A/N: This chapter references pretty heavily events and characters from "Solas the Circle Mage."

Twenty-Five

The Forbidden Oasis

"Another contingent from Orlais arrived in the night," Commander Rylen told her, huffing a little as they started up the pebbly slope. Scree and sand hissed and trickled as it rolled out from under the commander's booted feet. He stiffened, one arm flailing to catch himself.

Rosa casually motioned with one hand, using raw spirit magic to push against the man's back and prevent him from sliding down the slope. He shot her a panicked look at her help, eyes wide as his sword arm immediately went for his scabbard but fell short as he caught himself. Commander Rylen had been a Templar once and his fear of magic still ran deep. Rosa tried to keep herself from frowning at him. She'd pretend she hadn't noticed his impulsive grab for his sword.

"Ah," he said, clearing his throat and shooting her a slightly sheepish look. "My thanks, worship."

Rosa resisted the desire to roll her eyes at the title he'd used. If only he knew how sacrilegious his exaltation of her as a religious figure really was—considering she was the granddaughter and great-granddaughter of no less than four elven Creators. "How many soldiers in this latest group?" she asked.

"Fifty-three all counted," Rylen replied as they started walking up the slope again. They were following the little Inquisition caravan of water barrels headed back to Griffon Wing Keep. With the original water source despoiled by the Venatori Rylen had been forced to secure a different one. The next closest abundant water source was the gully where Rosa had bathed with Blackwall and Solas a week and a half ago. So, that was where the Inquisition's people marched once daily to fill barrels of water and haul it back to the keep.

"Not too shabby," Rosa said with a nod as they reached the top of the slope. Her bare feet kept a superior grip on the pebbled ground. Surefooted and confident, she strode ahead, eyes squinted against the midmorning sun. The wagon trundled along in front of them, pulled by two brontos. The barrels sat immobile, strapped down to keep them from sloshing or falling overboard. "Is it time to storm Adamant yet, d'you think?"

"No, your worship," Rylen said from just behind her. "Based on the numbers the Champion and Warden Stroud reported we'd best wait until the bulk of Commander Cullen's forces arrive from Skyhold before we move on the fort."

Rosa sighed irritably. Close to two weeks had passed now since they'd arrived in the Western Approach and witnessed Livius Erimond's nasty little demon summoning ritual. In that time the Wardens had to be summoning more within the walls of Adamant. The longer they waited the fewer warriors and rogues they'd be able to rescue from the Warden ranks and the more mages would be bound as slaves. Not to mention the more demons they'd have to face.

Just thinking about it left Rosa's stomach loopy with queasiness.

"How much longer?" she asked tightly. Her eyes swept over the wagon ahead, spying the dwarven soldier prodding the brontos on. Iron Bull, Blackwall, and Cassandra walked ahead of the wagon as a forward escort. They'd had numerous animal attacks so the wagon always had an accompanying force of fighters. Today, with Rosa insisting she do her part, there were more protectors than usual. Rylen had accompanied the caravan to give Rosa the morning news and doubled the usual team of standard Inquisition soldiers and scouts. Rosa had agreed to take the warriors in her inner circle at their insistence.

"The rest of Commander Cullen's men are in Orlais currently," Rylen told her. "Another week out."

Rosa blew out a frustrated breath and ran her hands through her loose, messy hair until her fingers met up with her bun. The motion further tugged her hair out from its confines. She should cut it, she knew, but she'd always preferred the way her face looked surrounded in the dark halo. "Can we really afford to wait?" she asked, grunting to herself as she kicked absently at the sand. "The Venatori could bring in reinforcements of their own and the Wardens at Adamant will have more and more demons the longer we wait."

Rylen shook his head. "Scouts have said they hear weird noises from Adamant and see strange lights. They're definitely up to something—but our people are also running across warriors and rogues often enough on patrol. The Warden commander must be reluctant to commit to killing all of her fighters—especially with us sniffing about."

"Do they attack us on sight?" Rosa asked.

"No," Rylen said, sounding confident and firm. "They know we're here to oppose them, but their commander must have ordered them not to engage us unless we attack."

"So our men and theirs are out there just glaring at each other across the sands?" Rosa asked, snorting.

"That's about the way of it, your worship."

Up ahead Rosa saw one of their outlying encampments, still a mile or so from Griffon Wing Keep. A crumbling wall in what she guessed was a Tevinter style—the architecture gray and somber and domineering—sheltered one end of the camp. The water wagon would stop at this spot to offload a few water barrels for the men and women stationed here out on the dust flats. Already the camp was alive with Inquisition soldiers and scouts, scurrying to run out and escort them.

Nothing was more popular than the water wagon.

Well, nothing except the Herald of Andraste.

"Yeah, well," Rosa frowned down at the sand. "I don't like this setup. The fucking Venatori are still skulking around this place."

Rylen nodded. "I've had reports of that, yes. The most recent news I had on their whereabouts was that they're camped around some strange elven temple ruin to the northwest."

Now Rosa lifted her head and stared at Rylen, intrigued. "An elven temple ruin? Which Creator was it dedicated to?"

Rylen grimaced, wrinkling the strange black bars of the tattoo on his chin. "Forgive me, your worship. I can't say."

"Yeah," she muttered, smirking. "Sorry. Dumb question." She glanced at the sunshine, still squinting. "How far away is it?"

"Less than a day by horseback," Rylen answered. "They call it the Forbidden Oasis."

"An oasis?" Rosa asked, arching a brow with even more interest.

"Forbidden Oasis," Rylen told her, smiling with amusement. "Yes." After more than a week working with the commander she'd come to see he had a similar dry sense of humor that she rather enjoyed. Now she knew he'd guessed at her thought process as he added, "Not the sort of place that would draw tourists, your worship."

Rosa snorted. "What's so forbidden about it, then?" She already had an inkling. Either this ruined temple was spelled in some way to guard it from meddling visitors who were unworthy of knowing its secrets, or it was tainted by Blight or some other unsolvable threat. If it was the former and not the latter Rosa had little fear. Many things the shems deemed forbidden were just not meant for them. Felassan had told her as much, saying that humans didn't understand that the old world had been designed for the Elvhen and that old magic lingered and it remembered the People. As hostile as modern Thedas was to elves, the old world would have been set against the shemlen.

Rylen shrugged. "I don't know, Inquisitor. But right now the Venatori have set up shop there."

"So whatever it is it can't be all that bad," Rosa inferred, nodding. Up ahead the water caravan had reached the camp and the brontos stopped, lowing and stamping. One of the beasts began nibbling at a bit of sagebrush and its partner let out a deep groaning noise and strained against the leads, trying to reach the bush to eat as well. Rosa was about to shout for the dwarf tending the wagon to help feed the obviously hungry brontos, but she saw Cole appear from between the tents and duck to start plucking branches from the bush to feed the other animal.

"Compassion, indeed," Rosa murmured, smiling to herself.

"Inquisitor?" Rylen asked, overhearing her.

"Nothing," Rosa said and cleared her throat as they stopped behind the wagon. "But I am thinking I'd be a lot more comfortable knowing those Venatori desecrating my ancestors' temple are dead."

"I think we can spare some troops to help you," Rylen told her, smirking. "Because you're right—we are just sitting about here, waiting."

"Don't give me too many of your people," Rosa cautioned. "I mean, I'm guessing the Venatori camp isn't that huge. These bastards aren't really that populous since I dropped a fucking mountain on them at Haven."

Rylen's smile changed a little, sobering. "I just hope they lost more than we did at Haven, your worship."

"They'll be losing a lot more than that by the time I'm done with them," Rosa promised. She extended a hand and gripped Rylen's bicep, squeezing. "Thank you for the report. Please prepare a small group of volunteer soldiers and scouts who will accompany me to this Oasis."

Rylen gave her a quick little bow. "Yes, your worship. I will have them ready for you at dawn tomorrow."

The moon sat over the scar of the abyss, trying in vain to light the black taint of the Blight permanently entrenched here. Rosa sat on the edge overlooking it, chewing on some salted meat rations and sipping from a canteen. With her staff on her back and a throwing knife in a scabbard at her waist, she felt confident she could keep herself safe against a few Darkspawn if they crawled over the lip of the ridge from the black depths. With the moonlight it was just bright enough that she could reread the scrolls she'd received today.

She'd snuck out of the keep to find some privacy from the constant stares of newly arrived soldiers who gazed on her like they believed her a goddess in the flesh. Technically, they kind of did believe that. It made Rosa itchy to feel them watching her, wondering about her. Did they see the vallaslin on her face? Did they see her pointed ears? Had they been surprised at all? It didn't seem like it. When had she become so recognizable?

Rylen or some of the other old-hands must have told the newcomers who and what she was so none of them would accidentally refer to her as knife-ear or savage or whatever the latest slur was in Orlesian. She liked to try and imagine the soldiers' surprise as they learned the woman most of Thedas had whispered about with awe or fear or wonder was actually a Dalish elf. How many of their new recruits deserted hearing that? It must be a handful in every group because they seemed to trickle in with odd numbers. Fifty-three just today. Why not a nice rounded fifty-four? Had the fifty-fourth man balked?

Staring down at the scroll clutched in her right hand, Rosa scowled. They'd probably balk a lot more if she didn't play her hand well with…this.

A subtle sound from behind her and off to the left made her stiffen. She turned and saw a figure approaching. Her heart pounded for an instant before she saw the lone man emerge out of the shadow of the keep and into the moonlight where she could see his bald head and the outline of his pointed ears. Smirking, Rosa lifted her canteen to him in salute. "Flat-ear," she greeted him with equal parts playfulness and mild-mockery. "You took longer to find me than expected."

"You should not be alone out here, Inquisitor," Solas chastened her as he drew nearer. His footsteps were noticeably louder now, crunching on grit and dirt.

"You were trying to sneak up on me, weren't you?" she asked, chuckling. "Mythal preserve me and Dirthamen protect me from the sneaky flat-ear."

"Indeed," Solas said, a touch of bitterness in his voice.

"Are you admitting you were sneaking up on me or are you just irritable that I'm talking about the Creators again?" she asked, sipping noisily from her canteen. "Or maybe you're just pissed I heard you coming? Or that I called you flat-ear, flat-ear?"

Solas didn't answer her but she didn't miss the sour scowl creasing his face. "Cassandra informed me you expect me to accompany you tomorrow on an expedition to the Forbidden Oasis?" The way he pronounced the place's name suggested he found it odd or foreign. Like he thought it should have a different name.

It was exactly as Rosa expected then and exactly why she'd picked Solas first for her team. "What do you know about it?" she asked. "Are you here to tell me it's a bad idea?"

Solas stopped a few paces short of her and seemed to fidget, moving his weight from one foot to the other and tucking his hands behind himself a moment before thinking better of it and letting them fall to his sides. His lips thinned as he gazed out over the black abyss. His eyes glittered in the white moonlight.

"No," he finally admitted. "It is…rather a good idea."

"Oh?" she asked, immediately intrigued. She scooted round on the sand, her armor scraping on the rough scree. "Now you have me all excited. So, spill. What do you know?"

Solas shot her a look she couldn't quite read. "I am uncertain it is the…" He frowned, again as if the words were strange or made him uncomfortable. "…the temple I believe it may be."

He was being cagey, as usual. Rosa swallowed her desire to sigh and decided to goad him instead. Smiling, she said, "Your memory is lapsing, hahren." She'd long ago—in the Hasmal Circle—discovered that insulting his pride slightly drew the most telling responses. Solas got sloppy when he was emotional.

Sure enough the Elvhen man threw her a withering glare. "This land is unrecognizable from when I last visited. Surely I may be forgiven a touch of uncertainty, Inquisitor."

Rosa lifted one hand, index finger pointed. "Only if you stop calling me Inquisitor and use my first name, Solas." He continued to glare at her and she sighed, rolling her eyes. "Okay, then. Indulge me. What was this place like before?"

Finally Solas' expression eased. "Resplendent," he answered, voice wistful with memory. "This far south the land was a cool forest, much like the Brecilian. To the north it was an extension of what is now called the Arbor Wilds."

"Tropical," Rosa said, smiling. "I'm sad I didn't get to see it." She leaned back, resting both palms on the dust and grit behind her. Digging her hands into the sand, enjoying the roughness against her palms, she asked, "So what temple do you think this place is? What used to be there?"

Solas drew in a long breath, as if the topic made him nervous. His hands fidgeted at his side, another sign of unease. "I believe it is not a temple at all, in truth."

Rosa's brow furrowed. "Then what is it?"

Solas's eyes flicked to the abyss again and then back to her. "A prison."

"A prison for what exactly?" Rosa asked, voice dropping as her chest suddenly went tight. How many beings had been imprisoned that she knew of in Elvhenan? Was it the Forgotten Ones' prison? Or were the Creators locked away there? No…it couldn't be anything like that. Solas had said the Forgotten Ones were sealed away in the Fade.

"For whom," Solas said, his smile humorless. "These lands once belonged to Falon'Din." His eyes flicked over her, searching. Waiting.

"Falon'Din?" Rosa repeated, mind spinning. "Falon'Din…"

"Did Felassan ever tell you about the Evanuris' civil war?" Solas asked, watching her without blinking. His stare had something predatory about it. Expectant. Tense. And…excited.

Felassan—or Ivun as she thought of her father when she wasn't feeling bitter toward him, when she might call him by his birth name, Eolas—had shared some stories about it, but only in passing. He had said the Creators—Falon'Din, specifically—had fought one another. Rosa had inferred that her father really didn't like Falon'Din. Yet she'd also known he didn't much like Dirthamen, even though that was his father. He'd educated her about Dirthamen, Mythal, and Elgar'nan because their blood flowed in her veins. He'd warned her powerful demons might be drawn to her and that she might run across other Elvhen survivors who woke from uthenera who could harm her if they discovered her heritage.

That was why she had lied repeatedly to Solas when she first met him in the Hasmal Circle. She'd desperately wanted to hide her heritage and to downplay how closely related she was to any of the Creators until she knew she could trust him. It was why she still shied away from discussing it. Felassan had been very clear in those warnings to her as a child and teen. He'd tried to impart the same wisdom on Tal but maybe less so because Tal showed no sign he'd inherited Dirthamen's talent for truthsaying and neither of them had inherited Mythal or Elgar'nan's powers.

She still wondered why her father hadn't warned her or Tal about Falon'Din's power, whose blood also ran in their veins.

Refocusing on Solas, Rosa decided to lie. "He didn't really tell me about it, no."

Solas nodded, though something in his stance and expression told her he thought she was lying. Still, he spoke in a scholarly voice as he explained, "There is a Dalish legend regarding Dirthamen and Falon'Din that references the events of the civil war in an odd way. Falon'Din and Dirthamen were not blood brothers, but Mythal raised them as her children. They were inseparable until one day, according to the legend, Falon'Din encountered a dying doe and felt moved to carry her to the Beyond to find eternal rest."

Rosa nodded. "I know the legend, Solas. The next part is my favorite."

Solas smiled at her. "I suspected as much, Rasean." Raven.

Rosa snorted. "Yep. So how does the story of two not-brothers have to do with this civil war?"

"The truth, as is typical, is far from the legend's recounting," Solas said, the bitterness in his voice returning. "Some years before the civil war, Dirthamen offended Falon'Din in such a way that the court of Arlathan echoed with the scandal. To escape it, Dirthamen entered uthenera. While he was away, Falon'Din took his revenge. He invaded his brother's lands. He killed his slaves or converted them to his own. He slaughtered Dirthmen's arcane warriors or made them swear fealty. He raised the crops and butchered anyone who would not bow."

"And no one stopped him?" Rosa asked, arching a brow.

"Not until Falon'Din finished devastating Dirthamen's lands and moved on to Mythal's. When the shadow of his carnage fell upon her people, Mythal at last rallied the others and convinced them Falon'Din would not cease his butchery until he had exacted vengeance against all he perceived involved with the scandal."

"What scandal?" Rosa asked, shaking her head. This was the most in-depth story she'd pretty much ever heard from Solas.

Solas' lips tugged downward at the edges and he shook his head. "I will tell you in a moment, but first you should know how the civil war came to an end."

"Okay," Rosa said, nodding. "How did it end?"

"The other Evanuris joined together and pushed Falon'Din back into his own lands. He would not submit; such was his vanity and pride. The other Evanuris bloodied him in his own temple, but they would not kill him."

"Why?" Rosa asked, scowling. "He sounds like a real prick. Lenalin told me he was involved in Mythal's murder. Was this war why?"

"It was…" Solas said, swallowing. "Among other reasons."

"What other reasons?" Rosa asked, and then, before Solas could answer, she waved a hand at him. "Never mind. Let's stick to the first question. Why wouldn't they kill him?"

Solas tilted his head slightly, a mild frown playing over his features. "The Evanuris were revered as gods and elevated as leaders due to their great power and knowledge of magic." He drew in another deep breath. "When you traveled to the dark future in Redcliffe, do you recall the power you possessed to change the world itself as though it were a dream?"

She stared at him, her heart suddenly thundering in her ears. Her voice came out strangled. "Yes."

"The Evanuris were revered because they possessed such talent but to a degree that would be unfathomable to this Tranquil world. Magic has…grown weaker with time." The sadness in his voice made Rosa shiver. "Imagine if the Empress of Orlais held her station not by a flimsy claim based on her name or through her great wealth or an ancestor's prowess and victory in battle. Instead, imagine she could create castles with but a thought, or that she could close this trench with a wave of her hand."

Rosa whipped her head back around to look at the abyss. Her blood went cold as ice. "What?" she asked, her mouth falling open. "Seriously? My grandfather could have closed this?"

Solas' voice behind her was grave. "Yes. I fought in wars Mythal led beside Elgar'nan. Together they could change the earth itself to suit their whims as though it were a dream."

Still facing the abyss, Rosa's mouth went dry as she recalled the bliss of the dark future. While she'd been emotionally wrecked seeing the destruction and all of her friends dying of red lyrium poisoning…something had been different in that world. It had left her euphoric and it had let her reach out to touch the physical earth with her core, to shape it as though it were the Fade. She was a potter and the earth was clay. It had been hard, resistant to her efforts, but it had been malleable.

"Solas," she said, her voice dry and hoarse with shock. She extended one arm, reaching out at the abyss as though she could touch it. "If we could bring magic back somehow…could I have been one of them?"

Solas made a choking noise behind her. Looking back at him with confusion, Rosa saw him looking down at his feet, scowling. "No," he said, firm and emphatic. "An Evanuris would be far more powerful than you or I, even in this Tranquil world."

She cursed her fickle truthsaying talent in this moment as she felt no reaction inside to that statement, just her own personal doubt. Heart still pounding, she said, "I'm Dirthamen's granddaughter and great-granddaughter to Mythal, Elgar'nan, and Falon'Din. How can you be so sure I'm not?"

Solas' smile was soft and hesitant. "In truth I suppose I do not. But Felassan was not an Evanuris. You must understand that to possess power such as theirs was incredibly rare. Mythal and Elgar'nan had dozens of children together and only one could ever claim the title of Evanuris. The others were all powerful Dreamers who became nobles. You would have been among them, I suspect."

Rosa clenched her jaw and nodded. That felt right.

"As I said before, however, the Evanuris would not kill Falon'Din because they could not bring themselves to destroy such power. Evanuris were the only ones capable of reshaping the land on such a grand scale and only when more than one joined together. As such, they spared Falon'Din and chose to imprison him. The Forbidden Oasis is where I suspect they placed him, deep in his own lands."

"So is he still there?" Rosa asked. "I thought Fen'Harel locked him away with the others?"

"He was released from his prison," Solas said, letting out a little breath. "At Dirthamen's insistence, once he had awakened from his uthenera a few ages after the civil war."

"Just as the Dalish legend recounts," Rosa said, smirking. "After a fashion, anyway. Dirthamen wanted to reunite with his brother when Falon'Din had gone where he could not."

"Yes," Solas agreed, wrinkling his nose as if he'd tasted something sour.

"I guess it's good they didn't kill him," Rosa said, pulling her legs up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. "If he was dead he couldn't have been my great-grandfather and I wouldn't be here."

Solas chuckled now. "Actually, that is what I did not tell you earlier regarding the scandal that drove Falon'Din to wage a war of retribution against first Dirthamen and then Mythal."

"Yeah?" Rosa asked, grimacing at the edge of tightness she heard in her voice. "You're going to tell me now that the scandal had to do with lenalin?"

Smiling at her, Solas dipped his head in the affirmative. "Your father's birth name was Eolas. His mother was Falon'Din's favorite daughter. She bonded with Dirthamen to further his alliance with Falon'Din. Eolas was their first and only child as Dirthamn was unfaithful early in their relationship. She left and took your infant father with her. That was when Dirthamen entered uthenera and, shortly thereafter, Falon'Din's daughter was killed. Falon'Din blamed Mythal and Elgar'nan for the attack and court rumor whispered that the infant, Eolas, was not killed with his mother but adopted by Mythal. I believe that was the one thing that could have persuaded Falon'Din to cease hostilities, but Mythal and Elgar'nan insisted the child was dead and they had no hand in it."

After a moment of silence as she absorbed Solas' words, Rosa felt laughter bubbling in her chest. She let her head fall back as it erupted out of her in great peals. When she'd finally caught her breath she said, "You're saying lenalin inadvertently caused the civil war?"

"Yes," Solas said, still smiling. "I have often told your brother that Felassan was an exemplary student and not the trickster he believes. But, I suppose, considering the circumstances surrounding his birth and earliest youth, he was born to a life as a troublemaker."

Rosa laughed again but cut it short as the painful realization lanced through her that she'd never see her father again. She breathed through the sting in her chest and the sudden prickling in her eyes. "I miss him," she murmured. "I wish he was here to help with this mess."

"As do I," Solas agreed, his voice laced with a grief she knew had to be as deep or even deeper than her own. Ivun had been her father, her mentor—but he'd been Solas' friend for literal ages first.

"He didn't like either Falon'Din or Dirthamen," Rosa remembered in a soft voice. "I guess this explains why." A breeze wafted up from the abyss, carrying the wretched stench of decay that was Blight. Rosa scowled at it and took another sip from her canteen. Shooting Solas a sidelong look, she decided to try covertly fishing for information again. "It's almost a shame Falon'Din isn't at the Forbidden Oasis anymore and I can't wake him up and tell him his grandson was still alive and had two children of his own."

Solas's expression twisted with a snarl and then he wiped it swiftly blank again. "You would not wish to meet him."

She remembered the strange beings she'd seen in the Fade while closing the breach and restrained a shudder. Feigning irritation, she turned to look at Solas more directly. "And why not? He's my great-grandfather. I think he'd be happy to meet me. I'd be happy to meet Dirthamen too. And Elgar'nan."

"They were not good men," Solas told her tightly. "I chose to serve Mythal because she possessed a good heart and sound judgment. I did not care for any of the other Evanuris. It was why I chose uthenera after her death rather than to swear fealty to another. Your father did the same."

"They couldn't have been all bad…" she said, hoping to lead him to divulge more in this strange, talkative mood he was in. "I mean, they're my ancestors and they made lenalin."

"So they did," Solas admitted, his voice dull and detached. Rosa restrained a sigh, realizing she was losing him fast. "Even the phoenixes prove useful when butchered for their scales and feathers," Solas added after a minute.

Letting out a groan, Rosa lay back on the sand. It crunched beneath her armor. "Were you always this much of a downer?"

"Yes," Solas said, but she could hear the mild amusement coloring his voice now. "Though I prefer to call it realism."

Rosa patted the dirt and sand next to her. "Have a seat, flat-ear. Have a look at the stars with me and tell me if they've changed too since the People ruled Thedas."

Solas' feet shifted over the dirt and his clothes rustled slightly, but he didn't take a step closer. "I'm sorry, Inquisitor. I must retire to camp. You should return as well. Darkspawn could—"

"You don't get to leave yet," Rosa said suddenly, rolling her head over the dirt to enjoy watching his frown at her order. She smirked as she lifted her right hand, where she still clutched the scroll. "I have to ask your guidance on this."

His eyes darted to the scroll and then his posture straightened and he tucked his hands behind his back. "Very well, but surely your advisors have already—"

"My advisors are part of the problem on this one," Rosa interrupted him. "I can't talk about this with them the way I need to." Then she sat up partway, using one elbow to support herself and flung the scroll at him. "Catch!"

Solas lunged out, catching the scroll with a surprising amount of grace despite the surprise of her action. Holding it a moment, he frowned down at the little strip of parchment, hesitant to unroll it. "Inquisitor?"

"Read it," she ordered him, lying flat again on the sand and sighing. The stars overhead spread out, clear and brilliant in their stolid beauty. She imagined the words on the scroll as Solas fell silent, reading the message she had nearly memorized.

Finally Solas must have reached the signature as he made a slight grunt. "Knight-Commander Brycen?" he asked, frowning with distaste.

"You remember our dear friend Brycen, right?" Rosa asked, rolling onto her side and propping her head up with one arm. "The prick who so delighted in separating me and Tal in the Circle and the one who almost had me executed on our last day there."

The frown on Solas' face had not eased, only intensified. "Yes. I remember him very well." He moved on from the scroll written by the Knight-Commander of the Hasmal Circle and looked over the accompanying documents. His unhappy frown darkened even further as he read over her advisors' comments. "I was rather hoping he had not survived the rebellion," Solas admitted.

Rosa let out a hard little laugh. "I spent most of my time before the Conclave blew up worrying I'd see Templars or mages from the Circle there who'd know me."

"I shared that concern when I entered Haven," Solas agreed, rerolling the scrolls and meeting her eye. "He did not mention you. I suspect he does not know you are the Herald of Andraste."

Rosa let out a breath, releasing some of her tension. "You're probably right. I doubt anyone is going to tell him my first name. They'll all call me Herald or Inquisitor. He might not even know I'm a mage or that I'm Dalish."

Solas nodded. "Yes. I have periodically touched the dreams of some of our soldiers," he told her, smiling tightly. "Many of them are shocked to discover you are not human."

"Spying on our troops, flat-ear?" she asked him, arching a brow. "Are you planning a mutiny?"

His smile was enigmatic and playful at once. "Merely enjoying the privilege of my talents as a Dreamer to ensure our people are loyal."

She chuckled. "Right. Well…" With a grunt she pushed herself upright and got to her feet. Dusting herself off absently, she stooped to pick up her canteen and the small pouch of meat rations, tucking them into her belt. "How do you think I should handle the Knight-Commander's request in light of my unique relationship with that particular Circle and the Knight-Commander himself?"

"I would suggest allowing Ambassador Montilyet use her charms on the city of Hasmal to create the illusion that you have done them a favor. Allies in power are important. You will gain both the city's favor and the addition of Hasmal's loyalist mages."

Rosa nodded. "Sensible, I suppose."

"Alternatively," Solas continued. "I see no reason why either Leliana or Commander Cullen's approaches would not be suitable choices as well. Commander Cullen's Templars may reassure the Knight-Commander that the Inquisition is a respectable organization worthy of his fealty."

"As if I want him to join our ranks," Rosa snarled.

"He and his Templars are foot soldiers in a war who have no master, currently," Solas told her in a patient, scholarly tone. "If they do not join the Inquisition and choose to follow their Order they may join the Red Templars. You can come away with the mages regardless of what decision you make, but the Templars will not follow without Cullen's men, I suspect."

Rosa huffed, sneering at the thought of the Knight-Commander. Brushing fingers over her chin, she remembered the way he had grabbed her there and spoken so intimately and dangerously into her face: Never lie to me.

"The mages aren't a threat to me," Rosa murmured, shooting Solas a hard look. "Aren't a threat to us. Most of the ones who knew we were implicated with the previous Knight-Commander's death are dead. But Brycen and his cronies will remember. The second he sees my face again—or yours…"

Solas nodded. "He and his men will recognize us, yes. But we are not their charges any longer. We have little to fear from them and I doubt you will cross paths with them as the Inquisition grows." His smile changed with a knowing look as he added, "You may also choose to send them away from Skyhold permanently to serve the Inquisition by recruiting in Orlais or Ferelden." He extended his hand out to offer the scroll back to her.

Taking it from him, Rosa tucked it into her belt. "Nice chatting with you, flat-ear," she said with a wink. "We should do this more often. Ma ghilana."

He chuckled, shaking his head slightly as he turned to walk back toward the keep. She thought he would say something self-deprecating and evasive, trying to dissuade her interest in him, but instead he said, "Yes. I've quite enjoyed our conversation. And thank you."

Rosa started walking after him, keeping pace at his side through the dirt and sagebrush. "For what?"

"For alerting me that I may soon encounter survivors, both mage and Templar, from the Hasmal Circle." He turned slightly toward her and the smile playing over his lips, visible despite the darkness, made Rosa's stomach cinch tight. Her heart fluttered with exhilaration. She could almost feel his temptation, the desire that kept him lingering nearby. He was close enough that she could…

She reached out and clasped his hand with hers just as he started to pull away. "I can think of a few other ways for you to express your gratitude," she purred.

He stared at her, lips twitching as though torn between frowning and smiling. "Inquisitor…" he said, sounding hesitant—but also husky. That title wasn't the one he'd wanted to speak and they both knew it.

"Flat-ear?" she retorted, smirking at his small frown. His eyes met hers, tender and full of longing. The moment stretched on and on as Solas' obvious indecision continued, but she could feel it stretching thin toward the inevitable moment it would finally break...

And then, from some distance away, Rosa heard someone shout, "Inquisitor!"

Flinching at the interruption, she looked out across the dust flats and saw a scout walking in the distance, waving. He was clearly on his rounds, patrolling the area in front of the Keep between the dust flats and the sulfur fields. Rosa saw another soldier accompanying him and—a short ways behind—she spied Iron Bull chatting up a redheaded scout. She and Solas had walked far enough around the keep that they were in plain sight of the now well-worn path between the outer encampment the fort itself.

"We should return to the keep…" Solas said as he gently tugged his hand from hers and withdrew a step back. "We will have a long journey tomorrow. You should be well rested."

She bit back her sigh of frustration and, resigning herself to the fact that he was right—she didn't really want to have an audience anyway—started walking for the keep. "Good night, Solas," she called to him in a tired voice over her shoulder.

"Good night, Inquisitor," Solas replied to her, sounding almost sad. He didn't follow close behind her but let her have a long lead. Still, Rosa felt certain Iron Bull and the scouts were watching her with knowing smirks. It seemed everyone but her and Solas believed their rekindling of romance was a sure thing.

Just give it time, she cautioned herself, sucking in several deep breaths to ease the sudden ratcheting of desire she'd experienced a few moments ago that now had no release at all. Solas was not the gregarious man her father had been. He'd played hard to get in the Circle as well. Considering the complexity of his long life as an Elvhen survivor and an immortal turned mortal he likely didn't feel the same pressure of time.

She marched to Griffon Wing Keep, barely hearing the soldiers and scouts who saluted her as she passed their various campfires and watch posts. Solas disappeared at some point from behind her, turning away to talk to a trader or perhaps one of their companions had stopped him. Rosa didn't notice and didn't care as she reached her tent and slipped into her bedroll. She fell into the Fade thinking about that long ago war Solas had told her about and tried to imagine what Falon'Din's prison would look like.

Dawn light painted the weatherworn blocks of the columns and the statue they framed a rosy pink. The statue was unfamiliar to Solas, its meaning unclear. It was a man standing with his sword drawn while in his other hand he held the enormous head of some slain enemy. The man wore armor vaguely reminiscent of a Warden's, though it was as weatherworn as the pillars and fallen blocks that Solas suspected were elven.

Solas stared up at it with bleary eyes. Sleep had been difficult even for him the previous night knowing they were so close to Venatori encampments. Every howl of the wind had made him stiffen, certain it was the precursor to a spell from their enemies.

His half-formed dreams—he hadn't slept deeply enough to actually reshape them—had been of the past, when he had last visited these lands in Mythal's shadow as her general and recently acknowledged fellow Evanuris. Leaving his tent in the morning had made him dizzy with vertigo at the changes rendered by time and Blight. The dry, rocky hills with their red-brown coloration were the only thing that hadn't been entirely transformed. During the Evanuris civil war the earth here had still been that lustrous red-brown, but there had been trees and grasses and brush. This had been a green land that dazzled with its fertility and beauty.

Now it was a wasteland.

He heard the crunch of grit beneath someone's feet and saw Rosa moving to join him, fully armored and with her staff strapped across her back. She made a face at the statue. "Gross." She shot Solas a sideways glance. "New addition?"

Solas nodded. "I believe so." Though Falon'Din had favored the grisly.

"Inquisitor," a soldier called from to their left. Solas leaned forward slightly to see the woman speaking around Rosa. "We're ready to head out on your command."

"Good," Rosa said. "Then let's get going."

Solas took a hind position in their group to survey the others as they headed out of the wastes and toward the canyons that hid the oasis and the temple within. Tal walked with him, either employing the same strategy or just trying to be closer to Solas so they could converse about the oasis or the temple when they reached it. Tal had already spent much of the previous day pelting Solas with curious questions in elven, much to Sera's ongoing annoyance.

The elven archer was ahead of them, her bow out and an arrow already in place. She managed to hold the weapon ensemble with only one hand and used the other to scrub at her teeth before spitting off into the sand. A nearby soldier sneered with disgust and edged away from her. Sera didn't seem to notice or care that she was bothering him.

Iron Bull stood on Sera's other side, looking groggy. He kept rubbing at his face and grimacing, as though he had sand in his nose or eye. Solas had heard plenty of sand pelting the canvas of his tent the night before and Iron Bull had probably taken his watch during one of those sandstorms.

Rosa and Cassandra had point as they started out and, aside from looking tired, both women seemed confident as they moved for the first Venatori encampment. The night before Solas and the others had glimpsed the Venatori campfires and torches scattered about the canyon and along its edges. Now they saw a group along the left side of the canyon and saw a patrol moving in the distance on the right. Hooded mages in black, warriors in silverite armor, and archers all raced to meet them.

Solas tossed barriers up over half a dozen Inquisition soldiers as they barreled in, then added more over Rosa, Cassandra, Iron Bull, and Sera. The clanging of swords and the clatter of shields connecting echoed in his ears as the first soldiers collided. The Venatori shouted to rally themselves against the fight but the Inquisition had them outnumbered five to one. The battle was over as soon as two of the Venatori died one right after the other. The first man died as an Inquisition soldier's blade rammed through a gap in his armor on his side. The second man met up with Cassandra as the Seeker charged in and shield bashed him before thrusting her sword up through his throat. Seeing how quickly the Inquisition people were devastating their comrades, the remaining Venatori turned tail. Most ran for the red-brown rocks, but a handful tried to flee into the canyon, running for the nearest ledge, heedless of the twenty or thirty foot drop.

With a shout Rosa launched Fade stone into one of the warriors and he let out a panicked shout as it knocked him over the edge. He careened into the open space, disappearing with a gurgling scream. With a grunt, Tal cast a horror spell over the other two who'd fled that way and both men ran after their comrade, diving headlong off the ledge to break their legs on the rocks and sand below.

Solas cast a wall of ice with a sweep of his hand, blocking the escape for the other Venatori who'd run for the hills. The warriors slammed into the wall of ice and slashed at it. The two mages with them immediately began to cast fire spells to try and melt it. They didn't have time for that strategy, however, as Inquisition soldiers led by Iron Bull closed in. Sera's arrows picked them off from afar with a steady thrum of her bowstring.

The fight was over quickly then. Only one soldier had suffered any wounds at all. Although Tal stepped forward to heal him, Rosa dismissed the idea. They needed to conserve mana and the wound was non-life threatening. Rosa sent him back to camp rather than risk him exacerbating the open wound with more activity. They could heal it for him later back at camp.

They pressed on, entering the canyons themselves. They passed the three Venatori men who'd leapt to their deaths. Disturbingly, one man was still alive and lay on the dirt, groaning pathetically from a pool of his own blood. Cassandra dispatched him swiftly with a neat stab of her sword through his heart. As she drew it back out, flicking away the blood with a rag before she re-sheathed it, she said, "Maker take you." But it was not her usual impassioned war cry this time and seemed to ring with a touch of sadness. She took no thrill in killing an unarmed and defenseless enemy.

Descending through the labyrinthine canyon, their group soon found themselves surrounded by red walls. Wind and dust roared through them, howling like wolves or despair demons. It was a relief as they eventually reached the first pool. The scent of water came first, rich and inviting and delicious. Solas saw Sera sniffing at the air like a dog trying to find its next meal. Iron Bull did the same, tilting his horned head back and sucking in great draughts of air. "Mm," he hummed. "Smells good. Great, actually."

"Ugh," Sera complained as they splashed into the first ankle-deep section of the pool. "Soggy shoes."

"You could always go barefoot, lethallan," Tal told her, sniggering.

"Shut it, treeface," Sera grumbled.

Her complaints fell silent as they rounded the corner and the waterfalls came into view. The roar of cascading water hitting the pools echoed from the walls of the canyons on all sides. Tuskets sprang out of the shallows at their arrival, snorting and bellowing amongst themselves. Drizzle sprayed Solas from above as they walked deeper into the oasis, passing beneath a red rock arch overhead that the water poured over and around.

"It's beautiful," Cassandra breathed out, gazing upward with her brown eyes wide. Two statues stood on either side of a narrowing spot in the pools. Cassandra gaped up at one of the figures: a woman with a sword. "Is this Andraste?" she asked wonderingly.

"Maybe," Rosa said, also turning in circles to take it in as the soldiers moved forward, splashing. She pointed to the statue directly across from the warrior woman. "Who's that guy?" Her eyes slid to Solas further down the line.

Solas gave both statues a cursory examination and then shook his head. "I don't believe they are elven." Or, if they had been, humans had altered them. The statue Rosa had pointed at specifically was of a hooded figure, probably male, extending a jagged crown toward the warrior woman. The male figure had no face and the crown he held out to the woman was made of a dark metal that seemed incongruous with the rest of the statue. Green vines had grown up around their bases and twined over their torsos.

"Oh," Tal said from Solas' side, almost squealing with glee. Solas looked to the younger elf and saw he pointed at a bit of blood lotus growing in the shallows. "Even better than it just being pretty." He moved over to the blood lotus and squatted, hurrying to harvest it. "Oh yeah," he crooned at the plant as he delicately plucked the buds and flowers off, careful not to inhale any of the pollen dust. "I'm going to turn you into so much knockout powder."

"Where is the temple?" Iron Bull asked, grunting as he balanced his battle-axe over his shoulders. The roar of the waterfall made it difficult to hear his voice.

Rosa turned, the water in the pool sloshing about her legs and shot Solas an expectant look. He met her gaze for an instant and then deliberately jerked his chin ahead and up. He could see the red rocks, about three meters tall, which formed a natural wall where the water was deepest, about to their knees. Through the mist and the waterfalls, Solas could just see that the rocks formed a shelf. In the dimness of the undercut he knew the temple waited, though it was nothing like the way he had last seen it.

Before the Veil and his long sleep this temple and much of canyon had been wetter. The intrinsic pool had been more of a lagoon or moat. Elves had used a pathway from the sides or used a small boat to cross the moat itself. Solas didn't know how they would gain access with the water so low now and he could not direct the others without revealing that he knew this place more than he should.

"Inquisitor!" one of the soldiers shouted from where they'd walked to the base of the rocks, splashing through the pool. Rosa turned to look, as did the rest of her companions, and just then an arrow streaked from the upper level and struck the soldier who'd shouted in the base of the neck. The woman cried out and blood spurted, staining the cerulean waters as she stumbled.

"We're under attack!" Rosa yelled.

Next Chapter

"So," Sera said, shooting Rosa a glare. "Bull told me you don't feel…" She gestured with one hand in a fast, violent fluttering motion to indicate the temple. "That…shite. You don't feel that? Seriously?"

Rosa frowned, knowing there was little point in trying to lie about it now. "Not yet, no…" She shrugged. "It might be my mark that's keeping me from feeling it." Lifting her left palm she wriggled her fingers to remind the other elven woman that "Andraste" had marked her. That would hopefully put Sera at ease.

"Bull don't believe that," Sera grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest again and glowering. "It's weirdy magic-shite again, innit?"

Hopefully you can see Solas is beginning Rosa's education in earnest. And again, this chapter referenced the events of Solas the Circle Mage. The death of the first knight-commander, promotion of Knight-Captain Brycen (who we receive the letter from in Inquisition), and the fact that Solas and Rosa were implicated in it. And that they were at "ground zero" during the rebellion that damaged the Hasmal tower. So that's what Rosa is anxious about. Anyway...

Thank you Sutet for reviewing as always! You are actually kind of right about guessing that that Cole reading was a bit of teasing. It won't really make much sense and doesn't really constitute a hint regarding what's up with Tal that much. I've actually sprinkled way more meaning ones in earlier!