She thinks this must have been what her mother felt like, in her last known moments. Her limbs move but they are loose, weak, and she is not sure she can even feel them really.
The forest around her is familiar. She grew up near it, and spent a significant time in them during the war. Many people have died here. The Veil is thin, the Beyond's reach touching even the trees and turning them into angry creatures. The thought reminds her of Merrill, an old friend, who avoided the forest after one of the trees grew envious of her carefree prancing.
Even the happiest thoughts turn right back around to death. Sometimes she's unsure if she's had a more loyal companion than death. Tamlen. Duncan. Her enemies: darkspawn, Loghain, Howe. Her family. And worst of all… him. Death took them all.
Her feet catch on a fallen branch or loose rock, and she half-collapses onto another tree. Her forehead moves to rest against the bark. Once, she could have moved through this terrain with little effort and less sound. Perhaps she could, if logic was the only thing reminding her she was still inside her body.
Her mother had lasted until she was born before wandering off. She lasted longer, and with less. She stayed to root out the vestiges of the Blight, end the warring factions of darkspawn and rebuild the Order in Ferelden. She has done well. She has lived long enough.
Her duty is complete, and with the end of her duty came the end of any lasting reason for her to stay. So she ventured into the forest, never to be seen again. Like her mother.
She lost her clan. And even if she could, she wouldn't go back to them, though she longed more than anything to return to her people. But she wasn't the Mahariel they knew. The Blight and the Taint warped her. She made allies her old self would have sneered at. She saw things she'd never be able to forget.
She fell in love. She found a new home, inside a shem's arms. But he was no ordinary human.
She slides down, collapsing to the cool ground. Her fingers weave between the grass petals, nails covering themselves in dirt. She still has this one last thing. Nature. The most horribly beautiful thing in this world. Today, it feels like it is embracing her, ready to make it a part of itself.
Good. She has lived long enough. Far too long without him. Longer still without her clan, without Tamlen.
He fell on the rooftop of Fort Drakon, after the blasted Archdemon had wrapped him in its jaws and shook him about, teeth crushing into his flesh. He clattered to the ground. He was dead before she could reach him. She hoped he at least saw her slay the Archdemon. She hoped he knew they won, before he left.
Creators take him. Take her.
She is so exhausted. Her eyes close and she breathes in the scent of dirt, dog and muck. Ferelden. They won. They had done their duty. She deserves to go home, she thinks. To be with him again.
Ashalle said her mother had wandered off into the forest in the moonlight, never to be seen again. So Lyna wandered into the forest at dusk, and the Hero of Ferelden was never seen again.