Hi guys! If you're waiting for an update on Champion, I promise it's in the works! I'm no longer on break so updates may not be as frequent. But with this ficlet here, I couldn't stop myself. Nebulad is writing this incredible longfic involving time travel, Fen'harel, all sorts of crazy goodness—and she's actually written my Cha'cer into the story. Ohhh my god. I'll never be over it. Anyways, if you haven't read that fic first, you may want to start there. This will make much more sense if you have that fic for context. Plus, it's amazing sooo. Literally no downsides.

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I

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Saevin's staff smashed into the ground hard enough to break apart the dry earth. Winds howled around her shoulders and sharp purple electric sparks flew from the tips of her fingers like a whip around the stone pillars surrounding the demon. Solas had barely waited for her agreement to haul ass into the circle. Saevin's heart nearly stopped when she saw him move to take the demon head on. Or at least, that's what she thought he was doing. He wasn't actually doing much damage. He waved his staff frantically and dodged blows, yelling elvish at the great beast. His eyes were wild and voice full of wrath.

When the final pillar fell, a tremor shook the ground that raised a dust cloud so fine it was like mist. Sera coughed violently from where she had fallen, scrambling to reach a higher ground. Dorian quickly backtracked out of the circles edges, eyes flicking from Solas to the shaking demon and to Saevin. She watched wide eyed as Solas stepped in closer to the demon as it howled and fell, his hand stretching out towards its great chest. He had dropped his staff and used his other arm to shield his eyes from the dust. When the air settled around them, the demon had shrunken to the shape of a woman etched in ethereal charcoal and ash. Where her eyes should have been only held bright light the shade of Saevin's lightning. Her mouth was twisted in pain, hands clutching to find Solas'.

Behind her, Saevin heard the mages responsible approaching. One cheered. It took all the strength she had to look away from the scene unfolding before her, but it was not hers to behold. Instead, she could at least make sure Solas was undisturbed. She herded them like cattle with a lightning aimed at their feet. Dorian stepped beside her to add a physical barrier between the mages and the dying spirit. Even Sera, understanding the gravity of the situation, shot a fair share of warning arrows.

Behind them, Solas' voice carried softly. He spoke rapidly in elvish and the pain laced through it was as thick as the mud they knelt in.

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II

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Her hair was falling loose from her ponytail. The sides of her head were prickly with short hairs and the black paint drawn so carefully around her eyes was smudged with wet tears. Her lips were pale and cheeks were hollow. He wrapped his arms around her and she fell limply into his chest, nose catching in the crevice of his neck. He moved her gently closer pouring fade magic into her skin with clutching hands. Her slender battle marked hand found his and leaned back to look at him. Eyes like lilac and sharp like knives strained to steady under thick dark lashes. He ran a thumb over her cheek and she gave him a weak smile. She looked exactly as he remembered her in his worst nightmares.

The great Fen'harel was, for once, speechless.

"You saved her." The spirit's voice sounded like an echo repeated too many times. Her voice, but not her words. None of her spark. "You saved her and she knows this." The spirit's eyes followed his when he shook his head, patiently waiting until he returned her gaze. But as much as he wanted it to be, it wasn't her gaze. Just the reflection of it. The only spirit remaining that still laughed and smiled and called him elgar'lin. The only memory un-touched by time.

"She would be furious with you for saying so." Solas choked on the words, barely able to keep from sobbing. He couldn't meet her eyes anymore. The cuts in her stomach were jagged and deep, black tendrils leaking out instead of blood. Her hands were cold on his own, the magic he poured into her leaking out with the rest of her essence. He knew she wasn't her. Not really, but the words came pouring out anyways. He searched her face desperately for some of the lively humour, or a crooked smile. "Ir abelas vhenan-ara. I couldn't save you. I failed you. I left you to—"

The spirit shook her head slowly. A mimicry of the smile he had pictured formed on her face but it did not reach the eyes. A reflection, he reminded himself bitterly. A reflection that is dying.

"It was her choice to make. Not yours." The spirits words split through his chest like a dagger. "She was proud of you. Her pride. Her wolf." Solas felt the tears flowing freely now, his cries muffled by her neck. She smelled of blood and fire. She was so cold. "She knows you are protected."

Solas looked behind him briefly to see his teammates immobilizing the mage group. Fire burned in his gut at the thought of anyone being able to do this to her. You did the same thing, he reminded himself. The knife in his chest twisted painfully when the spirit gasped for air. Her voice echoed through the gaping mouth, telling him for the second time in a too long lifetime, "Go. You will live on."

Solas clutched the spirit's manifestation tighter. He scoured his mind for memories of her to strengthen the spirits bond. Anything to keep her in his arms for just one moment longer. The Dread Wolf was nothing if he was not selfish. She quaked and began turning ashen. He cried her name over and over. "Don't leave me. Please. Please."

The spirit turned her face to him again, her face, suddenly a perfect replica. The spark in her eyes was as real as the day he'd first seen her. The gentleness of her touch and the fierce determination set in her brow. She looked at him as she always had, with a tilted head and a crooked grin. The spirit was being as kind as it could.

"Endure, ma lath. You must endure for her. You are not yet finished." She sounded so real. Solas shut his eyes and held her as close as could be allowed. He focused on breathing in her scent, memorizing each strand of dragonhide black hair, the curve of her spine. He would not forget. He would not. With painstaking deliberation, he pulsed magic from his fingertips into the apirits form. She cried out and he could not tell if it was relief or pain. Like she had been made from ash the whole time she collapsed into dust and grey wisps until the spirit was no more.

"Vhenan him dor'felas, in uthenera na revas." He muttered. "I will endure."