"You're just as senseless as she is." Morrigan ridiculed the unfaltering apostate as the heavy door to her tucked away chamber was soundly shut by the Herald. She'd made her escape into the sun-drenched, halcyon inner garden, and now walked amid those who'd only moments before been oblivious to their peril.

Remorseless, yellow eyes flicked towards his stationary hands and narrowed as she considered the Solas' burgeoning iciness. She'd been given ample opportunity throughout their recent journey to see him fight; and though the Witch would never agree to being daunted by the disagreeable fellow she'd witnessed enough to know better that to concede to a bout. Not in her current state at least, and not in such narrow quarters. She nearly snorted at the thought. "What were you going to do if that little stunt hadn't worked? Leave the rest of us to die as collateral— to satisfy what exactly? This obvious entanglement with the Inquisitor you seem to be rather severely involved in?"

Critically, Morrigan looked to each of the perturbed warriors also waiting for the elven mage's next move. "I'm certainly not the only one considering to dare call it… inappropriate."

"I have none of the reservations you unfortunately carry. It was your poorly added fears and evident hostility that would have led to our demise." Solas frowned unseen, still facing the scorched wall that smoldered from the disintegrating touch of the mark. The placement of each of Chiyo's heedless fingers was now forever etched into the stone surface as a blackened testament of her narrowly escaped ordeal. "My relationships here are also not any of your concern. Tell me though, since we are discussing appropriateness, what you felt usurping yet another rare sliver of elvhen history? I want to know how the last knowledge of Mythal's most dedicated tasted on a human tongue."

The slightly swaying Witch of the Wilds found herself pinned by the elvhen mage's stormy stare as he glowered over his shoulder. But the disapproving severity swiftly faded as some amusing thought, boding of ill luck to Morrigan, must have tickled his mind. The hardened gaze diminished and the thin skin around his lids crinkled perceptively at the edges. "I hope the price will be worth it. You should prepare yourself."

Morrigan scoffed, low and annoyed as she rubbed at her aching temples. "Pffh. Excuse me while I tremble in fear of a goddess whose power couldn't keep her from being murdered. Please, fetch the salts before I faint."

"Maybe we should leave too." Suggested Blackwall with an anxious cough, keeping a careful watch on both of the remaining mages, but it was the Seeker at his side that seemed to be the most displeased. All could feel the cutting tension in the muscles of her firmly compressed jaw. "The Commander and the rest of the troops don't know about our departure. I'm sure they would appreciate some news of our safety and changed location. We should report to the Spymaster sooner rather than later."

"Perhaps Cullen would also like to hear of what has transpired in our very own halls, considering his experience with the supervision of mages. But what I don't understand is what made you believe you could handle the mark, why any of that…whatever you wish to call it, worked in the first place. You've studied the mark, certainly, but have your observations truly given you that much insight? What are you not telling us!" Solas could almost feel Cassandra's eyes on his wrists as she spoke, perhaps envisioning them bound in thick iron or lashed to a post. But he had remained utterly judicious, amidst his own mounting fears, and in the face of impending devastation. There was no call yet to lock him away for his actions even if he had defied both the Seeker's authority and the Inquisitor's harried order. He had been allowed into the Inquisition for the benefit of his unusual understandings, but that stance did not give him any power to lead with. The former Right Hand and the renounced Templar Commander had secondary authority over Skyhold. With his sway, Solas considered himself little more than a favored guest kept for his vast knowledge and expertise. Had it not been for the agreeable alliance of the Inquisitor and even the better portion of his fellow comrades, he would have likely sought to continue his studies from afar.

"Seeker, you speak as though the events that transpired were not an accident. In all honesty. Can you say that you have always been in control of every one of your actions? Worse yet, you seem to imply that I had something to do with this." Solas straightened his tired shoulders further as he continued the slow count of his own pulse, using it as measure for the valuable time he was buying. Each beat afforded the injured elf more time, distance and a better chance at escaping the added pressure of unnerved company. "Do you truly believe me to be so conniving? She is important to me; I could never use her towards such imagined, foul ends."

No one outside of this room ever needed to know what had come to pass. If he could somehow convince Cassandra of the necessity, that was. Others learning of such a profound loss of restraint would only lead to grave disturbance amongst the masses, at best. And if the event was recounted poorly… He cared not even to consider the chaos that would follow. Just how deep did the love they held for their Herald go and would they continue to follow her if they knew how close to danger they'd all unknowingly come?

It was bleak to consider what would have befallen Skyhold if the rift had successfully been opened. They would have been the first to have perished, undoubtedly, from the pressures of the forged breach alone. Without warning, their Keep would have seen an outpouring of demons attracted to the flaring magic and the open doorway into the physical world. Solas anticipated that Fear demons would have been the first to come through, drawn by the Inquisitor's anxious state of mind and the panic that would have ensued throughout the rest of the castle. There would have been a terrified skirmish as some of the braver citizens would stand to fight, allowing others the opportunity of an escape.

But with the majority of their forces stationed away from the fortress, Skyhold would have succumbed rapidly, long before any could reach out to the far flung Commander in the Arbor Wilds or any nearer ally. The demise of the Herald would have gone unknown for weeks or months, if it were ever to be discovered, with the only witnesses vanished alongside her. Cries for help and searches to find the Inquisitor would have spread throughout Ferelden and Orlais as their desperation to close the new rift, as well as the others still scattered throughout each country, increased. Without an answer or leader, the rising power would have dissolved; leaving no one prepared to meet Corypheus—whenever he happened to strike again.

All would have been lost the moment she'd wavered and completely dropped control of the mark. Luck and faith alone had spared the Inquisition, for now.

Solas took a calmative breath, releasing the frozen magic he'd called to his fingers. "You cannot think she would endanger the Inquisition purposefully. I know beyond any doubt that she would rather have you lop her head from her shoulders first. You assumed she was at that precipice and it was impossible for her to regain command— and you nearly sealed her fate with a hysterical idea. But you of all people should know how far a tiny amount of faith will go. I beg you. Consider all the impossible things she has done so far, just because we have believed in her till now."

"I know she doesn't want to put people in harm's way Solas," The warrior answered firmly. She certainly trusted the Inquisitor as a person, even if they seldom agreed on the handling of mages or their conflicting views of the Chantry. Chiyo had carried herself admirably from the very beginning, ever since she'd first awoken from the coma they'd discovered her in. It was the disturbing and unpredictable magic that left her convictions unsettled. "But no one here fully comprehends what she is capable of if she can't keep a grasp on that mark. Not even you. Her good intentions alone do not make her any less dangerous than Corypheus, only more regrettable. She has to be dealt with, not excused."

"Allow her actions to determine her outcome, not your condemnations." Solas immediately retorted with the serious Seeker. "You are not responsible for her. She is neither a child nor your prisoner—you yourself set her loose after forcing her to wake up in chains. You trusted her enough then, why not now? The Inquisitor, she is your sole tool in closing the plethora of rifts that defile Thedas, without her help your world will be choked by an endless surge of demons. The fatalities would be beyond measure, how would you justify those preventable deaths? How will you tell the Inquisition that you ended their Herald out of mere fear and misunderstanding?"

"Should we hold you accountable instead? Seems fitting as you appear to be the only one blinded enough to be unconcerned." Added Morrigan sarcastically, painted lips drawn into an unbecoming scowl, but the dizziness increased to the verge of nausea. It drove the compelled need for her to sit down in a nearby chair. "I care not what happens to that imprudent girl. Just keep her from troubling me further. There is much I need to sift through. I cannot do it with her reckless instabilities threatening to knock me into the damned Fade."

"I do not like this. There is too much at stake to put you in charge of something so dangerous!" Cassandra brooded tensely, muttering under her breath as she stomped a few angered steps, mulling over all that had happened. She exhaled loudly through her nose, as she ground her teeth together. Even if she did not fully agree with the apostate, Solas was correct. Locking up or killing their Inquisitor would not do well for the morale of the civilians or especially the multitude of free mages living among them. There would be mass confusion and outcry. The people would quickly become disheartened if they learned the foul magic had finally corrupted their proclaimed Herald, the one sent by Andraste herself to guide them through their darkest days. The expansive group would lose much of their public face, as it had in recent months with the banishment of the Orlesian Grey Wardens, if the Inquisitor's continued spread of noble deeds and selfless support was diminished.

She stared at the back of his motionless head and gave a conclusive, aggravated grunt. "Is that what you are agreeing to, Solas, taking accountability for the Anchor?"

"My people did this to the Inquisitor; they addled her fate and set ruin to her path. The labors of your hands did not make this nor should they be the ones to undo it. Please though, since you seem so worried for your precious Inquisition, allow me to humbly take the responsibility from your burdened shoulders. And know this—if she ever falls that far again, I will deal with her myself." Solas answered as he finally stepped to leave, un-dismissed or free to do as he pleased, it mattered not. They could not hold him there. "Now, if you can excuse me, I have important work to do."

"They don't answer any more. Legends or lies? Maybe they never did to begin with… So far away."

"Hello, Cole." Chiyo heard the boy materializing on the narrow ledge on her balcony, but her distant gaze remained fixed to the frigid and cloudless midnight sky. Not even the peppered starlight and the remembered tales of her youth, once skillfully woven into their formations by her hahren, brought the Inquisitor any comfort. The wide-spread wings of the Owl gave her no hints of wisdom nor revealed their ominous warning. The barren branches of the Tree did not call her to remember once cherished duty or honor. And the wandering Wolf, whose patterned stars had just crossed the black horizon, only made her heart sicker for a home that no longer existed.

"I didn't mean it… why don't they want me? Try harder; this time, this time, I can stay here this time, right?" Brokenly began Cole while fondling an appropriated blanket of questionable origin, his unkempt fingernails catching in the thick knit of the cabled yarn. He left his perch on the carved railing and tread slowly, rolling on the balls of his worn out leather boots.

Chiyo sighed, tilting her head to meet him as the wide brim of his hat blocked her view. "There is nowhere else to go, not this time. I have to stay. I'm needed here." But her impartial words were not enough to convince even herself that they were true. She should have followed through with Varric's half-hearted advice and run when she'd been given the first opportunity.

The spirit cast his pallid eyes down onto the despondent elf lying quietly on her back, her unmarked hand caught behind her head. The other was left almost abandoned where it awkwardly lay, her wrist inflamed and crusted with blood from shaky, failed attempts at stitching the newly extended tears shut. "No, they're scared, they always get scared. I didn't mean it…"

"You and I are alike in that regard, lethallin. We don't want to frighten others, but it seems we just can't help ourselves, can we." She murmured as the young man closely joined her with his back on the flagstone, pressing the folded covering to his thin belly while he stretched out his gangly legs. He took in the same stars, but the Inquisitor doubted that the tiny flecks of light meant much of anything similar as to what she thought of the constellations.

"Not everyone is afraid. They just aren't ready to see. Truths made untrue. Not him though. Not afraid. For you, not of you. It eats and eats, pieces that were supposed to be gone are refound… there was so little left." Whispered Cole to the untroubled stars as Chiyo rolled forward and brushed the stringy blonde hair from his unblinking eyes. Silently, he offered her the blanket, holding an edge as she shook its meager size out over them both.

The Dalish elf settled once more against the cold floor, pulling her recovering left arm to her side to keep it warm. "He should be though; he's the most at risk. I just don't understand why… why he would so stupidly gamble his life like that."

"Hat and ears and forgetting and help, little more." Said the mysterious boy as they both stared up into the infinite nothingness. "But you make us feel real, like people, not things, but names. That is worth it."

"Do you want to be more human, Cole?" asked Chiyo, hearing the echoed longing in his voice.

"Maybe…" He answered uncertainly with a limp shrug, saying nothing more for a long, long time. They both observed the slowly deepening night sky, the stars glimmering back down as silent companions.

"Would you like me to tell you story about the stars?" She asked after a while, unable to drift into sleep.

Cole nodded, shaking the awkwardly large hat out from under his tilted head so that he could mimic the more appropriate star-gazing position of the Inquisitor. "Yes, but not the one about the dragon you keep trying to remember all the pieces to. Tell me the other story… The one she told you before you left."

"Alright," agreed the Inquisitor hesitantly. "But that story isn't as happy..."

"Many years ago, when the People were still very young, there was a place where the night sky was nothing but endless black. With no moons or stars, everyone lived in fear of the dark because they could not see the wild beasts that would draw nearer to their village when the sun went down. They were afraid of the night, and would shut themselves inside their homes to wait for dawn, cowering beneath their roofs and behind their shuttered windows. All but for one boy who wasn't afraid of the dark at all. His eyes were very special, he could see better and farther into the blackness than any of his kin. He used his gift to guide those late to return home, and to chase away the monsters that ate their livestock, but mostly he used it to wander the forests. It was there, in the dark peace, that he was free to explore a world no one else had seen. He watched the gentle creatures of the night live splendid, shadowed lives without the exposing brightness of day.

Each night, when all were safe in their beds, the boy would travel deeper and deeper into the woods. But one evening, when he'd traveled to a glen he'd never explored before, he saw the most beautiful white light shimmering inside of a hollowed tree trunk. He was amazed by the glow and drew near, laughing with delight. He sang and danced around the tree filled with a dazzling, magical liquid until he became exhausted. He felt so weary that he decided to rest beside the lovely light, but as he got closer he heard a voice coming from inside of the opened trunk. The voice was kind and friendly and it told him that they were a simple spirit who wanted nothing more than to see the world. The boy smiled, he'd never turned away anyone who'd needed help, and he asked what could be done to aid the amazing light.

The spirit told him that someone had to trade something precious for the light, because it was priceless and could not be given away. If the right person took it, they would not become trapped as they had for trying to move the light somewhere safer. So the boy thought, considering what he could give to bring back the magic light to his people, how it might help end their eternal fear. He told the voice that he would come back the next night when he had thought of the right offering to present. For his trouble and willingness, he was allowed to take a single drop of water; it floated and glowed in his hands as he carefully walked back through the forest. He went home, returning with the dawn, but he was so tired from his adventure that he lay down to sleep. He placed the brilliant drop in a tiny bottle and hid it in his clothes. When he woke again it was already night once more, he'd slept the whole day when he'd meant to speak with the wisest Elders about what he should offer. He ran back to the glen, hoping that the light would still be there, and it was. He knelt beside the tree and called to the spirit, saying that he had returned. The spirit was happy to hear him and asked what he had chosen to give.

The boy cried in dismay. He'd brought nothing in his excitement to see the light again. But the spirit consoled him, promising that no material possession would ever amount to the worth of their trade. The boy pondered, confused as to what the spirit wanted. 'I wish to see the world through your remarkable eyes', tempted the spirit who lamented on not being able to enjoy the world he himself loved so much. The boy sat in silence, looking at the light in the magnificent tree and considering the tiny bottle in his pocket. He felt sad; the kindly voice had never known the bliss he had found in the woods. He asked the spirit how he could help. The voice sounded overjoyed and let the boy fill his bottle, just as they had promised he could. He leaned closer to the glowing hole in the tree as the light filled the little jar. He beamed with pride, imagining what he could do with the light when he returned home again. The spirit told him to come even closer, so that they might see into his memories of the beautiful forest. He did as asked, nearly sticking his head in the gap.

But the spirit reached out and pulled him down, forcing his head into the tree. They stole his gifted eyes, leaving him sightless. The boy heard the spirit laughing in glee as they took in their first vision of the shadowy world, free to leave the blindingly bright waters and return to the secretive darkness they'd long desired. And then all went quiet—the spirit was gone. The deceived boy wept as he groped the ground, finding only the bottle full of a light he could no longer see. He held it in his hand, desperately trying to escape the glen and return to his people. But without his eyes, he became horribly lost as he felt his way through the trees. He could hear snarls and footsteps of the beasts circling him as he stumbled, drawn in by his fear. He tried to run away, but he tripped in his hurry and the bottle broke, casting the light into a thousand tiny droplets that caught in the passing wind.

He never made it home. But soon, the little drops of light were scattered across the sky and they re-faceted themselves into the endless darkness they once belonged to. The spirit saw how happy the people had become with the return of their stars. They were free from their fear of the dark night and longed to celebrate even as they mournfully grieved the loss of the kind boy. The spirit of the glen felt tricked out of their mischievous ruse, so they discarded the blessings from the stolen eyes into the air. But this only spread the gift back amongst the People. With so much new light from the missing stars, they didn't need the boy's extraordinary eyes to protect them anymore. But whenever one of his kin found themselves wandering the night, even in a starless dark, they were never again truly blind."

"The spirit stole the stars to begin with…" Whispered Cole in conclusion, his eyes left open wide as he took in their own starry sky. "That's why they were trapped…"

"Funny… That's what I first thought too." The Inquisitor mused tiredly before they fell into silence for a few moments more.

"You think you were lucky," Pressed the compassionate spirit before she drifted towards sleep. "But you didn't get back any stars."

Chiyo began to breathe raggedly. She placed her good arm over her scrunching face to hide the refreshed hurt. But the muffling of her thick sleeve could not soften the brittleness in her words, though it did keep the stinging tears from spilling down her cheeks to flood her ears. "I'm just glad I got to keep my eyes."

"You need those."

"The spirits grew jealous of the living and coaxed from them into the Fade when they slept. The spirits wished to know more of life, hoping to find a way to regain the Maker's favor. Through the eyes of the living, they experienced new concepts: love, fear, pain, and hope. The spirits re-shaped the Fade to resemble the lives and concepts they saw, each spirit desperately trying to bring the most dreamers to their own realms so they could vicariously posses a spark of the divine through them.

As the spirits grew in power, however, some of them became contemptuous of the living. These were the spirits that saw the darkest parts of the dreamers. Their lands were places of torment and horror, and they knew that the living were strongly drawn to places that mirrored those dark parts of themselves. These spirits questioned the Maker's wisdom and proclaimed the living inferior. They learned from the darkness they saw and became the first demons."- Section: The Maker's First Children, Codex