PROLOGUE

That was not supposed to happen.
She was never supposed to happen.
Not to him, not like that.

He had a purpose, a sacred mission, a broken world to repair – he had the biggest mistake ever to fix, and a serious wrong to right.
He had amends to make. He had the lost elvhen to bring back to their former glory.
He had serious work to get done.
He had all that.
For a year he had dwelved among mortals, to ultimately witness the disaster he'd been waiting for, and watch the skies wail in despair when his orb in Corypheus' hands had teared them open.
And then, he had met her.
She was not supposed to exist. She was a parody of what her people should have been, had he not happened on them. She believed in would-be gods that deserved none of her faith.
She enjoyed talking to birds, and mabaris and hostile dragons.
She would get lost in Skyhold every now and again and be found hours later, perched upon some very unstable roof.
She would wander into the ruins of long-forgotten temples on her own, lose track of time when staring adoringly at some decrepit murals - and get attacked by some random undead and very unfriendly being.
She was… she was walking nonsense.
Annoyingly tolerant, generous and kind.
A weapon who did not want to kill. A ruler who did not want to be feared.
Way too curious. Way too clever.
Unexpected.

She should never have existed.
And still she was born somehow. Destiny shaped her to be its tool, and fate placed her on the cruel road where she met him.
And he met her.
And the dread wolf strayed from his path of war.
And the lonely forgotten soul walked alone no more.

He tried. With the mighty focus of an almost-god, with the strongest willpower, with the most dedicated mind, he did try.
For her, he tried.
To be a healer and not a destroyer of worlds.
Somewhere along the path though, a darker resolve appeared on a gloomy day, around a shattered orb: this world could not, would not, be repaired.
It had to be burned down to ashes, and from the dust something new would emerge, built sturdy on the ruins of all this chaos.
He could help the elvhen be born anew. He could shatter the Veil and open the Fade again. And he certainly would prevent any of the evanuris from ascending to power once more.
He had to let her go.
he had to make her go.
He had to tear her apart from him.
He had to make her hate him, for she would never leave on her own, bless her loving heart.
And then he would have to steal the breath from her lungs, when the world she knew would cease to be.

She used to favour Ghilan'nain, before he wiped her face clean of the vallaslin.
He remembered that well: how much joy and pride the dread wolf had taken in caring for the golden halla that had fallen between his paws.
And he did still care afterwards. Very much.
Too much.
They knew.

Somehow, they guessed. They found proof, they gathered evidence: they uncovered Fen'Harel hiding inside Solas.
They decided to stop him.
Who were they serving? Who gave the order? That, he still does not know. Why should he care? They harmed her, and he took revenge on them, and all is said. Who they were does not matter.
They thought they could get to him, through her.
They stole her. Trapped, abducted, and tortured her – in the hope that her suffering would reach him, and that he would come for her. In the hope that the scent of her blood unfairly shed would lure him to them.
They really believed they could mislead the Dread Wolf.
They honestly thought they could get away with harming the golden halla he cherished above all other mortals.
Silly children.
He killed them all. Almost with a single thought. A whisper really – nothing fancy, one simple word, a clear meaning, and a powerful intent. Just be dead already.
And they died.
All mortals in the area met their Maker that day.

She did, too.
He never intended for her to be included in the lot of them. He had recovered so much of what he used to be, how could he have anticipated that his own mind would have a will of its own and betray his heart?
And still.
She died.
At his hand.
Maybe some part of him knew she was his one weakness, and that she had to get ridden of.
Maybe some part of him saw her as a threat.
Maybe she was making him too much like her.
He was supposed to shatter the world. She wanted to make it better.
He had started to wonder if maybe she could be a tiny bit right.

That was not supposed to happen.
She was never supposed to happen.
Not to him, not like that.
Not to be loved by him above all else, and not to love him so completely.
She deserved so much better, and he did not deserve her at all.

And now the time to question his choices has come.

His enemies wiped out all around him, he stands surrounded by dozens of dead men and women, powerful mages and strong soldiers alike… and the only thing he can think of is the day he broke her heart, moments after freeing her of all chains. The look in her eyes. As if he had just blown her inner light out. Her face bare in the moonlight, unshed tears reflecting the stars above.
Now he stands there, clinging to her broken body as if he could somehow make her alive again.
He knows there is no light left for him in this world anymore.
He could have remembered her alive and smiling, planning over the war table, running after some mad templar in the hills, yelling confused battle orders to Dorian and the Iron Bull and Cole, to Vivienne and Cassandra and Sera, to Blackwall and Varric and himself. He could have kept the memory of her grin whenever she looked at him, the sound of her laugh, the scent of her hair, the softness of her curves.
So warm, oh so warm in his arms, her heart beating so fast against his, her skin as pale as his, locked in a fiery embrace, caught in the midst of a whirlwind of passion. Her eyes so blue, so deep, so fierce, ablaze with her inner fire.
Now the only memory he'll be able to recall will be the emptiness of these eyes as she gazes upon eternity, cold and colder in his arms.

And the Fade sings of his sorrow.
Everywhere he walks, the Fade knows how much Solas misses Miriel, how gladly the dread wolf would have traded a chance to redeem the elvhen for getting his love back alive at his side; and to oblivion with a better world.
And so, the Dreamwalker dreams.
Lost in this place of the Fade where everything that could have been possible and never happened is gathered, he dreams. Tightly wrapped in the Veil, he travels from world to world, looking for one where she lives on after him, dream after dream after dream.
Lost in time and space, he wanders between realities, body anchored to the one where he loved the Inquisitor, his heart hollow and his mind filled with despair.

Once upon a time, on the road he travelled, there was Miriel.
Once upon another time, on a road not travelled, there was…