It had been three days since the Breech was temporarily sealed and Evelyn was brought back to Haven all but lifeless. Cullen had watched as Owayne carried his sister from the temple. His face spoke of what had happened: tear streaks cut through the grime on his face, his drawn brow saw her suffer and his determined stare said there was still hope. The mage’s head rolled with each step, her long hair adding drama to the movements, and even as the magic of the mark flickered, she did not stir. Sorin and Solas followed closely behind casting some kind of ward around the marked hand. Curious looks from the soldiers followed her as they tried to get a look at their savior.
Needing a place to tend to her away from the many other wounded being treated at the infirmary and apothecary, she was now settled in his former cabin, while he moved in to bunk with Rylen next door. The first day and night passed quietly as she showed no signs of life other than shallow breathing. Both Ilara and Adan were seeing to her care. Solas checked in now and again to monitor the magic of the mark to make sure it remained stable. Still, on three separate occasions, they called for a Revered Mother to give her the last rights, but each time, as if she knew, she would make a sound or move that promised she would make it.
For the three days, Owayne never left her side. He ate, drank, sometimes heavily, and slept in the cabin. Cullen had tried to pull him away to get some fresh air but he stopped trying before long. So deep was his love and concern for her that he had told him he wanted to watch every breath she took and when they shallowed he wanted to be there to talk her through it. Hector had left with his men once they returned to Haven. His duty lay in Ostwick, but he told Owayne to write with constant updates. Saying goodbye to his sister, he kissed her tenderly, laid a hand on her head and whispered, “You shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond. For there is no darkness in the Maker's Light, and nothing that He has wrought shall be lost.” He took one last look at her with a pained expression on his face and left.
On the second day, things got ugly. In the early morning hours, he and Rylen heard banging coming from her cabin. They got up to see the door swinging in the wind and Owayne tossing a body from it. There was a fresh wound on his head that was pouring blood. He pointed with his dagger at the body, "a fucking assassin, can you believe this shit!" Ilara, who was tending to her overnight, quickly scampered out to heal his head, but as soon as she left the cabin, Cullen saw another person trying to climb through the side window. Bounding over a stack of firewood he caught the woman by the back of her collar before she could get through and slammed her against the side of the cabin knocking the wind out of her. Before he could question her, she had popped something into her mouth, dropping dead a minute later. He dragged her body next to the man's while Rylen went to rouse Leliana. Disappointed that she was being handed two dead bodies, she huffed and had her agents take them away.
She lingered for a moment clearly troubled that the assassins had infiltrated camp without her agents knowing. As she could only assume that these were higher-caliber assassins to slip past her own defenses, she advised he setup defenses around the cabin. Guards were posted at the door as a visual warning. Sorin placed wards around the cabin that would trigger a flare when tripped and Owayne was the last line of defense on the inside.
The final attempt on her life came in the middle of the day, when an assassin disguised as an elven laborer bluffed their way into the cabin claiming to have fresh linens. What she really had was an arsenal of bombs and flasks that could've wiped out most of Haven. Although she managed to get past the first two defenses, Owayne, well-versed in rogue tactics, thwarted her attempt, killing her in the ensuing melee. Cullen was on his way back to his quarters to freshen up after a long morning of training when he heard Adan cursing the Maker about bombs. He looked up to see smoke billowing and realized what was happening. He sprinted the rest of the way calling for a few of his soldiers to follow. As before, it seemed Owayne had the situation in hand.
"These bloody whoresons won't stop! Another one for Sister Leliana's collection." With a body in tow, Owayne sucked air greedily through his mouth choking on the smoke coming from inside the cabin. Cullen opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Owayne was already answering his question, "Evie's fine, I threw a blanket over her and opened all the windows. It'll clear soon." A minute later, Adan came marching back in his usual foul mood, potion in hand, muttering about what Andraste has forced him to endure and what not. At hearing Owayne's last comment, he flew into a lecture on how throwing a blanket over a patient who is having trouble breathing is, in less colorful terms, stupid.
The Commander turned around to find the whole camp had gathered to see what the commotion was about. They didn't need it getting around their newly named Herald of Andraste was being targeted by every assassin's guild in Thedas, so he barked at them to return to their duties. As they parted, he noticed The Hands and Solas now approaching. The smoke hadn't yet cleared completely out, and it smelt of sulfur and burnt plants, yet they all crammed themselves in anyway. He stood back by the door to keep out of the way of the healers, and to stick his head out into the fresh air periodically, getting slightly claustrophobic. Solas and Adan were checking Evelyn when she suddenly spoke.
"The grey--," her words were cut off by a gasp for air, but she tried to repeat it rolling her head from side to side, "the grey--." Owayne had knelt at her side quietly while the rest just looked on trying to comprehend the meaning of her cryptic words. Adan stood over her looking as if he was anticipating something to happen - and it did. Limbs were suddenly kicking and swinging about. Her back arched up and every attempt to restrain her was met with fierce resistance. Cullen recognized the struggle of self-preservation for what it was - a nightmare. As he pushed Adan and Solas aside to assist Owayne, he grabbed her legs and placed his body weight on them. Owayne put her upper body in a hold until she exhausted herself. Once still and slowly settling her back into bed, another sharp gasp escaped her, which caused Owayne to jump much to his mortification. Her next words came out frantically, "eyes, so many eyes!" She slumped in their grip as they lowered her back down onto the bed one last time. Sweat dotted her forehead, but she began to calm.
"Her breathing is normal." Adan sounded surprised as he wiped the sweat from her brow with a cloth. At the news, he saw Owayne's face brighten with a glimmer of hope. Even better, Solas had slipped into the Fade after being nicely pushed out of the way during her nightmare, and shared some much needed good news.
"She's dreaming safely in the Fade now. I believe she will wake soon."
----------------------------------------
"Lar?" A gentle shushing came from her direction as she spun away from the desk to go to her.
"Welcome back!" She said it in almost a whisper as she stroked her hair.
"The Breach? Demons? Is everyone alright?" She was shushed again and coaxed to drink some elfroot tea that had been sitting by the fire. As she sat up to sip it, she noticed Owayne asleep on the floor. "What's--"
"Shh! He's been awake for days and hasn’t left your side. Let him sleep a bit longer."
"Days?!"
"You've been unconscious and in bad shape for the past three days after you closed the Breech, or well temporarily closed it." For the next hour, Ilara caught her up on everything that had happened since she had been brought back to Haven. She had really hoped it had all been a dream, but here she was staring at that damn mark on her hand.
"The Herald of Andraste? You're shitting me." She laughed, but Ilara just looked at her with a pitiful pout. "Just how am I the Herald of Andraste!?" Owayne gave a start hearing her exclaim at her new title. Jumping up, he all but smacked his head off the wall as he stumbled half asleep toward her.
"Thank the Maker you're awake! For a moment I thought we were under attack again."
"Attack? Again?!" She was all but beside herself. "What in the Void has been going on!?"
----------------------------------------
The rest of her day was full of visitors, so much so the door nearly fell from its hinges. After hearing about the Breech, the mark, her worrying state of health, assassins, the newly formed Inquisition and her rise to becoming the "Herald of Andraste," she was not thrilled to be summoned to a meeting in the Chantry. Ilara walked her, all the while fretting at how ridiculous it was that just after waking up, they expected her to be at their beck and call. Even so, she hardly had an excuse since she wasn't injured and everything seemed normal, minus the mark. As they walked she attracted a few stares and whispers, and more after entering the Chantry full of clerics and Chantry mothers.
At the very back of the main hall was the door to where the advisors met. Ilara gave her hands a squeeze and she pushed open the door halting their current conversation. Cassandra who was closest to her motioned her over to stand before a large table covered with a map and several markers.
"How are you feeling?" Evelyn was stunned for a moment by the gentleness in her voice.
"Fine, thank you for asking."
Their first order of business was her new title, making her a member of the Inquisition by default. She didn't have a problem joining this Inquisition, so long as they kept to the mission of trying to restore order. Finding the Divine's murderer and sealing the Breech for good were all fine reasons as well, but demons pouring out of rifts all across Ferelden and Orlais was her top priority. Whether it was a gift from Andraste or not, only she had the power to do so. It was not her sole responsibility for the good of Thedas.
Her first mission was to travel to the Hinterlands to meet with Mother Giselle who was helping refugees from the still ongoing war between the mages and Templars. Cassandra, Solas, Sorin and Varric were to accompany her as an escort. She was to meet with the Revered Mother about how to deal with the stout denouncement of the Inquisition and its Herald. She wondered why she would help a declared heretic, but they had few options if the Inquisition was to survive its infancy.
"There is another matter we need to discuss." Sister Leliana's eyes darted over to the Ambassador.
"Yes, there is." She sounded unsure. Was she afraid to ask the question or was she afraid of the answer? She cleared her throat and Evelyn saw the change in posture. "It is within all our best interests to protect the reputations of our key members from scandal." Evelyn's eyes narrowed and shifted from one advisor to the next, the only flinching coming the Commander. Clearly, whatever it was, they all had talked about it prior to this meeting. "Your response will not be recorded in the minutes, nor repeated outside of this room."
"With news of you being Andraste's Herald spreading, before the Lord Seeker abandoned the White Spire, he released the findings of the investigation of the Ostwick Circle following their rebellion." Evelyn's whole body clenched tight. Her veins popped from her neck and the flickering glow of her mana began to spark in her chest. While she was focused on Leliana, out of the corners of her eyes she saw Cassandra and Cullen both sensing her warning magic as they shifted in their stances. "They state that the Knight-Commander Tobias was found dead alongside a few Templars in your room. The cause of death was burning by mage fire." She allowed her anger to show, but kept all other emotions hidden. How many times was the dagger of grief over her crime to be plunged into her heart? "So we ask one last time, did you kill him?"
"No," she growled.
"What about the other Templars?"
"Yes, I killed them."
"I see. Then do you have any ideas as to how his body got to be in your room?"
"I don't know, because he wasn't there when I left it. It could've been the rebels, they were quite insistent that I be involved in the rebellion somehow. Maybe they planted his body there knowing it would eventually be found. There are plenty of mages out there who can light a body on fire." Her response seemed to satisfy Leliana for the time being.
"Thank you, Herald for--,"
"Hold on Josie, she did say she killed the other Templars. Why?"
"They attacked me. It was self-defense." She kept it short. They didn't need to know that they tried to rape her and Ilara. They didn't need to know of Ilara's involvement either. Ilara would break under their questioning. The Spymaster narrowed her eyes at her, but she didn't flinch under her scrutiny.
"Thank you, Herald. That is all." She and Leliana had definitely started on the wrong foot when she first arrived at Haven and now it would seem it was to continue. To be fair, she still lied to them about the Knight-Commander, and Leliana most likely had her suspicions, but lack of solid evidence against her was nonexistent. She would bear the shame alone. She didn't want someone like Leliana to cover it up, but she also wasn't going rile up the ongoing mage and Templar rebellion with her omission. So she was stuck keeping it locked away for everyone's sake.
----------------------------------------
Cullen ate dinner in his shared cabin with his only company being that of never-ending paperwork. The Herald had returned from the Hinterlands successfully not only recruiting Mother Giselle, but helped the refugees caught in the fighting of the Mage Rebellion, made contact with Grand Enchanter Fiona and secured horses and the services of Master Dennet for the Inquisition. Not to mention she confronted the Revered Mothers in Val Royeaux and the Lord Seeker, all of which amounted to a massive movement of resources and troops - and all the paperwork that accompanied it. While he groaned as it grew by the hour, but it also meant they were making a real impact.
The open window above his desk let in the brisk night air and the melodic singing from the neighboring cabin. When the Herald was alone, he often heard her singing. He couldn't make out the words but the melody was such that it didn't need them. This particular night though, she paused occasionally directing curses at the Maker.
Commander Rutherford,
The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.
The conditions in the Hinterlands have improved with the installation of the watch…
"Malerath's hairy-arse!" He looked up from his report shaking his head. Then her singing continued.
… have improved with the installation…
"Oh, piss on it!" He pinched the bridge of his nose, until her singing resumed, again.
… improved with the installation of the watchtower…
"You Maker-forsaken piece of---"
"Maker's breath, the mouth on that woman!" He got up and decided to see what was vexing her so, tired of reading the same sentence over and over again. Knocking on the door harder than he meant to, he was summoned inside. "Herald, is something the matter?" She was taken back at first wondering at his psychic powers before he added, "I could hear you cursing the Maker from my cabin." Looking around there were letters scattered on her desk in front of her and some crumpled and thrown on the floor or near the fire.
"Oh, sorry about that! Did I disturb your paperwork?" Now it was he who wore the confused frown. She waved a hand as if trying to erase his confusion, "I ran into Rylen who said I was being just about as fun as you this evening choosing paperwork over meeting him in the tavern." That certainly sounded like Rylen, voicing as much. "I apologize for the noise, I'll cuss quieter."
"You don't have to stop singing though, it's-- ah, nice." She blushed, and he thought back to the few times he had actually seen her blush at something.
"I didn't know you could hear that too," she said pulling on a wavy lock of hair. "I, um, don't really sing in front of anyone, at least sober." He understood what she was getting at.
"Well, I can't make out the words, it's more like hearing you hum." He hoped that would alleviate some of the awkwardness beginning to settle in the room. "Anyway, I just wanted to check and make sure you were alright--"
"Do you get letters like this?" She held up a handful of correspondence that was easily a fraction of what was piled on his desk. "Listen to this, Dear Herald of Andraste, I was wondering if you would travel to my farm to bless my herd of Druffalo for the calving season," she looked at him with apoplexy, "you can't make this shit up! Let me just add that to my long list of titles - Herald of Andraste, Blesser of Druffalo." He shook his head chuckling as it was rather ridiculous. "I've had a number of marriage proposals, people want things blessed, confessions, people denouncing me or telling me I'm crazy, requests for… odd things, like a lock of my hair, a token or… well you get the idea. I get death threats too, but Leliana takes those." She looked to the floor with a frown. "She doesn't trust me, does she?" He shifted uncomfortably before she sternly pointed to a chair beside hers not wanting him to escape without hearing his thoughts.
"She just--," words were failing him on how to describe it, "I wouldn't take it personally, she--"
"I don't care if she likes me, I would just like not to be interrogated by her each time I'm asked to a council meeting." He attempted to amend his words, but she was on a bit of a rant and ignoring his stuttering objections. "Have I not answered enough of your questions about my past? Have I not done as you've asked? Masqueraded as your Herald for your benefit?" She paused briefly looking beside herself. "Cullen," the sound of his name brought their eyes together, "I'm asking you what I should do. There is only so much I can handle and I'm at my capacity. I have to keep up the pretense that I'm some blessed hero, when inside I'm on the edge of the Void, ready to just be done with it all."
That revelation had his heart pounding with a mix of fear and guilt. As hard as he tried to fight it, the instinct to immediately distrust and fear magic rose up within him. He glanced down at the mark - their only salvation and potentially something more sinister. There was so little known about it. Every time she used it or it flared up, it was like playing with fire - how long before they were burned. It was a reminder to him of the danger that lurked within her, a danger that could unleash destruction and chaos upon the world. The very thought of it sent shivers down Cullen's spine, his mind conjuring up vivid images of just what would happen if she lost control of her magic; Her eyes turning black as night, her body contorting and twisting into a monstrous abomination that would devour everything in its path. The mere idea of it made his stomach churn with dread.
Cullen knew that these thoughts were not entirely rational, that they were born of his deep-seated fears and old wounds. Yet, as he chastised himself, he knew that he couldn't let his past define him, that he couldn't let his old prejudices cloud his judgment. Evelyn had proven herself time and time again, had risked her life to save him and countless others. She had earned his respect and admiration and he couldn't deny the growing bond of friendship that had formed between them.
With a deep breath, Cullen made a decision. He would be vigilant for any signs of danger, but he would also put his trust in Evelyn. After her red lyrium poisoning, she had all but relearned to control her powers all over again. She was a veteran mage with years of experience and knew her power and the risks. He would support her, stand by her side and do everything in his power to help her control her magic. He wasn't a Templar, nor taking lyrium, but his training and instincts were still with him.
"If there is anything I can do to help you, you have but to ask," his voice was soft and comforting. "Leliana is still grieving The Divine's death and is frustrated with the lack of information on what we know about the explosion and your mark. She wants to blame someone, and I'm sorry if it seems like she's taking it out on you. I can have a talk with her if you'd like?"
"I don't need you to fight my battles for me," her voice was low and sheepish. She was the one used to doing the protecting.
"It wouldn't hurt to let people help you every once in a while." She gave him a sideways look.
"Do you?" Narrowing her eyes further at him.
"Well, I," he ran a hand through his hair, "perhaps not as much as I should, but if you're willing to try I suppose I can too." He had been wanting to tell her that he knew something of the lingering effects of the trauma she's been suffering from. He wasn't ready to tell her or anyone else what his trauma was, but he could still sympathize. "I've actually been meaning to tell you, that I, ah, know something of the difficulties you're facing because I-- I have similar problems. Nightmares, flashbacks, triggers, I'm still dealing and not dealing with it. Perhaps if-- maybe having someone who understands may help us both?" He saw the look of pity on her face at his confession change to one of deep understanding and relief.
"I would really like that. When I talk to Ilara or the others about it they really have no notion of the toll it takes on you each time it happens. It feels like--"
"--Like it just happened and you're back to where you started." They stared at each other and she nodded weakly. For the next hour, they spoke softly about Evelyn's troubles. She explained to him about the reaction of her mana to the mark's, which while it was worrisome, he took comfort in the fact that she was well aware of the potential dangers.
When they said their goodnights and he went back to his paperwork, he heard the soothing sound of her singing once again. After a few songs, he heard a stern, "Go to bed Commander! Paperwork can wait!" He chucked and before he knew it, found himself putting down his quill to ready himself for bed. Flopping down on the bed, he for once didn't fear closing his eyes knowing that if the nightmares came, he actually had someone to confide in without worry of judgment or pity. She had made the first step in telling him so much, that if someone as strong-willed as she could admit to her weakness he could too.
It wouldn't be easy, but he was determined to rise above his own fears and doubts to become a better man, a better friend and a better ally. For Evelyn and for himself.
----------------------------------------
Evelyn left the War Room conflicted. Should they secure aid from the Templars or mages in closing the Breech for good? Why not both? Why did it have to be one or the other? There were men and women on both sides who surely did not want the war to persist any longer. If the past month with the Inquisition showed her anything it was people from all walks of life could come together to help restore the peace. She had recruited a Qunari spy, a Red Jenny, Madame de Fer and a renowned Grey Warden to add to her already diverse group of companions. Despite her arguments, the advisors believed they only needed one of the groups to complete their goal. Gaining the support of both groups would take time, but she believed it was well worth it.
Her plan was to first go to the Templars, for they couldn't safely regulate the mages from Redcliffe without them. Then she'd go meet with the mages to solicit their aid if all went well. She preferred siding with the Templars over the mages since The Order's name carried respect throughout Thedas. The Inquisition siding with Templars versus the Free Mages would go a long way in gaining the trust of the people. However, she detested the idea of leaving innocent mages in the hands of the rebels. Like it or not she would be going to Redcliffe after business at Theirinfall Redoubt was concluded. She would save them; she would not fail them again as she did in Ostwick.
Without warning, the memory of the day her Circle fell flooded her mind as she was there again standing between the Templars and rebels, though the memory was transposed to where she stood outside of the Chantry in Haven. Her student, Kian was felled by her own blade in front of her, pleading to spare him this time, but it was too late. The blood was already turning the snow into a red river that pooled at her feet. A Templar's gauntlet seized her shoulder and she added her screams to the man appearing in front of her caught in the inferno. She tried to quell the flames but her magic failed and she was left to watch helplessly as it slowly killed him. Blinking a few times, they were all suddenly gone. She stood frozen only able to move her eyes to look at those who looked at her as if they knew her shame; their eyes piercing holes through her in harsh judgment.
She turned on her heel and hurried back into the Chantry hoping she wasn't too late. Pulling open the large heavy doors, she slipped in and ran right into a Sister who lay sprawled on the stone floor. She thinks she mumbled some incoherent apology, but her mind was being torn in two places at once. The face of Knight-Commander Tobias flashed and she jumped biting her lip so hard she tasted blood keeping her scream suppressed. Everyone was staring at her as the long hall seemed to stretch longer and the room spun. Still, she searched for her only salvation, though it shouldn't have been this hard. He was easily the tallest and blondest person in here, why couldn't she find him? There was a wall of Mothers and Sisters blocking her view and skirting around them she finally found her mark. He was speaking with the former Hands of The Divine outside the War Room. When they saw her barreling at her they parted allowing her, without stopping, to slip between them hooking his arm with hers, dragging him with unnatural strength into the War Room.
She shoved him through the door and barred it. When she turned to face his many questions, she dropped on all fours hyperventilating, not able to hold it back any longer. The outer edges of her vision was fading to black when two hands hoisted her up by the shoulders. When she looked up she saw Cullen's mouth moving to say 'breathe,' but she only heard the ringing of her ears. She tried to do as he said and concentrate on her breathing, and for a minute it seemed to be working when in one last attempt to claim her, her inner demons conjured Ser Aeron and his two dead associates behind Cullen. Eyes darting back and forth between the spectral Knights, she fought to pull away towards the door. The wounds and burns on the Knights looked fresh as they stood with wolfish grins on their faces. Death would not keep them from her. She couldn't cry out or warn Cullen as she still gasped for breath, but he held firm and for a moment the feeling of his grip on her tightening was all that held her from the Fade.
With a hard pull, she crashed into the fully-armored chest of the Commander. Evelyn continued to fight to flee, but slowly realized she no longer saw anything but her blurry reflection in the well-polished breastplate. His mantle obscured her vision further and she allowed herself to hope and believe the specters were gone. Breathing in and out more steadily, the world began to quiet and her numb senses functioned once more.
Fingers flexed in the dense fur around his shoulders and she smelled a hint of sandalwood possibly from the cotton of the coat. One of his arms held her head tight against him and the other was wrapped around her mid-back. His leathered hands were warming as she shivered from her cold sweat. Though his hand partially covered her ear, she could hear his low steady voice reassuring her that she was safe, over and over.
When his grip loosened and she was able to part from him, she wiped the small smear of blood from her split lip off his breastplate. She then walked to the nearest wall and slid down it to sit, wiping the sweat from her face and leaning her head back against the wall.
"I'm sorry, I--"
"There's nothing to apologize for." She was grateful for his calmness.
"I was just outside when...," she sighed heavily, "it was the Ostwick Circle this time. Will it ever stop?"
"It just... happens less, at least when you're awake. I haven't had luck with the nightmares, as you know. They happen as frequently as ever." After she had returned from Val Royeaux one afternoon, she was relaxing in her cabin when she heard Cullen yelling at someone from next door. To anyone else, they may have thought some poor recruit had earned a tongue-lashing, but her gut told her otherwise and she went to investigate. After knocking softly, not sure what she was interrupting, she pushed the door open to find he was alone and tossing in bed. A nightmare. Not wanting to yell herself and draw the attention of those outside, she used her mana to create a small shock to wake him. She was a pyromancer, sure, but picked up some tricks from Sorin. It was enough to bring him out of it. When she asked if he wanted to talk about it, he just said no, which she respected. She didn't need to know all his secrets, as he didn't need to know hers.
There was a knock at the War Room's door followed by Cassandra asking if everything was alright. Cullen called back that it was and continued to let her come down from her episode.
"Thank you, Cullen." She found that since they first talked about helping each other through their problems, less words were needed between them. Her simple 'thank you' actually carried with it a gratitude not many others could comprehend. She stood and stretched herself as if readying for battle. Facing the world as The Herald rather than The Phoenix was often like going into battle these days. "What are you going to tell Cassandra and Leliana about this?"
"Hmm, how about you were angry over the mount you've been assigned?"
"Nelson!? Never!" She gasped and put a hand to her chest at the ridiculousness of that statement. He smiled a bit knowing she was indeed recovered from the visions.
"Alright, alright," he thought a moment scowling at the adjacent wall at the ideas going through his head. "Got it. I was going to ask you about this anyway. We'll say you were insulted by the number of soldiers I've been sending along with you on missions. You've some of the best warriors and mages in Thedas traveling with you now, I doubt you'll need them. With our forces stretched thin across Ferelden and soon Orlais, they would be better deployed elsewhere anyway."
"Good, they'll buy that, and yes that's fine. It's a wonder you send anyone with us at all, it just draws attention." The low rumble of his chuckle crescendoed following her seemingly humorless comment. "What?"
"Why do I find it hard to believe that even without the soldiers and banners you draw attention anyway."
"Because I'm a walking freak show," she couldn't help but laugh despite herself. "Thanks for reminding me, arse." He cleared his throat when she gave his arm a slap, not meaning to cause offense. "Come on. Let go before Leliana starts getting suspicious."
A few hours later, Cullen's remark was still bouncing around in her head. "Drawing attention" was a polite way to put the magical disaster that she had become. She was a Templar's worst nightmare - well, that may be a slight exaggeration, but if she was still in the Circle, she could only imagine what kind of cage they would've stuck her in. In Henley's company, there were times when he would twitch feeling all the magic bleeding from her. While the magic was stable and she was now in control of it, she still wielded unknown power. She didn't blame people for being fearful or cautious around her, for if roles were reversed she'd feel the same.
The thing she was most upset by was what it did to her mutation. Her fiery wings of brilliant reds and oranges were now green. The fire that made her The Phoenix was now closer to resembling a veil fire demon. The initial burst was of pure fire, but then it was consumed by the emerald flames. She couldn't help but feel a sense of frustration and anger toward the mark on her hand. For Evelyn, her Phoenix wings were a symbol of her strength and her fiery spirit. She refused to let anything, even the mark, alter their brilliance. Trying to stay optimistic, she thought maybe once they caught the Divine's killer they would get some answers about the magic of the mark and hopefully rid herself of it. She was determined to once again spread her wings with a sense of pride and power that was truly her own.
Since awakening from closing the Breech, she also struggled with her new identity: The Herald of Andraste. What did it mean to be her? To the people? Josephine in particular talked at length with her about this. What was her official stance? Was she holy or not? She would answer that she didn't know and that lying to people just to make them feel better wasn't right, despite the Ambassador's disagreement. She was a symbol of everything that's wrong for some and hope to others. Not even her closest friends knew what to make of it: Owayne laughed at it, Henley believed it, as did most Templars, Ilara hoped it was true and Sorin's opinion remained ambiguous. Cassandra mentioned that she believed she was chosen and put on this path for a reason. Only time would be the judge of who she really was.