Seeking Truth in Song: Prologue
This is a sort of prologue to what will be another 6ish chapters of a romance between my Orlesian inquisitor Melodie Poulin and Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast.
The title will probably change. I’m not digging it super well but I can’t think of anything better right now.
Pairing: Cassandra Pentaghast/Female Inquisitor Rating: I’ll set it as teen for now, but it may be upgraded to mature later. As of yet, nothing explicit is planned. Word count: 1474 Summary: Melodie awakens in a cold, dark room to discover that she is alone in a frightening new world.
Dripping. The chill in the air was worsened by the dampness of the room and the biting of cold metal about her wrists, but it was the dripping that woke her. The room was dim, the stone dark, the smell of mildew and stillness all around. If she had to guess, Melodie would say she was in a dungeon of sorts. A guard stood in the corner, watching her with arms folded across his chest. If she had to guess, she would say he was a Templar based on the Eye upon his chest plate.
Her arm felt strange, heavier and tingling as if it had been asleep. A sudden flash of light and a jolt shooting up her arm ripped a gasp from her throat, made her whole body shake. Maker, what was that?! Three more guards seemed to have materialized out of thin air, making four of them who all had swords caging her, ready for the kill. Melodie nodded once, slightly, and stilled her body in an attempt to assuage their paranoia.
The green light continued to flicker and crackle intermittently, casting an eerie glow about the room, and she observed it closely. Her hand looked the same. It was still clearly her arm, uninjured though her sleeve now hung loosely from her shoulder in tatters. A fog roiled in her mind, one that hung thick and unyielding over any memory of what brought her to this place, try as she might to cut her way through. Wherever this green light came from, she was sure that she did not remember.
A door across the room burst open, two women storming in behind it. The one who bore the armor of a Seeker of Truth walked deliberately about Melodie upon the floor, her hand resting casually but threateningly upon the pommel of her sword. The hooded one stepped into the light, a flurry of furious emotions upon her face and in her posture from her stiff shoulders to her clenched fists. Whatever had brought Melodie to this place had obviously caused quite a stir.
The Seeker leaned down, voice harsh as she demanded, “Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you now.” She took a few steps, leaving no pause for Melodie to reply as she explained, “The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead. Except for you.” She stopped in front of Melodie, finger pointed as the two glowered down at her.
Conclave? thought Melodie. I do not even know what that is. The threat in the room stayed her tongue, and she chose to remain silent for fear of implicating herself in her ignorance.
The Seeker lunged, hand grasping tightly about Melodie’s hand, and lifted it to her face. “Explain this,” she hissed.
As if on cue, her hand lit up again, the green glow flickering brightly in the dim room before the Seeker threw her hand back down. Melodie looked down at her palm which had settled back to normal once more, brows furrowed as she tried once more to cut through the fog. “I… cannot,” she admitted lamely.
“What do you mean you can’t?” The two women were pacing about her now, circling her like lionesses circling prey.
“I do not know what that is or how it got there.”
“You’re lying!” cried the Seeker as she leaned down to grab Melodie’s shoulders.
The hooded woman thrust her hand onto the Seeker’s chest and pulled her back. “We need her, Cassandra,” she said in an accent not dissimilar to Melodie’s. After a moment’s silence, she turned back to Melodie, her voice softer than the Seeker Cassandra’s but still dripping with authority and threat. “Do you remember what happened? How this began?”
Melodie’s frown deepened as she fought against the fog. Bits and pieces shone through—traveling with Knight-Commander Marteau and his Templars on the long road from Montsimmard, slipping amidst the encampments to eavesdrop and gather what information she could, watching from the shadows as Marteau and the others first met with the Divine Justinia. She started to shake her head, to tell the hooded woman that she remembered nothing of extreme importance, but a few more bits came through—an explosion, screaming, and then she was running. “I remember… running. Things were chasing me. And then there was… a woman?”
“A woman?” repeated the hooded woman with interest.
“She…” Melodie shook her head. “She reached out to me… but then…” Her eyes closed as she fought to recall the face of the woman who had called out for her though not by name, but it was no use. Whatever had happened, the memory of the woman was overshadowed by the creatures that had been pursuing her.
The Seeker, seemingly quieted with this meager piece of information turned and guided the hooded woman towards the exit. “Go to the forward camp, Leliana,” she said with no small degree of exhaustion in her voice. “I will take her to the rift.”
The hooded woman Leliana nodded once and started out the door. Melodie watched as the Seeker came back to her side and braced for a hit which never came. Instead, the chains connecting her manacles to the floor were removed. Melodie watched the gloved hands work for a moment before she met the Seeker’s eyes. “What did happen?” she whispered.
Strong arms lifted her to her feet before Cassandra turned to lead the way out the door. “It… will be easier to show you.”
The cold air struck her like a brick, immediately removing any last remaining bits of grogginess Melodie held in her bones, and the glaring light of the sun reflecting off the snow blinded her for a good long moment. When her eyes finally adjusted, she looked about to find Cassandra had stepped several feet away and was talking, gesticulating towards something in the sky. Melodie looked towards Cassandra’s attention and went rigid with fear. “—into the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour.”
Melodie swallowed hard as she stared into the raging maelstrom which turned the sky a sickly green just beyond the mountains. Though born from a mage, Melodie knew little to nothing about the world of magic. She did not even possess any understanding of the magic of potion making beyond which potions did what and to what extent. Standing here underneath this… what did Cassandra call it? A Breach? Melodie felt so small.
Cassandra, still talking, turned towards Melodie. “—caused by the explosion at the Conclave.”
“An explosion can do that?” Melodie breathed, incredulous. She had never heard of something so powerful.
“This one did.” She looked on Melodie with some sort of expectation, hinting at something to which she was unaware. “Unless we act, the Breach will continue to grow until it swallows the world.”
No time was afforded Melodie to process Cassandra’s meaning. A bolt of what looked like lightning shot from the Breach with such force she could feel it in her feet, and at the same moment pain wracked her body as her hand began to glow in such a way that it mirrored the maelstrom in the sky. Her knees gave out beneath her before the electricity in her hand settled, and she was left breathless, mind racing with questions.
The Seeker seemed to give no concern as she knelt before her, tone as cool as the chilly mountain air. “Each time the Breach expands, your mark spreads. And it is killing you. It may be the key to stopping this, but there isn’t much time.”
Thoughts blurred through Melodie’s mind so fast she wasn’t sure she was actually thinking at all. There was nothing coherent to pick out, no one strand to latch onto. She could only look at the Seeker kneeling before her, waiting for some sort of response with such a forceful air of expectation and requirement.
“I…” Melodie swallowed and shook her head to try to clear out the buzzing bees of unspoken thoughts rattling about in her mindspace. “I do not… understand. But if…” Her eyes flicked up towards the sickly green torrent of evil that hovered overhead, then back to the soft brown eyes of the Seeker. Though she could not say why, she found a comfort in them, some sort of safety despite still being this woman’s prisoner. If Cassandra’s words were true and everybody who had attended the Conclave was dead, then she had no one now, no one left to have her back, no one to protect her. For the first time in her life, Melodie Poulin was alone.
Perhaps it was what the Seeker represented, the demand for truth and justice, the familiarity of the Chantry bared upon her breastplate which brought her to say, “If there is something in my power to do to help, I will do it.”
