As the tell-tale signs of her magic dissipate, the glow of his palm is what's left. And it tugs at her consciousness, raising a quiet little worry. Maybe Loxley was who they wanted. Loxley and his shard.

She puts the thought aside. Not gone forever, but just aside, leaving room for the reality that they are safe and Loxley moved fast enough to prevent any of the many terrible possibilities from becoming reality.

And to leave room for this new possibility Loxley describes, which feels—

Almost absurd for all it's idyllic quality.

"I can't picture it," she tells him, a slight smile creasing her face. "I think I've been in Kirkwall too long."

Rivain was something like that. Could still be, though she hadn't gone back to check for years.

"What if I didn't worship a god? If I didn't want to heal in a temple?"