Chapter 17- When life gives you lemons. Light it on fire and return to sender
“Master! Master please wake up!” The words filtered into her mind and she cracked open an eye. Bright sunlight hit her eyes and she closed the again, an unintelligible grunt prying itself from her lips. “Please master, you must wake up,” A young boy’s voice pleaded, thick with tears and she felt something shaking her. Her eyes opened fully and she turned her head to the side.
A young boy with reddish blond hair trimmed short save for the long braid behind his ear was shaking her. His bright blue eyes were filled with tears and dirt covered his face. His desert colored tunic and trousers were smeared with dirt and torn. Grazed skin poked through the tears. “Obi-wan?” She croaked and the boy sniffed, relief showing in his eyes.
“Master, you’re awake! I’m sorry,” He pleaded with her and she shook her head, trying to clear the cobwebs.
“What happened?” She demanded and the boy shook a little. “You were mediating the negotiations and then everything exploded… I don’t know why… you sensed it before it happened and managed to shield me,” He told her, fear in his face as he trembled. Miranda shoved herself up with a grunt and took the ten-year-old boy into her arms, soothing his trembling form.
“Shh, it’s ok,” She murmured to him. Wounded and disoriented as she was, her Padawan needed her. She rubbed his back as he began the meditative breaths he had been taught trying to get his fear under control.
“Now then, let’s find out what happened,” She grunted, levering her bruised and aching body up. Gently placing Obi-wan on the ground but keeping a hand on his shoulder. The room around them was shattered. Sand and dust spewed in from the badlands outside.
She shivered, why was she so cold? “Master?” Obi-wan’s voice was from far away, echoing into her ears. “MASTER!” the boy cried as the world around her faded to black.
Cold, pain and weight were the first things she became aware of. She opened her eyes to pure darkness and the feeling of a tight space around her. She shifted and weakly rattled her stalks. The sound showed her in a small coffin sized space of what felt like snow. Groggily her mind poked at the foggy of memory that lay in her mind. Where was she? When was she? Was she on a mission? She could feel the oxygen levels dropping. Regardless of where or when she was. She needed to get out.
She fumbled her left arm and hissed in pain when the limb remained stiff and unresponsive. A dull ache pervaded it and she sent in internal observation to check. The results were not good. The bones in her left arm had been pulverized to small shards contained in her skin. Her rapid healing factor had screwed her over and sealed the bone shards back together into one long, unmovable limb. Memory trickled back, red eyes and putrid flesh. Flames and the screams of a dragon in pain.
She closed her eyes and breathed in and out, running a mental examination to find out what she was capable of. She passed over her natural psionics and saw that they were bound. Pale silver chains contained the roiling amethyst light. She only had that bound while on a mission, usually when she wanted to use one of her other abilities. She continued her scan and found the pulsing golden light that she was greatly familiar with.
So she was force sensitive, that would explain why she had some space rather than a body mould in the snow. Her right arm ran along her waist and found the hilt of her sword that sat under the small of her back. Continuing her exploration, she found her salvation. She pulled it in front of her face. Snap, hiss, a single deep blue blade sprang to life, partially blinding her in the dark.
The heat from the blade warmed her face and caused beads of water to gather along the ceiling of her snow prison. With her right arm she brought the blade up and began to cut at the ceiling, melting the snow and filling the small chamber with steam. Slowly she made more room and began to tunnel her way up towards air and freedom.
More flashes repeated through her mind. People running towards a massive stone structure. A young elf with massive emerald eyes. A warrior with a cheek scar and the amber eyes of a predator. Shining copper colored hair peeking out from a purple hood while bright blue eyes laughed at her, drawing her into their sparkling depths. She shook her head, water beading along her stalks and soaked her clothes. She shivered in the cold and cursed the price of her freedom.
She carved hand holes into the walls of her escape tunnel and continued to cut, her left arm useless and her right arm growing tired. Then success. Her blade pushed through the last three feet and chunks of snow plummeted down to what would have been her grave. As she emerged she shivered. Thick snowflakes were falling and darkness permeated everything.
The water on her clothes began to freeze, ice coating her stalks as she tugged up her sodden hood over her head. She looked around, trying to gain some insight into where she was. With an effort, she pushed a cushion of air into the sky, pushing away some clouds. A brief glimpse of a green scar on the sky broke the seal.
Memories poured back into her head, bruising as they did so. She winced at the overload but accepted the memories back into their proper place. “Have to get north,” She mumbled to herself, her voice sounding exhausted. The effort to clear the clouds had drained her almost completely. Blood still seeped sluggishly from her wounds and she could feel the cold of blood loss as her body tried desperately to replace the lost fluid. She swayed upright and began to stagger up the hill, pushing herself in the direction she had last seen the Inquisition. Under the howling of the wind, she could hear the howling of wolves.
She gripped her lightsaber tightly, with only one arm and being so weak, it was her only chance at defence. The wind blew the snow thickly around her, only her echolocation and special awareness keeping her from wandering in circles. Her eyes drifted shut but she forced them open, she could not afford to sleep now. Sleep meant failure and she did not fail.
Leliana looked around the camp they had made in the crook of the mountain. Snow drifted heavily down but beyond the spur of stone that protected them, the winds howled and roared like a starving beast.
A thick strand of trees that had taken root here had been stripped down to make fires for the people. Groups of people huddled together for warmth under the lee of the tarps and tents they had managed to pack. Horses laid in the snow, sharing their body heat with the shivering people.
They had come up and out from a nearby valley, Aitheria leading them through the thick snow. It had been a godsend in truth. Several had injured themselves on the treacherous path. There were broken limbs and twisted ankles from falls, and frostbite was becoming a major factor. Aitheria stood at the south most end of the camp, her nose to the wind and occasionally letting out a high whistling bugle that echoed through the mountains. She was calling for Miranda.
When the hind had walked up to them with a questioning expression, Leliana had felt her heart break. Aitheria had snorted and shook her head violently when they told her that Miranda had fallen. Stamping her feet and whistling in anger, denial in ever bone in her body. She had turned and begun to range southward, calling for her rider.
Each time she left Leliana’s heart would lift a tiny amount in hope and, each time Aitheria returned with no rider, it cracked a little more. She turned her eyes to where Elariel sat, staring at the small fire they had managed to light with hollow eyes, Miranda’s staff sitting in her lap. Cassandra sat next to her, a solid arm wrapped around the thin girl’s shoulders, her own eyes filled with silent regret and self-blame. Leliana felt it too.
If only they had listened to Miranda. She had given a prophecy about it and everything, what she had failed to mention was the cost for their escape. The inner circle sat around them as well. Sera had a completely lost expression, as if she couldn’t decide how to feel about the witty woman who could have been her friend.
Varric wrote somberly in his notebook, trying to commit everything about the Zerg to memory before it faded. Dorian sat on a stool by one of the tents, frowning at the ground. Bull was busy with his chargers but he kept glancing back at the mourning companions. Solas stood to the side, watching everything with expressionless eyes, appearing unmoved by her death and Blackwall dragged a whetstone over his blade, brooding into his beard.
Even Vivienne looked sad, the loss of such an opponent was disheartening. The loss of such a brave woman was devastating. It wasn’t till she was gone that they realized just how bright she made everything. Her jokes, her laughter, her silent wisdom. She had been a vital part of the Inquisition. Now she was gone, sacrificed beneath the snows of Haven. Cullen threw himself into organizing his soldiers, finding comfort in routine. Josephine wept silently into a handkerchief when she wasn’t directing the people.
And Leliana? Leliana felt numb. Like ice had reached in and settled itself around her heart. Without realizing it, she had come to care for the strange woman, had come to rely on her willing ear and off the wall though process.
The Maker truly was cruel. To snatch away the one person who had been able to make her smile and sing again, just moments away from salvation. She turned away from the camp and walked to Aitheria, wanting to connect with Miranda in some small way. Aitheria looked down at her and nodded before lifting her head and calling out again.
Miranda was shivering violently in the cold. Her fur and wool was frozen stiff and her fingers held on to her Saberstaff hilt in a stiff, frozen grip. The tips of her ears were burning and her stalks had become stiff, with ice sheathing the exposed ones.
She had pulled her face mask up and applied her goggles and mittens, the thick wolf fur cloak wrapped around her shoulders and protected some of her from the cold. Her left arm ached and she whimpered in pain when her still open wounds pulled. She trudged through the thigh deep snow, fighting against the deep urge to give into her blood loss and burgeoning hypothermia. She was pretty sure she had frostbite on her fingers, ears, nose and toes but that might be incorrect.
She was practically numb from the waist down and her ears were filled with the high shriek of the wind as it blasted around her. She paused and frowned, since when did the wind talk? She closed her eyes and listened as well as she could through the ice and wind. “…anda if you die I swear by Artemis and the powers I will hunt you down and gut you like a fish!” Miranda frowned, that was Aitheria’s voice.
“Do you hear me? You ungrateful, narcissistic, Canon kicking Bitch! You have not failed a mission in twenty cycles and I will be damned to Tartarus before I let you fail this one!” The voice continued, mostly profanities but they served as a guide.
She pushed herself onward but staggered as she fell into waist deep snow. She floundered and tried to pull her aching body out but all it did was loosen the snow around her more. She could feel the exhaustion even more keenly than before. She took a deep lungful of freezing air and let out the loudest shriek she had given in three cycles before collapsing into the snow.
Aitheria’s call was still echoing in the mountains when her ears perked up and her head and turned it to the southwest. Leliana looked up at her but then she heard it too. An unearthly, discordant, undulating wail. It prickled at the edge of her hearing, so faint that she would have disregarded it as fancy or the wind. It was Aitheria’s reaction that reconciled it.
The hind pawed at the snow then turned to look at her, liquid brown eyes hard and demanding. She crouched a little and looked meaningfully at her back. Leliana didn’t need to be told twice. She scrambled, gracelessly onto the hind’s back and ignored the calls from the others.
Aitheria barely allowed Leliana time to grip her short mane before leaping out into the blizzard, following Maker knew what kind of sense towards where the sound had come from. The wind howled and clawed at the pair as they ran, scrabbling along her hood with greedy fingers. She crouched low on Aitheria’s back, willing the hind to move faster.
The snow blew around them in thick clouds, obscuring everything from view except a small patch of snow around them. Aitheria slid to a stop and cast her head around, scenting the air. “Is she near?” Leliana asked the hind who nodded vigorously, still looking around them, great clouds of steam pouring from her nostrils as she looked. “Can you smell her?” Leliana questioned, looking around through the swirling snow.
Aitheria made an almost gesture with her head before giving a very human like shrug. Leliana jumped of the hind’s back into the thigh deep snow, looking for anything. Beside her Aitheria gave another high whistle.
Miranda felt warm, which was weird. Technically she should be cold. She remembered floundering in the snow. But now she was surrounded on all sides by soft wet stuff. Muffled sounds reached her ice encrusted stalks. She struggled to think and she heard a whistle, much closer. “Where the hell are you, you stupid science experiment?”
“Miranda!” A woman’s muffled voice filtered through the snow that she was too weak to shake off.
It settled over body like a heavy mantle, covering her from prying eyes. Her right arm was thrown out to the side, away from her body. In her hand was something solid and round. She could feel a raised part of under her thumb. This was her last chance. She struggled to get her thumb to push down. The effort nearly insurmountable.
Like a snail in ice it began it’s decent. With a final, titanic effort she pressed the button and a blue blade sprang to life, spearing through the snow as blackness claimed her.
Leliana looked around frantically. It was here that Aitheria stopped. Whistling desperately. Snow was swirling thicker now, not a trace of the stars visible, all that was left for light in the murky white was a soft silver glow coming from Aitheria’s antlers and fur. “Miranda!” She cried, desperation in her voice and tears prickling at her eyes. She scanned the smooth drifts frantically, looking for a footprint, a disturbance. Anything.
She felt her heart shattering, the cracks that had begun when she saw Miranda vanish under the tide of white, widening. Her heart trembled, preparing for the inevitable collapse from such constant grief. There was a humming snap and a lance of holy blue light stabbed from the snow three feet from her. The snow around it hissed and sizzled as it melted from the light’s heat.
Aitheria let out a joyful cry and lunged for the light, avoiding it but beginning to paw at the snow around it. Leliana joined, diving into the drift and scrabbling though the thick, wet snow. The light vanished but she didn’t care, to busy searching. Her fingers found a limb, a silver boot crusted in snow and a dark fluid that strangely, wasn’t frozen.
“Miranda!” She cried in relief and fear. She cleared the snow from the boot, working her way up the Zerg’s leg, shoving snow to the side. As she excavated, the true extent of the damaged became clear. The Zerg’s silver clothes were ice encrusted and blood seeped from the wounds staining the silver cloth with vivid, crimson splashes. Her hood had been shoved off her head and several of her stalks were covered in a thin sheet of ice. Aitheria waded next to her as Leliana tore off her right glove and placed two fingers of Miranda’s throat.
For a heart stopping moment there was nothing. Then a throb, a long pause and another. Her heartbeat was terrifyingly slow. Leliana tugged her glove back on before she pulled Miranda’s flung out arm back to her torso. The silver cylinder that Miranda always carried sat in her fist, fingers locked around the object by the ice on her gloves that froze the appendage closed. She pried the cylinder free and attached it back onto the latch on Miranda’s belt before she heaved the Zerg over, face up.
A pair of silver eye-wear hung around her neck and a face mask made of silver wool sat askew. Ice coated her lashes and the tips of her ears were a fading red. Her lips were gaining a white tinge and her chest barely moved. Fear gripped Leliana’s heart and she gently corralled the now stiff stalks into Miranda’s jacket and pulled the fur lined hood back over Miranda’s head. Leliana pulled Miranda’s fur cloak and slung it over her own shoulders, the thick, blood smeared fur swamping her.
Aitheria bounded over and knelt in the snow. With a heave of effort and using a strength Leliana didn’t even know she possessed, Leliana managed to get the limp form of Miranda onto the hind’s back before climbing on herself to hold the Zerg in place. For a brief, no doubt Miranda inspired moment she compared moving Miranda to moving a sleeping cat. Both seemed to be more liquid the solid.
She reached around Miranda’s slumped form and grabbed onto Aitheria’s ruff. With a loud grunt of effort, Aitheria lumbered to her feet, struggling to find purchase in the thick snow. Leliana wrapped Miranda’s blood smeared fur cloak around them, tucking the edges under Miranda’s legs, trying to share a little heat, cursing the cold metal of her chain mail.
Aitheria took off into the snow, wading through the rapidly deepening white that now brushed her belly. The trip back was agonizing for Leliana. Miranda was finally beginning to shudder, a good sign, but her wounds continued to bleed lightly. For someone who could heal from a cut in under an hour, it was very worrying.
Leliana also saw that Miranda’s left arm was rigid and unmoving, only swinging at the shoulder. When she carefully felt along the limb she was horrified to feel that there was no elbow joint. Instead there was a lumpy and sharp feeling core. It was almost as if someone had replaced the bones in her arm with a stick of wood covered in splinters.
The winds picked up, ever more than before, howling along at gale force. Snow, blown from the grounds swirled around Aitheria’s flanks like snakes. Falling snow eddied and swirled down around them, settling on the ridges of the fur cloak. Aitheria’s fur was matting in thick clumps and the fur cloak was clumping with the heavy material.
A faint golden glow grew in front of them and Aitheria put on an extra burst of effort, plowing through the drifts with renewed effort. The hind’s sides were heaving with effort and exhaustion, ice crusted her muzzle and her antlers were developing frost. They broke out of the wind into the camp. “HELP!” Leliana cried and Aitheria staggered toward the central fire.
Her legs shook as she carefully lowed her body to the ground and Leliana leapt off. People were gathering round and Elariel was at the front with Cassandra right next to her. “Is… is that Miranda?” She asked in shock.
“Yes, we have no time we need a healer now!” Leliana all but bellowed. Mother Giselle rushed forward with several mages.
Cassandra bent down and heaved Miranda up into her arms, growling at Bull when he tried to help. The Seeker rushed Miranda to the tent that the Healers pointed to and vanished inside. There was loud yelling before the Seeker was practically pushed outside. The Seeker glared at the tent before she drew her sword and took up a guard stance outside the tent. She couldn’t heal Miranda but by the Maker she would protect her.
Elariel, Dorian, Solas and Vivienne rushed to the tent and were practically dragged inside by the healers. Their voices began to bark orders and there was a bustling before a younger mage ran out only to return with a kettle filled with snow. Leliana approached the tent with a determined stride only to be held off by a thick grey arm.
“Out of the way,” She growled looking up at meeting the Iron Bull’s eye. The Qunari looked at her calmly and shook his head. “No. She has what she needs right now. You go in there and you’ll make it harder for the Healer’s to do their jobs,” He rumbled calmly, not backing down from Leliana’s glare. “How about you look after that Hind of hers?” He offered before taking a step away and planting himself in front of the tent door with Cassandra.
Leliana’s shoulders slumped, there was little she could do here. Following Bull’s suggestion, she turned her attention to Aitheria and saw Cole staring into the doe’s eyes. “She’s worried. They’ve been together for so long. She didn’t want Miranda to fade alone. She worries every time her rider takes on a monster that it will be one that knows how to make her fade,” The pale boy mumbled. He had a brush in his hand and was carefully cleaning the hind’s face, softly removing the clumps of snow.
She sighed and turned her attention to the fire where Varric, Blackwall and Sera waited. Sera had a curious expression on her face, like she had bitten into what she thought was a lemon only to find that she enjoyed the taste. The look of utter surprise and complete bafflement as well as a sense of relief swam in her eyes.
“She’ll be alright yeah?” She asked uncertainly and Varric gave a small smile.
“‘Course she will. Ice is tough. She won’t let something like this keep her down. Just you wait in a couple of hours she’s going to be up and about telling an overly dramatic rendition of how she survived,” He reassured though Leliana could see the worry in his eyes.
They had caught a glimpse of the frighteningly still and silent form, had seen the glinting crimson of fresh blood that stained her pale clothes and Aitheria’s fur. She looked down and saw that her chain mail and armour were smeared too with the crimson liquid, her gloves covered in it from where her hands had pressed against the still bleeding wounds.
She stumbled over to the fire and lowered herself onto a nearby log that would soon take its turn on the fire. Josephine sat next to her, wringing her handkerchief as she stared into the fire. “She’s strong, I’m sure she will pull through,” Cullen assured her from where he stood, his rigid posture showing his worry.
“How did you find her Leliana?” Josephine asked looking at the Bard. “I was standing at the edge of camp when I heard something. I thought it might have been the wind but it got Aitheria excited, I took a chance and joined her.” Leliana shivered. “When we got to the place where Aitheria had heard her there was nothing. Just snow and wind,” She told them.
Josephine’s eyes were wide and the others were leaning in now. “Aitheria was stumped and there was no sign of anything. Then like a sign from Andraste herself a light appeared where she lay. It burned through the snow and showed us where she was hidden. The snow was almost a foot deep on her, if that light hadn’t appeared then we wouldn’t have found her,” Leliana admitted bowing her head, feeling the deep relief again, the hope that, that spear of light gave her.
“She calls it her staffsaber,” Cole murmured from where he sat with the exhausted Aitheria who was looking at the boy. They all turned to look at the boy and Leliana frowned.
“What?” She asked and the boy looked uncertain. “Pieces floating like stars in the dark. Calm, focused. Will pressing into metal, shapes and lines. Fire and water, always dancing, never moving. Blue light, like sun through water. Blue eyes watching blue blade, finding refuge from purple rage. Holding back the bloody fury. My shield, my defiance, my salvation.” The boy mumbled to himself.
Silence reigned as they all looked at him. “Sounds like she’s had a troubled past,” Blackwall muttered and the others nodded. Cole opened his mouth to answer only to be stopped by a loud grunt from Aitheria.
He looked at her in confusion but the hind simply shook her head before heaving herself up and stumbling over to the fire. She settled herself down again and thrust her antlered head into Leliana’s lap. Still in slight shock the bard reached out and began to stroke the soft silver fur. Silence fell over the camp and everyone turned their attention to the tent that held their injured comrade.
Solas stared down at the unconscious Miranda and wiped his brow. Sweat had gathered on his bald head despite the freezing temperatures. The mages had spent the better part of three hours slowly bring up Miranda’s body temperature. Once they had begun providing energy the frostbite that had gripped her ears, fingers and toes had been driven back, but one thing that had worried them was her wounds. As Miranda warmed up they began to bleed profusely, crimson liquid spilling out from the gashes.
The healers had been frantic and it had taken the combined efforts of Dorian, Vivienne and himself to provide her with enough energy. Elariel was still heating Miranda, trying to aid her in overcoming her hypothermia. Miranda had bled profusely for well over four hours before suddenly the cuts began to clot. They had tried to heal the cuts themselves but were unable to do so. It was if her body had simply put the flesh on hold while it dealt with the internal injuries. The worst of which was her left arm.
In depth scans with magic had revealed a jagged length of bone running from just below her shoulder to her fingertips. The bone looked as if it had been shattered and then fused together again in one long straight piece. Sharp shards of bone stuck out from the core are odd angles, slicing apart muscle and tissue as quickly as her body healed the wounds. It had to be incredibly painful, and unending. It was still now.
Miranda was out of immediate danger but still critical. The healers and Mother Giselle had retired from the tent to discuss Miranda’s treatment with the inner circle. He, however, looked down at the strange woman. She who had essentially sacrificed herself for a group of people she hardly knew.
People who would she had no connection to whatsoever. He could strike her down now, end the threat he instinctively knew she posed. Miranda’s eyes fluttered and she breathed out a sharp sob the corners of her mouth tugging down in a desperate expression. Solas frowned and reached out to touch her forehead. Carefully he slipped through the veil toward her dream, looking for her slumbering mind.
He found the storm easily enough and he slid into the maelstrom of silver and purple light. “NO!” he heard Miranda scream and emerged into sunlight. He stood in a stone pavilion as he saw a man in a double-breasted tail coat struggle against a dark magic that held him aloft. Miranda, dressed in her black and purple robes, was pinned to one of the columns by similar magic.
Dark clad men and women with strangely shaped masks darted forward toward a woman with dark hair pulled up into an elegant bun and a young girl in white with similar dark hair.
One of the men grabbed the girl’s arm. “Mother!” The girls screamed and the woman lunged forward. “GET AWAY FROM HER!” She cried shoving him away from her daughter.
“Emily! RUN!” Miranda gasped from where she struggled. The girl tried to comply but a man grabbed her and dragged her close, locking her arms behind her back.
A man in red smacked the woman, knocking her against a banister. Then as she was recovering he drove his blade into her abdomen before throwing her off his blade and onto the stone floor. “MOTHER!” The girl screamed. “Miri…HELP!” She sobbed but the man holding her heaved her up and vanished in a swirl of smoke.
The man in red vanished as well, reappearing on a far roof top before vanishing again. Miranda and the man dropped to the ground, Miranda heaving great gulps of air and the man retching. Miranda scrabbled up and looked at the woman. Who lay shuddering in a pool of her own blood. The man reached the woman first and held her as she whispered something to the man.
Miranda looked furious as she scanned the roof tops. “Corvo I’m going after them. I won’t let them take Emily too,” She growled and the man nodding. “What has happened?” Another voice demanded and Solas turned to see a bald man surrounded by guards. “Seize them, they killed the Empress!” He cried. “I see you both beheaded for this!” He told them.
The man, Corvo turned to look at Miranda. “Go. Find Emily. Keep her safe,” He told her and she nodded.
In a movement almost too fast to see, she turned and threw herself off of the cliff the pavilion was perched on. Guards yelled and dove forward, smashing the hilt of their sword against the man’s temple whilst others aimed strange object after Miranda. Ear shattering bangs and flashes of smoke came from the hollow ends. The dream shifted and Solas found himself standing near Miranda who slumped against a wall in a plague riddled city. Rats skittered past, and others stared at her with hungry eyes. She had her left hand to her side as blood leaked from a wound, staining her hands. “Shit, shit, shit,” She muttered to herself as she applied pressure.
A loud voice blared nearby. “Attention, Attention. The fugitive Miranda Starsinger is wanted for the murder of our fair empress Jessamine Kaldwin and the kidnapping of Princess Emily Kaldwin, heir to the throne. Her accomplice Corvo Attano is in custody and will face execution. Anyone with information on the location of either Starsinger or Emily Kaldwin, please report to the nearest guards. By order of the Lord Regent,” Miranda snarled and winced in pain. “Fucking Bastard,” She growled before she hauled herself up. She swayed for a moment before she shook her head and a clink of metal hitting stone drew Solas’ attention down. A small conical pellet made of metal rolled towards Miranda’s boot.
“Fucking pistols,” Miranda muttered before turning and digging her fingers into the brick wall she had been leaning on. “Hold on Emily. I won’t let those bastards have you a second longer than I have to,” She vowed before she scuttled up the wall. Solas appeared at the top and Miranda’s pale eyes finally noticed him.
“Out,” She snapped and knocked him out of her dream. Solas stumbled back from Miranda’s figure and shook his head to clear it. “Who are you?” He demanded quietly to Miranda’s still form before he left. He would let her live for now. If nothing else, he could kill her after they had dealt with Corypheus.
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