Chapter Text
Chapter 3 – Let’s go see the world
(Several years later)
“Spirits of Mischief are aggravating little tyrants.” Mara muttered to herself, annoyed. Her job that day consisted of retrieving and rehoming a restless spirit wreaking havoc in one of the lesser tombs.
It had taken most of the day, primarily because the enchanted vessel that originally housed it had been shattered, and she needed to acquire a new one. Which couldn’t be found anywhere. So, improvising, Mara had grabbed a similar vessel and tricked the spirit into occupying that one while she put wards on it to keep it trapped. Then she gathered up the shards of the old one and brought both to a more experienced colleague and dumped them on the desk. In her haste to be rid of it, the vessel cracked and the spirit of Mischief escaped. Again.
Thus she was forced to endure its endless pranks and violations of personal space as a distraction, while the other Watchers hastily fused the old and new vessel together with more intricate wards. In the end, it was all handled, but Mara had quit for the day and headed to her quarters. She wanted a treat and some rest and some quiet.
She hadn’t expected to find Myrna and Vorgoth waiting at her door with bad news.
“What do you mean I have to leave?” Mara was taken aback.
“Just to travel," Myrna insisted. "See the world for a time, until their tempers cool. ”
Mara’s felt like she’d been punched in the gut. “See the – Myrna this is my home! All I did was protect it, I don’t -”
Myrna nodded. “What you did ultimately saved lives and no one is disputing that, however-”
THE DELICATE BALANCE IS UPSET, Vorgoth rumbled.
Mara glared at them both, furious. Her mood hadn’t been great to begin with and this news only darkened it further. She was unwilling to give up the fight. “Upset? You can tell the nobility to go f-”
“It’s not permanent,” Myrna interjected firmly. “But we must insist. For your safety, if anything else.”
She softened when Mara stilled into stony silence. “See this as an opportunity for new adventures. You’ve always had a spirit of determination about you, a drive to be more than what you are. Put it to the test.”
YOU MAY FIND WHAT YOU SEEK, Vorgoth offered before disappearing.
Myrna gently put a hand on Mara’s cheek. “The Mourn Watch will always have a place for you. But right now that place is elsewhere. Say your farewells. You leave tonight.” And with that, she was gone.
Mara just stood there, absently toying with the beads on her necklace as she felt panic worming its way up to the surface. She was torn. Myrna was right. She had always wanted to explore the world, but Nevarra was all she knew. The Necropolis had been her home. It was where she’d been found as a baby, it was where she met her wisp, it was where she studied and trained and worked. Her life was here.
But she could never be still. Something else called to her.
She enjoyed doing the rituals and honorific traditions for others—it was one of the nicer parts of her job—but she felt no real connection to it. Celebrating and honoring a dead ancestor for herself wasn’t something she had any experience with. Being found in a tomb as an infant wasn’t exactly normal and as far as she knew there were no clues to her parentage or how she’d ended up there. She had no one to mourn. No one to bury. She was a blank slate with only the future to honor. But a future where she was made to leave? She’d wanted to make that choice for herself, not have it thrust upon her.
Her mounting panic turned back into anger. This shouldn’t be happening. Her role in the Mourn Watch took on many forms, but the one she took personally was protection.
Ending the undead rebellion was part of that. The war had been stifling everything from trade to travel. Funerary preparations were backed up for months. Construction on new tombs was halted. Studies and normal assignments had to be put on hold just to handle all the restless spirits they’d dredged up. The past was getting in the way of the future. The undead nobles’ political spat and desire for power threatened everything she cared about and waiting for the upper echelons of Nevarran society to finish their own politicking and handle the problem was costing lives with every passing day. All she'd done was take matters into her own hands and hit the problem head on. Her methods may have been unorthodox, and definitely above her pay grade, but it had worked.
Who knew the aristocracy didn’t appreciate their delicate toes being stepped on, even in their afterlife?
Groaning in frustration, she grabbed her travel pack, mostly unused before now, and started to toss in bare essentials. Each item she put in was tossed with more force than the last. Mara felt defeated and bitter as she looked around her room at the many books and trinkets she’d collected over the years. Posters of anatomical sketches she'd done of bones and various creatures covered the walls. Ancient coins she’d collected sat in a decorative bowl. A potted flower wilted in a worn copper mug engraved with a hanged man—an odd treasure Wisp had dropped into her lap a long time ago.
She’d made the effort to make this room hers, and now she didn't know if or when she'd ever see it again.
She should take something to remind her of home. When her gaze settled on an old mage blade, propped neatly against a book about wisps, her anger melted into dread.
And what of Wisp? It had made so much progress; it was nearly her size now, beautifully formed like a spirit, with branches of tendrils starting to become something more coherent. Its face was not yet solidified, but a semblance of features was starting to form. She couldn’t imagine not being there when it finished. It was her confidante. Her oldest and dearest friend.
Well, her only real friend, if she was honest with herself. It pushed her and supported her and appeared whenever she was on the cusp of success and celebrated with her when she succeeded and comforted her when she failed. It never let her give up. They had spent nearly her whole life together.
How could she leave it? How long would she be gone? What would happen to it while she was gone? Who could she possibly entrust its care to?
Mara. Leave?
She whirled around. Her wisp was there, floating in the corner, just a glowing ball right now.
It floated toward her, insistently. Mara. Stay. We are together. I am what you be!
She bit her lip, tears threatening to spill. Mara still didn’t understand what it meant, though it had tried to explain many times.
She held out a cupped hand, but the wisp ignored it and vibrated in anger. Tendrils creeped out, forming limbs, then hands. Hands that gestured wildly and a body that shimmered in its frustration.
Salt. And regret. Mara. STAY.
She dropped her hand and backed away, shaking her head. “I can’t. I have to go. I don’t get a choice.”
As quickly as it had formed, her wisp lost its spirit shape, returning to a ball of light, quivering, agitated, insistent. It didn’t understand and she couldn’t help feeling like she’d betrayed it.
She turned away, hands clenched as she shoved down the guilt. She didn’t want to be the cause of its suffering. Dejectedly, Mara decided on the blade and the book and stuffed them into her pack. She had been provided with a newer, nicer blade when she’d been fully instated to the Mourn Watch, but she couldn’t bear to give up the reminder of their first adventure together.
“It’ll be ok.” She said, unconvincingly as her voice broke. “I’ll be back soon! I’m sure undead nobility don’t take long to get over grudges.”
The wisp threw a shoe at her. Smells like LIES.
Mara choked out a laugh that turned into a little sob as she picked up the shoe and put it into her pack as well. The wisp brought her its mate, which she accepted gratefully. She offered her hand again but it flitted away, still upset.
Stricken, she wrapped her arms around herself, hoping it would ground her. “Maker, this is so stupid. I know there are things happening out there in the world, I’ve heard patrons talking about it: Rifts in the Fade, cultists raving about gods... I should be excited to finally get out there. I just…” don’t want to go alone. The words went unsaid.
That was the true source of her conflict. Her fear of being alone. It was a rare sensation since her wisp had practically been with her every single moment. But there were times, at night, especially during her short time at the circle, when the fear settled into her chest and the walls had not closed in but opened up too wide. Floating in the void with no one, and intrusive thoughts pounding away: Poor little orphan. Too busy running around to make real friends, too restless to connect. No history. No lineage. No traditions. A nobody that no one will love.
Wisp must have seen her distress. Lost in her spiraling, she hadn’t realized she’d begun shaking, and it zoomed over to her lifting a blanket.
Her sweet, reliable wisp. She took the proffered blanket, taking the time to feel its textures and keep her in the present. Then she folded it and set it aside as she realized there was no way she could possibly leave her friend behind.
She asked, hesitantly, afraid of the answer. “Could...could you come with me? Is that possible?”
She didn’t know if it even could travel outside the Necropolis. Here the veil was thin, allowing wisps and spirits to cross back and forth with relative ease. But out there? She wasn’t sure. Wisps existed in many places in Thedas, but not everywhere. And she was almost certain Vorgoth would disapprove. Myrna definitely would. Wisps and spirits of the Necropolis were to be protected. They were an integral piece of the system.
I GO. WITH MARA. Her wisp crooned and grew tendrils that grasped at her hair, her hands, her face. It seemed offended by her tears and frantically swiped at them.
Mara gave a watery chuckle and wiped her face, looking more determined as she stood.
Fuck the rules. Fuck what others thought. She was already in trouble, at least she could do one thing to make it bearable.
“Alright." She put her hands on her hips. They were really doing this. "You and me. Let’s go see the world.”