Chapter Text
Keira blinks dust out of her eyes, squinting at the unexpected figure before her. “What…” she starts to ask, but her words trail away as the woman approaches closer.
She appears to be in her late 60s, with a shock of long white-grey hair done up in an intricate style that makes Keira’s head spin. She is clothed in long form-fitting red robes, and both of her arms and legs are mechanical. She reaches out to Keira, offering her a hand to pull her to her feet.
“Who are you?” asks Keira, still dazed from the near-death encounter. “Wait–” her voice cracks as she desperately swings her body around to scan the clearing. “Where is Bethany?”
The mysterious woman follows close behind as Keira spots her mother and Carver bent over the prone figure of her younger sister. “Bethany!” she cries, falling to her knees.
Carver puts a hand on her shoulder, tries to say something, but Keira feels as though she’s underwater. Bethany’s body is mangled beyond comprehension, her expression frozen into a horrifying visage of pure terror. And she’s still. Too still.
Distantly, she can hear her mother sobbing and babbling almost incomprehensibly. “Why didn’t you stop her,” she wails, “My baby girl! The Maker has cursed this family!”
The woman from before speaks from behind the group as they kneel in shock over Bethany’s terrible death.
“If I may ask, where is it you plan to go?” she asks in her strange, lilting way. “The machines have blocked the entrances to all known docks on this planet. It seems that the only way out is through.”
Carver stands abruptly, facing the woman. “We don’t need your help, witch,” he seethes, “Leave us be.”
She chuckles dryly at this. “If not for me, you would all be dead. Now is not the time to mourn the fallen, young one. We must simply move forward and try to survive these horrors.”
“ We ?” shouts Carver impetuously. “There is no we , old woman. Now leave my family and I alone,” he threatens, putting a twitching hand upon his sword—-”Carver, what are you doing?” hisses Keira, shoving him back.
“She could be dangerous!” bellows an irate Carver, shoving his sister back in return.
Before Keira can form a reply, her face reddening with anger, the woman steps forward with her hands folded primly in front of her.
“I mean you no harm, child. My name is Flemeth, and I am willing to offer my assistance to your family in escaping FDN-IV.”
The Hawke siblings glance warily at each other.
“Nothing comes for free in this galaxy, witch,” spits Carver. “Why would you want to help us?”
Flemeth chuckles again, shrugging her shoulders in a smooth, elegant gesture before responding.
“Nothing you’ve said thus far has been truer, young one. A favor for a favor. Isn’t that fair? I help you to the nearest dock, and you take this with you to Kirkwall.”
As she speaks, she pulls an ancient-looking amulet out from beneath her cloak. Its gem, a sinister red, appears to be glowing slightly.
“There is a community of Elvhen not too far outside of the city. All I ask is that you–”
“And just how exactly do you know we’re going to Kirkwall?” gasps Keira, looking rather put off.
“And I’d like to know what in the Maker’s dominion that creepy amulet is. Because it looks like it can kill someone.”
Flemeth sighs. “Is it too much to ask that I be allowed to speak for a single minute without being interrupted?” she laments, narrowing her eyes at the unapologetic Hawke siblings.
When she is met only with stony silence, she relents.
“I know many things, child. Your hot-headed brother calls me a witch– and while that term may simply be Chantry propaganda, proliferated to create fear towards those that wield psychic abilities, I suppose I can’t expect mortals to be as open minded as I. I am among a rare percentage of the Human race blessed with prescience and telepathy. I can divine future events, as well as peer into minds and discern their intent. These powers allowed me to discover your intended destination.”
“Furthermore,” she continues, with a pointed look at Carver as he opens his mouth, about to speak. “The amulet does have supernatural origins. However, I cannot say much more than that aside from that it will do no more harm to you than a single blade of grass could.”
“Of course you can’t,” Carver mutters under his breath. Keira elbows him sharply and turns her gaze back towards Flemeth. “We’ll need at least a few minutes to make a decision.”
Flemeth inclines her head gracefully, long silvery hair falling over her shoulders as she does so. “Fine then, but don’t keep me waiting too long, child. I am a patient woman, but my courtesy does not last forever.”
The two siblings form a makeshift huddle with their mother, who is still sobbing over Bethany’s body.
“Mother,” begins Keira in a soft tone, placing a placating hand on her mother’s shoulder. “There’s a woman here who wants to help us get to Kirkwall. All she asks in return is for us to transport an amulet of hers to some Elvhen outside the city. We just wanted to get your opinion on the matter before making a decision.”
Carver sighs, taking Leandra’s hand into his callused grip. “I don’t trust her,” he says, looking stoically into her eyes. “But…I think this might be our only chance at getting off this Maker-cursed planet alive.”
Leandra looks between her children with a blank, teary-eyed stare. “We need to put poor Bethany to rest,” she mumbles. “I can’t just
leave
her here.”
Keira nods solemnly. “Of course we will. But we need to make a decision soon. I think Bethany…would want us to get out of here alive. Her sacrifice won’t be in vain.”
Leandra sniffles, turning her gaze back to her fallen daughter. “All right then. Whatever you think is necessary.”
Carver jerks his head into a brief nod at this. “Go tell that witch we accept her offer then, sister. I’ll start on the…the grave, I suppose.”
And with that, the Hawke family prepares to put Bethany to rest. They say a few prayers for her, as she always found purpose with the Chant of Light and would no doubt be grateful to her family for sending her with grace to the Maker’s side after all she has suffered.
“It is done, then.”
Flemeth, who has been idling past the family’s view, giving them space to mourn for one final time before making the treacherous journey to the starship dock.
Keira locks eyes with her, feeling equal parts terror, grief, and resolve.
“We’re ready.”
■■■
When they arrive at the dock, surrounded by the panicked hustle and bustle of a million refugees trying to escape the insanity of the Machine Blight, Flemeth offers an enigmatic farewell before disappearing into the sea of bodies.
“Well,” says Carver acerbically, “At least she held up her part of the bargain.”
Keira huffs a breathy sigh, feeling overwhelmed with the press of bodies all around her. “I’m a tad bit more concerned with our part of it. Hopefully this amulet makes it past security. Or else I don’t think I’ll ever sleep right again.”
“ Right , if we even live that long,” snaps Carver. “Let's just find the ship. There must be at least two going straight to FM-XIII.”
It takes several hours of detours and frantic shoving around, but they finally find the last ship going to FM-XIII. It is named, fittingly, The Last Hope .
“Passage to Kirkwall, right this way!” bellows a large man wearing a pilot’s hat. “Fifty-five credits to enter!”
“Fifty-five?” gasps Carver. “That’s robbery!”
Leandra pulls a worn red pouch from her travel satchel, meticulously counting the credits within.
“I should have just enough here,” she says. “I’ve been saving ever since news of the Machine Blight reached Lothering.”
Keira watches her mother’s shaky movements with thinly-veiled sorrow. “We’ll make it back once we get to Kirkwall, mother, don’t worry.”
When they approach the pilot, the acrid smell of burnt Lyrium assaults their nostrils. It’s to be expected in a starship dock, seeing as Lyrium is the only resource in the known universe that allows starships to perform faster than light travel.
“Passage to FM-XIII?” the man asks brusquely, his forehead gleaming with sweat.
Leandra wordlessly hands out the credits in a wavering hand, and flinches when he grabs them.
“Well,” he tuts, looking at the group from under the brim of his hat. “Everything looks to be in order. Head on over to the security checkpoint.”
And with that, all that’s left of the Hawke family rushes aboard The Last Hope, clutching their meager belongings close.
■■■
“Ugh, this cabin stinks ,” groans Keira, flopping onto an unforgivingly firm cot.
“Well, it could always be worse,” snarks Carver. “At least we’re alive.”
Keira shoots him a fierce glare as Leandra lets out a muffled sob where she sits limply on her own cot.
“You know, you don’t always have to just say whatever idiotic thing pops into your head all the time,” she hisses, moving to sit beside their mother.
“Whatever. I’m going to get us some food.”
“Fine,” says Keira, “just hurry back. We should all just stick together as long as possible.”
The comms system hisses soon after Carver leaves, and a distinctly robotic voice emerges.
“This is your Navigator speaking. The estimated time for our arrival on FM-XIII is 9.30 Standard Galactic Days. We will be docking in the city of Kirkwall. Enjoy your stay on The Last Hope.”
Keira sighs listlessly. But despite her earlier complaint, she knows deep down that her family has sacrificed too much to be concerned over petty things like travel time and unpleasant odors. She just needs something to do before she goes insane.
“How are you feeling, mother?” she asks instead, choosing not to voice the myriad of depressing thoughts floating around in her brain.
Leandra turns a tear-filled gaze towards her only daughter. “About as well as I can manage,” she rasps, trying for a weak smile.
Keira smiles back, though the expression doesn’t last long before falling back into a listless neutrality.
“We’re going to be okay,” she tries. “It’s not what we planned, but once we get to Kirkwall, everything will be better for us. Working will give Carver and I some purpose, and hopefully we’ll stay busy enough.”
Leandra nods. “I don’t want you two working too hard though, dear. We still have the estate, and I’m sure Gamlen will welcome us with open arms. You’ve been so brave already… all three of you,” her voice cracks as she tries gamely to finish her sentence.
“I’m so proud of you. I hope you know that. I just wish Bethany were here with us.”
Keira wipes away a tear that has escaped her attempt at a stoic demeanor.
“Me too, mother,
“Me too.”