Chapter Text
The sun is rising when your knees finally scrape sand.
The sea gives you one last little push—a fond goodbye—and then you’re docked in the Free Marches, gasping for air past the burn of saltwater in your throat. You press your cheek to the sand. You know you need to move, and quickly, but your limbs quiver.
When the tide moves up, water caressing your lips, you get your arms beneath you and push. Your muscles groan with the effort, but you stagger to your feet. The cliffs tilt around you. You plant your sodden boots firmly in the ground and squint down the beach. There’s a body two dozen paces away. Perhaps one of your crew made it, too.
You aren’t hopeful. The body is facedown, arms and legs spread at awkward angles. You go to your knees beside him and gently turn him toward you. Casavir is barely recognizable, his face bloated from drowning.
Your hand clenches in his soaked shirt, angry tears pricking your eyes. There is nothing to say and no one to hear it. You’ve known this man since you were barely more than a child, and now he will never speak another word of advice to you again.
You hate to leave him here, but you must. If you are unlucky—and so far, you have been very unlucky—the qunari will soon wash ashore, too.
With gentle fingers, you close Casavir’s eyes. You turn from his body and look toward the buildings rising in the distance. You hope there’s a river between here and there; it’s at least a day’s journey, and your throat aches with thirst.
You spare a last look for the sea and the wreckage it carries in her arms, and then you leave Siren’s Call to her grave.