Chapter Text
It all happened too fast. There was no time to think clearly.
She reached up to wipe her mouth with the back of her hand. She tasted blood on her tongue. The Templar standing in front of her, holding his shield high to block of the next attack from the looming Pride Demon, grunted as the chain of lightning finally went down on them. He skidded back a few steps from the impact, but was still holding his ground against the sheer force of the strike.
Then the demon turned his head with a cry of outrage as one of Lilliana's arrows struck deep into the flesh of his right shoulder. He lunged at her, but she almost danced out of reach, before the viciously sharp claws could grab her. A frustrated growl echoed from the walls of the ruins that once was the Temple of Sacred Ashes.
Kira looked up at the big looming rift over her head. The bright green light sickened her. This had to end, one way or another...
She felt sore from the fight, her muscles tiered, her head spinning from the sharp impact that had thrown her backwards into the stonewall. She wished she could just lay down and sleep, a week, a year, forever.
She was so tiered of it all. The Mark on her left hand tingled. She looked down at her hand, the unfamiliar magic running trough her veins. If she wanted or not, she was the only one able to close that big green thing over their heads.
She tried to stand up but her legs gave way, a sharp pain running through her chest. She closed her eyes in pain and took a deep breath.
As the pain slowly ebbed, she opened her eyes to see a big gauntleted hand extended towards her. The Templar had turned and stood now over her holding a hand out to help her up. He was broad shouldered and tall, muscular but not bulky. He had tawny blond curls and bright golden eyes now fixed on her features.
“Are you alright” he asked.
She glared at him
“Don't touch me:”..”Ever”
He looked taken aback.
By looking up at him standing over her, rage shot through her veins. Hot and fierce. In the distance of her mind she could hear screaming and wicked laughter. she pushed the oncoming memory aside before it could take form.
The rage she felt now pulsing through her blood washed every weariness aside, every thought of “giving up” leaving her mind. She would not give in - she would not- if she had to die she will do so, head high and proud. She would not show weakness ever again.
She stood slightly trembling, plain wood staff in hand, bracing herself for the inevitable.
“Out of my way Templar...Now” she hissed.
He looked startled but took a step to the side watching her intently, confused. He blinked and started to say something. But she didn't listen, nor pay attention to him any longer.
Her gaze was now fixed on the still wildly thrashing Pride demon in front of her. She took another deep calming breath and moved forward, letting the rage inside of her inflame her magic. She let it flow through her hole body, her soul, she embraced it with every fibre of her being. Let it run free, envelope her. She felt the fire, the ice, the storm raging inside of her. She began to whirl her staff around her, gracefully, letting the magic light the tip of her staff in bright blue flames. She was fire and ice equally measured.
The demon turned, its eyes focusing upon her.
She did not slow down nor did she flinch, as the big sizzling electric whip came down again, missing her face by only an inch. She could feel the electricity buzzing around her.
She kept focusing on the Magic whirling around her. The tip of her Staff now glowing with dazzling intensity.
Finally she brought down the bottom of her staff hard against the ground. In a thundering boom a shock wave filled with her Magic erupted from the staff, rushing toward the demon, it washed over him with incredible power. The Pride Demon staggered backwards, his cries of outrage quickly turning into pain.
It dropped to one knee, beaten, ashes beginning to rise from it's form and disappearing into the fade rift.
“NOW...close the rift!” she heard Solas shout.
Kira turned and raised her left hand with the greenish mark toward the rift above them.
She felt the strange new magic raising up inside of her, intermixing with her own. It was almost to much. She felt like bursting, every muscle in her body vibrating, the singing of the magic loud in her ears, skin tingling. Unable to hold it back any longer she willed it forward.
It broke free, rushing out of her with tremendous force, clashing against the rift. It threatened to tear her apart, but she held on.
The rift slowly began to brighten intensely. It began to pulse.
...still she held on...
It flickered.
She felt the strength leaving her muscles. Her body felt drained, every shaky breath burned her lungs. She weakened rapidly. In a last attempt, she threw every remaining power into her magic. With a thundering boom the rift exploded.
She sank to her knees, relieve washing over her.
"It's done." She thought, drifting into blissful darkness.
____
The shock wave erupting from the rift send everyone around it to the ground.
Cullen was knocked backwards. He felt the air suddenly leaving his lungs as he crashed hard to the ground. His Longsword, knocked out of his hands by the impact, skittered over the uneven stone floor.
He lay on his back panting, a loud ringing in his ears caused by the explosion. He blinked.
The white dots before his eyes starting to vanish, he could see clearly again.
He rolled on his side and let his gaze sweep over the battlefield.
Cullen saw the people around him slowly rising to their feet looking awestruck and dizzy.
He spotted Cassandra and Varrik on the other side of the battlefield, both looked shaken but mostly uninjured.
His eyes found Leliana as she was reaching out a hand to Solas, helping him up. The elf hesitated a moment before seizing her offered hand and swinging himself up with a graceful motion.
He heard whispers rising .Then laughter. And suddenly the men and women around him shouting with obvious joy and relieve.
“The RIFT!! It's GONE...praise the Maker!!”
Cullen looked up to the spot where the Rift had been - it was gone - the breach far above their heads remained but the immediate danger was gone.
He couldn't help the smile of relieve slowly spreading over his face.
"She did it...she..."
His eyes began to search the floor beneath the spot were the rift had been only moments before.
He saw her then, laying motionless in the dust.
Cullen scrambled to his feet hurrying over to the small figure on the ground, almost running. He skidded to a stop in front of her slender form.
She lay on her side one arm outstretched in front of her the other behind her back, her long, deep red curls covering her face. Her staff laying beside her, broken in two.
Cullen dropped to his knees beside her, silently praying.
He reached out a hand to uncover her face. Then hesitated...
”Don't touch me..ever” Her voice still clear in his head.
He lifted the soft curls lightly off her face. She still didn't move.
“Maker please..”
Cullen studied her face closely.
The skin under her dust covered cheeks was pale - too pale - her lightly feline shaped eyes closed, eyelids rimmed by thick black lashes. Her deep red lips slightly parted and a thin trickle of blood running down her delicate chin.
Cullen pulled his left hand out of his metal gauntlet and carefully cupped her cheek with his big rough palm. Her skin felt soft, but cold. He wiped away the blood at the corner of her mouth with his thumb.
"Beautiful" was the only thing he could think of.
Cullen felt a very faint draft of air coming out of her nostrils and he heard a very soft singing in his head the moment he touched her face.
“She is alive...thank the maker” He thought relieved.