Kirkwall, Year 9:45

Agent Pheran felt watched. Ever since he had received the message from Agent Leyth in the deserted courtyard, he had been looking over his shoulder. Every time, he tried to catch them out, there were only shadows lingering in the empty streets. I have lost them, he thought hopefully as he continued his way along a narrow tunnel, which was too low to walk upright.

What he hated more than the idea of being followed was crawling through tight, dark spaces. But it had to be done. Who-ever it was; they couldn't have followed him into this underground-tunnel. The elven man straightened up and pushed the trapdoor open. Day light fell in. Bright but not blinding, as the late twilight was turning into a blue haze.

He dragged the air through his teeth and lifted himself out of the narrow space. As he dusted himself off, he reminded himself to hurry up. He did not want to run into trouble. The last thing he needed was Lieutenant Tasallan to comment on his lateness. Or worse…

He pushed the thought aside. He had found out all could about this dwarf, the idol, the sword. Which was next to nothing, as the idol remained mysteriously lost.

His knowledge of the reasons behind this errand was limited, but his leader would recognise that this was a difficult mission. He would be rewarded for his efforts, eventually.

He continued his path, making wide strides towards the top of Mount Sunder. The short cut had been worth the unpleasant journey. He was still thinking about his wording to the lieutenant when he approached the cave.

Before he could register what was happening, his knees buckled. Alarmed, he whipped his head around to look for the enemy. He only glimpsed a shadow of cloth dart out of sight. The air whirred and the blade of his dagger glistened warningly at the rockface. He was about to get up, confident he would strike the foe swiftly. The moment he turned; he was engulfed in a cloud of smoke. A clatter of metal, a gasp, then everything went black.

When he came to, he was still in the same spot. Instinctively, he felt around for his blade. It was still there. He looked towards the valley, and noticed that the twilight had not changed into night yet, and concluded that he had not been knocked out for long. He patted his flanks and his chest. Noting with a relieved sigh, that he was not wounded. Coughing, he got up. He looked around the deserted mountain top. It all had happened so quickly, as if he had been hit by a spell.

Maybe he had come across some demon or the magic barrier had played up. Still feeling bewildered by the sudden attack, he moved on, determined to reach the halfway point before the darkness could catch up with him. The way to the mountain top was more tiresome than he had remembered. As he felt dragged his feet along, he had the vague feeling of being caught in a bad dream.

Eventually, he found the entrance to a disused mining shaft. The network had ensured that it still looked the part. Pheran pushed the loose board aside and lit a torch. The passage was clear and after a few corners he approached the sliding door, which also was hidden in plain sight. There was a brief grinding noise as the door moved to the side and revealed a chamber.

He extinguished the fire of the torch. In the darkness wavy light reflections were dancing eerily on the rock walls. A flight of stairs led to a tall simply framed, slightly cracked mirror. The eluvian.

Pheran walked up the stairs, then stopped. He held his hand out, his palm facing the mirror. He said with some hesitation, "Fen'Harel tel virthehar."

The mirror lit up in a sudden glow, as he stepped through the weightless curtains, unaware of that someone was following him.

II

After walking the ruin littered crossroads, for what had felt like an eternity, he turned a corner and passed through another eluvian. On the other side, his feet landed firmly the mosaic tiled floor. He remembered the broken line of tiling just in time and stepped over it. He smiled to himself seeing the hall with endlessly tall smooth columns. Soon he could hand in his report and be done for the day. He heard the sound of scuffling and a quiet thud behind him.

He turned around sharply. Pheran drew his weapon, staring down at a stranger, who immediately held their hands up. There was no attempt to fight or flee..Pheran looked at kneeling intruder, who was clad in dusty, coarse, dark grey, leather armour. Except for their head, which was covered in a black cowl, an opaque veil disguising their features.

Surrendering already?

"Identify yourself!" Pheran demanded.

There was no response, instead the intruder's head tilted up and Pheran was struck with bright, sky-blue eyes. Her eyes. That was all he could see of her face. And, even those eyes were shrouded by black charcoal.

Pheran frowned and watched her warily as she discarded her dagger, then held out a gloved hand. A fleeting thought of his struggle at the mountain crossed his mind, but was pushed aside when he noticed a small roll of parchment in her hand.

He took the dagger, then unrolled the small roll. It had a line of symbols, he had seen before, but could not decipher. Below were two sentences, written in a scratchy and uneven hand:

Bring me to Fen'Harel. He will want to know.

Pheran looked at the veiled stranger; their eyes met, and he was struck with an intense gaze, glittering with determination. With a calculating expression Pheran looked back at her.

"We will see about that," he said dismissively as he rolled his dagger in his hand with emphasis.

He gestured for the veiled woman to get up, took hold of her and led her along the hall, towards a wide marble portal. On either side stood green hued translucent figures guarding the entrance. Pheran turned sharply into a corridor leading away from the gate. They turned again and walked into a room which had a wide doorless entrance. A tall elven man in mage armour was sitting by a desk, parchment and a chalice nearby. He looked up from his work then got up quickly.

"Lieutenant Tasallan," Pheran greeted him formally with a small bow.

"Agent Pheran, who is this?" Tasallan asked as he got up from his seat.

"An intruder. She was in the crossroads, probably lost," Pheran answered with an air of disdain, "Antivian, I guess. She stumbled over the eluvian threshold, and that is how I noticed her; clumsy really."

"Hmm, but she got through the eluvian," Tasallan commented with a wooden expression, "She must have snuck in, somehow."

"How will we deal with it?" Pheran asked suddenly gripping the woman hard by the shoulder.

"Make it quick, you have to report from –"

Tasallan was cut off as the grey intruder lifted her elbow and quickly struck the agent in the stomach. The lieutenant shook his head in dismissively as the intruder fled, running towards the main hall. She had made it less than halfway when she was thrown back with a jolt. With the force of a rampant shield bash, she fell to the hard stone floor.

Pheran had recovered and walked over to see how far she had gotten. He looked on as the she was still gathering her breath. Gingerly, she got up. Holding her right wrist protectively, she glared at Tasallan who stood beside Pheran.

"You won't try that again in a hurry," the agent said coolly looking back at her with a derisive smile.

They walked up to the slightly hunched stranger.

What a pathetic attempt. What was she even trying to achieve?

The two men made their way to her in slow confident strides. The veiled woman looked towards the gate. Her gaze was met by the guarding spirits. Pheran did not pay attention to this as he was sure they had cornered the intruder.

One of the spirits said, "Your colours have changed but you never forgot your purpose."

She straightened up and at the signal of the guards she approached the gate. A renewed confidence in her steps. Tasallan stared taken aback by the stranger's audacity for moment.

"No! Stop! She can't-" Pheran spluttered.

But the spirits had parted to let her pass.

Tasallan strode towards them, looking mutinous. Pheran followed his hands clenched into fists, as he watched the stone gate open. It was too late they could not interfere with the guarding spirits, unless they wanted to fall completely out of favour with their leader.

The gate opened slowly, with a rasping noise. The two men caught up with the woman. The wings of the gate dwarfing the three as they entered the hall on the other side. Braziers sparsely illuminated the rows of tall columns were supporting the far-off dark ceiling. One side of the hall had arched windows which were overcast by the early night.

Pheran had barely recovered his breath when he sensed a strange energy in the room. Tasallan had taken charge. Pheran watched with mounting concern, as the lieutenant walked next to the intruder, who had crossed the hall undeterred. He approached the opposite side of the hall, where flight of stairs led to an alcove. Atop stood a tall elven man, in black mage armour. Fen'Harel.

The closer they came to him, the tenser the air became. Pheran could feel sweat pearling on his forehead, he wondered if this intruder had any idea what she had gotten herself into.

They had barely approached the foot of the stairs, when Tasallan made a downwards gesture with his left hand. Instantly the woman buckled, and she was kneeling on the dusty ground. Her head on

her chest. Tasallan shot Pheran a smug 'how-it's-done-look', then addressed the man at the top of the stairs,

"Leader, we found an intruder," Tasallan said in a self-reassured tone, "We will deal with her. Consider her a mere-"

Fen'Harel turned around and said, "Lieutenant Tasallan."

His voice was streaked with hoarseness, and a hint of intrigue, "Let her have a say. She made quite the entrance."

Then he addressed the kneeling woman, "I assume you know who I am," The woman nodded.

"That covers it…clumsy rogue," Pheran muttered with an irritated glance at the floor.

Fen'Harel ignored the agent and continued, addressing the woman in his calm voice, "What do you have to say about this, intruder?"

They waited for her to speak, but she seemed to have frozen momentarily. Tasallan tapped on her shoulder. She stirred, then started fumbling with her belt pocket, before producing a piece of paper. She handed it over to the lieutenant without looking up. There was a pause. Tasallan shifted then read out loud with some hesitation,

"I am here to demonstrate my abilities, that I offer to your cause."

Pheran scoffed, "What could a mute Antivian give us? Are you even Elven?"

He thought he could see a knowing glint in the silent eyes as the lieutenant was handed a second piece of parchment.

Tasallan suddenly stood dead still.

"What is it, Lieutenant?" Fen'Harel asked calmly.

"Pheran, how do you explain this?" Tasallan asked pointedly as he showed the parchment to his agent, who became quite pale.

"It's...I don't know," he answered in an attempt to hide the fear in his voice.

"That is your message, isn't it?" Tasallan asked with a sharp tone.

There was a heavy pause.

"She must be working with demons. I was struggling for a moment, at the mountain. I was certain the magic had been secure," Pheran said quickly.

The silent woman glanced up to Fen'Harel. He was wearing a frown, stoically he asked, "Did you use blood magic, intruder?"

She shook her head and gestured to herself, then plucked something from her belt and threw it away from herself and into the empty space next to her. There was a shattering sound and a hiss as a thick, white cloud appeared.

As the cloud was fading Fen'Harel said, "You stole the message, using subterfuge."

She looked down, nodding.

Pheran's nostrils flared, his fist dangerously clenching. The colour had returned to his face with a flush.

"Why do you not speak to us?" Fen'Harel asked in a tone that was not as demanding as Pheran had expected it to be.

The veiled woman took a deep breath and with a slightly trembling hand she lifted just enough of her veil to reveal her right ear and a long deep red line across her neck. She replaced the cloth and looked back at him.

With a disbelief Pheran watched the intruder and his leader. Her gaze met with Fen'Harel's, and, for the first time, probably ever since Pheran had joined, he saw a flicker of emotion in his leader's eyes.

"What are these abilities that you mentioned?" Fen'Harel asked in an even voice.

Another parchment was handed to the agent, who took it rather abruptly from her hand and said reluctantly, "Thank you."

He handed it to his leader, who read out loud, "I offer you the gift of the hidden word."

There was a pause. He continued, "Because they weren't hidden, I am here."

Agent Pheran couldn't hold it in anymore. He whipped around to face the kneeling rogue, and snapped at her, "How dare you! You are lucky I did not end you at the eluvian."

"She has a point, Agent," Fen'Harel said in a voice, which suggested that he was contemplating something.

He tapped the parchment for a moment, then ordered, "Get one of the guards, they can bring her somewhere else, for now." Then he added with a serious tone, "Ensuring it is a safe and secure place."

Pheran swallowed hard, nodded and left.

Tasallan motioned the woman to get up with a hint of impatience in his gesture.

"Before you go," Fen'Harel said, "they call me the Dread wolf, what will I call you?"

The woman handed a small piece of parchment to Tasallan, who read out a single Elvhen word, "Synea."2

Pheran returned with a guard and was about to grip Synea by the arm, when he changed his mind and simply nodded to the guard. She followed the spirit without protest, seemingly at ease.

Fen'Harel looked on as the veiled woman left the hall. He would deal with her later, once Pheran and Tasallan had presented their reports. Then he could find out more about her. He glanced at the parchment again, looking at the row of symbols were drawn in a shaky hand.

He recognised them. They were Elvhen. Although they did not make sense. Still, how many people knew of these symbols? It was not random, there was meaning. There were many unknowns, one thing was certain. Synea was more than a clumsy rogue, if that.

Solas knew he had just glimpsed a determined and singular mind. A mind that had to be understood. As he tore his gaze from the parchment, he was reminded of the old saying. A demon in the fade was better than a spirit in the fire. Which one was Synea?

Translations

1 The wolf has not forgotten

2 Blue