The High Priestess: A woman of great strength sits between two pillars, crowned by her intuition and the phases of the moon. She is the threshold between two worlds, the material and the divine. The sea laps at her feet and is tangled in the folds of her robe. Behind her, a curtain conceals a portal. Only she can see what lies beyond.


Fen'Harel awoke on the damp earth of the Crossroads – or was it Solas who opened his eyes, stretched his legs and gazed skyward, unbelieving? After seeing Veda, he always felt uncertain, less connected to his mission. Fen'Harel was cautious of such encounters, wary of being tamed to her hand. Solas desired nothing else. He wanted her to take hold of him and never let go.

His chest ached with longing. His throat was raw, as if someone had scrubbed it with sandpaper. He had a crick in his back from sleeping curled up on the hard ground. Yet, despite all this, he felt buoyant, lighter than air. She had seen his shame and she hadn't cringed away. He swore he could still feel the imprint of her lips on his hand, an anchor holding him fast.

Fen'Harel had to keep reminding himself that they weren't together. Veda Lavellan wasn't his. He couldn't be hers, however much he might wish it were different. She had a spirit of surpassing loveliness – it was doubtful he'd see her like again, not if he lived another eight thousand years. Fortunately, he didn't think he had another eight millennia left in him. With the risks he intended to take, he might not last another eight years. The knowledge didn't cost him much sorrow. He had endured too long, too alone. Veda had been a brief island of respite in a vast and empty sea and deprived of that last solace, it would be a relief to sink underwater, to see his duty to an end and lose himself in the perfect sleep of oblivion.

There were so many things he wanted to say to her. As he walked, he found himself talking to Veda in his head, plotting out the stories he would tell her and imagining how she might react to each new discovery. How she would have delighted in Arlathan's magic, the countless spells mingling together, speaking to one another across the centuries. During their remaining time, he would share what little he could with her.

In another world, they might have woven enchantments together over millennia and engaged in conversations that coursed through the years like the ceaseless flow of a river. They would have drifted into uthenera entwined in one another's arms, exploring the realm of dreams and the realm of waking as mated souls. Solas grieved for what might have been, for what should have been, in another world. In this world, Fen'Harel reigned, and duty would triumph over love.


Team meetings in the War Room were never quiet and seldom peaceful, but rarely did they come with such a simmering undercurrent of tension. Veda had announced that she planned to go through the Eluvian and search for Solas in the Crossroads and all at once, the room had fallen deathly silent.

Her advisors looked at one another, hesitant to directly contravene her wishes, each contemplating the tasks that would be left undone in her absence. Blackwall stared intently at the ground. Iron Bull gazed out the window as if contemplating what he was going to eat for lunch. Sera tilted onto the back legs of her chair and muttered something under her breath, probably a dirty limerick.

The redoubtable Madame de Fer drummed her nails on the war table, scrutinizing markers on the map of Orlais with narrowed eyes. She leaned forward, snaking a hand across the Frostback Mountains and flicked a marker over with her index finger. When Vivienne was certain everyone's attention was pinned on her, she stood back and smiled, smoothing her palms over the crushed velvet of her dark red robe.

Ever since the Chantry elected Cassandra to the Sunburst Throne, Veda had observed that Vivienne's ensembles had become increasingly imperious. Gold satin vied with crimson silk, seed pearls and ermine-trimmed sleeves, all the trappings one would associate with a Divine. Veda found the ploy for attention irksome and in remarkably bad taste for a woman who prided herself on an impeccable sense of decorum. Fortunately, Cassandra didn't appear to have noticed Vivienne's attempt to upstage her. Seeker Pentagast devoted as much time to considerations of Orlesian fashions as she did to court etiquette, the intricacies of Nevarran politics or the joys of owning a pet nug – which is to say, none at all.

"Has it occurred to anyone else that this business with the Eluvians is an appallingly bad plan?" Vivienne said. "The Inquisitor has just succeeded in bending the Chantry to her will. She should remain at Skyhold to consolidate her gains, not be chasing off through a looking-glass in search of her elven apostate paramour. Not only is it impractical, it's undignified."

"You'll excuse me, Inquisitor, but I have to agree." Cullen offered Veda an apologetic look. "Taking an expedition into the Eluvian network is a dangerous undertaking. What if you lose your way?"

"I'd map every step of my path," Veda said. "Besides, Cole has regained his memories. With his abilities, he'll be able to help us track Solas."

"I can help," Cole chimed in. "I want to."

"Delightful. You're going to let your pet demon guide the way. This is certain to be a wondrous success." Vivienne turned to Veda, barely bothering to conceal the condescension in her tone. "Darling, you must see that it's an impossible situation. Even if we knew Solas was hiding in an Eluvian – and there's little enough of evidence of that – it seems pure folly to pursue a man who doesn't want to be found. Far be it from me to go prying into affairs of heart -"

"Hah! To do that, you'd need to have a heart," Dorian cut in.

Veda could have kissed him for that, but managed to restrain herself. She made a mental note to lavish him with wine and compliments later, which he'd much prefer anyway.

Vivienne shot Dorian a look that would have frozen beer. "Aren't you just precious? Best not make any further sallies at wit today, my dear. I'd hate to see you strain a muscle."

Veda stepped between them before Dorian could muster up an equally scathing retort.

"Vivienne," she said, keeping her tone as sweet as spun sugar on a Orlesian cake. "I'm certain you mean well – after all, I know you'd only oppose my plans out of a legitimate concern for the Inquisition and not out of any petty vindictiveness – but I called this meeting to inform you all of my decision, not to debate its merits."

Veda paused, giving her words a moment to sink in. Her eyes leveled with Vivienne's, neither issuing a challenge nor backing away from the confrontation that was certain to ensue. They were both women accustomed to getting their way. Neither of them flinched.

"The Inquisition has restored order in Thedas," Veda continued. "There's nothing keeping me from investigating the disappearance of a valued ally whom, yes, I happen to care about deeply. I want to make sure that Solas isn't in danger. In light of the circumstances of his departure from us, I think my concern is more than justified."

"Also, she wants more of that Elven Glory!" Sera made a circle with her fist and poked two fingers in and out, in and out, in a gentle fucking motion. In her enthusiasm, she nearly upended her chair, sending Blackwall into gales of laughter.

"Hey, I don't blame her. Everybody needs to get laid once in a while," Iron Bull said. "All I can say is, Solas has surprised me. He's a cagey one, but he must be doing something good with that staff of his."

Veda rolled her eyes. When she'd been First of Clan Lavellan, she'd been so serious-minded and conscious of her own dignity. Being the butt of bawdy jokes would once have caused her deep and lasting embarrassment. Becoming Inquisitor had cured her of that. She'd come to see that her leadership could withstand a few jests, and that a willingness to laugh at herself could win loyalty and improve morale. Nowadays, she wouldn't have been fazed if Sera had dropped her drawers and farted the Fereldan national anthem – which, at times, was a distinct possibility.

"I'm confused," she said. "How did you people get into the Inquisition again? Blood magic?"

Sera stuck her tongue out. "Har, har, Quizzy-face. We wouldn't be making fun of you if you weren't all hung up on Droopy Ears and his elfy pish. Don't even pretend it isn't about smooshing your elfy bits together, 'cause we know it is. And it's stupid. For once, Vivi-shit has a point. I hate that."

Vivienne heaved a martyred sigh. "Doubtless, Sera is the undisputed expert in all things idiotic. Let's trust her professional opinion, shall we?"

Cassandra frowned, crossing her arms over her chest. "For my part, I think the Inquisitor is right. If Solas is in danger, he deserves our intervention."

"Jokes aside, I agree," Blackwall said. "If the Inquisitor hadn't gone after me...well, you know what would have become of me. If there's a chance that Solas may be in similar situation, I say we go fetch him back."

Veda thought that was remarkably generous of him, considering Solas hadn't been exactly forgiving when they'd discovered the truth behind Blackwall's sudden disappearance. Indeed, his initial response to Blackwall's hidden past had been breathtakingly hypocritical, considering he'd been concealing secrets of his own.

"Thank you," she said. "I'm glad some of you aren't willing to give up on him just yet. Dorian, Cole and Abelas have agreed to accompany me on the mission. While I'm gone, Josephine will be in charge of day-to-day operations at Skyhold -" she glanced at Josephine, who returned her gaze with a faint smile, "- Cullen will retain command of our forces -" Cullen answered with a nod, " - and Leiliana will deal with any new matters that arise in our field operations." Leiliana clasped her hands together behind her back, her expression keen and eager.

"I expect that all of you who choose to remain here will support them in their work," Veda continued. "If, for some reason, I'm away for an unreasonable period of time, there are continuity plans in place. I don't anticipate that it will come to that, but we have created safeguards. Facing the unknown is part of what I do as Inquisitor. If I face the unknown with confidence it's because we have good people here at Skyhold and we've planned for contingencies, however unlikely."

After the meeting was concluded, Cassandra strode to Veda's side. "It's good you're going after Solas. I'd come with you if I didn't have to be in Val Royaux for the coronation." She gave a contemptuous snort. "Hours of ceremony. You can guess how much I'm looking forward to that."

"I don't suppose you can read the latest issue of Swords and Shields while they're praying over you?" Veda teased. "Maybe sneak it in under The Chant of Light?"

Cass wrinkled her nose, even as the hint of a smile crept across her lips. "That is completely heretical. And much less funny than you think. Perhaps it's for the best that you're traveling through the Eluvians and won't be able to attend."

Veda smirked. In Dorian's company, she sometimes felt like the uptight one, less sparkling and witty, but when paired with Cassandra, she was definitely the joker. It was strangely gratifying to draw out the sly and unexpected sense of humour buried under the Seeker's blunt efficiency.

"I don't know about that. I might be back sooner than you think. If so, I'll be there and making faces at you from the front row. Wild halla couldn't keep me away."

Cass chuckled. "Andraste save us all."


Fen'Harel approached the Eluvian that would take him to Vir'hellathen. It looked no different than the other mirrors in the Crossroads except for the statue that rested beside it, a broken stone halla covered in a mass of red ivy.

He placed his hand on the mirror. The murky surface reflected him in silhouette, devoid of features except for elongated fingers like claws and pale eyes that still emitted a faint, eerie glow of Mythal's power.

Leaning forward, he whispered the password as if he were confiding the deepest of secrets. "Fen'Harel enansal".

The glass became a shimmering curtain of light, one that he slipped through with ease.


"Confound it!"

Dorian pounded a fist into the wall beside Skyhold's Eluvian, not hard enough to hurt his manicured fingers, but with enough show to thoroughly convey his frustration. He'd re-purposed a shard from Solasan into a sort of magical skeleton key and spent the past hour trying to use it and an assortment of Tevinter spells to open the Eluvian.

"You should be nicer to the wall," Cole said. "It keeps the roof from falling in."

Dorian sighed, catching his breath. "My sympathy for inanimate objects is rather limited at the moment, I'm afraid. But...point taken."

"Shall I take another turn?" Veda asked.

"By all means," Dorian said. "Perhaps we ought to try wiggling our fingers and shouting 'Open Sesame'."

"What about 'Please open, mirror?'" Cole suggested.

Veda shrugged. "Those ideas are as good as anything else we've tried."

Dorian lounged out on a nearby platform as if he were sunbathing in the garden. "You know, I'm usually very fond of mirrors. But these elven contraptions are astoundingly uncooperative. They don't even have the courtesy to reflect back my stunning good looks."

"I guess the ancient elves didn't feel the need to check their hair every five minutes."

"Probably because none of them had any! Have you seen them under those hoods? They're all bald as newborn babes."

"I think it's the uthenera," Veda said. "You'd shave your head too if you were going to sleep for a few centuries."

Dorian shuddered – whether at notion of losing his precious moustache or at the thought of centuries' worth of greasy hair, it was hard to tell.

"Perish the thought. If that's the way to immortality, I'll stick with being a transient delight." He paused, the spark of an idea dancing behind his eyes. "That dour fellow, the one who's supposed to accompany us..."

"Abelas?"

"That's the name. Have you noticed that he's markedly...attractive?"

Veda turned, distracted from her spell. "Don't you have your hands full with Bull?"

"Haha, more than my hands! But I was curious about your opinion of the fellow. I mean, you've seen those thigh muscles, I gather? I'd rather like to bite them myself, but of course, I'm -"

The door swung open and Abelas marched in, cutting Dorian off in mid-fantasy. Luckily, Dorian's swarthy complexion wasn't prone to blushing.

"Why, hello there, Abelas," he said, putting on an air of breezy nonchalance. "Where's the fire?"

Abelas ignored him, turning his impatient gaze on Veda. "Why do you delay our mission? Every moment we waste, Pride gets further away."

Veda hadn't spoken with Abelas since her dream with Solas, but she had more than a few things to say. She had a notion that the high priest of Mythal had been keeping the Dread Wolf's identity secret since their first encounter in the Temple.

"Pride?" she said. "Or Fen'Harel?"

Abelas answered her with the faintest of smiles – no trace of an apology. "You've discovered his true nature. What brought you to that realization?"

"Solas told me. In a dream. Mind you, it would have been helpful if you'd volunteered the information earlier."

"I should risk the wrath of the Dread Wolf for a stranger to our ways? I believed that if he saw fit for you to know the truth, he would make it clear in time. My assumption was correct."

"You deceived me, just as he did. If you'd said something..."

Veda stopped herself before she revealed too much. She was allowing her regret to overpower her reason. Even if she'd known who Solas truly was, it might not have stopped him from disappearing, out of shame or fear or worry that she would be hurt. She vented her anger against Abelas because he was a convenient substitute for Solas.

"He would have stayed?" Abelas frowned at her. "What passed between you and Fen'Harel has nothing to do with me. I am not to blame for your lover's lies."

"Maybe not," she said, somewhat chastened. "But in the future, if you know something, I expect you to share it upfront. I don't need any more Elvhen mysteries."

"Fen'Harel? Elvhen mysteries?" Dorian glanced at Cole. "Do you have the slightest notion what they're talking about?"

"At the edge of the forest, he lurks, full of dread," Cole muttered. "At the campfire, they tell the children lies, so they despise him. He walks the path alone, crying to the moon for his lost heart."

"Ah, yes. That explains everything." Dorian turned to Veda. "Would someone care to augment that utterly coherent explanation?"

Veda chose to stick to the textbook definition – her own feelings in the matter were much too complicated to make sense of. "According the Dalish legends, Fen'Harel is the elven trickster god. He's supposed to have locked away all the other gods in our pantheon out of spite. But, like many old tales, the truth of my people's stories is debatable."

"And you had a dream in which Solas told you he was this god?" Dorian inquired. "Are you certain this wasn't just too much wine or a bad ham sandwich?"

"It was a lucid dream. Solas met me in the Fade, as we've met before." Veda felt her cheeks flush with the memory of that 'before', all the pleasures they'd shared in the peculiar beauty of the Fade. The sexual possibilities of Fade-walking would certainly not be lost on a hedonist like Dorian. "He wouldn't tell me where he was or what he was doing, but he did explain the truth of his identity. Of course, I could've known much sooner if Abelas here had said something at the Temple of Mythal."

Dorian twisted one end of his moustache around his finger, holding it tightly, then letting it unfurl back into place. "So let me get this straight... I really am trying, you know. You honestly believe Solas is a god? Who can shapeshift into a monstrous wolf and defeat other deities with his cunning?"

"Well, sort of. He may be not a real god – just a being powerful enough to have been worshiped as one." Veda sighed. "I know it sounds far-fetched. Just try to trust in my sanity, will you?"

"I'll do my best," Dorian said. "Although, if Solas is so powerful, one naturally must wonder why he didn't grow himself any hair? Silly question, I know. In any case, this Fen'Harel business must have had interesting implications for your sex life."

Veda was glad he'd let her off with just a few jokes. Few of the others would have been as understanding about something so deeply weird. Fortunately, Dorian was accustomed to deeply weird, having spent most of his life in Tevinter, where no party was complete without a murder or two and bleeding one's slaves was a commonplace as juicing oranges at breakfast.

"This information can't leave this room, Dorian. You saw how some of the others reacted to my leaving Skyhold to search for Solas. Can you imagine how much less enthusiastic they'd be if they found out he was powerful enough for people to believe him a god? You mustn't tell them."

"Really? Not even Vivienne? Come now, the look on her face would be priceless. She thinks she did well seducing the leader of the Council of Heralds. Meanwhile, you chose the one apostate hobo in Thedas who's secretly wielding phenomenal cosmic power." Dorian sighed despairingly. "Very well. No blabbing. For friendship. I hope you realize the sacrifice I'm making."

Abelas looked none too impressed by this exchange. "Very well. We understand whom we are dealing with. All the more reason to act quickly. Whatever Fen'Harel' intends, it will transform this world, for good or for ill."

"We'd be on our way if I knew how to open Morrigan's Eluvian," Veda said. "Unfortunately, my mark doesn't seem to have much effect on it."

At this admission, Abelas seized her hand, turning it palm upward to examine the mark. Veda glared at him, annoyed that, once again, she was to be treated like an enchanted artifact anyone might poke and prod at. Ancient elves seemed particularly prone to forgetting their manners when there was magic at stake.

She shot a glance at Dorian to see how he was taking this. He arched an eyebrow back at her, smiling, as if to say, It certainly could be worse. Relax and contemplate the magnificence of those thighs.

Veda scowled back at him, hoping her friend would get the message: she was not looking to rebound from Solas with another of the ancient Elvhen – or anyone, for that matter, however handsome. It was too soon, and while it might seem naive, she still hoped Solas wasn't lost to her forever.

Abelas dropped her hand just as impulsively as he'd taken it and strode over to the Eluvian, peering into its warped glass. "The mark on your hand is powerful indeed, but it is not the key to this portal. This Eluvian is not of the Elvhen. It was manufactured by the human witch, I take it?"

"Yes, Morrigan made it," Veda said.

Abelas sniffed as if she'd just handed him a rotten mackerel. "That explains its...inferior quality. No doubt, the witch created a separate password for the mirror."

Veda shook her head. "I saw her open it. She didn't speak to the Eluvian. I didn't even see her lips move. She just passed her hand over it."

"A glyph then," Dorian said. "But which one? There are thousands just in the known lore..."

Veda turned to Cole. "What do you think? Did you get a read on Morrigan while she was in Skyhold?"

"A read?" Cole looked bewildered. "She's a lady. Not a book."

Veda smiled. Sometimes she forgot that Cole took things so literally. "Yes, you're right. I mean, did you sense anything in her thoughts?"

"Knowledge is power and she wanted the power to keep Mother away. Mother would eat her heart away and break Kieran like the golden mirror and all her toys."

"I met Morrigan's mother," Veda murmured. "She was a very strange old woman. And apparently, possessed by the soul of Mythal."

Abelas' eyes widened. Some small, vengeful part of Veda's personality found it immensely satisfying to have withheld information from him for once.

"The human witch? A daughter of Mythal?" He frowned. "I am...relieved that our dispute did not come to violence. Mythal's ways are mysterious and it may be that in opposing the human's desire for the Well, I would have violated my oath of service."

Dorian sighed. "Mythal! Why not? After all, the bald apostate hobo is an elven god. Why shouldn't Morrigan's batty mother be one too? It may be we're all incarnations of elven deities and simply don't know it. All of us except Sera. She's actually the Maker."

Cole laughed. "Noooo. Sera doesn't make things. She breaks things."

Veda noticed Abelas raising his hand towards the Eluvian. She stepped towards him.

"What are you doing?"

His hand traced a glyph over the surface of the glass. "The sign of Mythal."

The Eluvian came alive, glimmering with an ethereal blue light that played over Abelas' stoic face. The portal was open. The Crossroads were just a step away.

"Nicely done," Veda said. "So, are you prepared to hunt the Dread Wolf?"

"It is my appointed path," Abelas said. "It will not be denied."

Dorian grinned at the Eluvian, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. "How I adore magic. Ah, if only the listless old fogeys in the Magisterium could see me now: Dorian Pavus, Fade-walker, traveller of the Eluvians! They'd shrivel up and die of envy. This is going to be delightful, I just know it."