The Hinterlands haven't changed. The Inquisitor's entourage strolls across the massive hills and flows through shallow fields at a leisurely pace. Keela tilts her head back and lets the warm sun caress her face. The crunch of grass, the birdsongs and the scent of pine wash over her in comforting waves. It is strange, but it always feels like coming home here.
"It seems like quite some time since we were last here," Cassandra says. Keela turns to glance at her companions. The Seeker is close by her side, as always, hand closed over the pommel of her sword. A few paces away Varric is whistling a quiet tune with Bianca slung over his shoulder and eyes peering into the distance.
It is almost like those first trips months and months ago when Keela only had three pegs to her Inner Circle. There is only one difference, but it is one that cuts to her core. It is not a quiet apostate that walks at her other side now, but a Tevinter altus. Dorian flings a hand in front of his face to shoo away fluttering insects and lets out a dramatic sigh.
"And I was perfectly content to keep it that way. Remind me why we are here?"
"We can't just leave this rift alone. Even if it hasn't opened, there's no guarantee it will stay that way for much longer. I've put it off long enough."
Keela came across the note Solas wrote beneath a pile of papers on her desk a week ago and almost set it ablaze. She remembers seeing his writing for the first time. She expected it to be elegant with swooping lines and curls, but while his words were always refine, his penmanship was something different. He wrote in quick lines and oftentimes filled every inch of the paper with his musings. It was intriguing, frustrating, endearing. Just like him.
"Looks like we're here," Varric says as they approach the ruins.
The Hinterlands haven't changed, but so much else has. "Let's finish this then."
Keela snaps the large rift open with a gesture and a horde of Wraiths greet them. Perhaps they would have posed a challenge once upon a time, but the Inquisitor has faced dragons and gods much greater than these wisps of demonic remnants.
She sends a storm of fire down upon them as Dorian unleashes a barrage of lightning and the creatures slink back to the beyond with barely a scream. The team fans out, dispelling and purging enemies before they can even spawn. Only a few Shades manage to creep into the physical world and Keela takes a step back to watch her friends.
Not a word passes between the Inquisition members for this is a dance whose steps they have long since mastered. Cassandra slices through their ranks and leaves them bleeding and weak before Dorian's power freezes them in place. Unable to move, Varric's arrows rain down with all the power of a landslide.
Once the battlefield is empty, the rift sizzles and sighs as Keela approaches. It is one of the last pieces of him that she has remaining. When it is over all she will have left are memories just as jumbled as the notes he scrawled in the margins and the dried paint of a story he is no longer a part of.
The anchor burns in her palm, bursting to life at its mistress' rage. Keela throws her hand forward as if she can release all the anger and hurt boiling up inside and the dark ruin ignites in harsh, green light. She gave him everything, everything, and he left her with nothing but broken promises.
It is unforgivable.
Pressure builds and pops inside her ears as the Veil buckles in strange waves and too late she realizes something is amiss. "Inquisitor, what-"
But she never gets to hear the end of Cassandra's question. Keela feels something pulling her forward and a line of agony races from the mark and up her arm. When it reaches her head, green lightning blazes behind her eyes, blinding and burning, before the world turns to black.
"Hurry, close it, Inquisitor!"
Ellana takes a moment to catch her breath before approaching the rift. It was a tough battle, with waves of Wraiths and Shades, and she can feel a cut weeping against her collar from a claw that got too close. The mark aches inside her grip as she lifts her arm. It has gotten easier to control, but the power still makes her arm shiver as a streak of energy bursts from her and into the rift.
The ruin fills with a buzzing sound as the Veil contracts and shifts. Ellana grits her teeth against the last burst of pain as the rift finally pops out of existence. She's used to the shower of sparks and echor that usually falls around them when a rift closes, but something else slams hard against the cold stone in front of her.
"Well this is new," Varric mutters.
The figure unfurls, not a demon but a woman. Long ears peek through black hair, bronzed skin showing beneath bright, emerald robes of a Dalish Keeper.
"Cassandra…" the stranger moans and Ellana shares a confused look with her Seeker.
"Do I know you?"
The elf gives a short, pained laugh before doing her best to sit up. "What are-"
Ellana feels movement to her right and watches the woman's vibrant yellow eyes latch on to the last member of the party. Nails scrap against stone as her fingers ball into fists and a strangled gasp echoes through the ancient structure.
The look on her face is tortured and furious, but the way her voice breaks makes Ellana's heart lurch. "Solas?"
The apostate looks at her with concern, yet Ellana can tell he does not recognize her either. He opens his mouth to speak, but they all watch as this puzzling person shivers and collapses back onto the ground, her eyes closing with unconsciousness.
The ruins fall back into ancient silence until Varric's voice breaks the still. "Now what?"