CHAPTER ONE – Prologue
It was easy to leave the college classroom when lecture ended. After all, you were sitting in an edge seat, far away from everyone else. Though it’s not like anyone had offered to sit beside you anyways. Gathering your books and supplies, you slung your backpack over your shoulder and decided to skip dinner and head back to the dorm for the night. You weren’t that hungry anyways.
Taking the steps two at a time, you hurried up to your dorm room, eager to be done with the day and have the time to spend as you wished. Probably playing some more Dragon Age 2, you thought, smirking. You had beaten the games many times over, but that wouldn’t stop you from scavenging every nook and cranny of the program, seeking every secret it had to offer.
You unlocked the door, swinging it open, to find your roommate, dressed in a short, party dress, fishnet stockings, and stilettos. You suddenly felt very plain in your pull-over hoodie and jeans. She was doing her make-up in the magnifying mirror she kept on her desk, outlining her eyes with a black pencil, giving careful swipes at the edge of her eyelids.
“Tonight’s that party I was telling you about,” she said, capping her eyeliner before throwing it into her clutch. “Are you sure you don’t want to come?”
You laughed. “How many times have you invited me now?” She laughed too.
“Too many. Come on, it’d be good for you to get out of the room once in a while. I know you like your games and your music, but maybe I could talk to some people and set you up with a performance. How does that sound?”
You gave a nervous smile. “You don’t have to do that for me, really.” Though as to why exactly you were denying her offer was up to interpretation.
“So…you’re not coming?” She asked, her heels creating heavy footfalls on the carpet as she walked to the door.
“I’ll pass tonight,” you said, smiling at her. “Have a good night!”
She sighed, but blew you a kiss before closing the door behind her.
It didn’t take long from the time of entering your room for gentle hum of your computer to fill its confines. You double-clicked the Dragon Age 2 icon and waited patiently for the start-up, and when it did, putting you at the Hawke Estate in Act 3, a quest notification popped up on the side of the screen. “Justice Calls,” it said, a title you’d never seen before. Eagerly, you opened Hawke’s journal and read the mission info, which directed you to the Estate’s writing desk, where a letter should wait for you to read.
And surely there was a new letter, titled “Justice Calls.” You read the letter to yourself.
Hero, I call you, who carries so much experience, to right a wrong that is not yet committed. Accept this quest, and your life will change, but it will all be for the better.That left you only to decide whether to accept or reject the invitation, and of course, you wanted to accept it. A brand new experience from the game, how exciting! So you clicked the “Accept” button, but as soon as you pressed the mouse button over the icon, your screen went black and the humming of your computer stopped.
“Damn piece of s**t!” you cried smacking the computer tower. You knew it was old, but could it have waited for you to at least save before shorting out? Sighing, you leaned your head back and contemplated what you would do with your main form of entertainment currently unavailable. Your thoughts drifted back to the quest and the same eagerness from when you’d first seen its notification filled your heart as you imagined its completion. You’d have to get your computer fixed soon, the anticipation of the new find would kill you, otherwise!
After some time, you finally decided to pick up your guitar. Tuning it, you plucked a couple strings and patterns, making harmonies and novice music before you decided you were in the mood to sing. You began humming quietly under your breath, as to not disturb the people next door, but after a while, the words took shape and a song formed, one by Marina & the Diamonds.
I wanna be a bottle blonde
I don’t know why but I feel conned
I wanna be an idol teen
I wish I hadn’t been so clean
I wanna stay inside all day
I want the world to go away
I want blood, guts, and chocolate cake
I wanna be a real fake
Yeah I wish I’d been a, wish I’d been a teen, teen idol
Wish I’d been a prom queen, fighting for the title
Instead of being sixteen and burning up a bible
Feeling super, super suicidal
The wasted years, the wasted youth
The pretty lies, the ugly truth
And the day has come where I have died
Only to find I’ve come alive…
“Human.”
The call boomed and echoed from the recesses of the darkness, short and succinct, but all that needed to be said. You looked around to find a deserted version of your school form around you, its buildings towering above, glaring down at you as a giants would ants. You turned around to answer the call, only for your gaze to meet an ethereal gold form, and the more you thought about it, the more you thought it looked like a translucent knight from the game you so loved and had only just been playing the night previous.
You didn’t need to be told you were dreaming. None of this felt real, your whole being felt as if it were floating, however, the apparition before you looked more than real. You felt as though it was within grasp despite being several paces away, and its light changed the grey hues of the abandoned school buildings to a holy gold.
“You called me?” you asked, taking careful steps towards it. The form merely stood in place. “Who are you?”
“I am Justice.”
“Justice? Did I do something wrong?” You asked, misinterpreting his statement. His helm shook.
“You misunderstand. You know of me, and you know of my host, Anders.”
“Anders?” Your brows furrowed. “Like, from the game?”
“It’s not a game!” The knights’s voice growled and around you the school buildings shook and shivered with his cry, almost as if giants scrambling to bow before their master. You shrunk back at his anger, and instinct told you to run, but you stayed, rooted on the spot.
The shaking ceased, and Justice met your gaze. “Forgive me, but much has happened. Much that you know. Our futures are apparent to you, human.”
“What is this place?” you asked.
“The Fade,” he answered simply.
“The Fade?” You paused, then shook your head slowly. “No, how could I be in the Fade? It’s not real.”
“Are the heavens real?” Justice asked, eyeing you with much scrutiny.
“I…don’t know…” you said, taken aback by his question and unsure of how to answer it.
“Then how can you hold such certainty?”
You couldn’t answer his question, so you merely came up with another one. “Why am I here?”
“I have been searching for someone like you, one who could change the future.”
“Change the future? Sometimes, I forget to change my own clothes.”
“Now is not the time to jest.”
“That comes later?”
“Enough!” The buildings rattled again and threatened to crumble. You cowered into yourself, covering your ears and head in case one decided to collapse in on itself. But nothing of the sort happened, and again, the shaking ceased.
“We do not have much time, human. Follow,” he said, and you obeyed. As you walked, the setting changed, and you found yourself in a live version of Lowtown. Dark and drab, you had a feeling it was late into the night, though viewing it from the grey vision of the Fade gave everything the lonely quality of the dark hours. You watched a cloaked figure exit the Hanged Man, her petite form heading in the direction of the Old City Slums. She passed the place you knew to be Gamlen’s and approached the house next to it, albeit separated by a pathway leading further into Lowtown. She pulled out her keys to unlock the door.
“Why have you brought me here?” You asked as Justice stopped several paces away from the woman.
“You know the future,” he said.
“You’ve said that several times now,” you huffed, a bit exasperated. “But I still don’t know what you want from me.”
Justice didn’t speak for a while. A group of bandits slipped silently through the shadows, surrounding the woman from behind as she fiddled with her keys. The whole affair was silent, no doubt a consequence of the Fade, when the leader of the thieves appeared to bark at her and she jumped around in shock, dropping both her lute and her keys on the ground. The leader held out his hands, rubbing his first two fingers and thumb together in her direction, but she shook her head, only holding up her lute. The leader didn’t seem happy with that answer and his men drew their battle stances.
“Anders plans to bring destruction and devastation, starting with the Chantry,” he said, turning from the scene to face you.
“I know,” you said.
“You must stop him. It will not help the mages. It will not further his cause, and only result in lost life.” He shook his head. “That is not justice.”
The thieves closed in around the woman.
“Okay, well how do you expect me to help? Is there something I can do in the game or…?” You trailed off, eyes widening as the woman gave a silent scream before her throat was slit. Blood spurted from the cut, scarlet painting the walls and doorway of her house. It splattered and sprayed like a broken pipe that might flood a room, before she finally fell over, lifeless.
The bandits, stained in her blood, reached down to her coin purse, pulling out the few glints of silver, quickly colored crimson, before they disbanded for the night, or to find their next victim, you were unsure, and in all honesty, you did not want to know.
Justice led you to the body, and you stood over it, taking in her pretty features, marred by small spatters of blood across her cheeks and brow. Her head was turned to the side and eyes closed peacefully, almost as if she could have simply slipped from consciousness on the floor outside her home. But you knew it wasn’t that simple. Could anything ever be simple after witnessing such a crime against humanity? A completely innocent girl, her life just stolen from her, for a couple of silver coins…
“You will enter her body.”
Your gaze snapped to the ethereal entity beside you. “I’ll what?”
“We are close enough to her death that her body will still accept a new soul.” He gave you a sideways glance. “Will you enter the vessel?”
“Enter the vessel? But…no…” you said, backing away slowly, leaving shoeprints of blood in your wake. “No, this is a game.”
“It’s not a game,” he repeated steadily.
“It is. I play it every day on my computer.”
“It’s real,” he insisted.
You looked down at the blood that covered your bare feet, and realized that you had become naked. “What? What’s going on? Justice, stop this.”
“But you will help Anders. You have no choice.”
“Justice…Justice! No!”
You awoke in bed, and you were almost relieved. It’s done. None of it was real! You can relax…you told yourself, and breathed heavily, but it was upon the action that you smelled something you never had before. Dung.
You sat up, dust filling the air as you coughed. All around you was dark, and it took some time for your eyes to adjust before you could just barely make out a candlestick beside your bed and a matchbox. With shaking hands, fearing the worst had come to pass, you attempted to light a match, dropping several as the result of your weak grip and trembling. Finally, when it was lit, you transferred the flame to the candle, then held up the stick to the room.
It wasn’t yours, though that statement in and of itself took a while for you to come to terms with, because it felt very familiar. For instance, you knew you’d had that lute in the far corner since you were a little girl, and your grandfather, a past minstrel, had taught you how to play. It had lasted you all these years and was your prized possession. But as to how you knew all that information, you were unsure. In fact, you had all sorts of memories you were certain were not truly yours. Ones of a mansion far across the sea with a disapproving mother and father who hadn’t even seen you off on the day of your departure for your journey as a wandering bard. The flute in the far corner was a recent investment, for when your voice got tired singing at the Hanged Man, so you could still bring in revenue without growing hoarse. But you had no idea how to play the thing. You would have to teach yourself simple songs.
Is this real? You wondered, walking across the room to look in the mirror. All sorts of spices and make-up lay on the desk the mirror was propped on top of, surely having to both look and act the part of the beautiful singer. However, it was your own face in the mirror, one that sent a shock through your body, eyes obviously unaccustomed to your new features, but it was the same one that was so familiar to you, and it gave your soul comfort to see the inside reflected on the outside.
Holding on to the faint signs of the familiar, knowing that at least, you were you in some sense, you decided to accept your circumstances and go to bed, or at least ponder them more in the morning. You were tired, and this was your home now.
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