A/N: Thank you for reading! Your support means the world to me and this project :D
Path of the Dreamwalker
Chapter 3 - Memories
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"We can't go this way," Cullen warned. He stared at the remains of the broken bridge before him, his hand clenching his horse's reigns so hard that the leather of his glove creaked in protest. What had once been a sturdy bridge over a river was now nothing but magic-burned rubble.
"Did Solas do that?" Leliana asked, pointing out the burn marks all around the cracks in stone.
"No," Cullen speculated. "Most likely, it was the quakes coming from the Breach. Or demons. I don't think he would have wasted the time." He examined the path ahead. His troops had only recently cleared this uphill segment of snow; it was the main road to the Temple. However, it wasn't the last. He'd been running scouts and light patrols in the area for the past three days. Though the terrain was tough to navigate on foot, he knew it was manageable. "We'll have to go around," he observed.
"If Solas didn't destroy this bridge, it means that he had to have gone around, too." Leliana raised her arm to shield her eyes as she examined the surrounding snow. The sun had risen, spreading a wealth of light and color throughout the landscape. Cullen mimicked her. Now that the brilliant white snow caught the rays of sunlight, looking at it directly was almost painful. She rocked back and hopped off her mount. "I can track him, but it won't be easy in this environment."
"I should be able to help. There's a path," he pointed due west to a narrow break in the trees. "It's small. We may have to leave the horses here." Leliana frowned. "Don't worry. If anything happens, they know the way home."
"If anything happens, we won't have a home," Cassandra interjected. These were the first words she'd spoken since their departure. Her face had been unreadable throughout the entire ride here. Cullen wondered how much she blamed herself for the current situation and pitied her.
"Let's make certain things don't come to that," he told her, offering a hand to help her off his horse. She pursed her lips and ignored it, dismounting on her own. Brave, proud, stubborn Cassandra. As they moved west towards the path he'd pointed out, Cullen sensed a shift in the air. Something felt...out of place. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but his instinct warned him that danger approached. Not that he didn't doubt his instincts. During his time as a Templar, Lyrium helped sharpen these instincts. He could sense magic as easily as breathing. In fact, had he still been in the Order, he would have likely taken a Lyrium draft before running this sort of mission. Unfortunately, the substance was hard to come by now that he was far from the Templars. His last dose had been nearly a week ago. Perhaps that explained why he felt so tired and short-tempered.
"What is it, Cullen?" Cassandra asked. Her sharp gaze pierced him. Did she know? He'd worked hard to keep the fact that he was breaking away from Lyrium a secret. But when Cassandra was involved, hardly anything escaped her notice.
"It's nothing," he replied, dismissing her worry with a gesture. "I was just thinking about how to best handle Solas once we catch up to him." He stroked his chin in thought. "Perhaps threatening him wasn't the best course of action. I think he means well."
"Are you defending him?" Cassandra demanded, incredulous.
"No, simply wondering how the three of us are going to take on a full fledged Mage on our own."
"He won't attack us if we show him that we don't mean any harm," Leliana explained. "Solas didn't seem like a bad person."
"You are a poor judge of character," Cassandra grumbled. "If he meant well, he wouldn't have kidnapped -"
"You didn't leave him any options," Leliana argued, kneeling down and examining the ground. She moved her fingers through some branches, shifting aside a few larger ones to clear the road. "This way. I can see hoof tracks." They followed Leliana through a thick underbrush until Leliana called out with some excitement:
"Look, a campfire." Cullen squinted to see what she was pointing at and saw the ruins of a dying fire. They rushed to it, finding nothing there but fizzing embers. All around, however, they noticed footprints and skid marks. Cassandra pointed out a large tree where a pool of blood had stained the snow a sickly crimson. Cullen walked over to it and knelt down, examining the area. Whose blood was it? Something told him that it was likely the girl's. A stab of guilt caused him to flinch. He'd left her alone with him. If only he hadn't left the jail that night.
"I see more tracks moving away, probably north. We should follow," Leliana suggested. Cassandra remained eerily silent, not saying a word to anyone. The behavior was uncharacteristic of her, and Cullen found himself concerned for her wellbeing. As they followed Leliana, he walked up to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. His touch broke something in her – a restraint that she'd been holding onto for days now.
"If only I hadn't trusted him," she lamented in a rush. "I should have chained him. I shouldn't have believed him. Then, maybe…"
"You're not worried about the prisoner, are you?" She took a moment to answer.
"Yes, and no. Of course I have considered that she might be innocent. Of course I have thought about her having to die so that the rest of us can live. I shouldn't be doubting. This must be the Maker's will. But…"
"It will be alright. Somehow." He squeezed her shoulder and gave her a reassuring smile despite the fact that he was sure of nothing himself. "Leliana is certain that he won't kill her."
"Leliana is a girl with dreams of fancy," Cassandra grumbled. "She is always trying to see the best in everyone."
"Is that such a bad thing?" Cullen asked. "Perhaps all of us could use that sort of mentality every once in a while." After that, they didn't speak. All three focused on tracking down Solas, examining branches, undergrowth, and marks in the snow. Eventually, Leliana stopped at a small lake. The cold air had frozen the top layer of the water. Cullen surmised that it wouldn't be safe to walk on. His eyes caught sight of a gap in the ice, and he slid down the hill to examine it.
"What is it, Cullen?" Cassandra asked when she followed.
"Looks like an animal might have fallen in." He looked around. "No body though."
"I don't think it was an animal," Leliana stated. Cullen walked over to where she crouched by another side of the shore. His stomach flipped. Blood. So much of it that it nearly made him sick. The sensation confused him, for he was a warrior. He'd seen his fair share of blood and gore on the field. Something about this, however, made him severely uncomfortable.
Magic – instinct warned.
"Leliana, he was here."
"Can you feel it?" Cassandra asked. He nodded. "From the looks of things, he's turned to blood magic."
"No," Cullen denied. "This wasn't blood magic. This was…something else." His eyes followed a trail of mixed footprints. "Let's keep moving. We are almost at the Temple."
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She awoke with blood on her hands.
Red. Viscous. Shining.
She could see the blood that caked the skin of her right hand and that which still flowed in her veins. So pretty; so warm. Like rivers through the forests; like the paths that her feet once tread through the Wilds. Her eyes followed the trails, the rivers, from her palm to her wrist. Thin at first, then larger. Fingers rubbed together, felt the stickiness of the crimson liquid. Blood belonged inside, not out.
Yet here it was.
But how had it gotten there?
I should be dead - her mind whispered. The voice was foreign, unfamiliar, unwelcome. I should not be here.
Yet here she was.
Where was here? She looked up and all around her, taking in the sheer whiteness of her surroundings. Trees bending from the weight of the snow on their branches; grass, yellow and dead from the chill; ground, wet and so cold that she shivered in pain. Then she stood and the world changed; everything felt even more unfamiliar and terrifying. She had never been here before - had never walked these woods or seen these hills. In the Wilds, she had known every river, every bush, every contour of the land. But here...
The realization finally crashed into her - hit her like a frigid flailing wave.
Who am I?
The fear came next - the terror of not knowing. She looked at her hands again, saw her tanned skin, and wondered what her face looked like. Her right hand bore a strange symbol that pulsed with a faint green light. Bandages swirled up along her arm, covered in burns and blood. Unfamiliar. No recognition. She touched her cheeks, her nose, her lips; so foreign. Like touching a cold clay sculpture. Fingers reached up to brush through waist-length hair. Only when she brought a strand of it before her eyes did she find out its color. It was so black, like the void, like the death that she should still be a part of. Yet...She was alive. Cold, shivering, terrified - but alive. Perhaps she should be grateful, but the sensation of her heart beating in her chest was wrong. She took a few experimental breaths of icy air and tasted winter on her tongue. Snow fell from above, the crystalline snowflakes capturing her fascination.
Wrong. This was wrong.
Who awakened me?
She took a few steps forward, hoping to see the one responsible for...whatever this was. Though she could not remember how it happened, she knew for certain that she'd died. Her body remembered it; her skin still ached in places where fatal wounds had been. Closing her eyes, she could almost envision it. Swords, blades, teeth, claws. Ripping flesh; tearing bone; rending pain. She recalled a struggle - a fight, a rising desperation. Desperation? What did that mean? She tried to say the word out loud and jumped when her own voice startled her. A light, airy, voice. Delicate. Soft. She formed the words again - desperation, death, fight. Nothing.
At last, she touched her ears – long and pointed.
Elf.
The word floated to her with the snow, caressed her with its meaning. Elf. Dalish. She mouthed the syllables, listening to her own voice and trying to accept it as hers. Clan. That one was painful. Something hurt in her chest when she thought of it. The last. Whatever "clan" was, it was dead - like she should be. Only she remained. Unfair. She didn't want to be alone. Fingers brushed her lips. My name. What is my name? No matter how she tried, she couldn't recall. If only it didn't hurt so much to think about the past. The more she tried to search her memories for clues to who she was, the more her head throbbed and the more exhausted she became.
Something beside her crackled; she looked down and saw a campfire. The embers were dying, clinging to their last breath in a fight against the sodden chill. A row of stones surrounded the ashes. Perfect. Neat. Too perfect. She hadn't built it. So, who had? Perhaps the one responsible for her predicament. Fire. Heat. Warmth. Safety. She liked those words; they felt good, comfortable. Her hands slid downward, running over cloth and metal.
Armor.
Eyes followed. Blue and grey leather, hardened scales. A creature with wings.
Griffon.
When she saw it, her head throbbed in agony. So close! The memories hovered just out of reach, tantalizing and beckoning.
Must move forward - her thoughts urged.
Dizzy, disoriented, and fraught with an overwhelming need to understand her situation, she stumbled forward in a random direction. One step. Two. The first were the hardest. That campfire was safe; that campfire was her world, was the only thing she knew and trusted. It was real; it was tangible. Three steps. Four. Now it was easier. Now, she was curious and hungry. Not for food or drink, but for knowledge. Her bare feet padded through the snow, but she hardly felt the cold anymore. Something caught her attention. Footprints. Evidence of tampering. Evidence of life. She knelt and examined them, breathed in and took in the scent of wet grass, disturbed earth, and frozen pine. Someone was here; someone had started the fire. Someone had left for unknown purpose.
Someone did this to me.
Upright now, she continued her path to nowhere, hoping to find answers. Here and there, the footprints reappeared. She followed them. Over hills and through dense clumps of fallen leaves and dried branches. Who was she searching for? Would she even know if she saw them? Images flashed - like flickers - behind her conscious thoughts. Separating one from another wasn't possible. She stopped for a moment to try and see a clearer picture. And there it was.
His face.
A man. Human. Silver eyes, golden-brown hair, a smile that made her heart flutter in her chest like a butterfly seeking its freedom. For a moment, she knew him. For a moment, she might have loved him. She breathed in, fully prepared to call his name - to tell him she needed him now more than ever. Then, he was gone. She was alone again - alone and confused. Left with no alternative, she continued walking.
Eventually, she reached a clearing. Trees parted around a small lake. In the distance, she saw stones - even and beautiful - piled on top of each other to form something her mind called a Temple. How did she know that? How could she have possibly known a place she'd never been to before?
Look up.
She had no choice but to obey, but when she did she thought her heart would surely stop. The sky sprawled before her eyes. Open, spacious, endless, vast. It was blue, white, grey, and emerald. It shone with its own luster, like a pearl freshly washed by salty ocean water. Like ivory polished to a gleaming luster. And again - again! - it was wrong.
Torn. Ripped open. Swirling like a hurricane.
Travesty. Crime against nature. What could have done this?
Something stood behind her. Someone. She turned - her eyes filling with tears of sorrow.
"The sky is torn," she whispered. "The Veil has been pierced." The man reached up in a gesture that meant nothing to her. What did he want? Was it he who had torn the sky? Was it he who had brought her here? Had awakened her? Had broken nature's laws to bring her back from death?
"No, da'len," he murmured, his voice as gentle as the brush of silk. She saw his ears – long and pointed. He, too, was elven. "It was not I." She'd spoke aloud, it seemed. How could she have known? She still couldn't recognize her own voice. Or her hair. Or her skin. Or her hand with the abomination branded into it.
"Then who?"
"Come," he bid her. "Step away from there. It isn't safe." She saw his eyes flicker to her feet and was helpless to stop herself from looking down. She'd stopped right on the edge of a cresting hill. One more step, and she would fall tumbling down. Perhaps that wouldn't be so bad. Perhaps then she could die and rest once more. Living hurt. Living was terrifying. A burden. Her heart felt hollow; her skin felt like a shell. The man stepped towards her and she jerked back, almost losing her balance. "Come to me," he bid again.
"Who are you?" she demanded.
"My name is Solas," replied, as though just his name was supposed to explain everything. Solas. She moved her lips soundlessly, testing the name – sampling it. It tasted of regret, of sorrow, and of hardship. Yet the sound of it was pleasant – like a bird's first song.
"Are you the one who brought me back?"
"Back from where?" he asked, his voice even and unflinching.
"Death. The void." Then another word came to her. "Uthenera." What she said stopped him in his tracks. His eyes grew wide, and she finally saw their color. Blue - like calm waters, like the sky. Or were they grey? Even as she debated it, they shifted.
"Come to me." She wanted to. So much. His voice spoke of the campfire, of returning there, of getting her warm. Such temptation, to return to safety. "Please, da'len."
"Why do you call me that? Is that my name?" It sounded sweet when he whispered it like that. Curious, she felt its texture. Took a bite. "Da'len." Again and again. No. It was wrong, felt wrong; tasted like bitter fruit.
"No, it isn't," he said simply.
"Then what is my name?"
"Do you not remember? Come. I will show you." Hypnotic, like the swaying of trees in an autumn wind. His movements were graceful, slow, deliberate. She leaned forward and reached out her hand, wanting to trust, yet terrified of being burned. Why? Why this fear?
Then the sky rebelled. The clouds roared. The heavens howled like demon wolves in the blackest night.
"It's coming," she heard herself say, not sure where the words originated. Her breathing sped up. Heart racing. Mind running. Lungs convulsing. The sky screeched and moaned, the fabric of the clouds parted, and the tear grew larger. She screamed when her hand caught fire. The symbol blazed with fury. Clawing at her hand, she fell. Rolled. Curled up. Down, down, down the hill. Her body hit something with enough force to knock the air out of her lungs. No pain there. Just agony in her palm. Suffering. Nothing was helping. Lightning shot from the symbol on her skin, burning long lines of red and crimson into her flesh. Carving - like a knife. Digging. Breaking. Her voice didn't scare her anymore. After a while, she stopped hearing it. Her hand was on fire. Fire!
Need to put it out. Opening her eyes, she crawled. Through the mud and dirt. On her belly. Clothes raking on the snow, absorbing it. Cold. So cold. And yet so hot! Crawl. Had to keep crawling.
Water...water...water...
Then she saw it - the edge of the lake. Small, but it didn't matter now. All she wanted was to jump into it and cocoon herself in its watery depths. So she did. Or she tried. Someone stopped her. Or tried. Arms grabbed at her shoulders. Desperate, she kicked and pushed. Foot touched the ice of the water. One step. Two. Three. Just a little more. Then cracking. The ice broke and she fell. Down, down, down, into the mind-numbing cold. It didn't stop the fire on her hand, didn't help put out the flames. Strange flames - not red or gold. Green. Blue. Black. Beautiful. Strange, wrong, unnatural, but more beautiful than anything she'd ever seen. Except for the man in her memories and the eyes that glowed silver even in the brightest light. For a moment, she knew him again. For a moment, she saw him stand before her. Alive. Warm. He called her name. What was it? She tried to hear it, tried to tell him to speak louder.
No voice. No air. No air!
Can't breathe...can't...breathe...can't...
Then she could! She coughed as something pulled her out of the water and onto the muddy shore. She coughed and coughed. Her lungs convulsed, her lips parted to allow her to gulp in air. The pain is gone - she realized in a daze. The pain is gone. She looked at her hand, at the marking etched into it. Why was this symbol so wrong? Why did it cause her to cringe? It was larger now. What had once been a single rune was now a series of foreign lines and curves that blazed up her wrist and onto her forearm. She gasped, finally understanding. It wasn't trying to burn her; it was trying to consume her.
"Come here. Let me see it," came a frantic voice. The man with the sky blue eyes turned her over onto her back. Above them, the tear in the heavens gave off such a bright light that his face was thrown into shadow. Still fearful and unsure of his intentions, she tried to move away from him. He followed, grabbed at her arm, and pulled. Too weak to resist, she fell forward. Crashed into his chest. He ran his fingers over the fiendish writing on her skin. No. He shouldn't touch it. Poison. It was poison. She struggled. "Easy..." he murmured against her ear. "Easy, da'len."
"T-That's not m-my name," she protested. Warm. He was so very warm. And she so cold. Freezing. Shivering. Shuddering. Teeth chattering. The water was to blame. The icy lake.
"Be still," he pleaded. Reaching up, he tore the fur cloak from his shoulders and wrapped it around her. Warm. So warm. "I can help you. Please, let me help you."
"W-What is it?" the stranger within her gasped, eyes fixated on her hand. "Please...please remove it..."
"I cannot," he replied. "But I can keep it from growing. For now. Just for a little longer." Then his fingers lit up with an azure glow that enveloped her arm. A ticklish sensation - flower petals brushing against skin. "Don't be afraid," he hurried to say when she tensed. "It's just - "
"Magic," she breathed. That word sounded right, felt natural. It brought with it a wave of emotions: fear, trepidation, relief, and happiness. Strange. So strange.
"This may hurt. Please try to stay still." Though he warned her, she felt nothing. No pain. Just the cold. And weariness. The mark on her hand grew smaller and smaller until it looked almost like an ordinary tattoo on her palm. So tired. If only she could..."Don't sleep yet. Stay awake until you are warm," he commanded.
Don't close your eyes...promise me!
The voice echoed through time, reached out to her through a narrow gap in memory. Then gone again. Frustration gave her the strength to keep her eyes from falling closed, gave her some hope that perhaps not all was lost. If she could remember this much, then perhaps she could regain her past, understand who she was. Perhaps with such a goal, living wasn't so painful after all.
"If it w-wasn't you who awakened m-me...then w-who?" she asked the stranger.
"Perhaps it was the tear in the Veil. Do you not remember anything?" She shook her head, still shivering. Her eyes reflected the tear above. Determination. She liked that word. It felt strong; felt like it could make her into something that was more than a shell.
"The s-sky can't stay like t-that," she said, her shivers finally receding.
"No. It can't."
"This mark is part of it, isn't it?" How could she have known that? Nothing was clear; nothing was certain. Except this. Suddenly, she felt the truth in her own words, felt the power in them. "I can feel it. They are connected." The man above shifted, moving his hand away from hers. The glow receded. The magic. She turned, twisted to see his face. High cheekbones, long eyelashes, a scar above his eye. Using her untainted hand, she reached up to try and feel his face. Eyes could be fooled; eyes could be tricked. But hands were strong; hands wouldn't lie. He jerked back when her cold fingers brushed against his jaw, a look of uncertainty marring his otherwise serene features.
"We must use the mark to close the tear," he revealed. "There isn't much time." He tried to hide it – the truth. She heard the hesitation in his voice. It wasn't as simple as using the mark.
"I may die," she whispered, daring to say what he would not. His eyes widened; he hadn't expected her to know. "It's alright. I'm not afraid." But she was. The terror hovered over her heart, a spectre warning her of the encroaching darkness.
"I am sorry," he stressed. "There is no other way."
"Take me there," she pleaded. "Take me to the tear." He nodded and helped her to her feet. When she would have returned his cloak, he shook his head and insisted that she keep it.
Walking hurt, not because of wounds or bruises, but because she knew that each step took her closer to her doom. Yet, each step also brought new clarity. Her mind began to feel less like splinters of thought and more like a single entity. She tried to fill the time with memory, tried to remember how she'd gotten here. But, the endeavor was fruitless. Locks of the hardest material locked away her past. Did it really matter if she remembered? Perhaps she'd been brought back for this single cruelty – to live again, only to die as a sacrifice to fix some kind of heinous deed.
She and the other elf spoke little during the walk through the Temple ruins. Her eyes hungrily took in everything around her. This place felt somehow familiar, important. She was certain that it was a part of her past. Broken pots and chests lay scattered among the rubble, resembling fragments of glass after the shattering of a mirror. Intricate designs colored their surface, some carvings worn away by age or disaster. Yet, they still looked beautiful. Their age gave them meaning, significance.
As they stepped further into the complex, she saw piles of corpses. Some were kneeling; others had died in contorted positions. Their skin and most of their flesh was burned off, some still burning even in the cold. Their mouths hung open, eyes looking up at the sky in unchecked horror. Some knelt in prayer, some in supplication. Others curled up on their sides, no doubt cursing their fates in their last moments. Still others stood straight, staring at the sky. Perhaps they'd been caught by surprise, unaware. Or perhaps they'd chosen to accept their deaths. The horror of it was almost unbearable.
"What happened here?" she shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself.
"An accident. A terrible mistake," the elf replied in cryptic fashion. As they reached the center of the ruins, she felt the chasm above swirl with anticipation. It seemed that, as she sensed it, it felt her. For a few moments, she and Solas stood before it – watching it, observing. She knew what must be done, what she must give up. Duty tugged her forward; an unexplained lust for life held her back.
I don't want to die here.
Yet that was why she'd come. Confused about the turmoil in her heart, she looked to her companion. His face was devoid of anything – like a painting or a mural.
"Are you ready?" he asked, glancing at her. Understanding shone out through his eyes, a sort of acceptance. She nodded. "I will protect you from the demons. Whatever you do, you must remain focused. If the Breach isn't sealed…"
"All will be lost," she finished for him.
"Yes."
This is the last time I will see him. Somehow, that felt lonely. Solas. The only person she knew. Her world, aside from that warm campfire and the snowy wood. His back faced her, his shoulders hunched. Did he hold the world there? What was it that burdened him so? Perhaps, in another world, she could have known. Now…well…it was too late. Still, something about his melancholy brought her a physical pain. She stepped forward, unsure of what to do or say. In that moment he, too, reached out, and their fingers intertwined. How had he known that this was what she needed? How could he have guessed?
Then he turned, and she understood. He needed it as well.
"Did I know you?" she asked.
"Perhaps…nothing is impossible." His cryptic answer gave her no reassurance. Slowly, she unwound their hands and turned back to the rift. No more hesitation. The longer she waited, the less she wanted to leave. Without looking back at him, she moved towards her fate. Step by hesitant step, she closed the distance between her and the shifting tear. Step by step. Heartbeat by heartbeat. Breath by breath. Then, she stood beneath it. Waves of power washed over her – cold, unfeeling, unnatural.
She breathed in.
Prepared.
And reached.
Knowing that this might be her last action in this strange and beautiful world, she still raised her hand to meet the maelstrom. The knowledge was there, in the forefront of her mind. Not hers, but planted there by someone. Not that it mattered. All that was of any consequence was the fact that she knew how to use the mark. Everything else – her possible failure, her possible death, the chance that the Breach would swallow the realm – none of it mattered. The first wave of resistance from the Breach nearly pushed her off her feet.
She held her ground. Then, like a moth emerging from its deep and boundless sleep, someone awakened in her soul. She felt them there, standing with her, keeping her upright. The mark on her hand flared to life, sending jolts of agony through her arm.
Steady. Keep it steady. I will help.
Who are you? – she demanded, frightened.
I am you. As you are myself. Though, soon, that is going to change.
We will die here – she cried out.
No. You may yet live.
She struggled to stay on her feet. The force of the mark told her to kneel, to bend, to fall. But the mysterious voice held her up with ghostly arms, gave her the resolve to remain standing.
Heed me – the strange voice decreed in her mind. Heed me, for I am the one who shapes Fate.
In a flash of lightning, the mark connected. Like one piece of a soul crying out to another, it beckoned the energy of the Breach towards it. Closer and closer. Like a pair of star-crossed lovers, they merged. Their joining was as inevitable as the pull of gravity. As the connection was forged, she felt rending pain tear at her arm again. A drain. A hunger. The Breach yearned for a sacrifice. Immediately, she thought of the man with silver eyes. Her memories. They were a part of her. Surely if she gave them up…
No. Don't let me go…Don't let me go…
But I don't even know you! – she wanted to scream. The Breach silenced her, stole her voice and her breath.
Please…don't let me go…
The mark grew again, spitting fire and lightning as it burned up her arm to cover her shoulder. It snaked upwards, hissing as it carved into her neck and some of her face. The pain brought tears to her eyes. The thought of giving up the only part of herself that was true broke her heart. Still, it had to be done. She would not die here, not again. Something had given her life, and she had to understand why. Above, the tear groaned under a new burden.
With wide eyes, she watched as demon hands and claws began to pierce through the barrier. In a flash of light, the tear detonated, sending out shades, Despair, Desire, and lastly – Pride. The largest of them crashed to the ground in a great explosion of snow and dirt. She heard Solas's panicked shout, but couldn't turn to see what was happening. Right now, she needed to focus on closing the tear. Focus. Focus. FOCUS! Gritting her teeth, she pushed against the power in her hand, willing it to subdue the tear, willing it to take whatever it needed to do so. A screech behind her startled her, and she glanced back to see that a greater shade was bearing down upon her. Its body was black and charred, its hands deformed and ugly. A mouth opened to reveal rows of acid-coated fangs. Its grotesque mouth didn't form the words, but she heard them in her heart.
Kill…Kill…Kill you, eat you, devour you, break you…
No! – she couldn't move. The mark held her in chains. With a soundless scream, she saw it raise its enormous claws and prepare to strike her down. It stopped just short of decapitating her, so close that she could smell its foul breath, could feel it fanning on her face as hot as molten lava. It wavered for a moment, poised over her, then fell to the ground, writhing in agony before turning to dust.
"Are you alright?" she looked up and saw a lion. Red and black fur made up its mane. Yet, it was human. Through the intricate metallic head, she saw eyes the color of rich earth. She wanted to say something, but the mark bound her to its will. The lion raised his sword and shield, slashing at another rage demon that dared to get too close. He'd saved her life. Lion, or human? She couldn't think anymore. Her thoughts muddled together; the drain on her strength continued as the mark captured her attention once again. Unable to thank her savior, she turned back to the tear. Demon eyes met her own. They whispered vile things inside her mind – taunting, teasing.
You have failed. You tried to live, and yet all you've ever done is bring death upon those you claimed to care for.
Silence! I will not listen to you! – her other self snarled back.
Remember him. Remember them both. Shall I show you how desperately you failed them? Shall I say their names so that you might recall your insignificance?
Stop it!
Let's start with the most recent, with a man you claimed to call a friend. What was his name? Ah, yes…
Anders…
Horror mushroomed in her chest. Images flooded her mind, reopening wounds and scars she hadn't even known were there. As clear as day, she saw his face. Amber eyes – soft, loving, caring. Silken hair tied back. And then lips – a kiss as forbidden as sin. My friend…my dearest friend…her heart whispered. Then he was on fire. His clothing burned; his skin melted. All the while, the smile did not leave his face. She screamed, called to him, but her voice was gone. Silent. Just like him.
You couldn't save him.
Couldn't save him.
But we can bring him back.
Back for you.
Just leave. Let the tear open. Let us in.
"No!" she shouted, her voice hoarse. "Foul creatures! I will not give into you!" Through the haze of sorrow in her mind, she recognized that the one speaking wasn't her. It was her past - the woman that must have been her, once. She felt the connection and reached for it, hoping to understand it. But, it was impossible. Futile. She could never be that woman again.
Do not let them go. Keep them in your heart – the woman said. I must go, but your path doesn't end here. It only begins.
There were a thousand things she wanted to tell her past self, a thousand more answers that she needed. Who was she? What mistakes had led her to this point in time? How could she prevent them? Yet, more than anything, she wanted to know…
Arianwen. That is our name. Take it with my blessing.
The demons within the tear howled in agony. At last! At last the mark was working! She held her hand as still as she could. The bones within felt brittle. Darkness crept at the corners of her vision, but she wasn't concerned. She couldn't be. Not when she watched as more emerald chains erupted from the symbol on her hand and wrapped around the tear. Pulling, tugging, forcing. The chains pulsated, shaking until – yes! – the maw of the tear began to shift closed. Each moment that passed felt like a century; each moment cost her everything. Yet, still – she stood. Brave, proud, unyielding. This was her past self; this was what she wanted her future to become.
Stand your ground.
Steel your heart.
Then, miraculously, it was over. The chains snapped and disintegrated. As the two sides of the tear came together and fused, they released a wave of heat and energy. The blast hit her full force and sent her flying. No matter. It was over. She flew through the air and hit one of the Temple walls. The back of her skull felt like it had been bludgeoned with a maul. Exhausted and on the verge of losing consciousness, she looked to the sky…
And cried.
It was not the end. Though the colossal rift had been sealed, the Breach remained. As darkness greeted her, she gave in, feeling as empty as the moment she awakened.
