Prologue;

The void before the creature was dim, what seemed to be ruins were scattered in the air among floating gargantuan mountains. The creature's body hovered above one such precipice, between the broken frame of a tower and the skeleton of a ship floating by on an invisible tide, prow decorated with an elaborate carving of a winged monster. The creature was sleeping, it seemed yet began to rise, slowly, until it stood to its full height, suspended in the air. The wind filled with whispers, some soft, others harsh and accusatory. The voice that followed was neither. It silenced the whispers, and caused the creature to snap its head upwards in a single swift motion. A figure of light reached forth, cutting through the shadows. The creature opened its eyes, in a flash of blinding light, strips of cloth whipping around it, pulling it back as if trying to prevent it joining hands with the figure made of light. It clawed and clutched, and the Fade shook in its wake.

Varric;

The smell of burning flesh was not a pleasant one, Varric would admit. He doubted an army of dragons could have produced destruction and death equal to that of the Breach. It was a tragedy, one he hoped would put the war between the Templars and the Mages in perspective for those still under the illusion it mattered. After all that he had seen, a foe that wasn't wielding a sword or staff was a welcome target. The demons that had crawled out of the sky had found little opposition to their presence, everyone within miles had already perished from the fires above, their bodies strewn upon the ashen plain that was once the Temple of Sacred Ashes and the village of Haven. The place looked as if there had been some massive battle, the sort one could spin a story or two about, but there had been no such thing, no warning, no protest, just indiscriminate carnage. Cassandra had been adamant, they were going to find those responsible and return order. That noble mission began with both he and Cassandra scouring the countryside for clues, killing any remaining demons with the small army of Templars and soldiers sent to them by the Divine. It wasn't exactly his idea of a good time, waltzing through a sea of corpses, but he kept relatively quiet, only remarking upon his own fabulous marksmanship when the men looked like they needed some encouragement. The steady flow of demons from the Breach wasn't slowing, and they began to tire. So far nothing Cassandra had deemed useful had presented itself, until the air tore apart once more, releasing yet another monster from the Fade. Only, this monster did not appear to be your commonplace demon.

His vision was skewed by the light crackling around her as she stumbled out of the Fade, or rather fell but he could tell what she was, a human, maybe an elf. Her dark gold hair further obscured her appearance as she half-laid upon the ash, breathing heavily and clutching her hand; her ears gave her away as human. The soldiers and he rushed forth, though Varric seemed to be the only one willing to approach. Whoever she was, it was plain from the gold hair pins to the gold-embossed corset, she certainly wasn't poor. Her clothes lay mostly in tatters, the straps of what was once a linen shirt now covered only one shoulder, her costly looking leather corset was the only thing that seemed untouched by all that had happened and the dagger strapped to her thigh was a clear and simple threat. He would need to be careful with this one.

"Careful kid, it's raining demons out here." He kept his tone light, shouldering Bianca and signalling for the others to lower their weapons. She looked up, noticing them for the first time, eyes drinking in the horror of the scene before her. A corpse to her left seemed to reach towards her, embers still glowing, yet that didn't make her flinch half as badly as Varric regrettably had. This woman looked like a wild thing, bright yellow eyes daring him to come closer as she slowly moved herself into a defensive position. This kid had combat training. "I wouldn't do anything rash, if I were you", he added, seeing her eyes flicker from weapon to weapon. "Do you have any idea what's happened here?" he knelt so as to be on her level. Her eyes had returned to the burnt corpse closest to her, she seemed to be lost, so still, as if remembering something, or trying to. She broke from the reverie after a moment, meeting his eyes and shaking her head. She seemed to relax, ever so slightly, but tensed at the sound of approaching footsteps, standing. Cassandra hadn't seemed to have gotten the whole 'lower your weapons' thing he was going for, but the girl, upon seeing the Chantry symbol of the Eye of the Seekers of Truth stood changed to a more formal and diplomatic approach to the situation.

"Seeker", she inclined her head and continued, calm and slightly sarcastic, she reminded the dwarf of someone he cared for, but her heart wasn't in the words. "It seems there has been some sort of misunderstanding."

"I don't think so." Cassandra confidently contrasted the other girl's tone. The strain of the past few days did not show in her voice.

"Seeker" he mediated, "we've got no reason to-"

"Be quiet Varric." The Seeker was not impressed. He didn't take it personally.

"I don't suppose there'll be any chance of you changing your mind if you've already made it but surely the Seekers of Truth have bigger threats to worry about than myself." The woman drawled, gesturing vaguely to their surrounds. It was difficult to bear what had happened there; the Seeker felt it more than most.

"Our soldiers have found you practically waltzing out of the Fade, the only one who escaped a blast that killed thousands and you expect us to believe you have no idea how you survived? At this moment, you are the only threat I see." The Seeker's words were true. But the girl hadn't seemed to notice, she was staring at her hand, rubbing her palm in something akin to disbelief. Cassandra had already unsheathed her sword and held it to the girl's throat. The blade, however, did not intimidate her; she only lifted her palm almost directly into the Seeker's face and raised an eyebrow. It seemed she had an explanation after all.

Darkness. Blood stains dragged across a courtyard. A young lord screams as his father places a crown made of melted silverite daggers upon his daughter's head. Ostwick tower crumbles. Hearts turn cold. and The screams carry on. A Templar sits amid a field of burnt corpses, cradling the body of a stranger. Corpses sing sea shanties under a smoking sun as the world burns and somebody laughs.

There was something satisfying in the clanking of manacles, in the thud they made in her calloused hands as she placed them upon the table, in the opening of the prison door. She was worth an interrogation, as least. Though it had not been the Seeker who opened the door, it had been Varric. The dwarf had been pleasant company, a welcome change from involuntary moments of stillness and clarity that clouded the mind. In the hours of stillness Raen had whittled away at herself with the knives of necessity- evaluating every action that had led her Haven, trying to pinpoint her mistake. The blast had left her with nothing, nothing but a swelling rage in the pit of her stomach that expanded at the thought of them all atop that blasted mountain. They can all burn for all I care. Perhaps she had been the cause, though she kept that theory to herself. The solitude was stifling; every bump in the night was Dante, as always, yet now every guard that passed was Ellion, every whisper upon a squall was her crew, sighing songs that brought surprisingly bitter lumps to her throat. However detachedness was all she knew, so that was where she stayed, pushing each apprehension down as it rose, forced herself not to look for what had already vanished, just as she always had. The dwarf was not a challenge, he already seemed on her side and relatively transparent, but he was a far better than ghosts. "Hey kid, how goes the interrogation?"

"Surprisingly well considering the revelation that I have something you people want. Seems the odds are in my favour but I thought I'd piss of the Seeker and hold out a little longer." She mused.

"So you're being so damn cagey just to get a rise out of Cassandra?"

"That and I don't quite see the advantage in talking."

"Do you always make decisions based on what's advantageous to yourself?" This woman would make one heck of a dwarf.

"Always." She smirked.

Varric scoffed at the response, this kid had balls. "So maybe you wouldn't mind telling me who you are? I could certainly tease the Seeker with it all day long if a reaction is really what you're looking for." It felt almost natural to her to jest like this; this dwarf would have been quite at home aboard the Griffon, Raen thought.

"Hmm, I suppose there is some merit in the idea. Very well, Varric." It mattered little now; anybody who would have cared was already dead. "My name is Raen; Trevelyan bastard, Ostwick Circle Runaway and privateer." She was watching him intently, gauging his reaction carefully, almost desperately trying to get a measure of the person she had become. Varric was surprised; he had believed she was a rogue, not a mage, and this certainly did not look the type of delicate lady that watched absentmindedly from a castle tower. Yet as his initial incredulousness subsided he began to laugh.
"That's quite a list of accomplishments there, Lady Trevelyan." As he chucked he noticed, her hands were on fire upon the table, she had realized her story was not convincing. Cassandra would be livid when she realized the manacles had been almost useless all along.

"It's just Raen." She seemed satisfied as she put out the fire without moving an inch. "I hardly expect you to believe it, considering when you check the records, as you undoubtedly will, you shall see that Lord Trevelyan's daughter died in the Circle uprising. I was correcting that little administrative error mere minutes before the blast. Unfortunately, my thunder was stolen." She was calm and cold as a lake in autumn as she watched him, in the same ripped and dirty linen shirt they'd found her in, hair messily falling about her shoulders. She was pretty, for a human, once you got used to the harshness of her. Yet she still had an air of death about her, something to do with that perpetually glowing green palm of hers perhaps.

"That's an understatement." The story was farfetched to say the least, just the sort of story he liked, actually. "So, I take it you lost people in the Blast" he sobered at the thought of charred faces, despairing and unrecognizable. She stilled, taking in the question with a slight frown. He tried to elaborate, "People you cared for."

"I know what you meant, Messere, I was only thinking. There were a lot of bodies." She seemed to think that a definite enough answer and so he pushed no further, the truth of it was in her eyes; she either didn't know or didn't care, he hoped it was the former.

"Well, if you're half as interesting as you say you are, it'll be good to have you around. If you're planning on cooperating with Cassandra, that is." The corner of her mouth twitched, he wasn't being half as subtle as he thought he was.

"Perhaps I shall, if the Seeker asks nicely." She smirked, he couldn't help but scoff.

"It's your funeral, kid." He'd already forgotten she had already required a few of those.