Mei was not an Andrastian by any means; she had seen too much of a world crafted to suit the Chantry’s whims to take any comfort in its doctrine. The Circle was a terrible enough offense on its own, but she remembered the alienage as well and could not separate the abuse of her people from the selective blindness of the Chantry. It seemed to her the only time they offered any protection to the elves was to protect them from magic—just as the guards’ interest in elvish suffering came only when the elves decided to fight back.
Of the Elvhen gods, Mei knew even less than she did of the Maker—a more painful ignorance by far, to have so little of her father’s heritage held within her mind. Nevertheless, she knelt among the bodies of the recently slain, quietly uttering part of the song her mother had taught them to honor her father after he died.
“Emma ir abelas, souver’inan isala hamin, vhenan him dor’felas, in Uthenera na revas.” It was spoken out of context, perhaps, and she doubted her pronunciation, but it was all she could offer. It was all that she knew.
Gently, Mei closed the eyes of the nearest body; one of many mages who’d lashed out in defense before she had a chance to assure them she meant no harm. Every death pained her, but none more so than these: people who wanted nothing more than their own freedom, forced to violence because those in power refused to give it to them peacefully.
“Forgive me,” she murmured. In these moments, Mei almost wished her heart could harden against the hurt, and yet she knew what a precarious thing it’d be to stop feeling it. The day she let her heart become cold enough to be unaffected by death would be the day she lost herself completely.
Mei rose slowly at the voice, head still bowed, smile strained. She hadn’t realized anyone was watching—in fact, she’d expected no one to have any interest at all in the deaths of a few rebel mages. Dark eyes lifted to study the young man, curious. Cassandra lingered nearby as the others scouted ahead. She didn’t begrudge them their impatience.
“You may as well advise me not to repent of myself,” Mei replied at last, her expression softening. “…will you help me?” She gestured to the seven prone figures scattered about the clearing—seven lives she’d had to take. She was the leader, after all, and even if she hadn’t dealt every killing blow, every death still weighed on her shoulders. “I won’t leave them like this.” Mei shook her head, sadness in her eyes. “They deserve more.”
Jasper had an endless armory of teases and sneers on the lackluster lives of Circle mages. Words that would keep him distant from a fate that was almost his. It was strange now to think about the quips that passed his lips this morning, stings aimed at the backs of the bodies that lay cold at his feet.
Forgive me, he heard the wind whisper. He looked up slowly, realized Mei had spoken and thought with a quiet confusion that she had been addressing him. But then the alchemist saw where her hand rested and felt a heavy chill in his heart. Jasper swallowed hard as if spit would wipe away the decay that rotted away his awareness.
Shame-faced, Jasper turned his gaze. He felt like a voyeur, seeing Mei act so intimately. Unfortunately, that brought Jasper's gaze to the prone form of a mage, younger than he and body savaged by a blade.
The alchemist studied the field as if he might spot the culprit, and his eyes fell on the one called Cassandra. Still a stranger, the mage wondered how many young spirits she'd sent to a shallow grave.
Why did they have to die? They barely more than a child...
Mei's question shouldn't have startled him as much as it did, but his watery eyes snapped back to the Inquisitor with a baffled look.
Jasper looked down and winced at the sight of the mangled youth. He? No, she? The body was so battered the alchemist couldn't identify anything except strands of back curls matted with blood. But what did small details matter when the who within the corpse no longer existed?
He opened his mouth to reply, but his thoughts didn't have the courage to step forward. Instead, the alchemist faced the Inquisitor with a shaken sigh, ❝ What would you have me do? ❞
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