Chapter One: A Mage's Desire
The Fade was calling to the mage once again. It swirled with surreal fantasy and odd platforms, drawing a path to the brightest light of all its existence. That light lay at the end, and drew her in with its enticing charms. The ground appeared soft, green grass squishing beneath her bare feet where she stood. She knew better than to believe that what she was seeing and feeling was real. The grass felt authentic enough as it tickled her toes and ankles, but she knew that it was only comparable to dead earth in reality.
There was only one path, all else drifted in an eerie space, but it was as through she did not want to see that, to believe that. To see the void of the Fade was to look this dreamworld in its jaws. She wanted to stand up to this dream, to look out there like she had done many times before, but found her eyes fixated only on the blinding and beautiful light at the end of the path. Her legs moved without her knowledge or approval. In a trance, the mage walked towards the light on the path of false grass, alluring flowers suddenly appearing and blooming around her as she passed. She wished to speak to herself, to say that she should stop. She wanted to hear her voice to know she at least still had control of that, but it was lost. She had her thoughts, but they did not help much.
The light had a source, an altar she could only see when she was upon it. It appeared gradually as she stood still but it did not frighten her. Adrenalin was rushing through her however. She looked dreamily at the light as she stepped toward the altar and felt the excitement coursing through her. She wondered if perhaps she might see things through this time. The thought should have perished at this point, but for once she was having trouble caring about what happened to her here. She peered at the altar and looked into its surface, glowing with light. She flinched as a ferocious wind blew her hair back, making her nightgown flutter aimlessly. The light swallowed her as she shut her eyes, beginning to fear her weakness in judgment.
'I should not have lingered. I should have just-' The mage's eyes opened to the sight of her quarters in the tower. All the beds were neatly made, containing no bodies or belongings. None of the normal chatter and gossip could be heard at all. There was a slight distortion in this place that only a practiced mage could distinguish and this mage was on her way to being just that. However, she was still formally an apprentice and the thought never crossed her mind that her fifty or so roommates where missing. She walked to her bed and stared at it. Her memories of the fade were instantly gone, as though it were a fleeting deep dream, inaccessible to the dreamer upon awakening.
'Had I not been sleeping all this time? I...can't remember...' "A-Apprentice Amell... Th-There you are. I've, um, been looking all over for you," a familiar and timid masculine voice called from one of the doorways.
She turned and saw him standing there in his templar vestments. Her voice still seemed lost so all she could manage was an enthralled stare. His golden curly brown hair was smoothly gelled back. His appearance was always so clean cut, save for the stubble he kept in the shape of a mustache and goatee. For once he did not seem to be sad when he stared at her. His facial expression was confident, though his voice told a different story. Usually he wore a nervous mask when summoning her for her superiors, such as the First Enchanter, but not today.
He was always so different than the other templars. Whenever the mage tried to speak to other templars in the tower she would always get the same rushed response, cold and uncaring. They always made excuses to cut the conversation short. This templar actually initiated conversations on occasion and would talk for a bit with her if time permitted and if no other templars were present. He only made excuses to leave when he became noticeably embarrassed. She enjoyed making his cheeks turn rosy when their conversations would turn somewhat explicit or personal.
Flirting was one of the few pleasures she could take part in while living this sheltered life. Twenty-one years of forced innocence and wonder about the opposite gender was more than enough to drive a mage crazy. Of course, the sweet young man would always blush and excuse himself immediately to run off to the templar quarters. She always wondered how he tried to calm himself after their encounters. Sometimes she had troubles herself.
She supposed she should be more considerate; he had taken serious vows of chastity and Maker knows what else to become one of the revered templars. But the templars were certainly not considerate of the feelings of mages. The mages never had a choice to wield magic, yet they are treated like they are at fault for every mistake any mage ever makes, conscious choice or not.
Their rendezvous were not always placid; they both knew that they disagreed on Magi and Templar relations, his dislike of Irving and her problems with Greagoir. Somehow, they found comfort within each other by speaking so freely of their plights and giving one another insight to the other side. She smiled at him weakly.
"W-What? Do I have something on my face?" he asked in uncertainty, walking towards her. Each step he took had her looking at his familiar uniform. The purple velvet robes descending from beneath his belt were always so distracting to her. The templars looked good, but she often found herself wondering if they still wore pants. Curiosity about what lies behind the cloth and chainmail that conceals the lower half of the templars always left her staring. She noticed she was gawking again as the robes swished back and forth with his stride.
"Cullen, I... nothing... Um..." she took a deep breath and scorned herself for sounding so foolish when she had finally regained her voice. Her face grew hot, but still she looked up and smiled at him. "You were looking for me?"
"Yes," he said firmly, gazing into her eyes. He was very close now. "I... wanted to share something with you."
"Share... something? With me?" She knew she looked flushed because she felt the heat emanating off her face. Excitement was racing in her heart, making it pound furiously. Her head felt as though it might explode from anticipation. Her chest was ready to burst and she wanted to let out whatever pressure was building up. To scream would feel very nice.
'Must I always feel like this around him?' He moved in quick, wrapping his arms around her back and pushing her into his armor. The black engraving of the sword on his breastplate rubbed against her chest. It was very cold against her thin apprentice robes. She could have sworn that she was not wearing these robes seconds ago. His bulky shoulder guards were digging into her, but she hardly noticed. He stared down upon her with lurid eyes, so full of passion and longing, but also holding something darker. She looked into those eyes as his face drew near hers. It was wrong. There was something strange about his face; it wasn't quite Cullen's. It was handsome like his but it looked cold and rough, rougher than she remembered. She held up her hand to his lips with much resistance. His breath was cold and unnatural; she felt the illusion corrupting her mind.
"Cullen, I can't. This isn't right. Something's...
wrong."
He looked at her with desire and longing, but he loosened his grip. She removed her hand from his face and looked down at the floor.
"I'm sorry, Cullen. I... really like you, and believe me I want this-"
"Then just let go," he suggested in an alluring tone. He began to inch her backwards towards her bed. She felt her control on the situation slipping. He began to draw his lips to her neck, his bulky armor making things difficult. However, difficult or not, she felt completely overwhelmed by the feeling. She had never felt so weak, not in a very long time at least. Cullen moved her to the bed with no trouble when her body went limp. Suddenly she was down and he was on top of her.
"I love you, Lita," he breathed sensually in a deep tone. It was very alluring and it stopped her struggling for a moment. Cullen had never uttered those words before. He continued to slide his hands up and down the sides of her arms with precision. His gloved fingertips sent shivers tingling along her skin. It made her lust for a deeper contact, though she still tried to fight it.
"I... no... stop..."
Each word sounded weaker and weaker. She found herself looking at his face again when he halted the barrage of kisses on her neck. He ran his fingers along her face and gripped her cheeks firmly. His gloves were scraping her skin as they slipped against it clumsily. It felt strangely like it was what she wanted: a deeper contact. She wanted to dig her fingernails into his back, just as she wanted him to hold her firmly with unmovable arms, trapped in the templar's prison. She felt his hands pulling her face close. He was a little too rough compared to how she recalled however, and her jaw was beginning to ache. The armor did not help, but it was not just that; it was him. She found his face again, telling her something was amiss. He appeared to be transforming into something inhuman before her very eyes. It was barely hiding anymore.
It was happening again. She knew what it was: a demon, no matter what form it took on. No matter how much this demon wanted to tempt her, she could not let it win. For if she gave in, the demon would overpower her frail body and wreak havoc in her name. Then the real templars would come to slay her before she could bring harm to anyone. A sour ending for someone who had studied so hard for control.
She took in a soft jagged breath. Closing her eyes, she thought of the real Cullen.
'I am stronger than this. Think of the real Cullen. He is strong and will give you strength. What would happen ifthis demon should win? It would destroy everything in sight. It would hurt everyone. The templars... What ifCullen was the one who had to destroy the demon? It would hurt him deeply to see what I became. No... Icannot let this demon win. It is.. not... an... option!' She forced the fake templar off of her body with a Mind Blast spell. "I will not let you take me, demon," she spat, sitting up. She swung her legs off the bed and stood, facing the creature boldly.
Cullen was on the floor, slowly rising to his feet with a groan. "That hurt... Why... Why did you strike me? Lita..."
"Stop it. Stop using his voice, his form. I know what you are. I should have remembered I never left the Fade. That light... I remember it. You drew me into it. You made me want to forget," the mage was angry.
He was laughing sinisterly. His voice was transforming into something deeply demonic, dark and evil. "Dear Lita Amell... I did no such thing. You forgot because that is what you desired. This is what you want."
"No, it's not," she calmly professed, changing her demeanor. This place was affecting her emotions, making her feel crazy. She had to escape the Fade quickly before more demons were attracted to these events. "I want a sweet reality with Cullen, not a horrible false dream with you. And please, refrain from speaking my name as if you know me intimately."
The demon was now in its true form, a feminine desire demon. It had flawless gray skin highlighted with purple. With the extreme lack of clothing on its female body, it might as well have been nude. Its voice had completed its transformation, becoming sultry and beautiful.
"Ouch, tsk tsk, so...
hostile..." she teased seductively. Her voice became Cullen's once more as she spoke again, "for one so beautiful and lovely. Come with me. I will get us out of this tower. We can go live somewhere peaceful, no Chantry, no Circle, no magic... We can raise a real family..."
"Get out of my head!" she screamed, knowing she was only fueling the fire.
He was standing there before her once more. "Lita, I love you. Please don't push me away."
He stepped towards her, attempting to pull her into an embrace. She forced his arms away hastily, though his statement had thrown her off again. Love was not something to be taken lightly in her heart. She wanted love to mean something, not be thrown around by someone who knew nothing of the word.
"Don't toy with me, demon. Cullen would slay you were you stand, were he here. I am going. I have squandered too much time here, while my happiness outside awaits."
"But you know that can
never be... Not out there. You are a mage. He, a templar. He may be ordered to kill you if you so much as
breathe the wrong way. You know of his obligations to the Chantry. There is also the problem of his pesky...
other vows. He will never love you like this in reality. You know this. Is it not better to live here and be happy than to live out there and be miserable?"
"I'm not miserable out there. I make my own happiness out of the small things. You cannot possibly understand. Demon, leave me or I will be forced to kill you. You cannot tempt me with anything. I am a Circle Mage and I know discipline. Begone!"
Lita Amell closed her eyes and concentrated deeply. She felt the Fade drifting away, the demon attempting to claw its way into her mind. She closed the connection off. Her eyes fluttered open tiredly to see the bottom of another bunk. She sighed with relief, wanting to sleep but too afraid that another demon would come to her. It happened every so often over the years, but lately they had been coming more often. That was number three in the last two weeks. Never had it been so frequent. The young mage was worried.
