"Hello again," Amaryllis said, coming to stand beside Varric. He had moved from the fire to stand outside Haven's walls, waiting with the others. "Fancy running into you here."

Varric raised a brow at her cheery tone. "I take it you found your staff."

"Nope," she answered, voice still cheery. She brought her borrowed staff to rest in front of her, digging the base into the dirt, trying to seem nonchalant though her fist tightened around it.

His brow raised even further. "Alright then."

Amaryllis glanced at the group that had gathered. There were fewer than she had thought there would be. She distinctly recalled the Templar camp, the bustling village, the way it had been before the Conclave. They couldn't have all died at the Temple, could they?

There were at least a dozen soldiers all in various types of armor and a few too many Templars for her comfort, their expressions grave. She saw the hilts of swords at their sides, daggers, a bow or two, but she did not, however, see another staff.

"Are there no other mages?" She asked. "I remember there being a lot more than just myself."

Varric grimaced. "Weren't that many to begin with. Most have already gone."

She knew not to ask what he meant by that, because the answer had laid atop the mountain where those who had attended the Conclave once stood. Instead she looked down at her feet, at the scratches along the toes of her boots, at her borrowed pants, slightly too tight for her liking, and allowed herself to yearn for home.

Amaryllis followed behind the rest of the troop, taking slow, steady steps - just enough to keep up. She was confused, with how rushed things had looked, why they seemed to be going at a snail's pace. Cullen had taken to the front, as suspected a Commander should, and with no preamble, motioned for them to follow. And so they had. She couldn't help but watch him from behind, so many thoughts swimming through her head that she didn't have the energy to pursue. Not that she would have allowed herself to entertain them anyway.

The path towards the Temple looked quite different from what she remembered as well. It had only been a few days since their initial ascent. How was it that things could change in such a short time? Amaryllis was still staring down at her feet, attempting to watch her step up the slippery slope, when Solas approached. She knew it was him without needing to look up. His feet were bare though they traipsed through snow and ice. A trait of their people, but one she and Ellana had never had the talent for. Winter was far too cold to go barefoot.

She paused for a moment, hesitant to look up, and somehow managed to trip over her own feet. She teetered sideways, slapping a hand to her bag where her potions clinked angrily against each other. Guilt struck her momentarily at the thought of the vials breaking - the forward camp had had so few to give.

A hand gripped her elbow gently, so light it was as if it wasn't even there. Yet it held her steady and allowed her to catch her breath. She quickly flipped open her pack and breathed a sigh of relief seeing the potions still intact.

"Thank you," she murmured, finally glancing up at Solas. His expression was impassive though his eyes seemed to gleam. Amaryllis had always been skilled at reading others, but the elf had an air about him - a shroud of mystery she doubted she'd ever be able to see through.

"It is of no consequence."

She became stuck once again, unsure of what to say or how to say it. So she said nothing at all.

"I imagine you're thinking of your sister."

Always, she thought. "It should have been me."

"Why do you say that?" he asked. "From what I have heard, your Keeper did not ask you to attend the Conclave, but your sister."

Amaryllis shook her head. "It doesn't matter what our Keeper asked. She could have died there, like all the others. She could die still." Though she knew that not to be true, at least, not for a while. Best to keep that to myself. " Ellana is our clan's First - she's needed. I need her."

Solas paused briefly, clasped his hands behind his back, and looked up towards the rift. "I saw to your sister this morning. Her color had come back. Her eyes had begun to move as well, though they had yet to open." He glanced towards Amaryllis. "I do believe she will wake soon. Today, perhaps."

Her heart thumped, heavy like a stone against her sternum. Excitement bubbled up inside her. "Really? You're sure?"

"I am positive. You need not worry for your sister's health, for now. Though what lies ahead of her, when she does wake, I cannot say for sure."

"I imagine it'll be the same for her as it was for me," Amaryllis said, frowning. She hadn't thought of that until now. Ellana might be safe, her body might be fine, but what of her mind? Her soul? Waking from a painful slumber to aggressive interrogation, without a familiar face to lend some comfort… Amaryllis felt like an idiot for agreeing to leave so soon. "I should have stayed."

"You hold a lot of guilt over things you cannot control," Solas said. Her eyes shot towards him, shocked that he had read her so well. He smirked. "I do not have to be a mind reader to know this; you have admitted to it twice already."

"Are you?" she asked. "A mind reader?"

"I am not."

They fell into an almost companionable silence. Amaryllis felt baffled by the stark difference between the Solas she had spoken to at the Temple and the one she was speaking to now, and wondered if his approach had been some sort of unspoken apology.

It was a few moments later, as they walked the path set beneath a steep cliff, when the air became eerily still. Solas stopped beside her and turned to the side as if listening intently to something the rest couldn't hear.

The silence shattered under the ear-piercing screech of a demon above. Their soldiers shouted out, scrambling out of the way as a man came tumbling over the ridge, slamming against exposed rock until he came to a loud, squelching stop. Blood spilled from between the gaps in his armor, painting the path before them crimson. She understood, then, why Cullen had been leading them so carefully along.

"Maker help us all."

There was no conversation to be made after that.