"Can you help us?" Em asked.
"I will try, in the name of the blood she has in her veins."
"You've had your fun," Liel said, and started to rise. "But I really don't have time for parlor tricks."
Hawke's head tilted back and the chair he was in started to rattle against the floor. The temperature in the room continued dropping and as she stood looking at the darker mage Liel could start to see her breath in little puffs. Em's chanting had begun again, sounding more urgent, and his hands made motions like he was rotating a ball although he was not holding anything. Liel wanted to step away but was mesmerized by their showmanship.
The chair stopped rattling and Hawke nearly leapt from his seat. The temperature in the room skyrocketed. His eyes were open again, a dark blue this time, and he looked disoriented for a moment. Then his gaze caught Liel and he gave a small gasp.
"Little one!" His voice was deep and honey smooth. His hands cupped her face and he looked in her eyes as though searching for her thoughts. "You are safe?"
Liel pulled back from his touch but felt the pinprick of tears starting. "What are you doing, Mr. Hawke?"
"Liel, it's me. It's Papa."
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