Chapter 3

It had taken them a week to find what they needed to make an amulet and challenge the Hessarian leader. In the end it was better than wiping out able warriors when they were made allies so easily. Converting the Hessarian stronghold into a usable outpost had taken a few more days, but over all, the time taken would save them months of manpower with a steady supply cache for local agents.

The returning party to Haven consisted of Sera, The Iron Bull, Solas and the Herald. Solas had started another argument. He started with a seemingly innocuous question to Sera about her lack of knowledge regarding elv'han culture. It quickly snowballed into near shouting match between Solas and the Herald, with Sera inserting snide remarks and Bull trying to make peace.

A rift opened above where the party paused arguing and they immediately dismounted and spread out preparing for another fight. However, instead of the demons they expected to rise from the ground around the rift two figures fell from the small tear in the sky. A male elf landed roughly on the ground first, followed more gracefully by a woman who rolled and in a fluid motion, and stood. She drew her arms apart, staffed raised in her right hand, and with a clapping gesture sealed the rift behind them before collapsing to the ground, clinging to her staff and breathing hard.

"Demon!" The Herald snarled and rushed the woman, sword raised high. She was repelled forcefully by a barrier emanating from the hunched figure.

"You have called me a lot of stupid shit, asa'ma'lin, but that has to be the stupidest yet. Do you happen to have an elfroot potion handy? I've dragged Tawarthion a long way through the Fade and I am going to be very angry if he dies of fade sickness now."

"Fainarial? It can't be you." Faelwen gasped as the figure turned to face the Herald; their identical features proclaimed her identity despite Fainariel's lack of vallas'lin.

"Is that a no on the potion?" Fainariel asked wryly.

"I thought you said your sister was dead, Boss," The Iron Bull stated.

"Presumed dead, apparently only lost in the fade for all this time." Solas remarked as he stepped forward and offered the woman kneeling a potion from his belt.

"Nuvas ema ir'enastela." Fainariel said as she moved to her companion. "Rosa, rosa roga, Tawarthion, rosa, we made it." She murmured softly to the man on the ground as administered the draught. He moaned and choked at the potion, but the woman worked calmly, murmuring soothing words in El'vhan and eventually her patient consumed much of the potion. During this, the others had stepped away to confer without being overheard though they all watched the new arrivals warily.

"Boss, is that really your sister?" The Iron Bull asked again.

"They frickin' fell from a rift, like frikin demons that ain't right and then swoosh, smack closed! Like friggin' glowing hand but no glowing." Sera spewed.

"They are not demons and they do not seem to be possessed. I am very curious to know how she open and close a rift with no aid from the anchor and how they managed to survive in the fade for so long." Solas added.

"Your are sure they aren't demons?" Faelwen asked cautiously.

"No, they are most certainly people of the waking world." Solas assured.

"Thank The Creators!" Faelwen breathed. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes as stepped past her companions and back to her sister's side.

"Fainariel, Tawarthion." She whispered tearfully to the newcomers and knelt down at her sister's side.

"So much to tell you Faelwen, but for now we need to get Tawarthion some place warm and let him recover." Faniariel said leaning onto her twin's shoulder wearily.

"Of course, I am so glad you are alive!"

Fainariel attempted to reply as she stood, but the exhausted mage wavered and collapsed into unconsciousness, Faelwen's strong arms caught her and kept her from falling to the damp earth.

The group managed to carry the sleeping elves back to the former Hessarian stronghold. The duo shared a straw mattress in one of the small rooms for two days, nursed by the Herald and Solas. Tawarthion regained consciousness first and opened his eyes to Faelwen's smiling face with confusion. "Is this another demon trick? Am I dead, finally?" He croaked horsely.

Faelwen smiled and offered him water, which he drank greedily until she took it away "Slow down, you've been in the fade for months and unconscious for two days, too much too fast and you'll get sick."

Tawarthion gave her his most charming smile he could muster with cracked lips and a salacious wink, "For your pleasure, lady, I will go whatever speed you'd like." He said in El'vhan, the teasing remark made her laugh loudly.

"You are the worst! Fainariel drags your sorry ass through the fade for months and the first thing you do is flirt with her sister. At this rate she'll never marry you." Her light hearted words caused him to sober.

"No, the fade has a way of revealing truths and torturing you with them. Your sister. I said horrible things, did, terrible," A broken sob escaped him, "She's forgiven me. but there will be no going back to how we were." He remarked bitterly. His behavior and sudden change alarmed the Inquisitor.

"Creators, what happened to you in there?"

"I can't describe it all. The spirits and demons take your memories and create lies they make you believe; feel things that aren't real. We were trapped by a demon of Terror and tortured by his minions. It tried stealing our memories, and I wanted to be possessed, I wanted anything to make it end, but she saved me. Your sister." He trialed off to take another deep drink of water, "She held me together, fought forever, called spirits to help hide us, but that was always temporary. She wouldn't let them risk their lives to save ours. She treated them like people, damndest thing and they told her things about you, about the Terror demon and things I don't even remember." He started to cry, "It was too much for me, I tried to give her to the demon, Faelwen, I betrayed her again and again, and she still got me out." He dissolved into wracking sobs.

Solas moved from where he had been standing by the door and with a touch to the man's shoulder sent Tawarthion back to sleep. "Thank you," Faelwen said, "I am going to get some rest, and see if we'll be ready to head out tomorrow. Alert me if either of them wakes again, I'll have some broth sent."

"As you wish, Inquisitor." He replied woodenly, but she did not acknowledge him at all as she left, deep in her own thoughts. Solas settled into the now unoccupied chair and observed the sleeping elves. The man's words were intriguing and concerning. This woman who survived two months in the fade. She was kin to the hard, crass, callous Inquisitor who so openly disliked him was a new element. This Fainariel, friend of spirits, forgiver of betrayal, and a mage powerful enough to open and close a rift seemingly unaided. Dangerous, curious and ripe with new potential. In the two days they had slept she had not dreamed, Solas had looked out of curiosity, but her sleep was the dreamless rest of the exhausted.

The other one, the man, Tawarthion, he had dreams. Terrible, horrible dreams. Tormented by nightmarish things, Solas was able to manipulated him easily. This man was a treasure trove of memories of better times with the twins which Tawarthion was desperate to relive in order to avoid his guilt and the horrors which haunted him. As the he slept, Solas learned, as he always did, through memories and dreams in the fade.