Impossibly, it seemed that one of the Templars—the Knight Corporal, thank the Maker— was willing to see sense. Zayra scarcely dared to breathe. She had spent so long begging the Knight Commander to believe her, had spent so many hours channeling her being into seals and wards and fighting off abominations. Exhaustion lingered in every corner of her body, fingers trembling with the [i]emptiness[/i]. But she would not, could not, surrender. This was her family, her home, and there was little she wouldn’t do to save it.

He argued quietly with another Templar. Zayra’s hearing had always been keener than the shems realised, and she pieced together the fragments she heard. They’d come with the Rite—she’d suspected as much. It was more important than ever that she show them that they were not all lost. They [i]couldn’t[/i] kill all of them. It was too cruel. It was a pipe dream, but she had to believe that reason would win out, lest she fall apart.

The Knight Corporal strode towards her, more armor than man, eyes calculating. Zayra suppressed her flinch as best she could, tried desperately to believe that the world hadn’t gone mad. She wanted so dearly to think that they were here to help. For a moment, she nearly believed herself.

Storm grey eyes snapped upwards to meet his. Despite her chains, she drew herself to her full height, shoulders square. She would not shrink from him, no matter how painfully her heart beat in her chest. For a moment, all she could see was the sunburst burned into the foreheads of their Tranquil. Maker, please, let her die before that fate.

The Knight Corporal delivered a slew of questions at her. Zayra sorted through them swiftly, answering in her thick, Ostwick brogue, rolling her R’s, voice thick with barely controlled frustration.

“I’ve extensive experience in both primal and force magic. Stonefists, lightnin’, gravitic rings and th’like. The First Enchanter, he was the only one to vote fer rebellion—but I think he knew we would vote against him. Of the ten Senior Enchanters, he killed three and enslaved four. Only Senior Enchanter Uriah and I escaped the meetin’.” [i]Maker, let Uriah still be alive,[/i] she prayed quickly, swallowing the sudden knot of grief in her throat. “I’m not sure how many turned by choice, but he has about twenty supporters. I counted about thirty dead—cannae be sure, I’ve been in the library with the children and seven other Enchanters. That leaves around fifteen Harrowed mages unaccounted fer. I… dinnae have much hope that they’ve survived this long with the tower like this.

“The First—Dmitry—he must have been preparin’ this fer some time. He... he was my mentor when I came to the Circle. But the man I knew was better than blood magic. None of us saw this comin’. And it’s like I said, Knight Corporal, we all voted [i]against[/i] rebellion. We dinnae wan’this. This is our home. We aren’t Kirkwall."