Keela still clutches the report to her chest, the paper moist from being in her palm for so long. Heavy feet trudge into the glade aided by memory only for her eyes are devoured by sorrow. Even though it was hours ago, she remembers Josephine's horrified gasp as her gaze scanned the parchment in hand. She remembers Cullen's pity, Leliana's rage. She remembers the pain of reality grabbing her heart and squeezing.
The news spread quickly through Skyhold and her companions tried to offer their condolences. Varric stumbled out words, for once not so eloquent with his craft. Iron Bull swore vengeance and disappeared into the forge. Cole practically cried out at seeing her pain and she hurried away before he offered something she wouldn't be able to refuse. She appreciates them, but she is alone in this. Not even Sera, who seemed to want to crush her and run away at the same time, could possibly understand.
Somehow she manages to alleviate their worries, or demand her space to come to terms with these events. Somehow she ends up here and wonders what possible comfort could be found in this place.
It's where he left her. Perhaps it's fitting then, for they are all gone now.
She collapses in front of the small pond and drops her hands into her lap. The words are smeared from her abuse yet the message is clear enough. Corypheus is defeated and she has failed. Her clan is no more, murdered to the last man, woman and child. While she saved the future, villains destroyed her past. She is the most powerful person in all of Thedas and it mattered not to the swipe of an unknown blade, the tip of a stranger's arrow.
Her mind replays all the times she wanted to escape the clutches of the clan. Adventure waited just beyond the ring of aravels and halla. She took the shortest routes to adulthood, chose the smallest vallaslin, so she could be free to decide her own fate. She had raged against being made First until it gave her the chance to spy on the conclave. Now she is First to ashes, Keeper to the dead.
She lets the paper fall from her fingers and glide into the water. Keela leans over, glancing down into the calm water at her own reflection. Seeing her unmarked skin breaks the dam of her tears. She had been so eager to be rid of the vallaslin, rid of them. She would do anything to take it all back.
Keela slams her fists into the shallow water as a cry rips through her throat. She screams from sorrow, but vengeance flares within her soul. Fire bursts to life, red flames turning into blazing white suns in her grip. The water hisses and ripples away, but it can only escape by becoming steam above her head. She screams and screams, tears evaporating on her skin as the water begins to boil. The fire travels up her arms, down her legs into the ground and into her lungs, but she cannot stop. She smells the grass begin to burn and does not care.
She weeps for her people, but she has never had a gentle spirit. Fire is her element- wild, untamed, the ability to destroy or cleanse. It consumes her now and through its fury she sees the future. She doesn't pray to the old gods to save her, for they have never done so before. The Inquisitor makes a promise whether they listen or not. She will finish what she has already begun, no matter the cost.
Corypheus wanted to watch the world burn. She will make it shine.
The report catches fire on the boiling waves and a wicked laugh bursts through the rage and grief. She wonders if she could burn up with it and perhaps she will. She's never expended her magic in such a manner and can feel the edges of unconsciousness creeping near. So she pushes even harder, straining her powers and voice with a growing desperation. Everything is white and everything is burning. She can hear the voices of demons attracted by her light, but she will not give them the satisfaction of her swirling emotions. They will not have her, only the void will.
The fire snaps out with a whoosh as something inside her rips. She gasps, falling to her side. Keela listens to the crackling of embers around her as she tries to catch her breath. Her mana is spent and replaced with a hollow numbness like she has never felt before. She's expelled too much too fast and exhaustion swoops over her with a gentle blanket. But she welcomes it, welcomes the black that closes around her eyes and takes her away from this wretched, waking world.
There's no more fire, no more grass or water. There's smooth, cold stone against her cheek and a musty smell like an unused library. Keela opens her eyes and finds a mosaic of tile glittering in what sunlight peaks through leaves above. Her face lifts and takes in a familiar sight thought never to be seen again. She's laying in the empty Well of Sorrows. Pieces of the eluvian are scattered everywhere and catch the light like fallen stars. She rises, slowly, to sit back on her heels.
How did she get here? Where had she been before? Her mind still reels from the outburst of her magic. The temple is so quiet. Everything glows like she is looking through stained glass. No birds chirp above and nothing rustles below. The calm is surreal, like a dream. And then she remembers it is just that.
Her throat burns like a desert, her eyes ache as if she's stared at the sun for too long. The memories make her double over and she wishes she could purge them from her being. She cannot escape the truth even in the Fade. They are all gone.
There is a noise around her, quiet like rain falling against metal. The pieces of glass are shifting. They're being pulled towards the giant eluvian frame, running over the ground and each other like insects hurrying to their nest. She watches as they grasp onto the empty backing and take their former places.
Keela is drawn to the mirror as well, her broken body finding its feet. She steps closer as the last piece snaps into place. For a moment nothing happens until light begins to fill the cracks. It races from the bottom to the top, moving quick and erratic like forked lightning. When it reaches the apex the lines start to burn brighter and brighter until they blind her. She feels a soft, whistling wind reach out to caress her skin. Quiet returns to the Temple of Mythal with its passing.
The eluvian is shining, intact. It invites the Inquisitor to enter, but she can only take one step before something comes through.
He wears the same threadbare uniform he wore to the final battle, the ever present jawbone hitting against his chest as he slides towards her. Keela's heart thrums in her ears louder than thunder and she presses her hands against her head, fingers gripping hair, to drown it out. She doesn't realize she's falling until she feels her knees hit the ground and his arms stop her from injury.
Blind hands clutch at his clothing as she buries her face into the warm crook of his neck. His touch is gentle but firm as he rubs her back, runs fingers through her short hair and soothes the ache shivering in her soul. She has no more tears but she's still aflame inside and he holds her without words. Part of her wants him to speak, to say something so she can hear his voice again, but she takes more comfort in his stillness. He is a force, a structure to hide in and slowly rebuild herself.
And after a time, her breath flows out evenly. A stampeding heart slows to a canter beneath her breast and she can finally think without the pain of loss gripping her mind. Her claws return to fingers and spread out against his back, around the nape of his neck. Keela doesn't open her eyes again for fear of the dream blinking out of existence, but she lifts her head so their cheeks are touching.
She wants to ask if this only a dream or if he has finally returned to her. The question almost slips from her lips before she decides against it. It doesn't matter. He is here. Whatever this is, she wants to live in it for as long as possible.
"Your vengeance trembles through the entirety of the Fade," he says and she cherishes the way his voice dances against her skin. "Ma vhenan, I am so sorry."
A sharp seething coils up inside her at the familiar title and she cannot keep the edge of it from her voice as she replies. Her heart aches from abandonment. He chose to leave, the others didn't, but they are gone all the same. "Where were you?"
His jaw clenches against hers and she can imagine the pained slope of his eyebrows. A sigh moves through them both. "I am here now."
"For how long?"
He doesn't answer, only holds her closer. Keela is instead glad for his silence. She doesn't want to be reminded of time for it only exists in the real world, and there everyone she loves has left. For the moment she is untethered. She can let the weight go for she is somewhere grief withers without something solid to quench it.
With eyes still boarded up, she lifts herself from the cradle of his embrace. She doesn't need a map to find his lips and returns to them with a feeling of coming home. Keela rests against him for a moment, soaking in the velvet touch, before her mouth moves against his.
He does not resist. It is her dream, after all. His hands mold against the small of her back and pushes them closer together. He returns her affection like he did in the Fade soaked snow of Haven and with her eyes shut she can picture them there. When everything still shined with newness, devoid of scratches made from future tragedies.
His touch restores her, fills the empty void of loneliness inside. She remembers other caresses in the safety of his hold. Her Keeper's strong fingers clutching her shoulder as they braved the Fade for the first time together. The spray of water as she splashed in a low pool with her friends when the clan traveled to a new home. Smoke and song wrapping themselves around her as they sang under the stars. The sharp sting of the vallaslin, a warm hand offering support against the needle. His fingers wrapped in hers under the starlight.
They are all gone, but they are not lost.
He ends the kiss and rests his forehead against hers. "I have missed you," he admits, although she wishes he wouldn't.
"You never promised you would stay, so why does it hurt so much? How can I go on in the face of all this…this loss?"
"Look at me, ma vhenan."
"No," she says, not caring if her tone is childish. "You'll disappear."
He chuckles like he always does when she delights him. "How could I leave when I am already gone?"
She feels his hands move to cup her face, his fingertips brushing the places her markings once touched. "The People have wronged each other since the time of legend. It should be no surprise that others find it so easy to wrong them as well. They have grown weak. What has happened was allowed to happen. The gods turned their backs on them in shame."
He kisses her closed lids, the high bones of her cheeks, the slight bump on the bridge of her nose. "But the gods have awoken to the cries of the People. They see that there is strength when all has been taken away. They have been given hope, in no small part thanks to you. You remind them of the ancient elves of Arlathan before the world was tainted. Your indomitable spirit calls to them, as it always has to me. You grieve, rightfully so, but your heart burns with purpose beneath the despair. A purpose that will never submit."
"I wanted…I wanted…" for it all to end, she thinks, but it seems wrong now.
"No you didn't," he says, the veil between her thoughts and words nothing to him. His voice fills with a passion that makes her breathless. "You want to scorch away the pain of the world, and you will. I was wrong to hide this from you when you have always been our salvation. You are the future of the Elvhen, emma lath. The gods have heard your cries, and they will answer. The world will tremble before us, before you, and your pain will not be forgotten. I promise this."
"I don't understand…"
"Will you look at me?"
"I'm afraid," she says, but opens her eyes regardless. His face is just as she remembers. The dimple in his chin, the long, sharp slant of his ears, the scar above his brow. But his eyes. His eyes. They're filled with black smoke that leaks from the corners like vaporous tears. Keela wants to look away, for something about them makes her feel unworthy, but she is drawn to them like birds pulled towards the south.
She gasps, tightening her grip around his arms even as he starts to slip away. "Solas?"
"No longer."
He kisses her again, hard and fast. The need is fierce and a new fire fills her veins. They give and take greedily and when she bites his lip between her teeth, his growl shakes the ground beneath her feet. She feels like she's floating above in the stars and buried deep within the folds of the earth. She is everywhere and nowhere, and anywhere she reaches out he is there. She feels as small as the ant, as expansive as the heavens.
The dream starts to shatter and drift away like leaves in the breeze. The black of his eyes spreads, surrounds her and enters her mouth, her ears, her eyes. It consumes her, but she is no longer afraid. She is something more.
"Find me," she hears him whisper before the dream dies.
Keela awakes to the smoldering ruin of her making. The glade is half covered in shadow as the sun now sits lower in the sky. Burnt grass crinkles beneath her cheek and when she sighs a puff of ash rises from the ground. The Inquisitor lifts herself up to survey the damage. The peaceful space is mostly intact save for the area directly around her. The pond is empty and while other places are scorched, some places shimmer like glass from the immense heat of her power.
She gives it all a cursory thought for her mind still lingers on the dream. It felt so real. Keela wishes with all her heart that is was, but such things are for naive children. She begins to raise a hand to her lips, which feel swollen despite logic, when she realizes there's something in her hand. Fingers uncurl to reveal a sharp edged piece of the eluvian. She forgets how to breathe. It was more than a dream.
When she brings it up to her face it is not her eyes that she sees reflecting back.
Find me, his voice haunts the wind.
Keela makes a fist around the mirror and lets it bite into skin. Blood seeps through the cracks in her grip, sealing their fate. I will.