Her name literally meant "give the end."
Lasa Halam was a sweet girl. At least, she thought she was. She didn't really remember. She just knew, when she woke up to footsteps outside the door, what door? Why was it up? She just knew that she was a kind girl. She knew that, and she knew her name, but she didn't know much else.
The stone floor beneath her was cold, but she wasn't shivering. It was as if she had been cold for a very long time, and her body had given up on being warm. It was dark, and even with her eyes open, she couldn't see anything. She couldn't move, either. She couldn't even breathe. It was as if she were frozen in time. The reality was similar, but it wasn't time that she was frozen in.
It was ice.
That was why the door was up. She realized that she was frozen in ice, and she was under the floor. She tried to call out, but she couldn't. Her body was not her own. For the moment, it belonged to the ice. She was so cold.
She saw a light, gentle, soft, and warm, glowing above her. There were voices, but she could only hear indistinct murmurs. She wanted their attention. She wanted to warn them about something, but what? What was wrong? Why was she so afraid for them? Then she heard a voice, clear as crystal, seemingly unreal, like it was inside her head.
"She says not to go that way."
There were confused murmurs above her. Then a surprised shout. Lasa was so cold. She heard the voice again. "She's cold. Help her, I can't reach her."
Then there was warmth. The light grew closer and began to melt the ice. After a few minutes, she could breathe. Better yet, she could see.
She had forgotten the voice.
A woman stood over her, concern evident on her pretty face. She held a torch in her hand. She had eyes like amethysts, skin like ivory, and hair bright and golden as the noontime sun. She was an elf, and little black vines extended from beneath her eyes back to her hair. She was beautiful. Lasa didn't remember beautiful, but that was the word that came to mind.
"You're alive!" Her voice was like a gentle creek in winter: something alive in the silence, a force of nature in itself, but not above the little bits of life that lives near it. Lasa opened her mouth to speak, but all that came out was "cold..." She reached toward the torch, drawn by the fire.
"Impossible..." A new voice, a man's voice, gentle as a summer breeze and powerful as a mountain, rang throughout the small stone room. "Frozen for who knows how long, yet still alive." The man came into view. He was an elf, bald, but he was handsome all the same. His eyes were gentle, but they were hiding something. The word that came to mind was mysterious.
"Solas, quit worrying about how she survived and focus on how she's going to stay that way. We have to get her back to Haven, now." The woman's voice was firm, but still gentle. The man, Solas, knelt down beside Lasa. "What is your name, Da'len?" Why was he calling her a child? She was not little. Was she? "Lasa Halam," she answered weakly. Her own voice sounded lost, like a ghost, the ghost of a mother with no one to care for, the ghost of a soldier with no battle to fight, the ghost of a child with no one to play with. Lost.
"My name is Enasal," the elven woman said gently. "This is Solas," she motioned to the elf man, "this is Varric," she motioned to a dwarf watching from a few feet away. He gave a little wave. Lasa twitched her fingers in an attempt to wave back. Then Enasal motioned to a very large Qunari standing behind them. "That is Iron Bull."
Lasa sneezed. It was high-pitched and quiet, but it made her feel better. Varric laughed a bit and commented, "we come here to find a wyvern and we find a kitten instead." He walked over hand held out his hand to her. "Come on, kitten, let's get you someplace warm." Lasa liked him. He was warm, comforting, open. He was hiding things too, but everyone was.
Lasa slowly lifted her hand, but it trembled and dropped before she could touch his hand. She was a bit surprised at how weak she was. Enasal put a hand on her arm. "She's very cold. Let's go, the wyvern can wait." Lasa knew what a wyvern was, and for some reason, she was angry. It scared her, to be angry and not know why.
The Iron Bull walked over. "I'll carry her." He knelt down and picked up Lasa. She felt so tiny and insignificant in his arms, but she also felt safe. That was what the Bull felt like. Safe. He was safe and Varric was comforting and Solas was mysterious and Enasal was beautiful. Now that she had established this, Lasa was happy to drift off to sleep. She was still cold.