Author's notes: There are some ideas used that are strictly for this story. I don't subscribe to any one theory in the DAU and have presented certain characters in a way for the interest of storytelling. This story does take place over the course of the events in Dragon Age: Inquisition but does not retell the story shown in the course of the game. I felt the first chapter ran a bit long, so I cut it into two parts. Please feel free to leave comments, but remember this story came from a "What if" question my mind came up with and I simply ran with it. Please keep an open mind and I hope you enjoy the story.
In a small village at the foothills of the Frostback Mountain was a tavern. The establishment was old and the plaster walls were a mottled brown from years of patrons smoking their pipes and the candles burning in sconces on the walls. At a table in a dark corner of the tavern sat a solitary elf. He attempted to look thoroughly engrossed by the book in front of him in an attempt to keep the other patrons from interrupting him from his thoughts. He rarely sought any area so over-crowded especially when such fear of magic was in the air, but he had two very good reasons to be in this tavern. For one the weather outside meant that any attempt to linger without shelter would result in succumbing to the elements, the second reason was here he would be able to overhear any information about the conclave soon to take place a few miles away in the Temple in the mountains. He would have journeyed on to be closer to the temple, but the small village of Haven was overrun with clerics, Templars and various other groups that would have taken the arrival of a hedge mage as a threat. As it was, his arrival in this tavern had, at first, been met with suspicious glances and hushed whispers from the patrons when they saw the staff he carried. The owner had originally not wanted him to stay, a few sovereigns more than was necessary had changed her mind rather quickly however.
Three days had passed and the energy in the tavern had become almost electric as more and more people poured into the small village. The conclave was to begin in only a few short hours. A few hours after that, the first runner of many would surely come with news from Haven. It was around noon when the mage came down from his room and found his usual corner. He had a small meal and several weak ales as he waited patiently for news to arrive. Three hours into his wait news finally came, but not in the form of a runner. The light from the late afternoon sun was abruptly replaced with a short lived darkness before a bright green flash of light filled the room. Panic set in among the patrons as they rushed for the door. The elf followed suit and was swiftly pulled into the panicked throng. The mead soaked crowd pressing too closely together, elbows and shoulders ramming into each other, stampeding outside threatened to pull him to the ground where he'd surely be trampled. He was about to cast a barrier to protect himself from injury when he found himself outside. The stampede abruptly stopped just outside the tavern, replaced by a stunned crowd all standing still, eyes to the sky. Only moments had passed since the strange light when the accompanying boom of the blast rumbled through the village. Shielding his eyes from the light that had yet to settle, the mage looked up. He gasped as he saw what had caused the explosion of light and sound. A gaping hole swirling like a whirlpool in the air and from it a bright virescent stream of light stretched toward the mountain. As panic surrounded him on all sides, the mage knew there was only one thing to do. He turned away from the stunned crowd and went back inside the tavern to retrieve his belongings from his room. Within minutes he was on the road leading toward the mountains in an uncharacteristic sprint.
It was nearly night fall as he reached the village of Haven. In the dwindling daylight fires blazed on the mountain. The stream of light was still further up the mountain and, in the few hours it had taken him to travel to the village, the vortex in the sky had grown in size. From it meteor-like masses glowing the same green as the light fell to the ground all around the village. He grabbed the arm of passing woman. She turned and looked at him in fear. "Who is in charge here?" he urgently asked her. The woman struggled to free herself from his grasp. "Let go of me!" she wailed. He obeyed her demand and repeated his question. The woman swallowed hard while rubbing her arm. Her eyes were wide from fear but she answered him. "Seeker Pentaghast and the commander have gone with the soldiers to find any survivors. Sister Leliana is still here though, organizing the healers and sisters that are trying to calm the villagers." He gave her a small, reassuring smile, "And where can I find this sister?" The woman took a deep breath and pointed toward the gate, "Last I saw her was by the tent just outside the chantry. I'm not sure if she's still there now, but you can't miss her. She's the only sister in chain mail." The mage thanked the woman and headed into the village proper to find this armored sister.
As he walked through the village he passed groups of crying, praying people but pressed on. The only way he could think of to help these people was to find this 'Leliana' and assure her of his willingness to be of use. It took nearly a quarter hour before he finally saw a woman that could only be the armored sister the woman outside the village had told him about. She was walking out of the chantry and, despite the scene surrounding her, was a picture of composure and steely calm. He calmly walked toward the woman and managed to catch her attention. "Sister Leliana I assume?" The woman turned to look at him. Her face shifted from a veneer of serenity to that of suspicion in a blink of an eye. "Yes, I am. And you are?" Her accent was told him at once she was Orlesian but the tone of her voice sounded like less like that of a chantry sister and more like a wary and dangerous creature ready to strike at a moment's notice. "You may call me Solas." He responded. The woman looked him over, her eyes fixing on the staff he held. "You're a mage, are you not Solas?" The mage nodded. "I am," he said holding his staff out to her, "and I have come to help. If you will have me." She stared at the staff in his outreach hand as he continued. "A show of good faith. I surrender my staff to you. I assure you I am not threat. I was in the village a few miles down the mountain when I saw that," he said, gesturing toward the hole in the sky, "and I raced here as quickly as I could to offer any and all aid that I am able to." Leliana's face softened, albeit only slightly, as she placed her hand on his outstretched arm. "Well, I will not turn away any offer of assistance. I believe you will need your staff though." He relaxed his arm as she let go of it. "Do you know healing spells Solas?" He nodded. "Good. That is our first priority. Also, if you are able, please try to calm those you heal. The people are scared and trying to reassure them that we are doing everything we can to take control of the situation may make our job much easier." She turned back toward the group that had followed her out of the chantry and Solas headed toward the make shift triage area on the lower landing.
After many hours of healing and trying to reassure the frightened masses that continued to be brought in, Solas was growing weary. He sat back for a moment to catch his breath and swallow yet another lyrium potion. He grimaced at the taste of the liquid as it poured down his throat. He was just starting to consider if he'd prefer drinking a cup of tea rather than have to taste one more draught of the sickly blue colored liquid when he saw stern faced woman in armor walking in front of a procession of soldiers heading in his direction. She and the soldiers that followed her turned to head up the stairs toward the chantry. In the middle of the group were two soldiers carrying a young elven woman on a litter. Solas stood and followed slowly behind them. He watched as the woman, obviously the Seeker that had been mentioned to him earlier, pointed them toward the chantry. "If that young woman is injured surely they should be bringing her to be healed" he thought to himself. That was when he saw a flickering green light emanating from the elf's left hand. He turned and looked back at the hole in the sky. "How?" he wondered as he saw her chest still rising and falling. "She's still alive? How is that possible? No mortal being should be able to survive direct contact with such magic." At that moment Solas decided he would have to find a way to gain access to the young woman. If she had been touched by the magic that created the breach in the sky then it may be possible to use that connection to close it again. He headed up the stairs toward the chantry, looking once more for Leliana.
The left hand of the late divine, a title he had heard someone refer to Leliana as, had been correct in her confidence that she could convince her counterpart to allow him access to study the elven woman. It had taken him a while to convince the sister that he could be of assistance in the matter. Once he had been able to demonstrate he knew much about the fade and how to manipulate it to suit her, she had been willing to listen to his proposal. After only a matter of hours, he was given access to the "prisoner" being held in the lower chamber of the chantry. He spent hours studying the mark on her hand. He had tried everything that he could think of and now he was sitting on a bed in a small hovel of a house near the chantry. Leliana had sent one of her people to collect him and show him to his lodgings. The man that had come for him informed him that the sister was very insistent on him getting some rest lest he collapse from exhaustion. He conceded, knowing that she was right. Besides, he would be able to continue his research in the fade as he rested. Perhaps one of the many spirits he had conversed with in the past would be able to give him council about how to help the young woman. He didn't bother with undressing and, within seconds of his head hitting the pillow, he felt himself slipping off to sleep.
He found himself in unfamiliar part of the fade. Unable to manipulate his surroundings in order to travel to a more familiar area, he explored his surroundings. Part of the environment looked like that of an old and intricately designed structure of some sort, but it was broken and walls and statues floated of their own volition. "The Temple of Sacred Ashes." He thought to himself. A dangerous place to be considering the cataclysm in the waking world at this exact spot. He looked around for a way out of the temple. A door, a window, a hole in the wall. Finally, he found a door that lead outside. Ahead of him was a paved path leading down the mountain. He followed it, avoiding the spirits being drawn though the holes in the fade, until he reached the village below. He walked in solitude toward the chantry. Once inside he walked down toward the chamber where the prisoner was being kept. He approached her and was startled to find that, even here, she was still asleep. "The magic is stronger than she is." He turned toward the man behind him. "I really wish you wouldn't do that." Solas said to the man. "Ir abelas Solas." The man said as he walked around the body on the floor. "It is difficult to try to converse with you over your own thoughts. You never stop thinking for a moment, do you my friend." The man circled back toward Solas. "As I said earlier, I find it curious that such a frail, mortal creature could possibly survive the power of the magic that sent me unwillingly into uthenera for two millennia. Not only survive but grow in strength?" The second hadn't meant to be a question, but the man standing next to Solas was obviously curious as to how this was possible. "Is it possible it is because he is an elf?" The man stopped to ponder this question for a moment before responding. "No, I don't believe that is the reason. There is something about this woman…" he trailed off as he returned to the figure and knelt down, brushing an errant hair from its face. Solas knelt down next to him. "What is it, Fen'Harel? What about this woman is different that she'd survive?" Fen'Harel smiled. "Perhaps it is that she is simply too stubborn to die. Can you not feel it?" He placed his hand above the figure. "You can feel the will to live emanating from her. It's impressive." Solas reached his hand out and felt a surge of near electrical energy pulsing around the young woman like a protective aura. "Will she wake, do you think?" he finally asked. Fen'Harel contemplated for a few moments before coming to a conclusion. "It is possible, though unlikely. I sense no magic other than that from my foci from her, she is not a mage. Perhaps her strong will to live will also be able to wake. We shall see." Solas turned to ask another question but he found he was once again alone.