Those who oppose thee

Shall know the wrath of heaven.

Field and forest shall burn,

The seas shall rise and devour them,

The wind shall tear their nations

From the face of the earth,

Lightning shall rain down from the sky,

They shall cry out to their false gods,

And find silence.

—Andraste 7:19

Sometimes called the School of Power, the Primal School is the second of the Schools of Energy, balanced by Spirit, and concerns the most visible and tangible forces of nature itself. This is the magic of war: Fire, ice, and lightning. Devastation.

This is what the vast majority imagines when they hear the word "magic."

—From The Four Schools: A Treatise, by First Enchanter Josephus

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Dragon 9:21

Evelyn

In the Ostwick countryside of the Free Marches resided the heart of the Trevelyan family. Their ancient bloodline had survived wars, Blights, Qunari invasions, and various conquests from Tevinter and Orlais, among other efforts to tame and control the barbarian tribes of the Marches. As the melting pot in the north, cultures, and customs collided to produce a loose confederation of city-states who, in the case of war, would combine their strength to combat the enemy. No longer did they wish to be subjugated to a monarch or empire, they simply wished to prosper on their own. This in turn made the Marches and its cities some of the greatest trading and commercial markets in Thedas. With plenty of port cities and a vast fleet of ships, many Southerners looked at them as if they were pirates in the early years of the Confederacy. Now, they were simply businessmen and women with enterprising ventures in capital and goods. Even foreign investors from Orlais, Antiva, and Nevarra sought opportunities to make extra coin from the innovative Marchers. With little restrictions on trade, anyone could profit if they worked for it and knew the market for their services.

Yet, for all the progress, there was a deep reverence for religion at the heart of every true Marcher. The Chantry was a force to be reckoned with in the north, and rightfully so, as some of their wealthiest donors hailed from there. Though not the wealthiest of the great families, the Trevelyans were a name every Chantry cleric knew. It was they who the Mothers in Ostwick depended on when they needed coin, and the Trevelyans never disappointed them. Aside from funds, they also provided the Chantry with new blood either in the form of Templars or bureaucrats. Wielding wealth and religious influence for generations, the family had built itself a sustainable future, and thus was the world Evelyn Althea Trevelyan was born into.

The fifth and youngest child of Bann Drexford Trevelyan and Lady Rhiannon Orianna Trevelyan, Evelyn was expected to either marry advantageously or join the ranks of the Chantry with her cousins. With this expectation looming over her entire childhood, her mother and two older sisters endeavored to mold her into their image. Both sisters, Odette and Ariella, chose to place themselves on the market as eligible brides for the highest bidder, wanting nothing to do with a spartan and chaste life of service in the Chantry. They were well-suited for the life of nobility enjoying parties and gossip, actively learning the rules of The Game. Fortunately for them, they were figures of feminine beauty and charm thanks to their mother's rigorous training from a young age.

As ten-year-old Evelyn sat in the salon of their country estate listening to her mother brag about her two eldest daughters, who sat on either side of their mother like perfect porcelain dolls, she couldn't help but make a face of disgust as she stirred her tea noisily. The clanking of the fine porcelain garnered attention from the matron who eyed her intensely until she stopped.

"And how is young Evelyn progressing in her schooling? Will there be yet another Trevelyan lady the unwed girls of the Marches will have to compete with? My, Rhiannon, I do believe you will monopolize the marriage market in the next decade, I must congratulate you." Great Aunt Lucile was her father's aunt and always had a pulse on the political machinations of the Trevelyan family. With Odette out in society at the age of sixteen and Ariella close on her heels at fourteen, the high precedence they set in the sphere of influence would weigh heavy on the expectations set forth for Evelyn. The thought of which made her antsy, as she now tapped her foot causing her fine dress to silently wave.

"You may need to save such praise until I break this one like one of Drex's Rangers," mother and daughter met eyes with fierce hostility, "Evelyn refuses to cooperate. I fear she's a lost cause and better off in the Chantry." The older women both sighed despairingly and Evelyn's sisters huffed a snotty glare at her. Odette and Ariella were as hard on her as their mother, offering her no sisterly affection or sympathy. The youngest Trevelyan turned towards the window to lean on the arm of the plush chair with a huff of her own wishing she truly was one of the family's horses. At least then she could run free in the pastures basking in the hot sun. Even they would be off having more adventures than she ever would be stuck inside the estate, fighting Tevinter Magisters and bandits with her father's cavalry.

"Young lady," her great aunt's tone was haughty and arrogant, as she leaned on her cane, "you understand that if you do not want to live a life of privilege, you will be sent away to one of service. One way or another you will serve this family. Look at me when I speak to you." The child simply turned her head over in her arms. "While you share more resemblance in appearance with your father, I suppose it has its own charm, and there will still be plenty of men still interested in you. You have the Trevelyan name after all, and that will overshadow your flaws." The aging woman looked her over as if she were a mare they were thinking of breeding. Her wrinkled leathery skin puckered about her over powdered face. The act caused Evelyn to turn her fiery glare at her, being subjected yet again to more scrutiny and criticism, as if her mother's daily tirades weren't enough. Lucile balked back in feigned indignation, "Maker, she's like a wild animal, perhaps it would be better to cut your losses and focus on Odette and Ariella. Forget the clergy, send this one to the Templars with that temper! They'll purge it from her." The woman stabbed her cane in her direction trying to make her finch, but instead, she lowered a predatory look at her, making her great aunt look truly fearful of her.

Having lost patience, Lady Bann Trevelyan ordered her daughter out of her sight. Without care, Evelyn threw down her tea on the table, nearly breaking it, stuck out her tongue at her two sisters for good measure, and stormed out. There was no doubt that she had a temper, one that she equated to the frustration over her hopeless situation. In the hall, Evelyn kicked off her polished shoes at the wall and went running and sliding in her stocking on the marble floor in an attempt to quell her rage. Deep in her heart, she knew she'd have to serve the family, but she had yet to accept it. Her imagination was filled with tales of slaying dragons and harrowing adventures. Marriage? Gross.

Holidays were starting to become less fun the older she grew, for she was no longer allowed to play with the other children. Instead, she was to accompany her mother and sisters as they mingled, occasionally being introduced to the great families with whom her mother wished one day to be joined with for one advantage or another. Thankfully, Odette and Ariella were the focus of much of the attention, making it easier for Evelyn to sneak away to find Owayne. The two trouble-making Trevelyans liked to spy on Hector as he blushed after all the eligible girls, providing them with much amusement later on when they teased him.

Yet, despite the age difference, he enjoyed his youngest siblings. He was eighteen and every bit the spitting image of their father; tall and slim with the famed modest temper of their family motto. Modest in temper, bold in deed. Evelyn couldn't say the same about herself, for she had a fiery temper hidden within her small frame. Often, their antics played nicely in helping him speak to the young women of Marcher high society. He suddenly became more desirable having a good handle on children and a fierce family loyalty. Evelyn and Owayne were lookouts on a number of occasions when Hector was required to dole out justice for a slight against Odette as she navigated through matches. Unfortunately, their mother had taught the eldest sister how to entice men, and paired with her beauty, it led to many lewd comments about the type of woman she'd be. Hector and some of their older cousins were bound by honor to brawl at balls or in the city, which always caused their father to give the same lecture at dinner after his heir would come home with bloodied knuckles. After which, his ire was leveled on Rhiannon for teaching their daughter such things.

Oddly, Evelyn enjoyed it when her father raised his voice at their mother, for she felt it validated many of her own grievances with the woman. Usually, after he'd storm off and she was left with a satisfied smirk on her face, she'd earn herself a whack from the matron. Yet, it only made her laugh more, causing her mother to yell all sorts of insults her way. Commanded out of her sight and left to her own devices around the estate, it gave her an excuse to find trouble with Owayne.

Evelyn and Owayne were the closest of the Trevelyan siblings, nearly alike in every way. From their looks to personality, most believed they were twins, but he was two years her senior. Being the youngest and at times forgotten by their parents as they schooled the older three Trevelyans, the pair were thick as thieves and always up to their own mischievous machinations. Pranks were their favorite pastime, whether they played them on others or each other, there was always some daily uproar at their Ostwick country estate as to something the dynamic duo had done. Yet, for all the similarities, there was one large difference... Evelyn was always the one to get caught. No matter how much she tried, she was always finding more trouble than she made. The common joke about the household was that the girl could find trouble simply walking to a Chantry service. Her brother was roguish and slippery, with the uncanny ability to sneak about anywhere and away from any situation, leaving his sister to whatever punishment awaited her.

"Drexford! Would you do something about this child of yours? I cannot stand to be in her presence!" Rhiannon's shrill cry did nothing but raise her husband's hackles. Though her mother despised Evelyn, her father doted on her. The man had very little in common with his other daughters - as well as his wife - but his youngest was his darling due to her vast difference from the other females. For one, Evelyn loved her father's horses, not seeing them as filthy disgusting creatures as her mother often said, despite them being their prime source of income. "She was supposed to be taking tea with myself and the Teyrn's wife! I wanted to present her as a future candidate for their youngest son."

"Isn't the boy two? Why on the Maker's green earth would the Lady be thinking of marriage for him now?!"

"She wouldn't be, but she will in the future, and when she is, Evelyn must be her first thought. How else will we rid ourselves of this child? At least married to them, so long as they stay in power, she will secure our standing here in Ostwick while her sisters make greater advances elsewhere."

Standing in her soiled and horse-smelling dress from her morning grooming the horses and dogs in the stable, Evelyn wriggled her toes in her mucky shoes, shifting her weight from heel to toe contently, knowing that her father was not about to scold her for how she chose to spend her morning. Granted, she was explicitly told about taking tea with the Teyrn's wife, but the girl chose to ignore the command. Leveling her mother with a heated glare she aimed to mimic often, Drexford took any snub at his profession harshly, most of all from his wife. Rhiannon was the middle child of lesser nobility whose mother had been just as shrewd in landing her an "advantageous" marriage. As she heard it whispered at parties, her mother had been overjoyed at the match until years later it began to lack the luster it once had. The more she dabbled in politics, the more she realized her elevation to the wife of the most prestigious Horsemaster in all the Free Marches, was still less desirable than that of the fine vineyards and luxury goods of the other nobility. Now, she was determined to raise her daughters up, and in doing so make her own status more desirable. As was the way of all the noble houses around Thedas, but that never made it right in Evelyn's eyes.

Before her father could speak, the child in question decided to seal her mother's coffin in this fight, "Father, what's a spinster? Mother said if I continue to help with the horses, that I'll be the wretched spinster she locks in a closet for every party she throws." Drexford was livid, sputtering like a volcano, while her mother grabbed and hit her. The girl laughed slightly at the hit, for she had received harder while fighting with Owayne. Evelyn deserved it in a sense, but she'd be lying if she said she hadn't completely been ignoring her mother's lessons about The Game. It was the one thing she found would be most beneficial from the matron's teachings since she was always getting into trouble. Catching Rhiannon's hand and pulling Evelyn behind him, the Bann swallowed his temper. Modest in Temper, Bold in Deed.

"Why you little cretin!" Her mother seethed.

Surprised by her harsh language towards the youngest Trevelyan, Drexford's brow drew down, "Rhiannon, calm yourself! You will not speak to any child of mine in such a way."

"Oh, she's your child alright! Fine, keep her out of my sight! We can hire her for a stable hand when she comes of age, for if her mother can be repulsed by her so, no man could stand for her as his wife!" Her mother spun on a heel, the fine silk of her ostentatious gown billowing about her legs.

When she was out of sight, her father turned and looked down at her. While his rectangular face gave her a stern stare, she detected the slighted hint of amusement, "Why must you provoke her so? She is just looking out for your future. And I'm sure you know what a spinster is, for I heard Hector explaining it to you the other day when you asked him after she threatened you with it." A tight cheeky smile spread on her face up at her favorite parent. "You know, I do believe you're too clever for your own good at times. It must come from being the youngest with something to prove, I suppose."

"I don't want to prove anything, why can't I stay and help you here?"

"You are still young and do not yet know what you want from life."

"I know I don't want to sit through another one of Mother's lessons or stupid tea parties."

"Yet, this is what you were born to do. Not all have such a privileged upbringing as you and your siblings. Your belly is always full, you have shoes on your feet, and you have more choices than most. You should be grateful the Maker has been good to us and embrace this life. You only ever get one." They walked over to one of the garden benches and sat under the pergola's shade. The Trumpet Vine was in full bloom twisting and hanging heavily about the wooden frame. "Think of the Greene family."

"The farmers?"

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

The gentle wave of his steel and auburn hair bobbed as he nodded, "Mhm, they work considerably harder than us to earn their living, and despite having to do back-breaking work, they are paid less for their services. Thus, they do not own such fine things as you, nor do they eat as well. They will be stuck under the label of 'lower class' and looked down upon all their life by people like us."

"But, do we not treat them well? I always greet them as I would anyone."

"We do, but other nobles would spit at them as they pass. We Trevelyans understand that without the Greenes we would not have feed for our horses or flour for our bread. You live a comfortable life at the expense of others' sweat and toil. "

"All that just to make horse feed and flour?" The Bann nodded sympathetically. "I always enjoy playing with the other children, and Master Greene had been kind enough to show us the mill once. I wish we could help them?"

"We do, by buying their goods. I purchase feed from others as well, to spread the wealth, but doing more than that would insult the man's honor. Not many would take charity willingly, which is why we give regularly to the Chantry. They distribute food and other goods to the needy in Ostwick with our coin. As a great lady, you could do a lot of good by having the freedom and wealth to do so. You may have to bind yourself in marriage, but you'd have plenty of time outside your marital duties to find a way of spending your time... and money, as your mother does." He laughed and rolled his eyes amusingly at his own expense.

"I suppose that isn't too bad, but why must I leave you?"

He smiled sweetly, hugging her shoulders, "That is not for a long time Evie, and by then you may want to have your own life. But I'll not part with you unless I absolutely have to knowing you're in good hands, that I promise you."

Yet, despite his promise, the Maker had other plans for young Evelyn...

It was a hot Marcher day as Evelyn hid from her mother and her guests in their expansive garden. Even though the sky threatened to open up above them, rain was the least of her concerns. In particular, she had been avoiding Lady Thindrel's daughter, Anika, who was visiting with her mother. The lesser noble was several years older than Evelyn and rotten to the core. Cruel as she was lacking in femininity, despite being wrapped tight as a sausage in finery, the girl had it out for Evelyn for some reason.

Upon arriving, Anika stepped from their carriage with her latest new toy - a whip. Evelyn was a small child, with no small amount of courage instilled in her by her two older brothers, yet the hulking figure of Anika made her tremble - and she knew it. She knew it when she taunted Evelyn with it when their eyes met; when she tested it on one of the horses; and then again on an elven attendant. That was enough to send Evelyn flying through the garden lest she be next.

When the storm suddenly blew in, she knew she'd have to return to the house. Passing by the stables on her way, she heard some of their animals making a ruckus. She figured it was due to the storm, but she'd try to quiet them anyway. She loved animals, every kind, they were just so honest and unconditionally loving. Her father was the largest and most well-known Free Marches Ranger breeder on the continent. The Trevelyans fielded the finest company of cavalry this side of the Waking Sea. They had acres of rolling fields and forests to breed and train Rangers. Aside from horses they also had several species of birds, cats, and dogs.

As she entered she heard the whimpers and nervous shifting of the animals coming from the far side of the barn where the kennels were located. At this time of day, the dogs would indeed be there before their feeding time. She picked up the pace breaking into a jog as lightning flashed followed by that loud crack of thunder. She jumped, though it was not at the thunder, but the illumination of splattered blood sprinkled along the dirt floor. Worry overcoming her petite features, she cautiously rounded the corner as an all too familiar laugh echoed through the stables. The sight made her physically sick, stifling a scream from her mouth with her hand. There Anika stood hulking over several of the dogs she had released from their kennels. They were bloodied, whimpering pleadingly for an end to their torture. The horses nearby had not gone untouched either, kicking their legs about. Anika cracked her whip making the dogs skitter and yip from one corner to the next upon seeing Evelyn.

"Finally, something more fun to try this on than your stupid animals." Evelyn stood paralyzed with a flood of emotions overwhelming her little person. Terror, rage, and sorrow were all ten-year-old Evelyn could comprehend at the time, and her body didn't know which to act on. She felt as if she was going to explode while watching Anika stomp ever closer to her.

She locked eyes with one of the wounded dogs. She loved all their animals, but Arrow, as they called him, was special to her. He was born the runt of the litter. Not knowing if he'd survive, she visited him every day to tell him she believed in him, that he'd make it. That just because he was small like her, didn't mean he couldn't grow up to become the greatest hunting dog. Sure enough, he became one of her father's best, to which he gave Evelyn full credit for and allowed her to name him. He was light cream with pure white paws and an angular marking between his eyes. She thought about naming him after one of her favorite desserts but then thought the other dogs would make fun of him for having such a sweet name. He was to be a fierce hunting dog, not a pastry. What about Ghost , she thought, no, too scary . Looking into the pup's bright eyes, the mark on his face became more prominent to her. It only took her a moment to decide upon 'Arrow.' It was perfect and so was he.

Now he was hurting. The memory and the present collided in her mind, and it became clear there was only one thing she could do. No more running. The fear on her face was replaced by primal rage. It became so hot suddenly she felt as if she was on fire. Whatever change Anika saw come over Evelyn made her stop dead in her tracks. Now, Evelyn stalked towards her.

"Stay back! I'm warning you..." Anika's voice sounded rattled. She raised the whip, but seeing that Evelyn wasn't deterred, stumbled backward making her way for the door. Taking a strange pleasure from seeing the fear on Anika's face, her pace quickened and she felt the sting of the whip hit her. The first strike just grazed her cheek. The trickle of blood was liquid fire as it dripped down her face. The second strike she was ready for and she caught it around her forearm. She looked down at the tanned braided leather coiled tightly around her. She hated it. Hated what it did and who wielded it. She pictured it burning so clearly in her mind it was as though it was real. An odd smell wafted into her face, making her blink a few times. The whip was burning, it was actually on fire!

Flame shot up the whip to Anika's hand. She screamed and dropped it after it singed her hand. Evelyn concentrated on the destruction of the whip. She knew she should have been afraid of what was happening, but the release of the flame felt so natural. She didn't hold the rage back, she let it flow freely until ash was all that was left of the torturous whip.

"You're a monster!" Anika screeched at her.

"No." Her voice was strong and calm. "You're the monster." Anika tried to run. Out the door she flew, slipping in the puddles as her heavy footfalls landed clumsily. Evelyn caught her with little effort, taking her down as her brothers had taught her to do. She muddied their expensive dresses, rolling them so she landed on top. Immediately she began throwing punches down on Anika. Rage consumed her as she failed to understand why anyone would want to hurt animals - her animals. Why was it so hot? The world went red as the sight of her wounded furry friends burned in her mind. She deserves this and more . The smell of burning cloth and another unfamiliar scent entered her nostrils. She looked down to see it was Anika's dress and arms that were on fire. Evelyn jumped off her immediately, but the damage was done.

Anika's face was bloodied, the hem of her dress on fire, and the skin on her forearms burnt badly. If it had not been pouring rain, Anika most definitely would have still been aflame. Evelyn wished she still was. It wasn't enough, her rage boiled on, but she knew deep down she had to stop. Her mana threatened to lash out again, but with no target to direct it at, it engulfed her instead. Screaming, a flame shot to the sky as it enveloped her.

After what felt like an eternity, Evelyn dropped to her knees exhausted as the grip of her newfound power diminished. Upon looking up she saw her father, mother, sisters, Lady Thindrel, and several others from the household and the Thindrel servants. Her father was the first to approach, gesturing to the rest to keep away. She watched him carefully studying the concern on his face.

"Evie?" He stood a few feet from her waiting for a response. "Evie, say something, sweetie."

"I'm sorry father!" Evelyn sobbed. He leaped to her embracing her as she nuzzled her face into his shoulder. He hushed her, letting her know that there was no reason for tears, he just wanted to know what had happened. Between sobs, she told him about the scene she stumbled upon in the barn and what she had done to Anika, but more importantly that there were animals in need of care. His face was one of pure disgust. He turned to his stable hands and told them to see to the wounded animals before shooting a glance at her mother's company. Evelyn's mother was gesturing wildly ordering servants about and trying to help Lady Thindrel comfort her daughter. "I failed you. I am a monster!"

"No, you made me proud," whipping tears and the blood from her cut cheek away, "I don't think a monster would have put herself in harm's way to save innocents."

"But... I'm a ... I'm a mage!" She sobbed harder. "Mages are evil. How can I do good when I'm inherently evil?" He pushed her back at shoulder's length, studying her hard.

"Who told you that?"

"Mother Maeve, she speaks to us often at the Chantry about the evils of magic and those who wield it. She says mages cannot help their wicked nature and that even the Maker's light cannot save them." He shook her head at her slowly, and another disgusted look overtook his features.

"Now don't you listen to her. You know I once saw her mount a horse backwards. Would you ever trust the word of someone who can't seat themselves on a horse properly?" A small, but audible laugh broke through her sobs. "I won't lie to you that some mages are dangerous, but I don't believe they are inherently evil. I believe the world has done something to them to make them so. You are good, and will do good my Evie." His eyes glimmered lovingly at her and she knew his words would be forever part of her.

"Drex!" They heard her mother approaching. Her heels clicked, scattering the small pebbles of the courtyard about as she trotted along. "Drexford, I've called the Templars from the Circle. They should be here presently to take that creature away."

"You did what!?" A very familiar rage erupted in her father. "Maker's breath Rhiannon, this could've waited another day or so! Can't you see that Evie is in shock?"

"She almost killed sweet Anika, how can you say that?! The poor girl will never find a husband with those burns on her, she's ruined her!" The two fought back and forth for a bit while the reality that the Templars were coming for her sunk in. To take her away from all she knew. She snapped out of her numb state to hear her father definitively end their spat.

"I want the Thindrels off my property immediately and I never want to see them here again! And I expect a full apology made to me for my damaged property!" She huffed at him but turned and followed his command. He didn't say anything, nor did his scowl waver away from the flabbergasted looks the Thindrels shot his way. Evelyn watched from beside him as the wailing Anika was carried to their carriage. When they were out of sight, her mother and sisters, stomped into the house. Family lines had been drawn.

Evelyn and her father then hurried over to the barn to assist with the animals. They were happy to find that the situation was well in hand, with only superficial injuries to contend with. Arrow greeted her upon entering and she bent to give the dog a big long hug, knowing it could be the last. When things were settled, they made for the house. As they reached the door, a small cart with the clanking of heavy armor skittered to a stop behind them. The Templars had arrived. With a motion for her to stay put, her father went to speak with them. Their private conversation seemed civil and good-humored, ending with her father attempting to discreetly push a coin purse to the senior officer before waving her over.

"Evelyn, this is Knight-Captain Tobias. I've explained what has happened and he's agreed to come back tomorrow." She looked shyly up to the Knight-Captain. He had kind eyes from what she could tell through his graying bushy eyebrows.

"Lady Evelyn, please don't be afraid, though we aren't mages we understand a bit of what you may have experienced today. I'll be back tomorrow to travel with you to the Ostwick Circle, but until then just keep yourself calm and your powers will not endanger you. I am going to quell your powers. It will make you feel tired but you won't be a danger to anyone." Closing his eyes a faint blue glow enshrouded him, and when he opened his eyes, she felt the energy drain from her. She wobbled but her father steadied her. "Templars can suppress magic, as I've just done. Once at the Circle, you'll receive training there to help you control your abilities. Myself and fellow Templars will be with you to make sure no harm comes to you as you learn. Until tomorrow, good evening." He nodded to the two of them and spurred their horse back the way they came. She gave her father's hand a squeeze looking up at him with a smile. He had bought her one more day. One more day to say her goodbyes, soak in her freedom, and ready herself for her new life. To do good.

The next day while she savored her last few minutes at home, Evelyn watched her things be carried and packed on the cart. It was a wonder the rickety wooden wagon could hold two armored men, let alone a scrawny 10-year-old girl and belongings. The horses pulling it were nothing special, probably the cheapest the Chantry could afford just for carting people about. In the pasture across from the courtyard and road, a herd of her father's Free Marches Rangers kicked and bolted playfully in the warm sunlight. Their white and cream coloring stood out against the vibrant green of the grasses and that of the trees in the background. She sighed heavily knowing the horses were to enjoy more freedoms than her in their lifetime.

"Are you ready to go, child?" Unlike what Mother Maeve had always taught her of Circles, Knight-Captain Tobias was kind and gentle. He had not rushed her or treated her as a cursed creature for the few hours he had been on the Trevelyan estate. The other younger Knight accompanying him was happy to sit and wait in the wagon, reclining in the driver's seat and basking in the hot sun.

"May I await my father's return? He went to fetch the rest of the family to say goodbye."

"Of course," he studied her face, all the while keeping a wistful smile aimed at her, "I know this is difficult for you, but you'll find others your age in the Circle who will become as close as family." She knew he was just trying to help alleviate some of the misery clearly painted on her face, but her eyes lingered downwards toward her shoes.

The rhythmic clicks of shoes on the marble floors of the foyer signaled the arrival of the rest of her family. She looked down the line of her kin standing before her wearing a mixture of expressions, though one notable member was missing. In the shadow of the doorway stood Lady Bann Trevelyan glowering over at her.

"Rhiannon, are you coming?" Her father called over, but the woman simply turned on her heel and walked back into the house. Evelyn's brow drew slightly down, and her father was quick to take a knee before her, "Your mother just needs time to accept this. I'm sure by Satinalia she'll come to her senses."

"Father, may we go back inside with mother?" They turned to see both Odette and Ariella looking at their youngest sister up and down with disgust and apprehension. Part of her couldn't blame them, for it was what their mother taught them; to fear mages was the popular opinion. It was her fault.

Drexford's tone verged on a firm command, "You will wish your sister well until we see her next."

"Very well," Odette huffed dutifully, her pretty face conveying no emotion, "may the Maker bless you and keep you, Evelyn."

"Goodbye sister, I hope the Circle isn't as bad as what they all say it is," Ariella added. Scolding the two, their father shooed them back inside, clearly not intending her send-off to be going this poorly.

Hector tried to distract away from the last comment, "Many mages have been a benefit to Ostwick. Remember when fever swept through the city? It was the mages who went door to door healing the sick when the physicians were too afraid."

"Yeah, don't listen to those tea-toilers, Evie. I bet you'll make a great mage!" Owayne seemed the most excited and awed by her new abilities, "I bet throwing fireballs is going to be wicked fun!" She gave him a half-hearted smile knowing he was just trying to cheer her up.

"Thank you, I will try not to disgrace the family further," she looked sheepishly up at her father.

"My Evie," he cupped her cheeks, "I knew you were always special, never destined for this kind of life." He tilted his head back towards the estate making his point. "In the Circle, you'll be free to be as you are, even if it comes with some added security. I know you'll make me proud in whatever path you choose, so long as it is on the side of good." His face drew down the way he always did when he was lecturing them, "You will feel as if you have been condemned as a prisoner, but remember that magic is dangerous, and it is your duty to make sure you are protecting others from it. People will fear you, hate you even, but rise above that and you'll find inner peace."

"Your father's right," the Knight-Captain had been hovering close by, "the Circle, while it will feel confining is one of the finest places to receive an education - expand your horizons. Our job is to help you as you learn to control your magic and your instructors will help show you all the possibilities for good there are for mages. It's not an easy task, but it's not impossible either to become more than what they label you as." He looked up towards the sun, "I do apologize, Lord Trevelyan, but we need to reach the Circle to get her settled in before super. It wouldn't do to miss your first meal, would it?"

She shook her head and looked at what remained of her family. They embraced with kisses and hugs, promising to see each other at the first opportunity. She smoothed her bell-shaped purple dress down over her legs after being lifted into the back of the wagon.

"Be strong, my girl. You're a Trevelyan, never forget that, and my daughter. That carries weight no matter what they may say." There was an intensity in his stare; a resolve that she would need to replicate and she would, for she would not be the cause of embarrassment for the family. He blew her kiss, which she returned holding back the tears, for at this moment of parting she couldn't bear to cry in front of her father and brothers. She was strong as they taught her to be, and she'd show them. She'd show all of them and be the greatest mage in all of Thedas, even if she didn't quite understand just what that meant yet.