Daughter of Wind and Flame

By Pyreite

Chapter 8: To Create A Rift

Abelas returned to his comrades. Troubled. Ellana had asked for her due as Mythal's heir. A tradition practised in Arlathan when an Evanuris had chosen a new host. Their spirit rehoused would've sparked a week's worth of celebration.

But Arlathan was gone.

The empire of Elvhenan a distant memory.

His fellow sentinels would be overjoyed. That Ellana would fill the void left by Mythal. A comfort. They'd spent centuries in Uthenera before Solas had brought them out of exile. Yet he was not Mythal, but the bearer of her soul.

Now that her rightful heir had returned. It was time to prepare for the ritual of transference. Abelas doubted Solas would comply. He and Mythal had been together since the Tearing of the Veil. Five centuries later they were inseparable.

Abelas approached their encampment, uncertain of what lay ahead.

The sentinels guarding the tent (where Solas convalesced) raised their hands in greeting. Others converged on him from all sides. Each wore the gilded armour of their order. The cowls pulled back from their cloaks to reveal fair elven faces. The sides of their heads shaven.

The long tails of their braids over a shoulder or down their backs like a rope.

He knew and cared about each sentinel. Yet for every comrade present, a hundred more were dead or in Uthenera. Tainted by the Blight. Abelas wondered if happy reunions were possible. Ellana was their last hope, and her cooperation hinged on Solas' compliance.

It was a steep price to pay for hope of a better future.

Niall met him first. Tall and black-haired, his violet eyes glinting like amethysts. He raised a gauntleted hand to quiet their companions. He asked for their patience without uttering a single word. As the eldest of Mythal's sentinels, he was loved and respected by all.

He gave voice to their fears. "Where is she, ma falon?"

"Gone to hunt for us", replied Abelas. "Ready a spit. We will have meat aplenty for the first time in weeks. Ellana will return soon".

"The forests are bare of game".

"So I told her. Yet she was willing to search further afield".

"How far?"

He smiled for the first time in days. "As far as her wings could carry her".

Niall was far from satisfied. "You saw her shift and change?"

"Into a dragoness that rivalled Mythal in size and grandeur. She is the All-Mother's heir. Her blood is proven. They differ in colour. Where Mythal's scales were red as a ruby. Ellana's are silver as if she were made from platinum".

That started a round of excited whispers. Someone whooped with joy. Another grabbed his neighbour and kissed him, inciting a round of laughter. Others sighed in relief, their shoulders sagging. The weight of the world lifted from them.

Yet Niall's eyes widened till Abelas saw the whites of his sclera. "Silver?" he reiterated. "Fenedhis. My brother was right. Everything will change".

The news brought him neither joy nor relief.

Abelas was perturbed by Niall's hesitance. "What is it?"

"Felassan was the somniari. I have some ability but none compared to his. Brothers we were but our paths diverged when I drank from the Vir'abelasan. I followed Mythal. He followed Solas to his death".

"Ma falon".

Niall raised a gauntleted hand to quiet him. "Felassan made his choice. I made mine. The vow I took to serve Mythal stays my hand. That Solas bears her soul is an insult, yet the enmity Ellana has for him is reward enough. If she stays or leaves, I will go with her".

"You would leave us?"

"To fulfil my brother's wish. Vin".

Their fellow sentinels murmured amidst themselves. Some exchanging worried looks, while others nodded. Abelas saw the rift forming. Fellow sentinels, certain of their allegiance siding with Niall. Others teetering on the brink of a decision that would alter the course of their lives.

Solas had lost the loyalty of those that'd served him.

Had Ellana's return sparked the end of all they knew?

His speculation ended when Cole emerged from the tent. Lean as a poplar, his face shadowed by the brim of his hat. He stepped out into the afternoon sun. He regarded them with the wisdom of a spirit that'd accompanied a capricious half-elf. He heard what they'd tried to keep hidden.

"You're afraid that she will not return. That she'll abandon you as Flemeth did. The slow death of centuries spent in Uthenera. Waking, sleeping and waking again to discover the sanctum of Mythal's temple invaded. To lose yet more friends and family to a thief's blade".

Niall bowed his head in acknowledgement. "You speak truly".

"It's in my nature", replied Cole. "Don't look to Ellana for salvation. She came to recover Mythal's soul, not to save the Elvhen. She is Mythal's heir, but she won't accept Mythal's mantle. Your mistress is responsible for her people's suffering".

The sentinel elves gazed at their leader, hopeful and afraid.

Abelas felt the weight of their scrutiny. Niall regarded him with concern. The elder sentinel's eyes widening when he nodded. The outcome while upsetting was not unexpected. They had followed Solas long enough to know what Thedosians thought of them.

Especially their descendants.

"As are we", admitted Niall. "Do you think she can forgive us?"

"If she can't forgive herself, how can Ellana forgive you?" asked Cole. "In loving Solas she left herself vulnerable. He tore the Veil, freeing the Evanuris from the void. She was left to pick up the shattered fragments of a world plunged into chaos. Hundreds of thousands of people died from all races across Thedas".

"We have felt their ire from all corners of the world".

"So Arryn told Ellana".

"So my brother warned me", said Niall. "I am the eldest of three children. Felassan was the middle child. Our sister Nadira the youngest. She became the last host for Mythal's spirit until her death upon the steps of her own temple. I placed her upon a funeral pyre, thereby burning her body as was our custom".

Abelas recalled the day of their greatest defeat. Bloodstains upon those hallowed steps. Mythal lying broken, dead and grey. Her eyes empty and cold. Niall bent over her corpse, shaking like a leaf in the wind.

His wretched sobs muffled by her wet hair.

"On the eve of the day I was to take my vows. Felassan begged me not to drink from the Vir'abelasan. Where I went, Nadira would follow. It would be her end. He was right".

"Ma falon", called Abelas. "You were not at fault".

"She died because of me. Mythal left us. I knew what would happen centuries before it did. Yet I could not prevent her death. I will not make the same mistake twice".

"Niall. You are upset. Do not decide in haste".

"Felassan foresaw Ellana's rise to power when we were children. A silver dragon upon a green hill, overlooking a vale full of tents of many colours. A gathering of cultures, creeds and races from across Thedas. A goal that Solas could never achieve, but one that she will. It will be the first of its kind in millennia".

"How do you know this?"

"My brother told me when he was naught by ten summers old. I thought his visions nothing but a child's ramblings. I was wrong. He knew what would come, even if it was thousands of years into the future. I will do what he asked of me".

Abelas frowned. "What is that?"

"I will protect the child of wind and flame".

Arryn was quiet when a shadow slipped under the tent's canvas flap. In the green of the veilfire lanterns he saw a flash of silver. The glint of gold in the firelight. He hoped it was Ellana, yet his heart sank when he spied a familiar face. Tall, silver-haired and yellow-eyed with a face as grim as his mood.

"You have returned", croaked a tired voice

Abela's paused behind the central firepit. He bent to toss in another log. The wood hissing and spitting as it caught light. He peered into the flames, hoping to find an answes. Yet the fire offered him nothing but hot ash and glowing embers.

"Abelas?"

It brought him little comfort to see Arryn beside Solas. The younger sentinel trying to coax him back down onto his pallet. Solas pale and wearied pushed at his hands. He frowned when Arryn muttered a curse. The younger sentinel relented, sinking back onto the floor.

"You need to rest".

"I am", said Solas. "Stop fussing".

Arryn rolled his eyes. "Lie back down".

"I will after I have spoken to Abelas".

The leader of Mythal's sentinels felt the weight of their expectation. Arryn gazed at him. Solas stared. His shoulders sagged. He relayed Ellana's ultimatum, certain that Mythal's avatar would baulk.

He was right.