Elanna Lavellan's mind was a blur. Corypheus was dead, the Venatori were scattered, and the breach was closed for good, leaving a dancing green scar on the sky. She was a hero now, more than ever before, yet she felt numbness instead of jubilation at their success. Although the victory celebration still continued downstairs—and probably would until past dawn—Elanna had excused herself early and returned to her bed chambers, alone.
As she leaned against the balcony railing and watched the first rays of golden sunlight and dancing green lights in the sky play off the white glaciers of the mountains, a heavy sigh escaped her lips. "Elanna, look at yourself," she murmured in halfhearted self-admonishment, "You, the Inquisitor, the Herald of Andraste, you just defeated an ancient Tevinter magister and saved Thedas from certain doom. Why aren't you celebrating with everyone else?" Her shoulders slumped and she sighed again, looking down at her hands. She knew why: because it was not everyone else.
"Solas…" she whispered, a lump rising in her throat. He had told her he loved her, and then suddenly before their final battle against Corypheus broke it off. He promised to give an explanation after Corypheus was dead, but as soon as the battle was over, he disappeared. His final words to her had been an assurance that their love had been real, and yet that love had not been enough for him to even tell her goodbye. She felt lied to, betrayed, yet she could not hate him for it. Her chest ached with longing just to see his face again.
Still the Inquisitor, she still had the might of the Inquisition behind her, but for what purpose? To rebuild? To make Thedas a better place? Without Corypheus to strive against and without Solas at her side, she felt empty. Skyhold suddenly felt foreign, far distant from the Free Marches of her youth. Certainly, she still had good friends here, like Varric, Dorian, and Cassandra, but the friend dearest to her was gone, without a word. And even many of her closest friends would soon leave to resume their lives outside of the Inquisition: Varric to reconstruction in the Kirkwall, Dorian to seed reform in Tevinter, and Cassandra to Val Royeaux to become the next Divine. What would remain to hold her to the Inquisition? Duty to finish what she started? More fade rifts undoubtedly were scattered across Thedas, beyond the immediate reach of the Inquisition. Closing them was something only she could do.
The memory of her first encounter with a fade rift rushed back to her, Solas thrusting her uncertain hand into the air and unexpected power surging through her body.
Solas…
Unwanted tears stung the corners of her eyes. She roughly rubbed them away with the back of her hand then turned back towards her bed chamber. "You're not doing yourself any favors, Elanna, moping like this," she murmured ruefully. Perhaps she could sleep off her melancholy. Perhaps dreams would bring her answers.