Chapter 166: Eluvian

The bright light coming from the surface of the eluvian was almost blinding; squinting and shading my eyes with one hand, I took a quick look around the room before going any further than the door. The room was empty except for the eluvian, as it had been every time I’d checked on it over the previous weeks. I took a few more steps, expecting to hear the door slam behind me; what I didn’t expect was the sound of armour rustling before the door clicked shut. I spun to see Dera standing there, expression defiant.

I didn’t have the chance to respond; as I opened my mouth to say something, light exploded from the glass of the eluvian, a shockwave slamming into both of us. Dera was thrown back against the door; her shoulder took the impact, not her head or spine, fortunately. It didn’t look that serious, but I saw her slump down to the floor as the energy passed over her, apparently unconscious.

I was able to watch her progress, because the power, whatever it was, passed through me as though I was permeable – like water flowing through sand. It pushed me back a step, blowing my hair into my face, but left me still on my feet and apparently unscathed. I turned back towards the eluvian, gripping my daggers anxiously, mind spinning as I wondered what the hell had just happened. The blast had picked up every speck of dust in the room – there was plenty of that – and it was swirling through the air, obscuring my view of the magic mirror. It clearly wasn’t natural; the wind had created a twister, a tiny tornado of dust centred on the eluvian itself, but it was slowly shrinking, as though being sucked into the artifact as I watched.

I hurried over to Dera’s still form, crouching down to examine her. I couldn’t see any blood or obvious injuries, and a quick check confirmed she was still breathing, though the rasping sound told me it was with difficulty. Her neck was bent awkwardly, her chin almost on her chest, her throat pressed against the steel of her breastplate. Assuming at least a concussion, and worried about spinal injuries, I debated briefly before carefully shifting the elf until she was on her back, her spine straight. I’d heard you shouldn’t move people after a potential neck injury, but in the position she had been in, she was going to suffocate if she’d been stuck there for long.

I had just finished lowering her to the ground and checking on her breathing – the rasping was gone, and her chest rose and fell smoothly – when the noise from the wind finally died down. Still on one knee, I looked over my shoulder to see a grainy, blurred image on the surface of the eluvian. Conscious of the risk – had Tamlen been pulled into the mirror in the Brecilian Forest? Or just tainted by it and made to run away? – I stood, putting my back to the wall of the room, as far away from the eluvian as I could get without moving away from the unconscious Dera.

I stared at the grey mirror, creeped out as always by the lack of a reflection, trying to make out the image in front of me. The light had diminished some – or I’d grown accustomed to it – and I was able to watch it comfortably. There was a white blob hovering above a dark red blob, and the image slowly started to sharpen as I watched. It became clear the red blob was a humanoid shape, with the white blob in place of the head. Even as the picture continued to resolve, a voice I recognised issued from the eluvian.

“Well, well, well. We finally meet.” There was a pause, and then it went on, “I would not bother protecting the elf, young woman.”

I glanced back at Dera one more time, and when I turned back, the image in the eluvian had sharpened until it was as crisp as if there was no glass at all. The woman standing in the mirror was tall – several inches taller than me, though red leather boots with spike heels might have explained some of that. She had thick, luxurious white hair bundled into bunches that resembled horns, swept back by an impressive headdress that looked to be made from steel, or perhaps one of the other unique Thedosian metals. She wore armour made of of red leather and the same metal as her headdress, with feathers on the pauldrons and a long red cloak that resembled my own. The armour left her cleavage exposed, and her skin was pale. Her lips were turned up in a smile, but it didn’t look friendly.

“Flemeth.” I sheathed my daggers, clasping my hands together to hide the fact that they were shaking. “I should have guessed.” I nodded in her direction, almost a bow – I recalled her approval of polite manners from the game, and it didn’t cost me anything to be respectful.

She arched one eyebrow, crossing her arms in front of her and smiling more genuinely. “So, it is true.” She paused, clearly hoping I’d ask what was true, but I wasn’t falling into an obvious trap like that. She finally continued, “I have been looking forward to meeting you for some time.” She gestured with her head to the soldier on the floor behind me. “She is a spy, you might be interested to know. You should be careful hiring people from Highever, given how the man who rules there feels about you.”

I sighed. “That may be true, but you didn’t have to harm her.” And I’m not sure if I believe you anyway, honestly. “Why would you tell me? I don’t think you’d offer that sort of information from the goodness of your heart.”

Her smile widened, looking more amused than threatening – though I knew that could be misleading. “Consider it a show of good faith. I mean you no harm, girl. And you cannot hurt me through the eluvian, so we can talk like adults.” She dusted her hands together as tho dismissing the elf from her mind. “I preferred we not be overheard. She will recover.”

I stored the statement away for future consideration; did she just admit I could hurt her if she were physically here? I stepped a little closer to the eluvian, hands clenched nervously. “You’re speaking unusually plainly, for a Witch of the Wilds; don’t you generally prefer being more ... mysterious? I thought vague predictions were your thing, not straight talk. Even Morrigan was more secretive.”

“For all the good it did her, or so I hear.” She tilted her head curiously. “And here I thought you would prefer it this way? I can certainly be more enigmatic if you’d like.” She smirked at me as I shook my head. “No? Very well.”

“So, is there something I can do for you?” I stepped to the side, hoping to keep the witch’s attention away from the woman lying on the floor behind me. “This seems like a lot of trouble to go to for a social visit.”

“Right down to business, then? Pity. I was hoping to hear some stories of your homeland. I understand it is rather ... far removed from Ferelden, no?”

“So it’s a fishing expedition? That hardly suits your rather impressive reputation.” I rolled my eyes, and she laughed, her eyes flashing merrily – or perhaps madly. “You’ve seen that I prefer straight talk – you might as well just ask what you’d like to know.”

She took a few steps, one hand on her chin thoughtfully; the mirror seemed to follow her, though the background was a still grey blur so it looked like she was strolling through a cloud. The effect was unsettling – which I assumed was the point.

“So abrupt, so honest; yes, I think I like you,” she mused. I rolled my eyes again and she chuckled. “I do wish I had been able to meet you back when your friends paid me a visit during the Blight.”

“Ah, so that’s what this is about? Hawke finally got you released from the amulet, and now you’re trying to catch up on what’s happened in your absence.” She tried to hide the grimace that crossed her face, and I knew I was right. “She certainly took her time!”

“Fascinating,” she murmured. “You know far more than I believed possible. Why, then? Why allow your companions to fight me, if you knew I wouldn’t die?”

I hesitated, but decided to go with the truth. “To give Morrigan time. I knew about your grimoire long before coming here. I couldn’t stand by while someone possessed my friend.”

She laughed, cackled really, the sound reminding me of the batty Flemeth I’d first encountered in game before Ostagar. It’s a good reminder she’s not entirely sane – and to stay polite.

“Morrigan was never at risk from me, girl. A soul cannot be forced upon the unwilling.”

I blinked. “But ... then why? Why this farce? Why trick Morrigan into wanting you dead?”

“Ahh, so there are limits to your knowledge. I still have a few secrets, I see.” She smiled. “I find that reassuring, though you probably do not.” She paused. “Suffice it to say, I had ... reasons.”

I sighed. “And here I thought we were being straight forward with each other.” I tugged my braid in frustration. “So now what? What do you want from me?”

“Merely to meet the catalyst that upended the careful plans I spent so long arranging.”

I considered that. “By which you mean, you want to know how I’m going to mess things up next?”

“‘Twould be nice to know if you had plans, yes,” she drawled wryly. “This world is poised—”

“Upon the precipice of change, or something; yes, yes I know. Care to be a bit more specific? Am I supposed to ‘leap into the abyss’ as well?”

She examined me critically for a moment, and I resisted the urge to fidget or look away. “Could it be fate? Or perhaps...” She muttered to herself, looking off to one side as though at something I couldn’t see.

My mind raced, wondering what exactly she was looking for. I had no doubt that she had attempted to arrange events to her own advantage – but something in the games made me think that she truly was trying to prevent the world from ending, too. I took a deep breath – and a risk.

“I’ve prevented Justice from going to Kirkwall,” I offered. “I don’t know the future anymore – too much has changed. But I’m trying to prevent the mage-templar war I know is coming.”

She cackled again. “You believe you are powerful enough to circumvent conflict several centuries in the making? My my, don’t we have a high opinion of ourselves.” I flushed, even as she continued, “Even I cannot stop what’s coming, girl – only try to ensure that the outcome isn’t complete annihilation.”

“If you tell me what you know, I might be able to help!” I was frustrated now, caught between caution – a healthy fear that the witch would hurt me if I screwed up her plans – and a deep need to know what she knew. “I’m not without influence, in Ferelden, if nowhere else, and I know who to go to for some things outside Ferelden. I know a war is coming; I will do whatever I can to prevent it – or at least diminish the damage.”

“War, war ... you’re focused on the wrong problems, girl. Or perhaps—” She stopped, eyeing me critically. “Is it possible you don’t know? Tell me, Sierra Theirin, how far into the future do you know?”

“I don’t know anything, not anymore.” I pouted. “I’ve changed things too much. But before I came here, I was aware of some of the future, in parts of Thedas – about ten years from the start of the Blight, give or take.”

Her eyes lit up strangely, her expression sort of feral, if I had to label it. “Ahh.” She sounded quite satisfied – whether pleased that I knew that much, or that I didn’t know more, I couldn’t have said. “Fascinating.” I rolled my eyes while she stroked her lip thoughtfully with one gloved finger. “Your changes will have far more reaching consequences than you can imagine. You have improved the lives for many – but possibly at the risk of death for all.” I winced, and she nodded distractedly. “Not your intention, I assumed.”

She examined me again intently. “Then let me just say this one thing, without mystery or enigma; misunderstandings must be avoided. You should know how very reluctant I am to act so directly; you’ve seen, in your visions, how I avoid absolutes when history requires nudging.” She paused until I nodded slowly. “Your interference in the Chantry may lead to bigger problems than you have solved. At some point ... a sacrifice must be made. The who is not as important as the when or the why – but you must not intervene. When your war is at its worst, when the Chantry attempts to find a resolution, you must not prevent the conclave. Even if – when – you learn what it means.

“Your personal feelings, and the lives of the few, will have to be sacrificed – or the many will perish. You hold the fate of Thedas in your hands.”

With that rather dramatic performance, she waved her hand, muttering something illegible under her breath – and disappeared. All of the dust that had been sucked into the eluvian erupted out of it in a vile black wave, coating my armour and making me cough. When I finally recovered, Flemeth’s voice issued once again from the blank mirror.