Note: So sorry for the long long hiatus, I've just lost all interest in the story and Dragon Age in general, it seemed to evaporate overnight for some reason. However I do absolutely want to get this story going again and get it finished, so here goes nothing!

Alas this is going to be exposition-heavy so apologies in advance…

Elissa lay curled in the alcove of her quarters, her cheek upon her knee, gazing at the night sky. A storm of cloud had swirled up, blotting out the stars, but her stare never wavered. She should have long been asleep, exhausted from the day's battle. Yet how could she, when all that lingered was the phantom of Bethany's face as Varric and Merrill had broken the devastating news? The way colour had drained from her cheeks, the horror in her caramel eyes, the stunned silence that had spread through the entire Inquisition; all of it stuck in Elissa's mind, tightening the knot in her stomach.

"Corypheus captured Amber, and now he can control her Shard."

The thought sparked a dark fire inside, and Elissa clenched her teeth. The rune on her chest pulsed with heat, and she let out a slow, controlled breath. The shadow-rage snarled, dangerously close to the surface, before it thankfully quieted. Swallowing, Elissa pressed her fingers against the Shard, the skin numb and tingling. It hurt enough to have lost Hawke, to see Bethany crushed like when she had lost her mother, yet the maddening fury it provoked pained Elissa even more. A single ripple of anger and that tiny flame-flicker would explode into an inferno. An all-consuming unstoppable storm of hatred and destruction that took all of Elissa's willpower to keep in check.

She let her head fall back against the alcove wall, closing her eyes. It was not so long ago she had seen the reach of that bloodlust first-hand, enough to summon a firestorm that razed the world, until Zevran had stepped in. Now whatever Megara—no, Flemeth—had done meant Elissa was vulnerable to the same rage again. She had already killed an innocent while under its influence. And had already proven that no-one had the strength to oppose her should it happen once more.

Shaking her head, Elissa returned her gaze to the clouds. No, she was stronger than this—she would rather destroy herself than risk her friends and allies like that. Yet regardless of her resolve, nothing washed away the bitter taste of failure. She had set out to find answers, yet all she'd found were deeper mysteries. And worse still was that without the key to the riddles, it was putting everyone in danger.

She ran her finger through her hair, biting her lip. More of her memories during her torture under Flemeth had returned, amongst them the witch's admission that she had orchestrated events that led to Elissa becoming a Grey Warden. Yet she had also saved Elissa several times, and the paradox of Flemeth's motives drove Elissa insane. Why mar me with the Taint if my survival was integral to her plan? Why keep the power of the Shards secret until I lost my memories? Why build up a secretive cult made to believe in a false prophecy?

A groan escaped, and Elissa buried her head between her arms. All this, and she hadn't even touched the confused mess of feelings that gnawed at her core; emotions that without question were her own, and yet at the same time weren't. It was strikingly similar to when she had woken as Yara, where the remembrance of her past life teased in dreams and visions. But these were far more intense, smothering and excruciating, masking a pain that not even mortals could truly fathom. And it was her first experience of these that had once more echoed a name that was starting to haunt.

"Etro," Elissa mumbled under her breath, running her thumb across her chin. Three times that name had come to her—babbled by a crazed Hawke in the dark future, chanted by the fanatical cultists, and used to address her by Flemeth. A fallen, forgotten goddess, from what Elissa could deduce, and the single piece that united the puzzle behind everything that had happened. But her quest to learn the shape of this piece, its identity and purpose had stripped her of so much already. And Elissa was beginning to question if such sacrifice was worth it.

Just like when I wanted to restore my memories, Elissa mused. A path that was amongst the most gruelling I've faced, and one that once taken, I couldn't retreat from. But for all the pain it caused, it brought me back to Leliana, it brought me back to my friends, and reignited my own purpose.

I have to do this.

Elissa tensed her jaw, before letting out a determined sigh. She would renew her attempts to understand herself on the dawn. No matter what it would take, she was get her answers.

Yawning, she began to unbutton her shirt, when dull steps shuffled from the stairwell. Elissa paused, expecting to catch a lilac hood, but the bleary visage of a certain auburn-haired mage appeared instead.

"Ah, you're still awake, too," Lahara said, managing a weak smile. Dark circles lined her mismatched eyes, and she leant heavily on the banister. "Sorry for the late intrusion. Have you got a minute?"

"Of course, Lara," Elissa answered, rebuttoning her shirt. She hesitated, shifting position. "How's…How's Beth?"

"Just about got her off to sleep," Lahara said, sitting on Elissa's bed. Her jaw clenched, and the Shard on her hand glowed. "That unholy bastard is going to pay for this. When we meet again, I'm going to sunder his corpse into so many pieces that every single demon in the Fade will get to feast on one!"

"He deserves worse." Elissa clamped her fingers to a fist, the flashback of the dark future not far from her thoughts. "But whatever Corypheus has done to Amber, there has to be a way to reverse it. Our Shards are linked, after all, and we still have two to his one."

"Yeah…" Lahara licked her lips, averting her gaze. "There's something I need to tell you about that. Something that couldn't wait."

"Oh?" Elissa sat straighter. "But I heard what you said about your brother in the Fade."

"I didn't mention everything." Lahara let out a slow breath, hesitant. "It's not…it's going to cause a lot of distress in everyone if I just share it openly, but you have a Shard, it's only right you should know."

Elissa tensed, a shiver running down her spine. She didn't like where this was heading.

"I'm sure you must know by now that the Shards are killing us." Lahara's voice was blunt. "Eliza's found out my Shard is draining lyrium from my life-force, and it can only be doing the same to you and Amber. You two are a lot more durable than I am, though, so it seems to be happening to me faster."

"Yes." Elissa spoke quietly, affirming a truth she had know inside for a while. The sickness, the pain in her chest—she had felt it all adding up, and so Lahara's observation came as little surprise. Though that did nothing to lessen its sting. Elissa might have resigned herself that the Taint would eventually claim her, but even with that, she would still see a couple more decades. Now her second chance at life and love was going to end as prematurely as the first.

"That would be bad enough on its own," Lahara went on, "but it gets worse."

Elissa stiffened. "What do you mean?"

Lahara swallowed, her lyrium collar clicking.

"The spirit of Justinia also told me that the Shard was ripping my soul apart," she said, her voice flat. "And you know what Joseph told me. The souls of the dead linger in the Fade if they are remembered by the living. But it works the other way around, too. If a person's soul is destroyed in the Fade, then the memory of them also disappears." Her lip quivered, and her eyes glistened. "So…so everyone who we know in life won't remember us. We'll be wiped from existence, forever. And nobody would even grieve for us, since we won't be in their memory any longer."

"No…" Elissa's eyes widened, and she covered her mouth with her hands. "You can't be telling the truth!"

"Afraid I am," Lahara said, wiping a stray tear. She took a deep breath, trying to keep composure. "I don't know…how much time we might have left. But I know that the more we use the Shards, the shorter that gets. And at this rate, we're talking…months, rather than years." She clenched her fists, betraying a slight tremor. "I'm sorry."

Elissa shook her head, drawing her fingertips over the mark on her chest. Another echo of memory came back, and she shivered, Flemeth's voice so perfectly clear:

…the Shards are a poison, and it will not be long before they claim your so-called Champion and presumptuous Herald, as well…

"You have nothing to be sorry about," Elissa countered. She stood and walked to the Inquisitor's side, placing a hand on her shoulder. "It was for my sake these Shards were unleashed, and it's my fault you and Amber have to suffer so." She squeezed Lahara's bicep. "My life was already shortened because of the Taint. It took a while before I accepted that, but it was during that journey that I realised something important." She looked Lahara in the eye. "I truly believe the Maker puts us here for a purpose, Lara. And if He deems that we only have a short time, then we must make the most of what we've been given." She squared her shoulders. "We have to get Amber back and stop Corypheus for good."

Lahara managed a slow nod.

"Still able to find a bright side, huh? That's not like you, Elissa." She flashed a grin, though it was very half-hearted. "I guess that's all we can work for." She held Elissa's wrist in gratitude. "Thanks for letting me share this with you. But please don't tell Beth, or Leliana, or anyone. We can't take away everyone's hope, and we can't let slip to Corypheus that our power isn't as strong as he thinks it is."

Elissa nodded, and Lahara was caught by a long yawn.

"Okay, I think I've stolen enough of your sleep." The Inquisitor stood, giving a stretch. "Sleep well, Elissa. We'll talk more in the morning."

"Good night, Lara," Elissa said.

As Lahara walked to the stairwell, however, another pair of steps echoed up.

"Inquisitor?" Leliana blinked, dressed only in her undershirt and trousers, her armour and hood removed. "Was something the matter?"

"Just had to ask Elissa some Shard stuff," Lahara said, a mask of self-assuredness dropping down. "Have a good night."

She bounded down the stairs before Leliana could answer. Bemused, she glanced to Elissa.

"Anything I should know about?" she asked, removing the last of her clothes and clambering into the sheets.

"Nothing you don't already know," Elissa said, also discarding her shirt and joining her lover. She softly kissed the bard's forehead, slipping an arm around her waist.

"Mhmm," Leliana murmured, sliding her hand to Elissa's cheek and pulling her into a kiss. "How about we speak of something we know very well…" Her hands moved down Elissa's neck in a tantalizing stroke, and she followed the line of motion with her lips. Elissa shivered, losing herself to the bard's touches.

"I'd like that very much," she whispered, running her hands down Leliana's bare back. The bard moaned in approval, kissing lower, and Elissa closed her eyes, feeling moisture prickle behind them.

For someday soon, this language will be dead to you.

"Elissa!"

Merrill's voice carried from the upper library, and Elissa stopped, looking at the elf mage from the lower ground floor. Merrill smiled and waved. Beside her Dorian was reclining on the banisters, amused at her enthusiasm.

"Can I borrow you for a second?" she asked, not caring for the irked stares of the nearby mages trying to study in peace.

"Sure," Elissa called back. "What's the matter?"

"I've finished translating the mural that Solas transcribed," she explained. "You should know what it says."

"Right." Elissa jogged up the steps, arriving beside the pair. Solas's scroll was pinned to a desk, and an elegant flowing script had been inked onto a fresh parchment beside it.

"Merrill's been burning the midnight oil," Dorian said. "She's made more progress in one night than Solas did over a week, and his knowledge is nothing to sneeze at."

"Ew, who sneezed at Solas?" Merrill wrinkled her nose.

"Er, no-one, it's just a turn of phrase," Dorian said.

"Oh, I see," Merrill said. "Anyway, this is easy when you know the right words. It's a relatively modern dialect, not very common but one I've been taught." Her voice stilled a little. "Keeper Marethari was very…thorough."

"I'm surprised Solas struggled so much," Elissa commented. "His experiences are broader and more detailed that anyone's I've ever known."

"Hmph, he spends so much time in the Fade he can't acknowledge what's right in front of him," Merrill scoffed. "Our heritage is important, but heritage also evolves. We can't keep grasping for a past etched in gold." She sighed. "Amber taught me that."

Elissa's gaze softened.

"Show me what you've found, then," she said, hoping to change the subject.

"Oh, um, yes." Merrill cleared her throat and began to read. "The judgement for your forgotten crime will begin when the earth screams darkness, when the wells of the guardian's light-blood run dry and fragmented monsters devour your creation."

"Sounds like great fun," Dorian quipped. "As all prophecies are."

"I don't think that sounds fun at all," Merrill said. "I don't like screaming."

"Me neither," Elissa admitted, already disquieted at the tone. "Anything else?"

"The prize you bound as trophy will shatter into freedom," Merrill went on, "willing to deliver retribution as demanded by the cosmos and restore balance lost. Yet if without form or vessel your punishment remains, the end of all things; the hungry storm will consume eternity, and shadowfire and darkness will blight your reign and return everything to nothing."

"It's predicting the end of the world," Elissa realised. "Though I don't understand what it's saying will come to pass."

"We didn't make much head or tail of it either, but that wasn't the only thing we wanted to bring to your attention," Dorian said. "See what Solas wrote underneath."

He tapped the translated parchment, and Elissa followed his finger.

"Those are names," she murmured. "The first is…" Her eyes widened. "Andraste? As in the prophet herself?"

"Yes," Dorian said. "See, the next is Vivial, her daughter who made the controversial move of marrying a Tevinter."

"That's right," Elissa said. "The next is…Chrysella?" She chewed her lip, noticing surnames start to appear as well. "This is a record of lineage!"

"Yes," Dorian said. "Probably worth a fortune, had we been able to save the mural. Alas Corruption got to it first."

"The last one says, 'Alindra Bryland'," Merrill said. "She sounds lovely. Do you know of her?"

Elissa froze, as if an arrow if pure ice had struck her soul. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the name, and her breath caught in her chest.

No…

No way…

"Elissa?" Dorian raised a brow. "What's wrong?"

Elissa swallowed the lump in her throat, her mouth suddenly parched. It couldn't be true, and yet there it was, right in front of her.

"Alindra Bryland…" Her voice was scarcely above a whisper. "…was my grandmother."

"Really?" Merrill whistled in awe. "Then that means…"

"…you're a living descendant of the prophet herself?!" Dorian exclaimed. "Wow! And I thought you had enough claims to fame already, Elissa." He let out a chortle, looking back to the parchment. "That's some proof of heritage. Although knowing the Chantry they'd still denounce it as heresy, even if we had the mural to back us up…"

Elissa was barely listening, scanning the names once more, the all but forgotten visage of her father's mother flickering in the back of her mind. She had only ever met Alindra once, when she was six years old, and could vaguely recall a strict but kindly woman who shared her fondness for sweetcakes and had the same hazel eyes as she did.

And if the translation before her was true, that made Alindra the fourteenth descendant of Andraste.

Which meant Elissa was…

"Sixteen," Elissa whispered, her eyes widening.

Maker above, was that why Flemeth…

"Sixteen?" Merrill blinked. "What does that mean?"

Elissa bit her lip. "Nothing."

"Either way, this has important implications," Dorian said. "The earth screaming darkness has got to be Corruption. As for the rest of it…"

Before he could continue, armoured steps clattered up the stairs, yelling Elissa's name. Moments later Alistair burst into view, his face ablaze with excitement. He skidded to a halt, quickly clasping Elissa's wrist and tugging.

"There you are Elissa, come quick!" he said.

"What happened?" Elissa asked, her heart leaping to her mouth. Maker, please don't say it's another attack…

"It's Morrigan," Alistair answered, "and she's got Kieran!"

"What?!"

Elissa was already bolting to the stairs before Alistair could answer. She sprinted down the library stairs, breaking straight into the courtyard. A gathering was standing at the edge of the healing compound, and Elissa gasped. A huge black wolf stood at their centre, a bundle strapped to its back. It sported deep wounds on its side and leg, and its tail hung limp with exhaustion. But what it was carrying was no mere bundle. It was a pale, breathing boy, deep in sleep.

"Morrigan!" Elissa pushed past the onlookers to the wolf's side, instantly recognising its amber eyes. Alistair was right behind her, and together they worked through the knotted ties. Soon Kieran was freed, and Alistair had tears in his eyes as he cradled the boy in his arms.

The wolf shook itself, growling as its injuries caught. It locked eyes with Elissa, when a purple glow engulfed its body. Elissa had to look away, blinded, but when she looked back, Morrigan had returned to her human form. Her hair was dishevelled, her body covered in scrapes and cuts, and the wounds on her side seemed even deeper, caked with dried blood.

"Get me some blankets, and fetch Eliza!" Elissa ordered. The onlookers scrambled, and once the thick wool came to hand Elissa tossed them over Morrigan's shivering form.

"E…lissa…" Morrigan croaked, fighting to remain awake. "You must…the Arbour…Wilds…"

"Hush," Elissa said, clasping Morrigan's hand. "We'll get you and Kieran seen to. Then you can tell us everything."