Warning: This chapter contains explicit details of violence, blood and gore. Reader discretion is advised.


That knife-ear bitch.

That conniving little cunt.

Once I catch up to her, I'll give her the beating she deserves.

Then, I'll slice off her ears and send them back to her fucking lover.

No one makes a fool of me and lives to see it.

No one.

Pagan growled, pain searing into his brain, nearly sending him into another rage. He quickly wrapped the flesh wound with strips he'd cut earlier with the dagger she'd used to split open his arm. It was nighttime and they were in the middle of god knows where, but he will not let her win. He will not let her get away with this insult.

Oh, he'll make her pay. This time, he'll see to it that she ever walk again.

Andraste, give me the strength to hide my joy.


Scampering over rocks, cliffs, brushes, weed, and dirt, IIyana kept moving. She had precious few minutes before he caught up to her and she was thankful fear quickened her steps, giving her the boost she needed to sprint in no particular direction - she only wanted to getaway. The fucking bastard had kept her prisoner for two days, drinking nightly as he gloated about his prized possession. Immediately, she began to make plans to escape but after his gaze lingered too long upon her breasts last night, IIyana knew she had to leave. Now.

A stitch took to her side and she cursed as she was forced to stop. Leaning against a stone wall, IIyana clutched her side, panting wildly as she gathered her thoughts and assessed her surroundings. In the distance, the August Rams kept to themselves as they grazed upon the rich, dense forest surrounded by hanging vines of arbor blessings, prophet's laurel, and brushes of elfroot. A land so full of herbs and resources that she thinks she is somewhere in the Dales.

Solas would love it here. He would love everything about this place.

She waited for one more second, to make sure the cramp was nothing more than that, then sprinted in the direction of a ram trail she hoped would lead her towards civilization.

All she needed to do was keep moving.

She pretended she was a halla in the wilds, roaming free and chasing the wind, Andruil guiding her steps to freedom as ran free, while Solas' words fired in her mind:

I need you to be strong and brave.

I need you to stay alive.

No matter what happens, I will find you.

The mantra echoed brightly and distracted her from where she was headed.

Too late.

She trips over a rooted stump, stumbling and sliding down a short, steep incline, landing with a thud. Pain exploded in her right shoulder, fingers clawing at the dirt as if her body had broken into a thousand pieces. Her plan of freedom crumbled when she realized she sprained her wrist.

Rolling unto her back, her gaze found the clear blue sky. Tears of defeat like she'd never known before rolled down her cheeks in a hopeless manner. By the fucking gods, how the hell was she going to make an escape when she could hardly walk? Her moment of self-pity crumbles when she hears Pagan's angry roar. Damnit - how did he find her so quickly?

Straight ahead, she sees a cluster of rocks, riddled with dark caverns. Somewhere near, perhaps on the other side, she could hear the faint, thunderous sound of a waterfall. Exhausted from being stalked ruthlessly, IIyana had no choice but to use what little mana she had left, numbed her system of pain, and stumbled forward.

Downward first, then upward, she climbed higher and cried out when he seized hold of her leg. She clung to the rock, kicking at Pagan furiously, and when she realized she was about to fall, she let go. Her weight sent him flying backward, but he quickly recovered, trying to straddle her. She reached for the knife sheathed at her side -a small knife she'd stolen from him when he tried to satisfy his lust. It was rusty and dainty and she prayed it was sharp enough.

She caught him in the ribs. He bellowed with pain and rolled over. She shoved him, and he rolled, and she was up and running, escaping him.

"I cannot tell you the torment I will inflict upon you. I will not give you mercy. I swear it. By all your fucking gods, I will break your pride and spirit. There will be nothing left of your body for the Inquisition to recover!" he roared after her.

She knew that if he caught her again, he would surely kill her. Then praying that he didn't see her, she ran into one of the caverns. At first, the darkness was overwhelming but her instincts kicked in. Then she moved more deeply into the shadows.


Moonlight escaped the cloud coverage and provided little light as Cullen, Leliana, Blackwall, and Cassandra pressed against the stone wall wrapping around the abandoned cabin. Meanwhile, Vivienne and the Chargers headed around back, using the trees as cover.

From afar, the sound of an owl could be heard - a signal to indicate that the group was clear to move forward.

Cullen nodded. He moved quickly to the front of the door and pressed his back against the side of the building.

One heartbeat. Then two. Cullen closed his eyes, listening.

There, just the slightest sound …

Someone was near. Moving.

Coming closer and closer … the door clicked open.

Cullen raised his sword up and brought his blade down for a deadly strike.

"Wait, stop!" Cole grunted as he deflected Cullen's blow with both of his daggers. "It's only me."

"Damnit, Cole," Cassandra hissed, both relieved and frustrated at the same time. "What are you doing here?"

"I heard IIyana and I came to help. But she isn't here anymore. She's gone," he says softly as he hands her the blood-stained jacket.

Back at camp, Eri waited anxiously by the campfire and when the group returned, he met them halfway. He caught Cullen's sullen expression, Leliana's, and followed Cassandra blindly into her tent.

"Where is IIyana?" Eri demanded. "Did you find her? Why wasn't she with you when you return?"

Cassandra stared at him with a blank expression, then she reached into her pack and handed IIyana's jacket and staff to Eri. "She was not there when we arrived but we found this among the items in the home."

"He fucking told me she would be there," Eri said acidly as he reached for IIyana's staff.

"She may still be out there," Cassandra tried to soothe. "The place was deserted but the hearth was still warm - she was there, Eri. Hours earlier. But she was there."

Cursing himself a thousand times a fool for making a deal with a demon, Eri's anger exploded, the weapon shattering into broken pieces.


Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

She should have been here.

He should have found her by now.

Solas combed the dense forest several more times, looking for tracks or signs of any clues leading to IIyana when Bull's whistle filled the night air. Retracing his steps, Solas was already filled with dread when he saw the group huddled around a steep incline. His stomach heaved at the trail of blood leading down the slope, heading away from the forest towards a cluster of rocks. The caverns were dark and ominous, yet somehow he knew IIyana was inside.


IIyana didn't know just how far she'd moved into the cave. There was hardly any light but she continued to move deeper, using the moonlight to navigate her steps. She must have walked for hours, it seemed when she came to a narrow passageway that led her to a large space just underneath a waterfall. The cold water sprayed into the cave, setting her face and hands. If she can reach its edge, she may have a better idea of where she was.

She cried out when a hand seized hold of her hair, pulling her head so far back that she gasped for breath.

"Your death will be slow," Pagan hissed in her ears.

By Mythal's blessing, she didn't know if she had the strength left to fight for her life. Swearing, shrieking, instantly certain she was about to die, she kicked, scratched, plummet, and fought. But no matter how powerful and vicious her fight, he managed to battle her down and captured her wrists and wrestled away the little knife, tossing it away.

"You like to play little games? I'll show you what it feels like to fuck with me." He slammed her head against the wall several times before throwing her to the ground, shoving her with his boot. He kicked her once, then twice.

Rolling to her side, something shimmered in the darkness and caught her eye—the knife.

She has never felt so desperate, so sickened, and so afraid as she claws towards the weapon.

When he leaned over her, she took careful aim, knowing that she wouldn't have the strength to pierce through his armor. She caught him in the face. He howled in pain, clutching his eye. She shoved him and he rolled. He staggered to his feet, sword drawn as she scrambled to her feet, desperate to get away. He raised his weapon for a lethal blow. She saw the moment and narrowly missed it.

Regaining her balance, she didn't see him reach for his dagger, only felt the force of the blade as it hit her body. Blood soaked her shirt as she stumbled back, felt the icy water weigh her down as she grasped thin air.

She thinks she may have heard Solas but she couldn't be sure.

She was already falling.


If the fates wanted to punish him for playing God by casting the veil and single-handedly destroying the elvhen people, Solas would have walked through the fires of purgatory, fallen to his knees, and accepted what he was due if he knew the outcome was this. Never did he imagine that it would entail reaching IIyana in her time of need, only to be on the opposite end of where she fought for her life.

Solas and co. watched helplessly as IIyana fell and hit the water below with a sicking sound, while her captor slipped into the shadows and fled. Sera, Varric, and Dorian gave chase but Solas was immobilized. When IIyana doesn't resurface, the deafening silence gave away to a crippling fear that shuts down all thoughts, emotions, and body sensations.

No … No … No…

It wasn't supposed to be this way. He was supposed to find her. He'd said no matter what happened, he'll find her.

And she promised. She made him a promise to stay alive.

A memory flashed in the back of his mind.

IIyana reaching out to caress his cheek." You may not believe me, Solas," she said achingly,"... but when I think of you, the picture is always so clear, so vivid ... and complete."

They were supposed to be together.

They were meant to be together.

But why wasn't she resurfacing?

No. No. No.

Not her, not his beautiful, brave, stubborn and foolish IIyana who taught him about all the good there was in the world. Not his IIyana. Not now. Not when she rode through his life like a beacon of sunshine and hope, healing him from despair.

His only thought was to get to her, but no, the arms restraining him cut him off from movement and air.

No. No. No.

Not his IIyana.

She wasn't dead.

He refused to believe it.


IIyana was soaking wet, shivering violently, and at the last of her strength. She managed to pull herself up to the bank, her fists bloody from crawling along rocks and mud. There was no longer warmth or hope of survival. No elation or sense of triumph or victory that she'd escaped her capture. There was only freezing cold, gut-wrenching pain, and sheer desperation.

In the darkness, she hears an owl howl - Falon' don has come for me.


"I'm sorry," IIyana whispered, sobbing. "I'm sorry, Solas." She crumbles inside, then blessedly, her mind slipping into darkness.

At dawn, two elves walking along the riverbank noticed the small heap sprawled just to the side of some overgrown bushes. "Never mind the wench, she must be drunk. Sleeping off a rough night, no doubt," the elven man said more to himself and went on about his business.

But Merrill glimpsed the ears peeking from impossibly white hair, hair she knew the Inquisitor had, and she ignored her companion and turned her around. "By the creators! It's her," Merrill said beneath her breath, her eyes landing on the anchor embedded in the unconscious woman's hand. It was precise as Varric described - angry, green, and utterly breathtaking.

"Don't just stand there," she snapped. "We need to get her someplace safe. Get her out of these wet clothes, too. And … send word to the Dread Wolf.|