered as her mother sobbing on the street, crumbling as her father held her back from attacking the armed and armored men who were dragging her baby from her. She cringed as the memory resurfaced. She paused as she caught sight of First Enchanter Irving, his aged face surrounded by gray hair and a bushy beard held an expression of fear, pride, sadness and confidence all wrapped up in one.

She stood with her own back stiff and straight, her brown hair falling around her shoulders. She had not even had a chance to pull it into a tail after pulling on her blue apprentice robes. A few of the other apprentices had woken up with the commotion and watched on in horror as she'd been led out of their dormitories by a Templar. Knight Commander Greagoir stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his shiny silver plate armor looking extra spiffy. For me? You shouldn't have... she thought as he cleared his throat and began to speak a Canticle from the Chant of Light. "Magic exists to serve man and never to rule over him..."

Solona blocked out the hollow words, returning her attention to the First Enchanter. He seemed to be attempting to tell her something with his eyes, but she was not close enough with the man to really understand what he wanted to tell her. She had never made many friends in the tower among her fellow mages. Some had been afraid of their own power, others had been afraid of the Templars. Only a couple had the sense of adventure that she herself seemed to shoulder like a burden, marking her as an outcast. She had forced herself into the lives of some of the older mages, ones who had already passed their Harrowing and had been allowed to leave the Tower. She was eager to learn all she could of her gift. She'd studied hard and surpassed her peers, able to perform spells from many of the branches of magic, unwilling to choose a specialty as some of the others had. The First Enchanter had always struck her as a pious old man with far too much respect for the Templars' rules. He had great power, but he never used it to change things. Instead, he spent his days arguing with Greagoir.

When the Templar Commander finished his speech, Solona returned her green-blue gaze to him and narrowed her eyes. Had he just said he was sending her into the Fade? So it was face a demon or be forced into the Rite of Tranquility. She shuddered at the thought. The tranquil around the tower frightened her. The large Chantry brand on their foreheads added an ominous look to the soulless gaze of their eyes. They were so empty. She refused to become that. She clenched her fists and drew herself taller, her chin jutting outwards in confidence. "And if I fail?" she asked, with a surprising amount of steadiness in her voice.

"Then the templars will do their duty and strike you down," Greagoir said without feeling, his gaze flicking over to Cullen. She moved her eyes to him as well and he shuffled his feet, his hands grasping the hilt of his sword tightly as if he didn't know what to do with them. His eyes roved over her and his cheeks reddened before he looked away at anything but her. She had seen him taking interest in her as she roamed the halls on her time off. She had been to every part of the Tower she could get to, which until that very moment had not included the large open room they now stood in. It was dark and cold, with no furniture besides the pedestal where the bowl of Lyrium sat, glowing eerily and casting strange shadows all around them. She had even found the dark dungeon that the Templars had turned into a solitary confinement. On one of her recent visits there, she had met a very interesting mage who called himself Anders. She had not gotten a look at his face in the darkness, but they had talked for quite some time about his six escape attempts from the tower. She had left wishing she was as brave as him to risk the Templars' wrath by running away. She had not returned because the ever vigilant Cullen had nearly caught her leaving. Perhaps after passing her Harrowing, she could add him to her short list of 'accomplishments' around the tower, gleaning some Templar favor and a bit of leniency.