I decided to skip around a bit. Just a little.
EDIT: I didn't like the result of the skipping, so I filled in a little.
No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't look past the demonic appearance of the woman. Cassandra. Not a demon, but still, she never came into proper focus. Wisps of some sort of magic fell from her shoulders, like shadows. They set his nerves aflame with dread. After untying his hands, she led him to a bridge. Demons in forms he could recognize and what looked like green meteorites fell from the Breach, crashing into the bridge and making the stones crumble. He gasped in pain as they landed amongst the rubble.
"Stay here," Cassandra barked as a Shade sprung up before them. Raising her shield, she charged towards it. As soon as she was gone, another emerged from the ice. He scrambled back, lighting his palm with magic. His right hand twinged as the paralysis spell sprung from his fingertips. He reached backwards, groping for any purchase to pull himself up, and found his fingers grasping at the slim wooden shaft of a staff. He could feel the frost magic imbued on the staff as soon as his fingers wrapped around it.
After finding a staff once again in his possession, everything seemed to fall in place. He felt like he was in control again, digging the blade into the ice and hauling himself to his feet. Channeling his mana into an ice spell, blasting away at the real Demons and Shades falling from the Breach. It was the most normal thing he'd done all day.
Cassandra stormed over, demanding he drop the weapon. Feeling brave, he reminded her that he could use magic without the staff. He regretted it. Despite being in the open, her shouts bounced off the inside of his head, jumbling his thoughts. He was relieved when she relented, allowing him to keep the staff.
He could tell that Cassandra was nervous around him, now that he was more aware and in possession of a weapon, throwing ice magic at everything that moved. Under her scrutiny, he was afraid to draw blood when she took a deep gash across her forehead, opting for a weaker spell that quickened the process of clotting, sealing the wound with a thin layer of scar tissue.
It was refreshing, to be away from the haze fogging his mind, bringing up terrible memories that should have been locked away. He felt like himself as the rhythm of battle sunk in. The more he concentrated on the demons, the less overbearing the music was.
When they came upon it, he could only stare at the tear in the veil. He hadn't seen anything quite like it since the Blackmarsh, but even now, it was different. It felt… tangible. Like he could press through the barrier between reality and the beyond. He didn't hesitate long before he found himself in the middle of the fight, casting a Hand of Winter spell. The shades were weak, freezing on contact with the shockwave of frost magic.
Cassandra shattered the demon nearest his left side, a stream of arrows chipped away at another. He brought the end of his staff down on a wisp wraith, casting a powerful Winter's Grasp. The force sent it hurtling, a chunk of ice that shattered on impact with the ground.
The rest of the shades were gone faster than he could turn. He could feel the vibrations put out from the rift. His hand ached, but the mark exploded when an elf he hadn't yet noticed violently grasped his wrist and thrust it upwards towards the tear, shouting something that he couldn't discern over the hum, or his surprised yelp. He yanked his hand back as soon as the tear was gone, eyes watering.
"What did you do?" He choked out, rubbing his palm. The elf responsible had a strange look about him, though he didn't know what was strange about it. If anything, he should have been a comforting sight, the first person who didn't have the oily black shadows prying at their shoulders. He was dressed like a traveller, with a staff that looked to be falling apart. He was bald, but that wasn't it either. He frowned as the stranger simply smiled at him, looking pleased.
"I did nothing. The credit is yours." He waved in his direction, and he realized he meant the mark, still spurting green light.
He swallowed, throat still parched, examining the swirling scar on his palm. "What is this? What did it do?"
"Whatever magic opened the breach in the sky also placed that mark upon your hand. I theorized the mark might be able to close the rifts that opened in the breach's wake. And it seems I was correct."
He decided he didn't exactly trust this mage, not just yet. there was a knowing glint in his eye. He may not have looked like a demon, but he wasn't being honest with him either. He didn't have time to dwell on it, as Cassandra stepped closer from behind him.
"You mean the mark could also close the Breach itself?"
"Possibly," the elf nodded at her, then looked back to him. "It seems you hold the key to our salvation." He felt his heart beat faster at the same time it seemed to sink to his stomach.
No, not again. Not another...
"Good to know." He was surprised to hear that voice. "Here I thought we'd be ass-deep in demons forever."
The dwarf approached him with an outstretched hand. He hesitated, recognizing the dwarf, but put off by the shadows clinging to his broad shoulders, reaching for him. Tentatively, not looking away from the wisps, he took it, returning the gesture.
"So we meet again, Hero. Your favourite rouge, storyteller and occasional unwelcome tagalong, at your service." He winked at Cassandra. She scowled at him. It felt so… normal. For the first time, she appeared more human than demon. The dwarf himself was still a welcome sight, chest hair be damned.
"I didn't know you associated yourself with the Chantry, Varric."
"Thought I'd branch out."
"You know each other? And you didn't tell me?" Cassandra cut in, narrowing her eyes at the dwarf. He shrugged, winking at her.
"You never asked, Seeker."
Cassandra made her frustration known with a huff.
"What are you doing here, Varric? Haven is a long way from that Tavern with the shitty wine."
Varric snorted. "Fenris did warn you about the taste." Then lowering his head, "technically, I'm a prisoner, just like you. Funny all things considering."
"I brought you here to tell your story to the Divine. Clearly, that is no longer necessary."
"Yet, here I am. Lucky for you, considering current events."
He felt a smile tug at his lips. "It's… good, to see a familiar face, Varric," he said.
The elf cut in. "You may reconsider that stance, in time." Another smile. His own fell from his face as quickly as it had formed. Then, Varric made the mistake of offering his help in the valley, and Cassandra lost it. He winced as she raised her voice, the strange second voice both she and Varric possessed doing a real number on his head.
If not for the state their fighting put him in, the situation reminding him too much of- The elf tapped him on the shoulder. There was a brief moment of silence, which took him by surprise. Before he turned, he noted that Cassandra and Varric no longer sounded like four people, and that they no longer had the shadowy wisps clutching at their shoulders.
"My name is Solas, if there are to be anymore introductions." His hand didn't leave his shoulder as they stared at each other, Solas with a smile and a peculiar glare.
"Surana," he offered back carefully. Solas nodded thoughtfully, storing his name away. Finally he removed his hand from Surana's shoulder, and with its absence, the music came crashing down on him, leaving him momentarily stunned.
"I am pleased to see you still live, Surana."
Varric and Cassandra had stopped squabbling at this point, returning with an increased distance between them. The dwarf moved next to Surana and clarified.
"He means he kept that mark from killing you while you slept."
"Then I guess I should thank you, Solas. You seem to know a great deal about all of…" he looked around. "whatever this is."
"Solas is an Apostate, like you," Cassandra offered helpfully. Surana's lip curled at the word 'apostate'.
"Technically all mages are now Apostates, Cassandra. My travels have allowed me to learn much of the Fade. Far beyond the experience of any Circle mage. I came to offer whatever help I can give with the Breach. If it is not closed, we are all doomed regardless of origin." Surana bit his lip, considering everything he'd just heard.
"That's… a commendable attitude. If only there were more people like you, willing to set aside trivialities in the wake of a disaster." It would have made his job as Warden easier. "If I can help close the Breach, I will." There was a relieved sigh from the Seeker, another smile from Solas. His first goal after dealing with the Breach was to get him alone and question. They exchanged a few words before Solas and Cassandra walked ahead, talking about him, Surana figured. He turned to Varric, the dwarf smirking up at him.
"Just couldn't stay away, could you, hero?"
"I guess not." A weak smile. "I don't even know why I'm here. Zevran is going to kill…" He trailed off. His heart dropped into his stomach. In all the time it had taken him to reach this point from the Chantry basement, he hadn't even thought about the assassin.
"Something wrong, Hero?"
"I don't know." Varric cocked his head, confused.
"I mean, the last thing I remember is being in Val Royeaux. Zevran was taking care of… business with the Crows and I was in the libraries." It was all very strange. The more he tried to recall the events between then and now, the less it made sense. "Val Royeaux is weeks away. That's a large block of memory."
"And you don't recall a minute of it?"
"I barely recall waking an hour ago, let alone the last few weeks." But if he'd left for Haven, where had Zevran gotten to? Was he alone, or was his Assassin with him?
"I don't know if Zevran was with me."
His voice was pitched higher with panic than before. Surana gripped his staff tightly, feeling drained all of a sudden. He searched his memories again, the ones that weren't there, trying desperately to remember the events that led him to the Conclave.
"Why can't I remember anything?"
"I'm sure he's fine, Hero. Your assassin is a slippery one." Varric touched his elbow briefly, flashing him a reassuring smile. Surana flinched, but nodded slowly.
"If… If he was here, and I got him killed…"
Just then, Cassandra called for them to get moving. He swallowed his fear and pressed onwards, though his mind was, finally, on anything but the demons.
So in my headcanon, when you meet Zevran in Act Three of DA:II, Surana is with him. I always wondered what happened to Mouse from the origin, and I figured he'd be after Surana eventually. Though they couldn't kill Mouse (sneaky son of a nug, that Pride Demon), Hawke managed to help send him off for a while.
After that I imagine they got together to play Wicked Grace and share stories because no way Varric is letting the Hero Of Ferelden get away without telling some first hand accounts of his adventure.