Knight-Enchanter Gavril Croft,


    I write to you today, ser, in the hopes that you can help me find the proper tutelage for a young mage we have been keeping a close eye on. The girl is extremely gifted in the Inferno School, and none of us quite know what to do with her, having never seen one of her natural talents before. The novice in question has literal fire in her blood as if she were born a firebird. While I understand that boys are preferable to train over females - especially high-born ones as she is - this one is different, for there is an unbreakable resolve in her for one so young. If I didn''t think she was capable of the physicality or mental fortitude it takes to become a Knight-Enchanter, I would not be wasting your time.


    I implore you to consider young Evelyn Trevelyan as a candidate for the Order of Knight-Enchanters. At least let us send her to you to assess her potential. It is my gut feeling you will not be disappointed. I await your favorable reply.


    Knight-Captain Walter Tobias


    Ostwick Circle of Magi


    <hr>


    Dragon 9:23


    Evelyn


    Over the next two years, Evelyn tried to expand her knowledge of the purpose of magic. Knowing that she was an odd puzzle piece that needed to find her place amongst a wide range of schools and specializations. Henley tried to aid her in her hunt for a purpose, but there were only so many options for someone like her.


    "What about working at the forge with the blacksmith? Your magic could get it to the perfect temperatures?"


    Evelyn sulked, resting her cheek on the wood of the bench she was laying across in one of the enclaves of the Tower. "That''s not at all exciting."


    "Well," Henley pushed her legs off, causing her to sit up making room for him, "there aren''t many thrilling options. People are scared of fire for obvious reasons. One spark from you could raze the whole town!"


    "Yes, but I can control the flame, even quell it. If there was a fire, I could be very valuable, save some lives even."


    He gave her a hard stare from beside her, "Yes, but they''d never let you out of here to do it." They gazed at each other with frustration.


    Despite everything he was taught, Henley never seemed to treat her any differently since they met. They were best friends, which wasn''t so odd in Ostwick but everywhere else it was frowned upon. They were both in the Circle not by their own choice but by circumstance. Byron was the son of a family who he explained to her was "poorer than dirt." Unable to properly care for him, his mother gave him up to The Order at six. Judging from the distant look he always got in his eyes upon talking about it, Evelyn concluded it was a traumatizing experience for him. She had had a time of it herself, but to be so young and torn from a parent was a pain she could sympathize with. Worse was that they promised to visit him, and they never once showed. Henley was alone in the world with no one but his brothers and sisters of The Order - and now, Evelyn.


    Slumping back with a huff, she crossed her arms, "Why did I have to be a mage? My father was going to let me join the Templars! I''d be with you and it''d be great hunting down demons and maleficar! But, no! If it wasn''t bad enough, He gives me lava for mana! Why does the Maker hate me?!"


    He fell back beside her, his rich brown eyes taking pity on her, "There must be some reason for it. You''re unique, all the Senior Enchanters and Knights say so."


    "They also are afraid of me, Bry." She turned her head to look up at him. Even though they were both twelve, he was already much taller than her. "Why can''t they just trust me like you do?"


    He shrugged, "I don''t know, but I have faith in you. You''ll come up with something. You''re the smart one after all." He nudged her playfully trying to get her to smile.


    "Yeah, and what does that make you?"


    "The strong one!" He flexed his arms and puffed out his chest. Unable to resist, she poked him hard in the ribs making him deflate and they shared a laugh. When the hour bell rang he shot up, "Maker''s balls, I got to go! I''m late for lessons." He mussed her hair, making her swat and growl at him. "See you at midday, Evie!"


    Leaving her to fix her hair and contemplate her future, it was becoming clearer that she needed help from someone with more experience than a Templar recruit. She had already spoken with her instructors, but none offered her anything she wanted to hear. While she might have to accept such a life in order just to have one, she wouldn''t rest until she had all the facts. In one last attempt to find a place in the Circle of Magi, Evelyn wrote to the First Enchanter asking to meet about her dilemma.


    One day during breakfast, a summons was delivered to her to go to the First Enchanter''s office immediately. Without delay, Evelyn made her way up to Lydia''s office, flashing the note to the Templars who gave her a funny look as she jogged up the steps. Out of breath by the time she reached the top, she stood there a moment trying to catch her breath before knocking on the heavy wooden door. Her knocks echoed both in the hall and within the room beyond it. Beckoned to come in, Evelyn tentatively entered.


    The office was heavily decorated, as if First Enchanter Lydia was trying to forget she was high up in a sandstone Tower. Large tapestries covered three walls, as did bookshelves with various items ranging from books, collectibles, alchemical oddities, art, and everything in between. A spicy scent lingered in the air, reminding her of the market in the bustling city right outside their gate. Sassafras, earthy elfroot, and notes of nutty spices wafted about. Her alchemy station was bubbling away and was no doubt the source of the aroma. Evelyn had heard Lydia was one of the best alchemists in all of Thedas and her workspace spoke volumes of her skill. Around it were painted matching bowls with crushed ingredients, along with a well-used ceramic mortar and pestle. Dots of the colorful dried plants, roots, and nuts were sprinkled about in trails along the wooden table.


    "Don''t be shy, my dear, come in, come in!" The aging woman''s eyes were bright and her deep voice was both commanding and soothing. She chuckled, "I always love how students walk into my office as if I''m a witch of the wilds preparing my cauldron for my next victim! I assure you, child, I have much better taste than to eat the likes of you. From what I hear, Novice Trevelyan, if I attempted it, you''d burn my mouth, isn''t that right?" Evelyn was slightly taken aback, only having spoken to the woman once since arriving.


    Swallowing hard, having been taught better than to be rude, she found her voice, "Yes, First Enchanter, it seems the Inferno School has claimed me."


    She hummed, musing on the thought, "Fire: primal, scorching, violent, catching. Yet also, comforting, warm, and protective. Are these words in which you''d describe yourself, dear?"


    The young mage''s lips pouted out sideways as if she was about to endure another lecture like the ones she used to get back home regarding her temper. "I... um, yes."


    Lydia''s head swiveled to her, her tone cheery, "Why say it as if it is a burden? All of us quirky mages have a place in this world. Just because you don''t seem to fit the mold of the Ostwick Circle of quiet and obedient healers, does not mean you are hopeless." Evelyn studied the mage as she waved her over to her alchemy table. Removing a flask from over one of the burners, the flame straightened and the two of them watched it. "Since receiving your note, I''ve thought about your predicament and share your concerns. Tell me, have you heard of the Knight-Enchanters?" The young mage shook her head, for this was the first time she had heard such a term. "Knight-Enchanters are the most devoted of the mage specializations doing the Maker''s work. To become one, you must pass the most rigorous tests of faith and discipline. They are a rare breed of noble and mighty warriors who work side by side with the Templars to keep the people safe from magical dangers. While the Templars'' skill is great, some enemies can only be defeated by magic." The girl''s eyes glistened, enraptured by her words. "Demons, apostates, maleficar, arcane anomalies, and even pitched battles between kings are all dangers that require offensive spells. Does that interest you, dear?"


    Shaking her head excitedly, Evelyn couldn''t help but feel the forces of destiny at work. "Yes! It sounds like everything I''ve ever wanted!"


    Lydia chuckled knowingly with her deep raspy voice, "Aye, but to achieve it, as I said, you will have to be subjected to grueling training. The Order will seek to break you, then rebuild you in the image of a perfect obedient mage. For this reason, most Knight-Enchanters are men, with few exceptions. Unlike us of the fairer sex, men are less emotionally and physically tough, whereas we are smarter ones. We use our brains over brawn." Lydia tapped her head giving her a cheeky wink. "It''s the life of a soldier, but you will see more of the outside world than the rest of your fellow mages while doing the Maker''s bidding. Your quick mastery of fire makes you an excellent candidate. Most have to develop the skill, but you have possessed it since birth."


    This could be her chance to prove to the Templars she could be useful; her chance to survive. "Please, First Enchanter, this may be my calling! I want to become a Knight-Enchanter! Please!"


    "It''s not a decision to take lightly, Evelyn. However, from what your instructors say, you''ve got the talent and temperament." Surprised, the young mage gaped at her. "That''s right, I''ve already spoken to them. So, I will make inquiries as to who is taking students. We do not have a resident instructor, but should you one day become a full-fledged Knight-Enchanter, perhaps we will. In the meantime, I would read everything you can of the history of the profession just to be sure it''s for you."


    "I will, First Enchanter, thank you!" Evelyn''s eyes were bright and her spirits lifted as she resumed her day.


    Following her meeting with Lydia, Evelyn did just that and raided the library. There was little material in the instruction of Knight-Enchanters, but plenty of historical battle records. Each scroll she flattened was its own battlefield shaped by the words stained across it. Evelyn had read enough to know that mages stood at the back of the battle line, ready to shield or heal soldiers. Knight-Enchanters, however, were mixed in with the foot soldiers. Their fellow soldiers granted them respect as they stood beside them, and revered them after seeing them cut through the enemy with finesse. Though their weapons differed, they became united by a cause and their will to prevail. Account after account inspired her, and she knew then she was destined for this.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    Completely obsessed, Evelyn fell asleep among the dusty tomes only waking when a Senior Enchanter found her and told her it was time for the sunrise morning Chantry service. Hurrying down the winding staircase and out into the early light, she slipped into the back of the Circles Chapel. The soft glow of candlelight cast long shadows across the worn stone walls. The air was thick with incense, a sweet, cloying scent that clung to her clothes and hair. As the sermon had already begun, she found a seat near the exit and settled quietly so as not to disturb anyone.


    Her eyes drifted over the congregation of mages, a sea of bowed heads and clasped hands, and the Templars who stood vigil at the corners of the chapel. At the front, Mother Lucia''s voice rang out with overly enthusiastic devotion, her sharp eyes scanning the crowd with scrutiny. Evelyn''s gaze followed those piercing eyes until they landed on a small figure near the middle of the room. The boy couldn''t have been more than ten, with unruly dark hair and a thin, wiry frame. His slight frame hunched forward as he tried in vain to stifle a yawn. Then his eyelids fluttered shut and his head drooped to his chest. Evelyn''s heart tightened as she watched him. He must be new here; everyone knew that Lucia did not take well due to a lack of interest during her speeches.


    For as sedate as the Ostwick Circle liked to claim to be, Mother Lucia was the exception. She reigned Andraste''s fire and brimstone down on anyone out of line. It was all posturing, as Evelyn knew too well from her cousins, no doubt hoping one day to be the next Divine. Until then, her tyranny over the mages would have to suffice.


    As Evelyn feared, the Mother''s voice pierced the air, cold and unyielding. "You there, boy!"


    The chapel fell silent, all eyes swiveling toward the disturbance. The boy''s head jerked up, eyes wide with fear as he realized he was the target of Lucia''s wrath.


    "Sleeping during the sermon, are we?" Lucia''s voice dripped with disdain as she descended from the altar, her robes whispering against the stone floor with a menacing grace. She reached the boy in a few swift strides, looming over his trembling form. "You ungrateful little wretch," she hissed, her words cutting through the stillness like a blade. "Don''t you understand that through my words, I am offering you a chance to find His light? Don''t you appreciate the favor I bestow upon a mage and a foul half-breed like yourself?"


    Evelyn''s breath caught in her throat. She had witnessed Mother Lucia''s harshness before, but this was beyond reason. Much like her raven locks, her heart was black as the night. The boy''s face crumpled, his eyes brimming with tears as he shrank from the venom in her words.


    "You should work twice as hard as the others here because of the heretical blood in your veins," the Mother continued, her voice rising in intensity. "You need to repent for what you are during the sermon, not sleep."


    Evelyn could bear it no longer. She rose to her feet, driven by a surge of anger and compassion. "That''s enough!" She shouted, feeling her mana come to life at the injustice, spreading heat through her frame and manifesting in her veins and chest glowing with a fiery light.


    All eyes turned to her now, the mages murmuring in surprise, the Templars placing their hands on the hilts of their swords, their expressions hardening into a mix of suspicion and readiness. The boy she was defending looked at her in horror, his wide eyes reflecting the hot aura that surrounded her. "Rage demon!" He screamed, his voice cracking with fear. In his panic, bright lightning charges erupted from his fingers, arching wildly and striking the walls and ceiling.


    Chaos erupted around them. Some mages hastily cast barriers, their spells forming shimmering domes of protection, while others fled, their robes billowing behind them as they ran. The air filled with the sounds of shouting, the crackling of magic, and the hum of defensive wards springing to life. Then, without warning, the cold, dead force of Silence hit her. It was like the very essence of life had been sucked from her body. Evelyn gasped for air, the fiery light around her snuffed out as if by an invisible wind. Her knees buckled, and she fell backward, the hard stone floor rushing up to meet her. The impact was jarring, but it was nothing compared to the nauseating, withering sensation of having her magic forcibly stripped away by a Templar''s silencing spell.


    As her vision dimmed and her strength ebbed, she saw the Templars converging on the boy, their faces grim with determination. They relieved Sorin of his mana with the same ruthless efficiency, and he collapsed to the floor, his small frame trembling. Evelyn''s last conscious thought was of his terrified eyes before everything went black.


    As she slowly came back to consciousness, her mind emerged from the fog of the Fade with agonizing slowness. The first sensation she registered was the biting cold of the stone floor beneath her, seeping through her robes and into her bones. Her cheek pressed against the rough, damp surface, and she shivered involuntarily, the chill mingling with the musty scent of the air around her. Her body ached with a deep, bruising pain, a testament to the rough handling that had landed her in this place. Slowly, she forced her eyes open, blinking against the dim light that filtered through a small barred window.


    Her gaze drifted, unfocused at first until the dark outlines of the cell''s walls came into view. Each wall bore the same verse from the Chant of Light inscribed in a stark, unyielding script, each word etched deeply into the stone:


    Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him. Foul and corrupt are they who have taken His gift and turned it against His children. They shall be named Maleficar, accursed ones. They shall find no rest in this world or beyond.


    She shivered again, but this time not just from the cold. Pushing herself up with trembling arms, Evelyn managed to sit, her back resting against the rough stone wall. The dampness seeped through her clothes, but she barely noticed it now, her mind fixated on recalling what had happened.


    She vividly remembered the sermon, Lucia''s venomous words, and the look of terror on the boy''s face as he called her a Rage demon. How long had she been unconscious? Hours? Days?


    Suddenly, a faint sound reached her ears, barely audible at first. She strained to listen, her heart quickening as she realized it was the sound of someone crying. The sobs were soft, desperate, filled with the kind of hopelessness she supposed people felt at the gallows.


    She pressed her ear to the wall, the jagged stone biting into her skin. "Hello?" She called out, her voice hoarse and trembling, "Can you hear me?" The crying stopped abruptly, replaced by a fearful silence. Evelyn waited, her heart pounding in her chest. "It''s alright," she whispered, "I''m... I''m a prisoner too. Please, if you can hear me, say something."


    For a moment, there was nothing. Then, a hesitant voice replied, wavering and small, "Who are you?"


    Evelyn''s breath caught in her throat. She recognized that voice. "My name is Evelyn," she said softly, not trying to frighten him more than she already did, "I... I was the one who scared you. You''re the boy Mother Lucia... scolded. Aren''t you?"


    The silence stretched out again, and then the boy spoke, his voice turning desperate, "Go away demon, you will not tempt me!"


    Her voice came back, gentle and soothing, "I am sorry to have frightened you. But I am not a demon. The light that you saw is from my mana, it''s a mutation of mine."


    The boy''s voice wavered with uncertainty, "Your mutation?"


    She smiled, though he couldn''t see it, and adjusted her tone as if speaking to a startled animal. "Yes, some mages have a mutation. My veins just happen to glow like a Rage demon, but I promise you that I am not one."


    The boy''s voice grew hopeful, yet still laced with doubt. "You swear?"


    "I swear on my father''s honor I am no demon!" Evelyn replied earnestly.


    A long silence followed, and then the boy spoke again, his voice a little stronger this time. "I... believe you."


    Relief washed over her, mingling with a surge of determination. "Are you hurt?" she asked gently, pressing her hand against the cold wall as if she could somehow reach through it and offer comfort.


    "I don''t think so," He replied, his voice shaking. "Just scared. Will they make us Tranquil because of what I did?" His voice wavered with fear and guilt. "I''m sorry, Evelyn, if only I wasn''t such a coward..." His words dissolved into sobs, the sound of his crying breaking Evelyn''s heart.


    "No, don''t worry," she said quickly, trying to infuse her voice with as much reassurance as she could muster. "What''s your name?"


    The boy sniffled, his breath hitching, "Sorin. Sorin Cyrus."


    "Don''t worry, Sorin. I promise you, they won''t make us Tranquil. We haven''t committed a crime grave enough for that. Besides, my father is a very respected man by the Chantry. They wouldn''t dare to do it to his daughter."


    "Your father will protect you, but what about me? My real father is an elf and a heretic, and the man I thought was my father hates me for it. He won''t lift a finger to help me!" Sorin''s voice was filled with despair.


    "I will make sure my father helps us both," she comforted him. "It''s my fault that you and I got into this mess in the first place."


    "You... you don''t hate me for being a half-breed?" he asked hesitantly.


    Evelyn frowned at the ridiculousness of the notion. "No, and neither will my father. We are all the Maker''s children, after all."


    "I''m also a freak. I shoot lightning each time I sneeze," he added hastily as if wanting to test her resolve.


    Evelyn chuckled. "If you are a freak for shooting lightning when you sneeze, then what does that make me?"


    "A fiery freak?" the boy asked tentatively.


    She laughed wholeheartedly, the sound echoing in the small cell. "I''d rather we stick with the original Rage demon, thank you."


    A small, hesitant laugh echoed back from the other side of the wall, and for a moment, the oppressive atmosphere of the cell seemed to lift. Evelyn felt a spark of hope ignited within her, small but steady.


    "We''ll get through this, Sorin," she said firmly. "We just need to stay strong and keep our spirits up."


    "How can you be so sure?" the boy''s voice wavered with uncertainty.


    "My father always says that faith and determination can see us through the darkest times," she replied. "He believes in the Maker''s light, and so do I. We''ll find a way out of this."


    Silence fell between them, but it was a more comfortable silence now, filled with the unspoken bond of shared struggle and mutual reassurance.


    After a few moments, Sorin spoke again. "Evelyn, do you think... do you think the Maker is watching over us mages as well?"


    "I believe He is," she answered softly. "The Maker knows that we are not all evil power hungry monsters, I just wish that more people also shared that opinion...especially in the Chantry."


    "Me too..." the boy added so quietly she barely heard him.


    Time passed slowly in the cell, the darkness pressing in from all sides. But with Sorin''s presence, it felt less suffocating, less hopeless. They talked intermittently, sharing stories and fears, their words a lifeline in the oppressive gloom.


    "Sorin," he hummed in reply, "have you heard of the Knight-Enchanters?" When he responded with a no, Evelyn excitedly babbled on about everything she had read. By the end, all the boy could utter was an astonished ''Whoa.'' "I''m going to be one someday, you watch!"


    "Trevelyan," came a familiar echoing voice, "you know, our Circle was quiet until you came along. And now it seems you''ve found a friend to make trouble with." The Knight-Captain was not pleased. Not at all.


    "Ser, please let me explain–"


    When he came into view of her cell, she jumped up and ran to the door. Without an explanation, he was already unlocking it. When the door swung open he let out a heavy sigh of disappointment, "You better because I just laid my arse on the line before the Knight-Commander and Revered Mother vouching for you, girl! My career is on the line here!"


    "I swear, I meant no one harm, but you know how it looks when my temper flares. Sorin, the boy over there," she pointed around the corner, "only reacted because he thought I was a Rage demon as I''m sure Mother Lucia did. Neither know of my mutation and you know how people freak out when they see it." Evelyn''s gaze drifted to the ground in shame. She knew better than to react that way, but she couldn''t help it and Tobias knew it too. It was her mana; the insufferable and unyielding fire within that she struggled to fully control and understand. The same spark gripped her suddenly, and his eyes shot up to meet his bushy glower. "What she did was wrong and I could not stand by and let her shame a Child of the Maker just because he''s half-elf. I appreciate your faith in me, but the only thing I''m sorry for is frightening them."


    The Knight-Captain''s tone was grave, "Wrong or not, the Templars on duty Silenced you, that means they saw you as a clear threat. If you do not apologize and take your punishment, they could threaten you with Tranquility."


    "No," he balked back at her refusal, "and the Revered Mother will not lay a finger on me or Sorin unless she''d like to explain to The Divine how she lost the support of House Trevelyan." His eyes narrowed on her waiting for her to continue. "I may be a mage but I am my father''s favorite daughter and when he hears I''m to be made Tranquil, not only will our cavalry be at the gates but Mother Lucia may have the honor of telling Divine Justina why one of her wealthiest Chantries is now devoid of funding over such a trivial matter. With all due respect, Knight-Captain, tell them that."


    Within the next few hours, she and Sorin were released and no more was said of the matter.


    When he came to release them, his scolding look was back, "Be careful, Lady Trevelyan, you''ve made enemies today."


    "I''ll keep that in mind, Ser, but so has she."