A/N: Thank you so much for reading! There will definitely be more time with the Avvar later in the story, and we will see the one from chapter 100 again.

...-...

The Black City hung in the sky, ever in Finley's peripheral vision as she sat beside the familiar and foreign rendition of the Chantry she'd loved so dearly. Fields stretched out to her left, further than they should have, though that fell in line with her memories more.

As a child, those fields had been almost endless, with the trees little more than a distant green and brown wall at the end of her world. As an adult, there had barely been a field at all, easily traversed in time that seemed impossibly short.

How slow her templars must have walked to let her keep up tugged at something in her heart that brought a myriad of feelings bubbling up, which she couldn't pick apart enough to understand.

It did little to help her now, anyway.

The Fade seemed confused about whether to shorten the field or leave it stretching on into eternity, whether to brighten or dim the colors, whether to cast everything in a hazy, friendly familiarity, or edge it with sharp unease.

And so the edges of her memory themselves became little more than a nebulous cloud.

Finley didn't care.

Instead, she watched as a tiny little redheaded girl hoisted up the templar shield she'd stolen—borrowed—and nearly fell over, the shield almost as tall as she was and impossibly heavy for such thin little arms. Sleeves slipped down, showing dozens of scars on her arms, but for once, the little one wasn't self-conscious about them.

No, today she had a mission.

Finding her balance with the shield, the small girl, with stars in her eyes—the Fade made them gleam eerily—steeled herself and then let out what Finley had remembered to be a fierce cry, though now it felt like it had probably been more of a squeak.

Again, the Fade didn't seem to know what to do with that, and the roar that came from the little child as she charged forward, straight into the practice dummy, did not quite match.

The force of impact sent the little one flying backwards, onto her back with the shield still over her, her arms both looped through the straps on its inside.

With a laugh, Ser Neill stepped forward and lifted the shield a little to peer at her. Then he sat down beside her. "You know, I think you need a smaller shield."

"No." The word was simple, yet firm. With some help, the little girl managed to get back on her feet and then held her hands out for the shield, distraught that its owner had already reclaimed it. She reached for it a few moments before finally whispering, "Please?"

Ser Neill let out an exaggerated sigh before setting the shield down to the side furthest from the girl and pulling her into his lap. "Listen, I understand you want to train." The little girl nodded fervently. "But it won't do you any good if the shield is too big."

Before he could try to reason again, she was out of his lap and dragging his shield back toward the practice dummy. "I practice."

Another laugh interrupted the scene, a gentle but kind one, and Finley scowled at the memory, abruptly banishing it and then glaring at the empty Fade.

She'd been a foolish child, with foolish dreams. While she could watch herself playing the fool, could watch Ser Neill live and breathe without that wretched gash across his throat, she couldn't bring herself to watch her other templars.

Ser Ross or Ser Caudry.

They were alive.

Or...they had been.

…-...

Finley had braced herself as she wandered through the woods, going over what might happen a hundred times.

If they tried to stab her, she would be ready. She was nimble as ever, and while it would be harder to get away from templars on their home turf, she could do it.

Of course that was the worst case. Ser Ross might see her and just look tired or disappointed or…

Or he might hug her.

She'd squelched that idea as fast as she could. No need to get hopes up. Those tended to crush worse when swords found flesh, and the wound's sting always lasted longer.

Best to expect something neutral and prepare for the worst. Best not to think about the fact that he'd been looking for her...for years.

Why?

Had he wanted to save her? Or had he wanted to save the world from her? To finish the job the other templars had started?

She almost wished she'd read more of that book of his.

She'd never known he was much of a writer, with him only drawing the pictures to Ser Caudry's stories.

Ser Ross had always been so much quieter than the other two. He'd always been a bit more...awkward around her.

Not that he'd been mean. When she'd first come to live with them, she would often hide—almost anything might trigger it. If she smelled blood, if something thudded too loud, if the world was too quiet, after her nightmares...

When Ser Caudry would find her, he'd pick her up and tell her stories. Ser Neill would sing the chant, hands held out until she came to him.

Whenever Ser Ross was the one to find her, he'd simply sit beside her, and he'd wait with her in the quiet until she dared to move back into reach, peering around to see that the monsters she expected were nowhere to be found.

She'd sometimes wondered if he and the others didn't simply chase them away.

When she was out of hiding, he would pat her head or hand and then lead her to the others.

Ser Caudry and the others had scolded him more than a few times for being too distant, but Finley had never minded. The one time he'd apologized to her and told her he didn't know what to do with kids, she'd told him it was okay and hugged him. He hadn't been scolded after that.

That he'd been looking for her...

Finley stopped when she could see the Chantry from the edge of the forest, sudden terror gripping her.

It looked just as she remembered it. The fields, those old walls, the little fence that squared off the Chantry's 'yard' from the 'wilderness'.

She didn't want to see him. She didn't want her memories of him, of his kindness, to be tainted with the anger and mistrust that every templar housed toward mages. She wanted to remember him looking at her as he had before she'd had magic.

When she was still someone who was supposed to be protected.

Scolding herself, she considered how easily she already fell back to fear when she'd just decided to be braver.

And anyway, Commander Rutherford had said Ser Ross was sick. She couldn't let her own selfish fears stop her now.

Once she was going through it, she found the field to be so much smaller than she remembered and before she knew it, she was at the fence, drumming her fingers against it as she looked at the old building.

Her stomach curled into knots as she realized that it was dark inside.

Her templars, along with Revered Mother Genevieve, had always been so good about keeping the candles lit.

It was important to keep the Chantry lit and clean. It was a haven, a place for people to come when they needed help, and it needed to reflect that. It needed to be welcoming.

She'd always been so excited when they would let her light the candles, those small beacons that soothed souls.

And now they were out.

Hopping the fence, she peered through the window to see the darkened hall and then wandered around the front of the building. The doors were closed, but they opened easily beneath her touch.

She'd never known the doors to be locked, so it shouldn't have been a surprise, but then...she'd never known the lights to be out, either.

Stepping inside, her heart sunk as reality proved to be something she'd never thought to imagine.

…-...

Finley drummed her fingers against her legs, hesitating before summoning up the image of the Chantry around her again.

The Fade was instantly running off with another memory. In this one, the little girl was crying because the flower she'd picked a few days prior had died. As Ser Neill told her it was okay, and that they could just come out and see the flowers in the field without picking them, Finley frowned.

This wasn't what she needed.

Solas had spoken of seeing memories in the Fade, of seeing things that had happened when he hadn't been there and of learning stories. If he could sleep and see the battles at Ostagar and the qunari woman adding sugar to bread, then surely she could see…

Surely she could see what had happened here.

She tried to move the world forward. At first the Fade simply seemed confused.

Dozens of memories, all hers, tried to play at once in hectic disarray.

Then the scene settled onto one.

Ser Ross and Ser Neill were carrying Ser Caudry into the Chantry, calling for Mother Genevieve to get the bandages.

There was so much blood…

Finley banished the memory. It was one of the few with her templars that she'd rather not relive.

Ever.

…-...

"Mother?"

Finley turned to face the villager and had to fight the urge to look for something to see if her glamor was still in effect, making her eyes a plain blue. Instead, she tugged at the chantry robe she'd borrowed and then clasped her hands in front of her, giving the villager a small smile. "Sister, I'm afraid."

The villager's shoulders fell a little as he nodded. "I suppose it's too much to think the Chantry might send a revered mother back out to us…"

Finley hoped she didn't look too awkward wearing the damned robe. It felt heavy and clumsy compared to her regular attire, and before this man had interrupted her, her biggest concern had been trying not to trip herself.

Josephine had been smart enough to have her gowns tailored to give her plenty of leg room and to end a few inches off the ground.

This robe was barely off the ground at all, and it was...not optimal for moving quickly.

The fact that Revered Mother Genevieve had ever jogged about in her attire was a small miracle, truly. Something Finley hadn't appreciated when she'd been little.

"What happened here?"

The villager's brow had pinched together, and he'd motioned vaguely to the west. "The Chantry folk all left to regroup after the sky opened up."

Of course they had.

Finley had known that, yet she hadn't really considered what that meant for the people throughout Ferelden and Orlais. Their spiritual leaders had abandoned them to fight with each other in Val Royeaux, if she remembered correctly.

They were trying to decide who would be the new Divine.

Anger curled in her that they'd abandoned the common people for so petty a thing. Rather than argue over power, they should have been helping.

"The templar here left then, too?"

"Ah, no," the villager gave her an apologetic look for his assumptions, and Finley pretended he hadn't been correct that she was really as clueless as he'd first thought. "They disappeared about two months ago."

Finley narrowed her eyes. "Two months?" Even as she considered that they had stayed through the Mage-Templar war and tried to think if she knew of anything significant happening two months ago, another thought struck her. "They?"

"Ser Caudry and Ser Ross Wellington." The villager motioned toward the Chantry. "Ser Ross was ill, mind going, poor man. I helped look after him when Ser Caudry patrolled around the village. When they disappeared, we thought at first that maybe Ser Ross had wandered off and Ser Caudry had gone to bring him back again."

"Bring him back?"

With another nod, the villager scratched at the back of his neck. "Aye, when he was having his lucid moments, he'd say he had to go find their little girl. Thought she was lost in the woods. Broke Ser Caudry's heart every time he went off on that. She died a long time ago, you see."

…-...

This time the Fade showed her a much more recent memory.

Finley stepped into the Chantry carefully, taken aback by the light dust already covering everything.

Frustrated, she stared blankly as her past self searched the Chantry for signs of what had happened.

When she'd come across the journals, she'd been lost. The color drained out of the Fade and without thinking, she wandered over to stand beside her memory and read the imprints of what she'd found in that handwriting that she would have recognized anywhere.

A handwriting whose owner should have been dead.

After the Blight, Finley had wanted to know that they had survived. It had been the only time she'd dared to leave the Wilds. Mathel had just died and her light trees were gone, along with so many other places that she'd held dear, and she'd just wanted to know that at least something she had loved had survived the Blight.

She'd been in the Bracillian Forest for the time.

Donovan had said he'd go to her Chantry—he'd been so grumpy when he'd found that he couldn't dissuade her from going and had finally offered as it was on the way back to his home territory in the Dales anyway. She'd headed further north, hearing that the templars had marched with mages and grey wardens to fight in Denerim.

She'd put half a dozen templars to sleep with her powders before she'd found one with a missive that held the names of the dead from the fighting.

Ser Caudry's name had been there and part of her had broken.

Then Donovan had met her on her way to her Chantry, with Ser Ross's tags. He'd said the place had been lost to the Blight.

The image of the Chantry blinked out as Finley realized that Donovan had lied.

She should have realized it sooner, the second she came to the clearing and found it intact, but so much had been going through her head.

This Chantry still stood, with Ser Ross fading away in it and Ser Caudry tending to him, ever a loyal lover.

Why his name had been on the missive hardly mattered.

It had been wrong.

Her templars had lived, and she had spent the last decade mourning a loss that hadn't happened.

Yet.

The Chantry's logs had proved that. She could remember Ser Caudry sitting down to write in them—weekly, mostly, though in the event that something important happened, he would write sooner—and even after all these years, it was still his handwriting filling those pages.

After all these years, he was still here, with Ser Ross.

Or, he had been.

The journals ended abruptly almost two months back, with no word or trace as to what had happened after.

It left so many questions.

Where had they gone? If they had stayed to defend the village even through the war when everyone else was abandoning their posts, what had made them leave now?

Ghosts of demons charged around her and she shuddered, only to freeze as Corypheus appeared. He gripped Ser Ross in one hand and Ser Caudry in the other, lifting them by their throats and—

Finley cracked the mark to make the Fade quiet down, and then rubbed her face vigorously, as though she could banish her fears with so simple a motion. As though she could force that image out of her mind.

There were no signs that Corypheus had come through here, no signs that anyone had. She couldn't jump to conclusions, or let the Fade magnify her fears.

Right now they were just missing.

After all, Corypheus seemed the type to be considerably more...theatrical with his actions, like all other maleficar. Surely he wouldn't kill her templars and not make sure she knew it had been him, exacting his vengeance for stealing the mark.

She had to stay calm.

Perhaps Ser Ross had wandered further away than usual, and they'd be back any time.

Frowning when she found herself in the hall with the spilled books and skittish wisps instead of the blank area she'd been conjuring her memories in, she angrily walked over to the books and shoved them into places on the shelves.

Maybe there was a reason that she kept coming back here, a purpose. Maybe she just needed to clean it up. It was the Fade, so that logic seemed as plausible as anything else. And if she could cut her tie to this place, maybe she could get back to figuring out how to manipulate the Fade to show her the right memories.

As she gripped the next book, a soft, chittering chime sounded beside her, and she turned to find one of the wisps next to her. Its form shivered and shifted as it chimed again.

One of the books came off the shelf to hover in the air where it had been.

Finley drew in a breath, trying not to be upset as she stared at the spirit. "I take it you have them where you want them?"

Instantly, the wisp flitted away, hiding with a few others a ways off.

"They sense your anger."

Whirling around, Finley stilled as she saw an all too familiar figure standing a ways down the path from her. Somehow, it didn't occur to her that this could be a trick of some sort. She simply knew he was real.

She ran to him and flung her arms around Solas, much as she had when he'd led them to Skyhold.

Pulling away from him, she barely saw the utter surprise on his face. "It's so good to see you. Are you well? Safe? Do you need help?"

His surprise shifted to amusement as he motioned toward her. "I was about to ask you the same." He hesitated before adding, "I am fine. I found a quiet place to sleep and searched for signs of my friend." The colors bled from the Fade, only to slowly bloom back up in muted hues. The look on his face told her everything she needed to know of that venture. Like her spirit, his was gone. "Then I went to see the trees."

Finley glanced toward the ground, heart hurting. "I'm sorry that we couldn't save her."

"You did all you could. You were a true friend," Solas offered, though his voice sounded distant. He still hurt, and would for a long time. She knew.

The world beneath them shifted to dirt and soft grasses, with glimmering roots winding their way under foot. Finley looked up and a small gasp caught in her throat.

Her trees of light stood tall and proud around them, though there were far more than the small grove she'd known. They stretched out in every direction, branches of light a sharp contrast to a sky that's stars still somehow shone in the dark.

Finley turned in a slow circle, looking up at them, remembering how it had been when she was a girl.

As if unable to leave it alone, the Fade conjured a little girl with impossibly tangled hair and ripped clothes, walking slowly up to one of the trees and putting her hand against it, pure awe on her dirty features.

The child faded out as she curled up to sleep in the glowing roots, tears streaking her face despite the smile that had settled on her lips.

As the trees faded out as well, Finley wanted to run after them, like she could keep them there, make them real again.

When she finally looked back at Solas, he was watching her with a hard to read expression. She motioned to the emptiness around them. "What I'd give to bring those back..."

Solas was silent, hands clasped behind his back. There was a hardness in him for a moment, but it passed too quickly. "You have been a good friend."

"You said that already," Finley offered, trying not to feel the losses she'd worked so hard to accept as they threatened to bubble up again and overwhelm her.

"I did not mean to spy, but I thought...I thought I would look for your spirit, but instead I found you." He took a few steps forward and motioned about as the field and Chantry came back into existence around them. "This place is important to the Inquisition?"

"To me," Finley replied. When Solas tilted his head, intrigued, she walked over to the Chantry and rested a hand against the door, not sure why she was so annoyed that it didn't feel like it did in real life. Of course it wouldn't. The Fade couldn't replicate everything.

Solas strode over to stand beside her, still inspecting the scene with idle curiosity. "What is it you wish to do exactly?"

"I want to see a memory from this place," Finley paused when he looked at her, brow arched, and sighed. "One that isn't mine." She opened the door and frowned at the scene playing out. Little her was carrying some of the books from the bookshelf to Mother Genevieve and getting quiet cross when Ser Neill tried to help her with them. She kept telling him no and swerving out of his reach as the books nearly toppled down on her. Mother Genevieve and Ser Caudry sat at the table, trying not to laugh. Ser Ross stood a bit closer, flinching forward every time the books threatened to fall on her head, hands partially extended as though he could catch the books with his will alone.

Finley shook her head, unable to stop a small, sad smile at the ghosts from her past. "I'm trying to find out what happened here, two months ago. The templars left, and I need to know where they went." The memory shifted, and Ser Caudry was trying to talk her into coming down from the top of the bookshelf, his arms extended up to her to catch her as he assured her that just because she could reach a place didn't mean she needed to be there. Despite the fear he obviously felt, his words were ever gentle, actions careful. "I can't seem to get away from my memories though."

"It takes training to manipulate the Fade to your whim, to be able to follow other happenings without one's own emotions getting in the way," Solas offered, and then stood a little straighter. With a wave of his hand Ser Caudry and Finley's younger self disappeared. "Let me see what I can do."