[ he will circle back to THAT because he has Questions but. first something else marcoh said. ]

I was twelve. Most mages find out as children. I had accidentally set a barn on fire - and my father called the Templars on me. For years I thought of my magic as a curse, that I was as guilty as the Chantry says I must be, and I only wished for it to be gone so I could live a normal life. Leave the tower without being hunted down and dragged back to be beaten or thrown into a cell. Normally there are only two ways to separate a mage from their magic: death, or Tranquility. They brand your mind with lyrium, and burn out every part of you that makes you. Your emotions, your desires, your ability to do anything but obediently follow simple instruction.

I learned to see my magic as what it truly is: a gift from the Maker. I'm a believer in Andraste as much as the next, but I hear what she has truly said. I have no desire to rule over man, only to live as I was born without shame or fear. To make sure no other mage ever suffers those cruelties. And now that I'm here, and I no longer have any of it--

So I ... understand. The silence must be deafening. I'm sorry.