Some of the blame could irrefutably be placed on her for the horrible state of the world. She'd sworn to herself that she would stop him from sundering the veil, had actually believed that she could. In the end it was not some great disaster that had spilled out from behind that protective blanket, but several beings of great power that had been stewing in their resentment for the better part of six millennia
Those ages spent beyond the veil, trapped together with the spirits had allowed their rancor to grow into something terrible. They stoked the fires of vengeance with dreams of what they'd do to the dread wolf once they were out, once that barrier that kept them at bay had fallen and they were once again free to walk the mundane world.
There had been too many, too much all at once. When the veil came down, Solas had his army but he was not prepared for Elgar'nan's wrath that was accompanied with the sudden influx of spirits and demons. Hot and burning white, the scar that was left on the battlefield from all Fathers fury would never heal, the bodies caught in the wake now seared into the earth as permanent memorials.
And those dalish who wore the vallaslin, after that first blow she remembered how the dalish who still wore the slave markings could not ignore the pull of the gods will. The call to battle that pitted them against their own kind.
Those who had followed the dread wolf had to fight their brother and sisters, their mothers and father, because those markings were poppets strings and they could not ignore the Evanuris commands.
The Inquisition was gone, as far as the Chantry was concerned. The small military force she'd kept hidden at Skyhold had joined Orlais's forces but she could do nothing but watch as they too just became casualties of a war that could have been prevented, if she had not thought that she could save Solas.
She'd looked to the sky and witnessed them, beautiful and terrible and splendid. With the veil gone, their ragged clothing turned into shimmering cloaks and armor made of metal she had never seen before. They flung foreign and forgotten magic into Templars who had no working knowledge of how to counter it. Instinct alone saved them. Ghilan'nain who'd she always thought of as gentle and good sent hordes of savage beast into soldier's formations, scattering them. Andruil mad with bloodlust rained magic arrows down on her men.
She remembered the blood and the carnage, stumbling through the bodies to get to Solas's side. He stood atop a small rise striking down corpses as they rose from the ground, having fallen as allies. As he fought he couldn't see beyond the ever-growing number of them, he couldn't see that hooded figure making its way towards him.
There was no elven prayer to the gods she would speak as she knotted Andruil's enchanted bow, her prosthetic hand gripping tightly as she pulled it taunt.
Her words were a whisper the sounds of battle too loud for her to even hear the sound of her voice, but she saw Solas's head incline towards her and for a moment they locked eyes across the battle field.
She loosed the arrow, magic lightening crackling around the tip as it flew through the air. When it hit the figures barrier there was an explosion that radiated outwards, tossing dead bodies and her into the air. She could distantly hear her name being shouted behind the ringing in her ears. When the world stopped spinning, above her stood the hooded figure eye's gleaming in the shadows of its cowl.
Mere moments to roll away and to her feet as the end of a staff came down into the ground where her head once was. Disoriented and with her bow lost somewhere amidst the bodies, her only weapons was the dagger at her hip. Could she take on a would-be god with that alone? She would surely try.
"Tel'Dera ash" A shout came from behind them. Solas was there long strides bringing him to her and the figure before her. Her attention had gone to him for mere seconds and the man in the dark cloak, that she could know tell were made from speckled black feathers, had grabbed her, her wrist squeeze tightly in one large hand and bent behind her back uncomfortably. He kicked at the back of her legs hard and she buckled to her knee's.
A painful jerk to her arms and she let out a sharp growly yell.
" I said, do not touch her" The tremor of rage in his voice forced Lavellan to look at him. She'd never seen such fury on his features before, and it made her afraid, but glad that it was directed at the man behind her.
"You have lost Fen'Harel…you have lost and all you worry about is this shemlan…" He jerked her arms again this time pulling her upward til only her toes brushed the ground, the straining of her muscles as gravity tried to pull her down made her whole body ache.
"We have lost nothing Falon'din, there was always a possibility that you kept your strength beyond the veil…let her go and we can settle this ourselves" Solas eyes had taken on a glow, his had strumming with the green glow of the anchor. Behind her She could feel the apprehension of Falon'din. The powers that Solas displayed had frightened him.
"You have Mythal's essence?" A statement more then a question
"Yes"
"Keep it…it will not help you Dread Wolf, there are many of us…and the shemlan still wear our marks.." She dangled in his hands almost forgotten. But with the mention of the elf's his attentions fell to her. A considerate expression crossed his face and her blood ran cold. She could feel him tugging at the tendrils of the fade carefully, testing it, and coiling it around himself and her.
"Let her go Falon" Solas took a step towards them staff raised to attack.
"I think not." It happened so fast, in the blink of an eye all she had been swallowed by darkness, falling into it, the echo of her name ringing in her ears.