.

Excerpts from Mihren's Journal: From Origins to Inquisition

.

9:30 Dragon

Entry #289

.

Dream journal time.

I watched a Youtube video once that said if you started a dream journal, it would make lucid dreaming easier. But you needed some form of sleep schedule as well, which I didn't have, so obviously the lucid dreaming thing never happened. My teeth fall out and I just accept that that's how it is now, like some kind of non-lucid motherfucker who regularly gets freaked on by his subconscious.

Anyway, the dream.

Darkspawn. A lot of them. An entire hoard. They seemed to be rallying, maybe one huge Darkspawn rave in the Deep Roads that no one else was invited to. IDK, I'm not the Grey Warden here.

Transitioned dream-like to some place next to a lake. Not in Thedas. More like the quarry Malcom and I used to hang out in. He wasn't there, though - it was just me and some stones. I skipped them for, like, fucking hours.

I blink, next thing I know I'm sitting in my living room. My little sister is on the floor coloring. I want her to turn around but she doesn't.

Dad says my name. I barely hear him. He says it again, so I turn to him. He looks as shit as is typical for someone who's gonna die but doesn't have the money to do it in the comfort of St. Thomas' public hospital. He wants juice, I get him juice. He wants a blanket, I get him a blanket. Haven't looked after him for about one year now but it was a dream so I just fell back into old habits.

The doorbell rings. "That must be Leandra," is word-for-word what dad says. As in, Leandra Hawke. Dead Leandra. But it's a dream so she's there when I open the door.

I wake up just after I finish hugging Garrett. Kinda bitter. Didn't get to say hello to Bethy, yknow?

I might keep it up with the dream journal stuff.

It was good to see everyone again.

.

9:30 Dragon

Entry #292

.

The… Dalish? are approaching.

Well, we're approaching the Dalish. Witchy can't stop talking about how we have probably missed them because they're nomadic. Eh. We'll see. From what I've heard we don't really need them.

It's just one dragon. Do we really need any of these armies? Throw me at it and I'll annoy it to death.

Neria's twisted into knots about visiting this clan. Apparently the Dalish throw out their mages? I don't know, she didn't say much but the Circle had Dalish elves and Neria doesn't approve of the whole… idea. Witchy told her not to judge so hastily.

Witchy.

It'll be cool to put this whole thing behind us. I feel like I've been saying that since the beginning though, so.

.

9:30 Dragon

Entry #293

.

I'm so fucking tired of TREES.

I get it, okay? No more!

.

9:30 Dragon

Entry #294

.

Somehow ended up giving Oldie a massage. Dad used to get stiff muscles since he didn't move much so I'm slightly an expert on the subject.

Super awkward though. She was mega tense and… people make sounds when you give them massages… ugghhht. Zev was waggling his eyebrows at me the entire time. We aren't doing that again.

Skeletor broke her leg as well. Oldie fixed it quickly and I gave that little lady the scolding of a fucking lifetime. Dumb shit. How many cats does she think there are in Thedas? She's it for me.

.

9:30 Dragon

Entry #295

.

Brecilian forest is large. Dunno why I'm surprised by it. I travelled for months without these jokes accompanying me, I have my own knowledge.

Also, fought a bear (not Witchy).

Well, G fought a bear. Beefcake, Zev and I cheered him on. Leliana was not that impressed by our actions but did praise G when all was dead and done.

Dinner was filling tonight. We've never had extra meat before!

.

9:30 Dragon

Entry #296

.

Leliana's fitting in reading lessons. Wonder when she'll give up on that. Soon, surely.

Wrangled some Circle tales out of Neria. It went through a demon infestation before I joined the group, which is pretty cool. Uhh… she only just grew out her hair before this templar chopped it all off when she was thirteen. Oldie tried to teach her spirit healing but Neria was too destructive for the practice. Her favorite color is "sunset orange".

She remembers her family but doesn't like to talk about it, or where she's from. She doesn't like being close to violence, so her magey stuff helps with that. She spent one month in solitary for "disrespecting" a templar who wanted her to look him in the eye when he was speaking to her.

And yeah, she's dating Leliana and Witchy. Beefcake owes me money.

.

9:30 Dragon

Entry #297

.

I love when Neria asks me to scout ahead because everyone knows I'm shit at that. It's like asking a monkey to do calculus. You know they aren't gonna fucking manage but you enjoy watching the process because it's hilarious from the outside.

I'm gonna scout. Assholes.

.

9:30 Dragon

Entry #298

.

Ran into a pack of wolves. We literally walked right past their den and they attacked us.

"Ren is no longer scouting alone," Zev told us. I have been telling them that from the start. I didn't see the den at all. I just collected herbs and circled back.

Oldie appreciated it.

.

9:30 Dragon

Entry #299

.

Braid count: 5.

Customers: G, Leliana, Neria, Zev, Oldie.

G fucked up his fingers against the wolves so I did his cornrows. Leliana wanted me to do her hair because, idk, she was in the mood for it. Think she wanted to gossip with me about the others 'cause that's what she did. Neria's just lazy. Zev asked to stir shit but he seemed pretty happy when I actually did it. I offered my services to Oldie because Beefcake was looking left out and I really wanted him to feel that.

Heard him squawk when I asked Witchy if she was interested. Ha!

.

9:30 Dragon

Entry #300

.

Literally every time Neria gathers scouts, Zev laughs when she says my name. Asked why I kept coming on these things. Beefcake said it was like hitting your head against a wall. Either your head broke or the wall did. I'm going to kill him one day.

Witchy is coming too. Her shapeshifting is useful and me and her are the most experienced with the wilds. Even though the Brecilian forest is nothing like the Korcari.

Beefcake's coming because he's a bitch. And none of the rogues were interested. That's literally what they said.

I didn't even know you could do that.

.

"Wait… I know this place."

Neria was the only one to hear me.

"You've travelled through this forest?"

I slowed down to a crawl. Usually, all forests look the same to me, because a tree is a tree is a tree, you know? It's unusual for me to feel the inklings of familiarity somewhere, even if I knew I was revisiting a location. I just didn't tend to get nostalgic about places I've been before. There wasn't much to get nostalgic about.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. It's another dirt path from months of much the same, yet something about this one… My stomach flipped over.

"That's right. You travelled a bit on your own, didn't you?" Alistair mused. Apparently the idea was funny to him. "I'm surprised you made it as far as you did what with you being — well, you."

I laughed sarcastically even though Alistair had a point. It's a pure fucking miracle I made it to Calenhad without misplacing more toes. "Made my way up from the south," I said, brushing my fingers along some low-hanging leaves.

There was this thing, psychometry, the psychic ability to read an object's history through touch. You could know where it's been, who owned it, the emotions attached to it. I didn't have any latent psychometric ability, but I knew for sure I had a knack for getting my hands dirty.

"I might have passed through here."

"I wouldn't suppose you have any survival tips for us?" Alistair asked.

Morrigan shook her head before I could speak. "I wager that the boy has no wisdom to depart with."

Because it's her, she made it sound as insulting as possible, which made me want to pick a fight. The nausea I'm feeling stopped me, though, and the most I managed was flipping her off. "Bandits, yeah, but you guys know how to fuck those guys up. Besides, I avoided them."

"A first for you," said Neria.

"I — yes, actually. It… was."

"You good, Ren?" Alistair poked.

I frowned at my bare feet, hideous though they were. Memory tickled me like a feather, sensation intensifying the harder I paid attention to it. I was forgetting something. Or remembering. I couldn't decide which, but my discomfort grew thicker until I felt fuzzy. I rested my hand on my belt: touching my journal, not my sword.

At once, it hit me. The journal. The leather-bound book I discovered on the corpse of some poor dead idiot. It was here, in this forest, I was sure of it. And if this was the forest I'd found the journal, and Gigantor's first version, then that meant…

Fuck. Fuck this.

I was back?

Alistair made an urgent sound. "Ren, buddy?"

"We shouldn't —" It left me in a gasp. When my lungs suddenly seized, it didn't surprise me at all, but my instinctive flinch when I felt hands on me did. I never — I never — I wasn't this poor victim, okay?

Neria didn't touch me again. She coached me back to reality by repeating my name. Mihren Osmani. Annoyance probably did the bulk of it: I couldn't believe she was calling me Mihren at a time like this. Once I'd calmed down enough to focus, I categorized the position of everyone. Alistair was hovering, looking confused as hell, while Morrigan distastefully surveyed the area. Her back was to me but I could tell from her posture that the holdup was not appreciated.

But she still kept a look-out. It was something.

Neria made me look at her, although it was obvious that she was staring at everything except my eyes. "What is it?" She wanted to know.

I breathed shakily. "There's a house nearby. A hut. It's where… I don't… I think I could find it."

"A hut?" Alistair eyed me warily. "That's what sent you into a panic, man?"

Neria didn't seem to get it, and then she did. Her bright eyes shuttered as she took in the state of me and my words and the only clear correlation between them. "Where, Osmani?"

I pointed vaguely. I didn't know how I knew, but I did. Maybe I'd memorized the way out despite only using it once. Surely it wasn't difficult to retrace my steps?

She stood up and extended her hands to me, an offering I accepted on behalf of my trembling legs. "Change of plans. We're taking a detour," Neria said brusquely. She narrowed her eyes at them. "And I'm not listening to any complaints about it."

Morrigan seemed distinctly annoyed. "As you wish," She huffed.

Alistair was similarly not sold, and he slowly said, "If it's that important…?"

Neria saw the gap he left and did the verbal equivalent of brushing it aside. "Yes," She said, adding nothing onto the end. Alistair threw his hands up in exasperation, his theatrics duly ignored.

"Ren, lead us."

Right. I could… I could most certainly do that.

Minutes later, I stood there. I never thought I would be return, let alone willingly. I thought you'd have to drag me back. How stupid could I be?

The atmosphere was a bit tense. Any attempts to obtain answers from either me or Neria were unsuccessful. Alistair was talented at managing moods, but this was beyond him. He settled for guarding our flanks and offering silent, although keenly exasperated, support. If no one explained the situation to him soon, he would undoubtedly start poking until one of us exploded.

He was in luck. I was never more high strung than right fucking now.

The hut was not particularly ominous. It'd definitely seen better days; with no one to look after it, disrepair was the kindest possible fate. Bile rose in my throat. If I felt unsafe miles away, I was swimming in heebie jeebies now.

"Well, elf? Do you intend to stand here all day?"

Morrigan's words urged me to mechanically walk forward. The door was hanging off its hinges — me, I recalled, I was responsible for that — and swung open with the slightest nudge. A year's worth of rot and death wafted past me, and I heard someone hastily cut off their groan.

"Osmani…"

"I'm fine," I interrupted her. "There's nothing upstairs. Follow me."

The trap door was in the pantry, opened the way I left it. The flies and all sorts of bugs inhabited the small space, feasting on what I hadn't looted. The smell was strongest down the hole. I steeled myself and began to descend the rickety ladder. Alistair followed quickly. Morrigan and Neria hesitated, murmuring softy to each other.

"Maker," Alistair groaned, pinching his nose shut. I covered my mouth. "The stench!"

Piss and shit and blood and decomposing flesh. It was more… intense now that I didn't live in it. I armed myself with Gigantor.

"I really don't think anyone is alive," Alistair told me.

I couldn't shake my mood. "Be wary," I said. My grip was too tight on the handle. I wouldn't be able to swing like this, but it was comforting to have a weapon in hand. Besides, I wouldn't put it past the psycho bitch to have a demon snake lying in wait.

We picked through the cavern, larger than I experienced, which almost focused me on my task. Alistair went through rooms and I rifled through drawers. There was no order. Everything was already upturned by the time I got to it. The… the lady wouldn't have done it. She was too methodical and collecting keepsakes was not a priority when escaping. Similarly I saw tripwires and false floors everywhere: disarmed traps, evidence that my group wasn't the first scavengers to beset the place. In the mess I found leafs of paper with — notes, let's call them. Of me. Of what she did to me. I read long enough to parse their contents before I stuffed them in my bag. Later, perhaps.

I hadn't heard from Alistair for a little, so I went searching for him. He was closing a heavy door behind him. His face was dead white.

I felt cold.

"What did you see?"

"Don't go in there."

"Beefcake."

"Go find Neria or something. Where are they? What's taking so long? Girls!"

"For god's sake—" I bit, and shouldered past him to kick open the door. He lurched to shut it again, but I'd already slipped under his arm, inside the room.

A large stone mound was in the middle of the room. A platform. There were leather straps somehow hammered into the rock, worn and well-used. It was stained brown. Dried blood. Along the walls were shelves of jars, herbs and animal parts. On the benches, metal instruments. I didn't have to guess their use. Evidence was written into my skin.

I heard buzzing. I searched for the origin of the noise. Slouched against the wall was a — corpse, a woman, her dark hair matted in her face. The back of her head was split open. I remembered the crack, her scream, getting on top of her and losing all thoughts of mercy. The dagger was still in her chest. She had bugs all over her. The buzzing was the flies. She looked pathetic and empty and dead.

Alistair grabbed my shoulders and forced me to face him, to look away from the awful picture she painted. Sorry, no — the picture I painted with her techniques. "Nope. We aren't doing this. Out, out, out!"

"Beefcake."

"Unless the words following that are 'I completely agree with you', I don't wanna hear it."

He shepherded me into the initial foyer where Neria and Morrigan were waiting. As soon as she laid eyes on us, Morrigan said, "The Fade is thin. Did you encounter any resistance?"

"Not as such," said Alistair. "Unless you count trauma, which I'm positive you don't seeing that you're soulless."

The women shared a look. "You should have. There is barely anything keeping spirits and demons back."

"Maybe they weren't that interested today. Yay. Let's move on. Ren, did you grab everything?"

"We can leave," I agreed. The papers burned a hole in my bag. I wanted to rip them to shreds, but they were my answer to returning home so I couldn't. God, what a fucking mess.

Thud!

"Uh oh," Alistair said flatly. We faced the noise. The door to the room vibrated under the force of another hit. I heard the warrior sigh as he raised his sword and shield. "You jinxed it, Morrigan."

"I did no such thing," she denied. "I considered the information and made an accurate prediction. 'Tis well within anyone's capability, given that one has the necessary intellect."

"And I guess I don't qualify," Alistair sounded unimpressed. Thud! He didn't react. He was too busy trying to set Morrigan on fire with his eyes.

"Please don't fight," Neria pleaded. "There is a time and a place, you two. Just putting that out there."

THUD! THUD! THU—

The door smashed open. The half-decomposed corpse was staggering towards us, mouth agape in a wordless groan. Great. One fresh zombie bitch coming right up.

Neria put her staff on the ground, sending an arctic spell at the possessed woman. It froze her left side solid. The ice exploded off when she released an unholy scream — the earth rumbled with it, and Morrigan made an affronted noise.

"Incoming," Neria warned as spirits jumped to the demon's aid. Dust wraiths, rage demons, and some green blobs that didn't seem to have any purpose aside from pelting spirit balls at us. Now it was a party.

"I hope one of you will feel generous enough to offer an explanation soon."

Piece said, Alistair threw himself into battle. I did as well. Knowing that my magic immunity had not only limits but a range inspired me to keep the enemies at swords-reach. No closer. I slashed away with Alistair at my side. I kept getting nearer to the epicenter — her — but every time I thought I was going to experience the singular pleasure of having killed her twice, she would tear open the Fade and summon reinforcements.

With a muttered "shameful," Morrigan shifted into her bear form and ravaged the more physical wraiths that way. Alistair and I took care of the spirits who were not as affected by magic. It was tedious work.

Neria's yell snapped me from my battle haze. I searched for her immediately — her eyes were wide, and she used her staff as a blunt weapon, beating a rage demon over the head with it. When her staff caught fire, being that it was wood and wooden things were quite flammable, she yelped again and dropped it. Meanwhile, the rage demon lashed out with its inflamed claws.

A hook caught on the inside of my ribs, and whatever held onto the other end yanked.

I had the time to think one thing, an unoriginal but deeply felt, Fuck me.

It felt like being flayed alive, my skin peeling back, except I looked down and my body was fine. No wounds to speak of. A shockwave rippled out of me, the force of it displacing the air from the room. It pushed across the room, sweeping the spirits and ghosts from fucking reality like it was nothing. Alistair stumbled, but Morrigan and Neria straight collapsed.

Oh, no.

When the weight of my actions finally caught up to me, I fell onto my hands and knees. Every breath felt like needles in my lungs and throat. My nerves felt frayed, exposed, until there was no choice but to sit and feel… shit, feel everything.

The feather-light electricity that lived among the air, the stench of decomposed flesh, the rot of dark magic—magic. Who knew such a thing had a smell and weight and taste to it; that it was alive?

I dragged my eyes up to Neria. The explosion knocked her down. She had a look of panicked, cloudy detachment in her dark eyes, as if she wasn't all there yet. Blood trailed down the side of her face.

She roused when I said her name. "Surana?"

"Osmani," Neria croaked. She pressed her hands on either side of herself and pushed up, which was an example of strength I wished I could make. "Osmani—are you—"

"I'm fine," I told her. "Bit raw. It's okay."

'Bit raw' was an understatement, or might have been if the effects of whatever magic I'd underwent weren't already wearing off. The dullness returned slowly to my bones, a reunion of purpose and soul that I almost resented. Back to my magic-less self, it seemed. It was never something I'd not wanted before.

Neria finally sat up, crawling over to me. She grabbed the lapels of my shirt and yanked until I fell onto her lap. With firm fingers she directed my chin this way and that, checking for damage by herself. There wasn't much she could do without her spells, though, and the knowledge made the tension thicken.

"What did you do?" Neria asked. Up and down, went her eyes. Scanning for wounds beneath my clothes.

I hovered my hand above her shoulder, waiting until she nodded before touching. I gripped her tight. "I'm fine," I said.

"We'll see about that. Osmani, answers. The explosion… was that you?"

My instinct was desperate denial: it couldn't have been. Except, miraculously, that was no longer true. It was me. I'd fucking exploded.

"Maybe?" I tried. "I think I blew my load all over the place, Surana."

"I—is now the time for that?"

"I'm being legit!"

Neria wasn't amused, but she smoothed her hands over my arms anyway. I couldn't believe I was being petted right now. "Later, I will expect you to cut the bullshit and talk to me," She said, slow like it hurt to say, "Right now we have to regroup."

I said bitterly, "Am not excited for Witchy's reaction."

"It's the first time she's been Silenced. I need to check on her," Neria agreed. She stood and pulled me up onto my feet, catching me around the waist when I swayed. "She will be insufferable."

Morrigan did as Morrigan was. Insufferability was a strength of hers. I bit my tongue on something snappy and let Neria put my arm around her. My body ached but not from any apparent injury. Nothing bedrest couldn't fix. Not that bedrest was easy to come about, considering the ongoing Blight. So.

Alistair made his way over. Neria happily pushed me onto him, and he accepted my weight without any issue. "About the explanation—"

"Hold that thought," Neria ran over to Morrigan, helping her stand. The witch was pale as parchment, body heavy. Neria whispered into her ear to calm her down. It was Morrigan's first experience with having her magic torn from her. Understandably, she was a bit fucked up about it.

"No, no, that's fine, I just love being kept in the dark about relevant, game-changing information. How long have you hid that one, by the way?" Alistair asked me dryly. "Would have loved to know you were capable of that earlier into the journey, you know?"

"Look at me. Do I seem like someone who has the slightest idea of what is happening."

"Someone is feeling better about his emotional issues. Wow, you're trembling like a leaf," He was absently amazed. More presently, he was grinning like a shit-head. "It's like you're in withdrawal."

"Fuck you, jerk-off."

"That mouth of yours will get you killed. Tell me, mascot." he said fondly.

"I don't know what that was. I didn't know I could do it. I just… saw Surana pinned, and I—"

Yeah? And what, exactly, did I do?

"You saved her life," Alistair concluded. "And thank the Maker you did. Can you imagine the group without her? We'd crash and burn and then no one would be able to save the world from the Blight. Unmitigated disaster."

"No thanks necessary."

"Good, because you aren't getting any. That's the thing about thankless jobs. How certain are you that you can pull that move off again, Ren? I want to know our options."

I mentally assessed myself. "A couple days interval at the very least," I guessed. I didn't have a clue.

It's doable. Alistair slapped my back. He practically walked me back to the women, who were looking much more put together. We passed her corpse about halfway through; I was able to identify it was her before Alistair tutted disapprovingly. I looked away before he could force me.

"Hey," I murmured. "Thanks, man."

"For what?"

I chuckled. He was a good friend.

Alistair elbowed me when I turned away. His eyebrows were furrowed tightly. "No, seriously, for what? I still don't know why we're here, asshole. You have waaaay too many secrets. So, that's an issue. Spill."

"Your wish is my command, my sweet Prince."

Yeah, I deserved the slap.