It was not supposed to be this way.

She was not supposed to be in the Fade, to be in the dark, without Fen, without anyone.

It was confusing. Her eyes slowly scanned the Fade.

She was not alone. A figure in the distance looked at her—a wolf.

There HE was. Waiting or only observing?

She took a step forward, deciding to find out.

On the edge of her mind, there was an uncomfortable feeling of pulling—the sting, lower, in her hand. There was only darkness and emptiness.

There was magic, somewhere near, something warm and comforting.

There was also one word refusing to leave her - grey.

"And I thought that we would be ass deep in demons forever."

Her heart skipped a bit. She knew this voice.

Her hand was still burning - from a strange magic mark or a touch of the peculiar male elf.

She massaged her palm and turned slowly.

There he was - Varric Thetras. Alive and well, just as she remembered him - with Bianka in his hands and a crooked smile on his face.

It was a pleasant change of pace to see him again, to see anybody from her past.

The last time she saw him was the night at the Hanged Man in Kirkwall almost a year ago.

However, now he did not recognize her; he couldn't because of the aging spell still active.

Her hair was grey, her face wrinkled, and she was aware she looked several dozen years older.

He walked over to the three of them with loose, rocking steps that she loved so much.

"Varric …" He began his introduction, but she interrupted him resting her hand on her staff, looking at him from under her hood.

"… Thetras: rogue, storyteller, and as I can see Cassandra's slave," she said calmly and smiled at him.

"Do we know each other?" Varric frowned, looking at Falherna with suspicion in his eyes. He scanned her face, making two slow steps towards her.

She pushed down her hood to see the only thing he could recognize - her light blue eyes. Once, he had called her "Brighteyes'."

"Certainly," she murmured, bending on one knee and putting her staff on the ground.

The bald apostate and Seeker approached them, taking in the scene. Falherna could feel the elf's eyes on her, but she ignored his glance focusing only on Varric, who studied her face. He looked into Her eyes, and his breath hitched.

"Once," he cleared his throat, "I knew a woman with eyes like yours."

She waited patiently, supporting her elbow on her knee while watching Varric's struggles.

"But…" his voice shattered for the moment, and he shook his head, mouth open, as if he wanted to say something else but couldn't find proper words.

She used his hesitation to cut in.

"But she was almost thirty years younger than me," she smiled again, looking into his eyes.

"Brighteyes?" he gasped, and for the longest moment, she could only see the disbelief on his face. She wasn't surprised, giving him the time to consider a possibility that this strange, old woman was here, in this mess, that this was an unexpected coincidence.

"Yes, Storyteller," she confirmed, her voice barely a whisper.

"What happened to your face?" he took another step towards her.

"I will explain," she could feel her mouth stretching into a smile. Her right hand padded his arm.

"I'll explain everything," she murmured to them, not taking eyes from Varric's face.

"You have not changed, Master Thetras. You didn't even lose your smooth hair," she stated, pointing to the dwarf's exposed chest.

He laughed loudly, but after a while, his smile faded, and his face seemed troubled when he looked at her again.

"So what happened here, Brighteyes?" he asked with a low voice touching her wrinkled cheek. She pushed his hands away and stood up slowly, taking her staff and glancing at the elf and Cassandra.

"I owe you an apology," she bowed before them.

"You don't see me as I truly am. My appearance is an act of magic. The keeper wished I was unrecognizable to the Conclave." her voice polite, low and quiet "If you would allow, I will cast a spell to reveal my true face."

The elf nodded without a word, but Cassandra's grim face was a clear indication of her unwillingness to let Falherna do anything. She pointed the finger at her.

"You tricked us," her voice was calm, but brash and her second hand in the meantime reached to her sword.

She felt the urge to laugh out loud. How many times had she heard those words in the past?

"I did no such thing, Seeker," she murmured sincerely, looking straight into woman's eyes.

"Undo this magic trick and let us go further towards the forward camp. We don't have much time!" she said, her eyes narrowed, and frown deepened.

Falherna bowed again, staying serious and whispered a few words with closed eyes. Removing the aging spell was a quick process; what was coming next, the whole body transformation was longer.

She felt a wave of magic in her guts. Energy poured into her, and she could feel her body stretch and then smooth. At first, it was a gentle feeling that soon became more potent and more unpleasant but not painful.

A few seconds later the sensations reached a culminating point and

slowly faded.

She let out a small breath and opened her eyes.

Solas narrowed his eses. This creature knew the spell, which was a well-known skill only to his People. It was odd and unexpected. He frowned, seeing how young she was—a Dalish, less than the age of twenty. No random creature should have access to his power.

He began to worry about how she will exploit the mark. It depended on her personality, which was utterly unknown to him.

He needed to observe her every move and action. Someone young, inexperienced with unexpected access to his power, could use it against them. He could not allow it; he needed to be perceptive and cautious.

Still, she closed the rift with one gesture, which left him tingling. He felt hope, a long-forgotten emotion, and relief because if the mark could

close the rift, it could also close the Breach. Although wrinkled, a simple touch of her skin was different, healthier, more electrical now when the power on her hand was active.

He looked at her again. She looked odd too - taller than any elf he'd seen, taller than Cassandra. She had long red hair with multiple thick braids. There was also more - something like a claw and ring was entwined in her hair. Her ears were not round, as shemlen's ears, but slightly pointed.

She stood composed with hands tucked behind her back. For the longest moment, her eyes drew his attention. He hasn't seen, in his long life, eyes so blue. He understood her nickname now.

He studied her face noticing that the facial markings didn't disappear or change. He didn't recognize them and wondered what they were, as she turned her face away from his own.

Was it possible that it was vallaslin? If so, why it was unfinished?

"Much better now," Varric gaffed pleased smiling widely.

He looked to Cassandra, who stood next to Solas, still frowning with tightened lips.

"My name is Falherna," she introduced herself with a calm, quiet voice.

"Like this is enough. I don't like tricks." the Seeker did not even try to hide her anger.

"Nobody does, still, there are unavoidable sometimes," Falherna bit her cheek to stop herself from laughing. Internally she was yawing of boredness. Shemlens. So limited, without imagination and broader perspective.

"We must move. Time for explanations will come later," Cassandra stated, starting to loot the corpses lying around them.

His eyes narrowed, his mouth set in a hard line.

Falherna .

The anagram. Of his own, old title - "Fen'Harel."

Why had she a name, which was the anagram of his own? Did someone choose it for her, or did she select it? What did she know about Fen'Harel? Why would someone give an anagram of his name to a half-elf?

He averted his gaze, quickly noticing admiration in Varric's eyes who was looking at her intently.

"Fair enough, Seeker." her voice made Solas' stomach lurched.

"Varric, nice to see you again," he heard.

"It is possible that you'll change your mind... in time, "Solas laughed slightly, thinking about how absorbing the dwarf was.

She looked straight into his eyes, so he smiled to make a friendly

impression. He reminded himself that he needs to be careful in conversations with the Dalish, so distrustful with flat-ears.

In the past, they mistreated him only because of the lack of vallaslin on

his face. He had to try to be helpful to this one here if he planned to have a chance to observe her and built any form of trust between them.

"My name is Solas if there are to be introductions." he bowed slightly. "I'm pleased to see you yet live."

"He means he kept that mark from killing you while you slept, Brighteyes," said Varric tucking Bianca in the holster on his back. Solas ignored him, focusing on the half-elf. She was observing him intensively.

Her light blue eyes were resting on his as if she was trying to analyze him. He felt discomfort fighting the urge to look away.

"You seem to know a great deal about it all," she stated slowly while her eyes lingered on his face.

"Like you, Solas is an apostate," Cassandra interrupted them. She was looting one of the bodies that lay scattered around their group. She rose slowly and came closer to them, standing beside half-elf.

Solas looked at her. "Technically, all mages are apostates, Cassandra," he corrected her.

Looking again at Falherna, he started to explain, "My travels have allowed me to learn much of the Fade, far beyond the experience of any circle mage. I came to offer whatever help I can give with the Breach. If it is not closed, we are all doomed, regardless of origin".

"That's a commendable attitude," she said slowly. Solas smiled, hiding his surprise.

"Merely a sensible one, although sense appears to be in short supply right now."

"Yes, it is," she murmured cocking her head to one side and regarding him intently.

"And what will you do once this is over?" she asked, and he started to wonder if she is always so inquisitive.

"One hopes those in power will remember who helped and who did not," he smiled while maintaining some semblance of relaxation.

He hid the anxiety he felt deep inside.

Her eyes seemed to see too much; there was too much interest and something else undefined.

She couldn't stop herself, no matter how intense she stared at the elven apostate.

He was interesting, and she was almost sure she had seen those steel-blue eyes before. Those were the eyes of an older man, although his face was smooth and devoid of a single wrinkle.

His gaze was grave, but his smile made his features soften, warmer, even handsome. Her eyes slowly moved from his face to his neck, arms, legs, and down to his bare feet.

Falherna's fingers tightened around her staff while her gaze traced the width of his arms hidden under a few layers of clothes.

He spoke evasively as if he wanted to avoid answering direct questions. It frustrated her; it made Falherna wish to interrogate him even more than his appearance did. He was hiding something but seemed very knowledgeable, and she was always interested in expanding her knowledge.

Falherna narrowed her eyes at him. His attitude on the surface was relaxed, going and cheerful, but the jaded sadness in his eyes made her believe it was just posturing. Why did he feel the need to deceive them all? What was he trying to hide?

"Whatever magic opened the Breach in the sky also placed that mark upon your hand" for a moment, his eyes met hers.

"I theorized the mark might be able to close the rifts that have opened in the Breach's wake, and it seems I was correct" he seemed pleased that his theory worked.

"Meaning it could also close the Breach itself" Cassandra standing next to them and listening to their conversation calmly till now, suddenly took a step closer and looked at the apostate with hope in her eyes.

Falherna thought that it would be a welcome relief to close it before it could kill more innocent creatures, but what then? What would happen with the mark? Would it kill her, as Cassandra said?

"Possibly," Solas said, looking directly at Falherna. "It seems you hold the key to our salvation."

His words sounded like a mockery, but by the look in his eyes, she could tell that his confidence in her was genuine.

She didn't know how to respond to it. She didn't feel like someone's savior. It was apparent they were all in danger, and her mark could help them, but that was all.

What could she do? Run? She has never been a coward, but there was also something else, something that captivated her in the mark itself. More importantly, she wanted to recover her lost memories and find a way to enter the Fade again.

There, she saw Fen'harel for the first time, and it couldn't have been an accident. For so many years, she only dreamed about him, built his image through the years. Both based on her father's stories and wolf's statutes they have seen in their journeys.

If the Dread Wolf had the reason to disclose himself to her once, he would probably do so again.

Falherna shook her head and fixated on the conversation. Varric looked around carefully to ensure they would not be taken unaware of any lingering demons.

She looked down briefly at her marked hand and felt a small relief that she was finally able to take her eyes away from the mysterious elf.

She did not like distractions.

Especially when that distraction was an elven man.

The mark was calm, although she could still feel the painful tingle on her palm like a reaction to the massive, stuffy smell of the Fade that lingered in the air. She clenched her fingers and lowered her left hand.

"Cassandra, you should know: the magic involved here is unlike any I have seen," Solas said evenly.

"Your prisoner is a mage, but I find it difficult to imagine any mage having such power."

She frowned. How could Solas know how to close the rift if he had never seen this kind of magic before!? She wondered if he was aware of how completely illogical his words sounded?

If he always lie this way, someone should tell him that he is awful at it , she thought as she felt Varric's hand on her own. She looked at the dwarf and smiled.

"I understand. We must get to the forward camp quickly" Cassandra adjusted her sword and rushed forward without waiting for the rest of them.

She hopped over a small wall and looked at the three

of them "Here, down the bank. We must hurry". Solas followed her without a word.

"Well, Bianca is excited," Varric declared to her with a grin.

"Oh, I bet she is," she chuckled, "Remind me… she is now with her husband, isn't she?" She scratched her chin and pretended she was profoundly considering something. Falherna glanced at the dwarf whose face contorted with dissatisfaction.

"You will never let that go, will you?"

"Probably not," she ruffled his hair smiling at him.

She made a gesture with her hand, pointing the way down the trail, "Lead the way."

"Varric, what is your role in all of this?" she asked while they walked together towards the low wall. Cassandra and Solas waited for them. Falherna jumped over and looked at Varric.

"Oh, I am a prisoner, just like you," he winked at Seeker, who glared at him over her shoulder.

"That's not true. I brought you here to tell your story to the Divine. Clearly, this is no longer necessary," she said.

"Yet, here I am. You need me considering current events," Varric smiled. "Also, I cannot leave Brighteyes here alone to fix this mess. She fell from the sky to see me again," he gave her a wink.

Cassandra started to walk faster, but they could anyway hear a disgusted noise she let out.

Falherna felt that despite the woman's roughness, she could admire her strong personality. Varric, however, charming and funny, sometimes was too absorbing, especially when someone was forced to spend long months in his company. Falherna smiled as she remembered how he could make Hawke lose her temper.

Even though they usually shared the same ironic sense of humor.

A few minutes later, they stepped out onto the frozen river to confront the three demons that appeared on their path. The ice was thick enough to move confidently on it. Falherna grabbed her staff, casting the barrier around Cassandra, who charged forward. Quickly she checked Varric's

position on her left, then switched her focus to the demon coming forth to her. Without hesitation, she froze it and fade-stepped to the other side of the frozen body of water. Falherna had to keep them at a distance. The ice crackled under her feet dangerously, but she had no time to think about it as she turned around quickly. The view that met her eyes terrified her. Cassandra's shield slammed the frozen demon and shattered it. While the other two were getting closer to Varric. She registered Solas' movement with the corner of her eye. With a final flourish of his staff, the apostate cast a protective barrier around the cornered dwarf and stunned the demons for a second.

Falherna raised her staff, cast another electrical spell which slammed one demon down. Varric took advantage of the reprieve to withdraw and quickly found a better vantage point to send down a hail of arrows in the demon's direction.

"I've got one, Brighteyes," he shouted, laughing. Before Varric shifted his aim to the right, Solas attempted to freeze greater Fade that was dangerously close to him.

"You really want to play now, Storyteller?" she cast winter's grasp, which gave her fellow elf time to retreat.

"Why not?" Varric's voice reached her ears over the sounds of the battle, but she ignored it and finished her demonic target.

"One for you, Fal!" the dwarf laughed. She growled under her breath, turned towards Cassandra, who killed the aberration and headed towards them.

"I must admit, I have missed fighting with you" Varric carefully crossed the ice to her side, his fingers lovingly traced the lines of Bianca.

"Likewise, Fal," she smiled, her eyes scanned nearby trees and cabins.

"We should search the area," she suggested looking at the Seeker. The black-haired woman seemed invincible. She was indeed a great warrior. Falherna could only assume that Cassandra, with her practical point of view, would agree with her idea. There could be survivors, and even if they were in a hurry, she was convinced they were still worth checking out.

"Alright," The Seeker's response was short and firm. Falherna tucked her hair into her hood and ran into the nearest burning cabin. The flames engulfed the front door, and she needed to find a back entrance.

A moment later, she ran out of the burning cabin.

"Nothing," she said under her breath, the moment the painful glow on her marked hand forced her to a halt. She cradled her arm up to the

elbow with a shaky gasp of pain. She took a deep breath and fought the numb sensation that spread through her forearm.

It made that arm all but useless. Falherna closed her eyes and took every ounce of her willpower to smother the discomfort she felt. Father taught her how to shut off the pain, clarified that it existed only in her mind. With the mental strength, she was able to control emotions.

After a few seconds, her consciousness opened for a new wave of the burning pain, taking it in, calming it down. Another deep breath later, she was able to open her eyes.

The mark responded to the proximity of rifts or the presence of demons. She grabbed her wrist with the right hand and looked around, seeking any signs of the danger.

On her left, among the trees, she noticed stairs covered with a thick layer of snow almost invisible for normal human vision.

"There," she announced to her companions as she pointed to the stairs hidden behind the trees. She rushed in fearless and doubtless. Her spells at the ready and her stuff firmly in hand.

She quickly climbed the steps; she could hear her comrades' footsteps crunching on the fresh snow behind her.

The strange magic in her palm burned with a green light. It grew warmer and louder, the closer she got to the cave. Two demons hovered around the campfire, and Falherna could see the corpse of a man near the rock wall. She looked briefly at the dead body, which seemed to once had been owned by a handsome blond man. His face was calm and so young.

So much death, she thought, unnecessary death.

Her heart filled with compassion and sadness when she saw the man's wide-open eyes, now shallow and lifeless.

Poor man. Poor demons. The whole world is on fire , she thought. Whoever was responsible for the creation of the Breach, deserved nothing less than death. Spirits should be left alone in the Fade.

They were bewildered and lost in this world, thrown here by the rifts against their will. Their presence was unnatural, and they were changed into something, an abomination. What was the purpose of it? Why would someone want to unleash such chaos?

She clenched her teeth and sent a wall of ice towards the demons. Solas joined her casting an explosive fire spell. Cassandra attacked with one smooth but stable charge. Varric delivered a finishing blow with a few well-placed shafts.

Falherna sighed quietly as she felt the mark calm down. She shook out her left hand and strode over to the fire. She bent over the corpse and reaching out slowly to close the man's eyes. Silently she said a prayer to Fen'harel for the peaceful rest of the shemlen's soul.

After carefully checking his pockets for possessions, she turned around to her companions.

A pair of intense steel-blue eyes caught her gaze.

"You're dalish," Solas stated after a while. She frowned, just a small change to the set of her mouth, nothing that would tip the others off to her displeasure.

"But clearly away from the rest of your clan. Did they sent you here?" Falherna wanted to laugh. Of course, he took her for a Dalish. Because of the fucking vallaslin on her face.

The tone of his voice inspired her to question him. "What do you know of the Dalish?" she asked, not slowing down her steps.

"I have wandered many roads in my time and crossed paths with your people on more than one occasion,"

"What do you mean by "crossed paths"? This conversation was becoming more and more enjoyable.

"I mean that I offered to share knowledge…"

Falherna interrupted him "Let me guess... they attacked you?" her tone neutral, bored even. She knew the Dalish very well, their superstitions too. She sent a quick look in his direction, his expression changed slightly, and she noticed the confirmation in his eyes.

"I was attacked for no greater reason than their superstition," he answered quietly.

"Well, they're not my people nor yours, given your bare face," she was surprised someone decided to "share knowledge" with Dalish. Ridiculous idea. There were exceptions among clans; still, they all had their limits when it comes to Elvhen lore.

"Ah," he growled enigmatically in response, "Accept my apologies."

"No need to apologize" the look on her face was grave, her tone light

"Half-elves do not have clans."

"Brighteyes, can you play nice for once?" Varric cut in on their conversation with a smile.

She stepped into Solas' path and searched for his eye, "Am I not playing nice?".

She knew how distant and cold she was sometimes, too judgemental as well. Sometimes she was just tired of the inevitable and perpetual explanation to nearly everyone that she wasn't the Dalish. It always required too many words, caused too many questions, and an unhealthy curiosity.

"Not at all," Solas looked at her, surprised by her question.

"Forgive my tone," she said with genuine repentance while her eyes scanned his face.

She turned away and slowly moved forward. She supported herself on her staff to cover her shaky fingers.

Sometimes she wished she could cut the skin marked with vallaslin so she would be mistaken for a city elf, shem, but not a dalish.

Never a Dalish.