Disclaimer: I own nothing. All characters and settings belong to BioWare.

Author's Note: Hello all, and thanks for stopping by this continuation fic. I'll try to keep this author's note short, but as this is a continuation of a series, there are a few things to clarify. Thanks to a few canon clarifications courtesy of Dragon Age: Inquisition, there are a few canonical details that have/will be changed in my previous fics. Also, please note that all my canonical references are from the games, DLC, and the movie, Dawn of the Seeker. I have not read any of the books or comic books, therefore there is probably some information missing from my mental archives, but this is fanfiction, so I'm sure it's forgivable.

1. The Divine who summons Leliana in "Forward into Dark Eternity", and who Leliana speaks to in "And Treat Our Blood as Gold" and "Lest Mortals Dare to Dream" is and was the Divine Beatrix, I just was not aware of that until DA:I dropped. Also, it was Divine Beatrix, not Justinia, who recruited Kathyra to the Order of Seekers in "Let Me Wake to Love Again".

2. Kestrel (the mage/templar OC) did not come into the templar order due to the blood mage's attack on the Divine, which happened in the movie "Dawn of the Seeker" whose place in the timeline was questionable and therefore fair game until DA:I. Now, however, it's not, and so Kestrel has a new story. An apostate refugee from Ferelden, she's in Kirkwall when Meredith floods the streets with templars seeking apostates due to the mass incursion of refugees, Kestrel has to escape. She buys her way out of Kirkwall and flees to her distant family in Val Royeaux, where they threaten to turn her in to the templars. Realizing that, as a mage, she'll never be safe, she makes her decision to sneak into the templar order and hide there, in plain sight.

3. In the last chapter of "Lest Mortals Dare to Dream" I brought Flemeth back as the Dread Wolf, not knowing, of course, who the Dread Wolf would actually be. So that particular revelation will be changed to reflect Flemeth's true identity, but only subtly, since Flemeth is an ancient elven deity. I got really close. But not enough.

4. As for Cassandra's behavior in "And Treat Our Blood as Gold" and "Lest Mortals Dare to Dream", I am going to keep her exactly as she was in those stories, because I don't have the time to revamp over 100,000 words. There's a ten year period between those stories and Cassandra as we see her in DA:I, a characterization I intend to remain faithful to. As to how that change in character came about, I'll leave that for the story to tell.

In any case, thank you for enduring this ridiculously long author's note, and now I will begin the story, which takes place after "Lest Mortals Dare to Dream" and will span Dragon Age 2 into the beginning of Inquisition, as seen through the eyes of Leliana, Salem, and several original characters. So, without further ado, I hope you enjoy the story.

Bright Blessings,

~Raven Sinead

Salem Cousland

My dearest Leliana,

I have struggled with these words for so long. They linger in my chest like dead things…dead as I am…or perhaps was. I know that I should not be here. I know that my breath, if not stolen, is borrowed, and that my one, sole purpose is to cause you pain. That is a travesty I cannot endure. That is a crime I cannot commit.

However, these dead words linger, press, and ache. I must speak in some form or these dead words will corrupt my blood and mind until my purpose is fulfilled. So, let me speak them, here and now. In the quiet sanctity of this moment, let me believe that you are listening, and that you forgive.

I can see your reaction already, that precious crease between your elegant brows, the slight downturn of your heavenly lips, the questions that dance in your ocean eyes. You wonder what I might have done that merits forgiveness, as you did so often, long ago, when first we lived and breathed and loved. The one thing you think you might have to forgive is my death, but I have done much worse things than dying. I have lived a life that I was never meant to live. I know I am not making any sense, but I hope you will believe me when I say there is so very little sense to be made of this. Of all the tales I know, and all the ones that you told me through the nights, never did one speak of a resurrected warrior. Never did one allude to a god who would straddle the world of the living and the Veil, and reach into the world beyond to drag a mortal back into existence.

I remember what being happy was, Leliana. It was resting in your arms, listening to your voice…looking at you as you lay asleep. It was accepting my Calling and going to my death. A death that, for a second time, I was not allowed. But this letter's purpose is not to cry to you, or to bemoan the fate that is now mine. I have always attempted to accept my destiny, as I did during the Blight. No, this is not a letter of grief, but of knowledge.

I have been brought back to the world of the living by a force that seemed malevolent and mysterious from the first. Now, it is confirmed that Flemeth, the Witch of the Wilds, is something so much more than mortal. She had the ability to claw her way through life and into eternity and drag me away, once more, from my family. Away from my vigil…my wait for you. Not to sound morbid, my love, but yes, I did wait for you in the life after. No more do I wait. I live again.

I was sent back to Ferelden by Flemeth, to find Morrigan. I do not know why I was ordered on this mission…I do know that I attempted to flee, to hide from the gaze of the entity I did not wish to serve. But I was found, chastised, and sent back to my search. I went to the Korcari Wilds and…and along my journey, I saw how much my beloved Ferelden had changed.

In so many towns, I saw mages walking amongst the people, being spoken to without fear and treated as equals. Even those of the elvhen were treated as a true citizen of Ferelden. And, yes, while I saw templars there too, they were not overbearing to their charges. People speak well of Alistair, and while there will always be those who condemn the king, I bore no witness to public outcry against him as I journeyed.

He has…he has attempted to make the changes I asked of him at his coronation, and the Ferelden I have borne witness to is proof of his incorruptibility and his honor. I wished so much to see his face, to embrace him and see what has become of him through the years, but to do so would…would be to ruin him. I cannot break the king I wished to create, no matter how much I long for a friendly face who knows me as I would be known, not as a masked stranger with a rasping voice broken by years of disuse. Or perhaps my voice is broken because I speak so little. I speak less than I did when first we met.

It seems that I am to be consistently deprived of one sense or ability. Once, I could not see. Now, it is all I can do to articulate a word. But perhaps the time for those such as I to speak has come to an end. I do not feel that I walk in a world that I belong in. I feel this more strongly than ever I did before. Regardless, I am becoming distracted from the true purpose of this letter.

I did find Morrigan, in the Dragon Bone Wastes. She attacked me and those who had joined my search for her when we approached her. I did not allow my companions to attack, and removed the mask that I wear to conceal the scar left on my face by dragon's fire in the Frostback Mountains. When she looked upon the scar, I saw Morrigan, for the first time, exhibit something that resembled shock, perhaps even fear. And yet, I cannot deny that I felt some semblance of joy and profound relief at seeing her again, knowing that she knew me…who I was. I lied to those who had insisted on joining me in my search for her. They never saw my full face, and rarely heard my voice. But Morrigan knew me. She knew me, and it did not take long for her to realize that I had been brought back from the other side of eternity. Do you remember my eyes, Leliana?

They were scarred, broken, speaking of an intimacy with mortality that few have ever known or understood. They are still scarred but…but not so gently as once they were. They do not whisper of knowing death, now. They scream of intimacy with it. To look at my own reflection is to gaze into the face and eyes of the damned. I am very much changed…even changed beneath the skin, where none can see. But my heart has not altered. My mind has not altered. I still love you…I have loved you from the moment I opened these damned eyes and once again looked at the waking world.

And yet…this is not a letter of love.

Morrigan told me what I believe is the truth of the world, that it is Flemeth who is the true danger in Thedas. I have no doubts that she gave to me the truth, but I was able to ask nothing else of her before she faded into the strange mirror that stood alone in a cave in the center of the wastes. I do not know, as of yet, if I have made a grave mistake but I…I did what I have always done, and sought the answer. I followed Morrigan and stepped into the mirror.