Snow had started falling by the time Yara and Bethany returned to the outside. The passage had brought them to a mountain pass that overlooked the valley, and the biting air was harsh against their faces. Yara hobbled to the craggy edge, surveying the landscape. Dawn had broken, but the churning clouds blotted out the sun, leaving only the sickly glow of the Breach. She could just make out the tiny buildings that made up Haven far below, but the visibility was worsening. A blizzard was coming.

Bethany sighed, her breath fogging the air. Drawing her hood over, she made towards the narrow path. Yara let her walk ahead, pulling her own scarf up, before limping after her. The Antivan Crow had kept his word, and they had encountered no further trouble during their escape. But it had been a gruelling walk, and the deafening silence between them had made it all the harder. Yara had caught each and every one of Bethany's stifled sobs, and that had provoked her own tears. Everything felt so raw inside, and she yearned to comfort the mage, but when even a glance triggered such crippling fear…

She shook her head, drawing her cloak closer. Now another burden added to the mix, one neither she nor Bethany could ignore. But the promise of finally breaking Morrigan's fugue had lost its allure, and Yara wished she could purge it from her thoughts. The Antivan must have known about these 'Shards of Andraste' from the beginning, yet had still sent Yara on a fool's errand. Four years of needless hardship and suffering, four years of being hunted and broken, and it had culminated into a wound so painful and twisted that Yara barely recognised herself. She couldn't trust anymore, couldn't untangle the longing and terror that distorted every feeling within.

And the thought of something out there that could unleash it all at once…

Yara's foot caught in a patch of ice, and she slipped. She dug her sword into the ground, stopping herself falling, but her left leg groaned. Grimacing, she was forced to sit, grasping her lower thigh. Bethany spun around, retracing her steps. She reached out a hand, but Yara shied. The mage's magic was still too weak for healing, and she would not bear Bethany's touch if she could avoid it.

Biting back the pain, Yara made herself stand, then began walking again. She quickly had to slow down; the cold was seeping deeper, making her muscles seize up. Bethany remained right behind her, and Yara could hear her every breath. She forced it out of her mind, concentrating on the icy path. The snowfall thickened, and she raised her forearm to her eyes. She had to keep going.

The pass grew steeper, descending further into the valley. Scree blended with the ice, making it even more hazardous. Yara hesitated, taking feather-light steps. The wind snatched her breath away, and every movement was more effort than it should have been. She must have lost more blood than she realised. Her sword clacked rhythmically into the stone, but the distance between each grew longer and longer. Eventually she stumbled, and Bethany grasped her arm.

"We won't get much further like this," the mage declared. She renewed her grip, her fingers digging deep. Yara resisted, her pulse trembling, but then the mage's knee pressed into her injured leg. She cried out, and Bethany pulled her arm across her shoulders. In moments she had hoisted Yara onto her back, not caring for her tremors. Yara froze, and she let out a whimper. Her head slumped onto the mage's shoulder, begging for sleep. She took a sharp breath, the snow like needles in her throat. No, the darkness…

"Won't let…stubborn idiot…freeze to death…" Bethany panted, falling into a steady pace. She hooked her arms under Yara's thighs, tugging at the wound, but Yara didn't have the strength to protest. Finally she could fight fatigue no longer, and her eyes closed.

Her red hair tickles my cheek as she braces me onto her shoulders. My lips can still taste the bitter Sacred Ashes, and my chest draws shallow breaths. They had almost stopped entirely not so long ago. But my hand burns, and my head throbs. Only time will tell if I will be spared from death. I barely cling to consciousness, but her voice rings clear in my ears.

"I won't let you die," she mutters to herself. "Not when we need you. When…" She hesitates. "…when I need you."

Her grip adjusts, and she falls into an even pace. Every step transmits to me, and pain pulses through my temples. But crying out is beyond me. All I can do is focus on her warmth, her scent, and pray our efforts have not been in vain.

"You were never easy to reach," she continues, perhaps to keep her own fatigue at bay. "You always keep yourself hidden away, even to your friends. It lets you possess incredible strength, but it also puts a terrible burden on you." For a moment she slows, and takes a quivering breath. "If only you had told me how much you were hurting inside, perhaps I could have…" She cannot finish, and chokes back tears. "Maker, that woman has taken enough from me! Please, Elissa, you have to live!"

The darkness jerked, and Yara's eyes opened again. Warmth played over her face, and she made out the flicker of firelight. She was resting against the wall of a cave, wrapped in a thick fur. Bethany was curled near the fire, her breaths soft and even. The wind screamed outside, flooding everything with snow. It seemed the mage had found them shelter just in time.

Yara rubbed her eyes, yawning. Another flashback, yet this one had not choked her with dread. Still, the details remained foggy, and she sighed. She ran her fingers over her sore leg, which had been dressed with a fresh bandage. It was not throbbing as much, though still stung when she tried to move it. She let her hand drop, watching the storm blitz past the cavern entrance. She hoped Nathaniel and the others had not been caught in the flurry.

Bethany murmured in her sleep, and Yara looked to her. Her face was pale, her body so frail and exhausted. Yara watched her for a moment, then turned away, holding her arms around herself. She had burdened the mage too much, and for too long. Even now she could not understand what Bethany saw in her; how the mage felt she was worth more than being with her own sister. And Yara had made the mistake of letting her too close, where she stirred feelings that remained tied to her unknown past. Feelings she had deliberately kept suppressed, and now they pulled her in all directions.

Yara put her head in her hands, her doubts swirling. Bethany was so dear to her, dearer than any family she might have known, but she couldn't go on like this. Should she follow the Antivan's advice and seek this lost temple? Would remembering the past allow her to finally break free of the whirlwind inside? But what if it was another red herring, another ploy meant to only break her further?

And what if restoring her memories changed nothing…

"No," she whispered to herself. The promise of freedom was a lie; just like everything else her life had become. She had wanted to believe she had moved on, that the truth meant nothing anymore, but still it lurked in the darkness, gnawing at the falsity she had created. The Left Hand had awakened it further, and its icy tendrils wrapped in her thoughts, whispering in voices she could feel but not hear. She no longer knew who she was, but more than that; she no longer wanted to know. Not when it would be the crushing blow to everything she had tried to become.

When it would force her to choose between a lover she couldn't remember and the mage who had never strayed from her side…

Yara shivered, memories of that night in Kirkwall calling back to her. Everything had happened so fast, and it had left her original plans in ruin. If only she had been strong enough to keep Bethany with Hawke, then the mage would have been spared such heartache. It was not right that she'd endured the same suffering, when it all should have been on Yara's shoulders. Now her pain was wounding them both, and Yara could not stand Bethany hurting like this any longer.

She had to let her go.

Pulling the fur aside, Yara slowly rose to her feet. Her leg prickled, but it was no longer so tricky to put her weight through it. She reclaimed her cloak, then picked up her weapons and pack. The fire spat and crackled as she drew her scarf up and threaded her arms through the straps. Her gaze fell to Bethany again, and her chest tightened.

"You deserve better," she murmured.

Swallowing, Yara quietly stepped towards the cavern entrance. There seemed no respite to the blizzard, and Yara sighed, resigned to wait. All she needed was a single moment, and then Bethany would be free of her.

Finally, the wind started to lessen. The snowfall slowed, and Yara stood, holding a hand against the cave wall. She clenched her teeth, willing away the last of her hesitation. It was now or never.

"No…please…"

Yara spun around. Bethany had called out in sleep. Her arms were curled around herself, and she was shivering. A nightmare.

"Don't…don't leave me…"

Don't leave me alone!

Yara's eyes widened. Bile soured her throat, and she retreated, throwing down her pack and weapons. She picked up the fur again, hunching down against the wall, and bowed her head. Her hands shook, and she drew her arms around her knees.

She was still too weak.

"Maker, they finally made it!"

Yara blinked, finding the strength to raise her head. Her whole body sagged with weariness, and it was all Bethany could do to keep them both standing. A sudden landslide had made their journey even more drawn out, and it was only now under the light of the rising moon that they had returned to Haven.

Lahara came running from the stables, still dressed in her travelling gear. She halted just short of them, her mismatched eyes widened.

"Well, don't you two look a treat," she commented, her brows narrowing. "And I distinctly remember ordering you to stay in Haven, Bethany."

"Sorry," Bethany whispered. She made to take another step, when her eyes rolled upwards and she almost fell from Yara's hold. A twinge ran through Yara's leg and she tensed, barely able to support the mage's weight.

"Whoa!" Lahara tossed aside the mage's pack and staff, then took her from Yara. "Hey Cassandra, help me out here!"

The Seeker turned, broken from her conversation from the weapon smith. Her jaw tensed, and she strode over, barking orders to the nearest soldier. She came to Yara's side, and took her arm across her shoulders.

"Maker, are you alright?" Cassandra asked.

"Leg," Yara said weakly.

"Infirmary, now," Lahara stated, lifting Bethany into her arms. "Maker, what did you do to her, Yara?" She shook her head. "You know, never mind. I'll yell at you later when you don't look like you're going to collapse any second."

Cassandra called to the soldiers at the gate, and the iron doors were swiftly opened. Bethany's eyelids twitched, but she didn't otherwise stir. Yara sighed, reminded of their initial visit to the village. That prompted thoughts of Nathaniel, and she frowned.

"Nathaniel…the others?" she asked.

"Got here about an hour ago, a little after we did," Lahara answered. "He was going to head out again to search for you, but it looks like you've saved him the trouble."

Yara managed a nod, relieved.

"Solas has already mentioned some troubling things about what you found," Cassandra added. "But let us see your injuries tended first. Then you can tell us the rest."

They headed up the steep path and entered the infirmary. Now it housed ten beds, and was covered with a thick canvas to keep out the snow. Crates and tables lined the edges, overflowing with healing supplies, and a stone hearth stood at the opposite end, filled with warm embers. At present the beds were empty, and the healer—a young woman with curled brown hair—was counting stock with her assistant.

"Healer, two new ones for you," Lahara announced, laying Bethany onto a cot. Cassandra followed suit, helping Yara to sit on the bed beside the mage. The healer turned from her sorting, and arched a brow.

"Ah, no problem, Herald." She walked over, unclipping a round device strapped around her arm, while her assistant started to gather water, vials and clean dressings. The healer fixed the device around Bethany's elbow, and the sight made Yara frown. Something about the gesture seemed awfully familiar.

"Here, allow me," Lahara said, breaking Yara's thoughts.

Yara sighed, stretching out her leg. She watched as the Herald removed the bandages, wincing as the cloth snagged the clots and set it bleeding again. Lahara then widened the tear in Yara's legging, exposing the damaged skin. She set her hand onto it, and calming blue light seeped from her fingers into the wound. The bleeding stopped, and Yara hissed, the magic burning away the debris and grit inside. At last the break closed completely, although the pain lingered. Lahara sat back, satisfied.

"Hmm, looks like I've still got it," she smirked. She stole a glance at Bethany, whose cuts and scrapes were being cleaned, and let out a breath. "So, I take it you two still aren't on speaking terms yet?"

Yara bristled. Did the Herald have to be so blunt?

"She shouldn't have come in the first place," she murmured.

"Oh don't worry, I completely agree with you," Lahara answered. "But you've both come back in one piece, more or less, so I suppose I can't be too upset." She turned to the healer. "How's our mage, Healer?"

"Exhausted and a bit dehydrated, but she'll be fine after a good rest," the healer answered. "What about your charge, Herald?"

"I've done most of the dirty work, but I'll leave the rest in your capable hands," Lahara said. She rose to her feet, flexing her fingers, before she nodded at Cassandra. "We need to give our full report, Cassandra. I'll find Nathaniel, and if you could bring Cullen and Leliana to the meeting room, I'll see you there."

"At once," Cassandra said. She bowed to Yara. "May the Maker return your strength swiftly."

"We'll have our own talk later, Yara," Lahara added in an undertone. "I'll see you around."

The two departed for the Chantry, their steps crunching through the snow. Yara let out a breath, resting back on her cot. She glanced aside, as the healer draped a blanket over Bethany's sleeping form. The woman's gaze lingered on the mage, and she tilted her head. Then something seemed to click, and her eyes shot to Yara. The moment their gaze met, Yara sat up, her jaw hanging slack.

Of all people…

"Eliza?"

The healer broke into a grin.

"Maker, I thought you two seemed familiar!" She strode over and clasped Yara's hand. "It's been way too long, Yara." She brushed back her curls. "Bet you found it hard to place me, what with all my grey hairs, right?"

Despite herself, Yara managed a smile. It seemed the charming teenager who had cared for her in her darkest days had followed in her father's footsteps.

"You're all grown up," Yara said. "But what's brought you to Haven?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Eliza gestured to the roof of the tent, although Yara knew she was referring to the Breach. "With something like that hanging over our heads, I figured the Inquisition could do with a healer. I might not be a mage like Father was, but I've developed a few tricks of my own."

Yara's eyes widened. "Viren? Is he…"

"Passed away last year," Eliza said, not hiding the sadness from her tone. "Can't say it's been easy, but I've managed pretty well, considering."

"I'm so sorry," Yara said, guilt bubbling in her throat. The man who had saved her life was gone, and she had never even thought to keep in touch. "I never even…"

"Yara, it's okay," Eliza answered. "We all have our own lives to lead, right? And you paid us back more than enough all the time you were in Amaranthine." She glanced across to Bethany. "But it looks like you and Bethany still can't keep your noses out of trouble. What happened out there?"

Yara clenched her teeth, looking away. It was still too painful to talk about. Eliza's gaze softened, and she touched Yara's shoulder.

"Hey, she'll be alright," Eliza assured. "Besides, you two wouldn't be so close if you didn't hit a rough patch now and then." She began to strap the round device to Yara's arm. "Anyway, how about I do my job and have a look at you, before the Herald has my head?"

The sun was high by the time Yara awoke again. Eliza had given her a sleeping draught, and it had certainly left her feeling a lot better. It had even been enough to silence the dreams, although Yara knew that effect wore off after a few uses. Nonetheless, the deep weariness that had haunted her the past few nights had eased, and she was grateful for the respite, however short-lived.

Yawning, she sat up, brushing her hair from her eyes. Bethany remained sound asleep on her cot, almost completely covered by the blanket. Eliza's assistant sat with her, recording observations in a small notebook. He didn't seem too worried, so the mage must have been doing well. At least physically…

"Warden Yara?"

Yara blinked, not used to such an address. She turned around, and found an unfamiliar woman waiting on her. Her olive skin and dark hair marked her Antivan heritage, and she was dressed in gold and purple silks. From the way she carried herself, she was certainly from a high standing, and seemed quite out of place in the snowy wastes.

"We have not been formally introduced," the woman went on, bowing politely. "My name is Lady Josephine Montilyet, and I am Ambassador to the Inquisition. A pleasure to finally meet you in person."

Yara nodded. "What do you require of me, my lady?"

"First of all, I hope you and Warden Bethany are recovering well after your recent mishaps," Josephine said. "And second of all, I have come to return something to you, on behalf of a friend."

Yara raised a puzzled brow, as the diplomat brought out a small leather pouch. She opened it, emptying its contents into her palm, and Yara caught a gleam of silver.

"Here." Josephine offered her hand, revealing a silver chain and a tiny glass vial filled with a dark liquid. Yara's eyes widened. It was her Warden pendant. She had barely given it a second thought since the Left Hand had taken it. It had come to mean so much to her, yet now it also left her with bitter emptiness. It was her only physical link to the past she could not recall; the past she no longer wanted. But after all that had happened…

Josephine cleared her throat, growing impatient.

"Well? Do you still wish to keep it?" she asked. "If not…"

Yara sighed. Against her better judgement she took the necklace, drawing it between her fingers. Even though it had been soiled by the Left Hand's touch, she could not bring herself to discard it. Not yet.

"Sorry," Yara said. "And thank you."

"Good," Josephine said, seemingly pleased. "Leliana is many things, but a common thief is not one of them."

Yara flinched at the spymaster's name, and Josephine's eyes softened.

"I am sorry," she said. "I do not mean to make excuses for what happened, but you must understand that Leliana has faced many hardships over the years." She let out a breath. "You could say it brings out her…rougher edges, at times. But know that she deeply regrets what she did to you, and I hope you will still consider the Inquisition an ally despite this."

Yara said nothing, letting the pendant warm in her palm. It seemed Lahara was pulling out all the stops, desperate for her to remain and help. But it was too late for that. The Herald had promised Yara's freedom on completion of her investigation, and once she had given her report, that was exactly what she planned to do. No more empty promises, no more chasing shadows, no more pointless suffering.

She would walk away from it all, and never look back...

A sudden shout echoed from the gate, and Josephine frowned. Before she could comment, however, the doors were thrust open, and a panicked horse's whinny followed.

"Who's in charge around here?" A powerful, booming male voice; one that made Yara catch her breath. "I demand a full and complete explanation as to why my contingent of Ferelden Grey Wardens were murdered in cold blood!"

Alistair?

"Ser, please! I can fetch the Herald…"

"Then make it quick!"

Josephine shook her head.

"My apologies, Warden, but I must take my leave." She bowed, before hurrying towards the commotion.

Yara remained stock still, clutching her pendant. Her heart pounded, and she swallowed. The Warden-Commander had presumed her and Bethany dead since the incident at Kirkwall. What would he think if he found them here?

"Alistair!" Nathaniel's voice called out. Yara turned, catching sight of his boots beyond the canvas as he ran down to meet the Commander.

"By the Maker, you're still alive!" Alistair breathed. "What in Andraste's name has been going on?"

"It's a long story…"

Their voices died away as Nathaniel took the Warden-Commander into the Chantry. Yet the lingering silence remained tense, and Yara lay down again, pulling her blanket over and closing her eyes. She had little doubt Nathaniel would mention their presence, but whatever happened, she would not be guilted into staying. No matter the consequences.

Too soon, footsteps entered the infirmary, coming to a stop at her bedside. Yara didn't move, hoping they would think her asleep and leave her. But then a warm hand shook her, and she couldn't help but open an eye. Nathaniel stood above her, his brow creased.

"Sorry to wake you, Yara," he said, meaning it, "but I've got news. Warden-Commander Alistair's come all the way from the Vigil, and there's something urgent he needs to tell the three of us."