a/n- In an effort to quell my overwhelming Dragon Age conversations which have managed to alienate a great number of the people who talk to me, I did the logical thing and switched my obsessive gaming habit to a 4th playthrough of Mass Effect. Also, I don't want to play Trespasser again so I was killing two birds with one stone. Anyway, long story short, I forgot to post yesterday, and though I've gone much longer without updating, I still feel incredibly bad that my 30 or so reader have had to wait a day for an update. I apologize greatly. Anyway, enjoy this next chapter.

Of Faith Immutable

Leliana handed Cassandra a neat coil of parchment. For the rest of the room, she summarized its contents.

"The Rebel Mages will be here by nightfall," Leliana pointed at the map, "Scout Harding says they camped in Sulcher's Pass last evening."

"Then we should be ready to move as soon as they arrive," Cullen leaned forward over the table, his chin grasped firmly in his left hand.

Enya's heart pounded under her ribs. Was she ready to close the Breach? She closed her fist around the Mark as it crackled and glowed under her skin. Tingling pain lanced up her arm. She'd grown so used to that fiery ache, accustomed now to how it flared when she grew anxious, afraid or angry, that the curl of her hands and a calming breath was all she needed to push it away. Even so, her control over the pain did little to reassure her that the same would be true in her ability to close a rift as far away and massive as the Breach.

"I can send an advanced team of the Templars at my command to meet them as they near Haven." The Commander leaned on the table.

"Not just Templars. If you would send men to meet them, then have it be a small contingent of Inquisition soldiers and the Templar volunteers." Enya took a step toward the table.

Cullen considered her from his bent position and then rose. He draped his hands over the pommel of his sword.

"My Templars should serve as a reminder that we have the capacity to protect the rest of the Inquisition should the need arise, Herald." he commented.

"And they will, but we did not conscript the mages. Greeting them with Templars alone tell them that we trust them no more than a Circle would," Enya crossed her arms.

"She is right," The scroll in Cassandra's hand crinkled as she handed it back to the Spymaster, "We must be cautious of the influence of the Breach over the mages, but there is no reason that we must greet them with Templars alone."

Cullen glanced between the Seeker and Enya and then to Leliana, whose crossed arms betrayed her displeasure at the entire course of action, and relented, "I'll send word to Corporal Donnath at the Temple to bring his men and meet with the Ser Edwyn at once."

Cullen nodded to the room and then left, taking a roll of parchment with him as he went.

Leliana sighed, "He never fails to act as though his precious Templars are blameless," she moved leaned forward over the map and brushed a hand over the image of Lake Calenhad as though dusting off a memory, "But I was there when the Ferelden circle fell. Though oppressors cannot directly be blamed for the actions of those they oppress they are often the trigger." She took a breath, "We shouldn't parade our Templars before the Mages."

"They joined us out of necessity not out of loyalty or a desire for our cause, Leliana," Cassandre crossed her arms, "Regardless of their freedom, Cullen is right to say that we must use our Templars as a reminder for those that are not so grateful to our Order. It would be foolish to ignore the potential threat."

The Spymaster's blue-gold eyes rose from the table to meet her Colleague's. Enya wondered at their ability to work together. Leliana's idealistic tendencies would certainly have driven the Seeker to madness, while Cassandra's brash pragmatism must have plucked the nerves of a calculated Spymaster.

Leliana clasped her hands behind her back and smiled at Cassandra, "Perhaps you are right," She turned to Enya, "I regret that this must be done with such haste. I'm afraid you have little time to prepare."

"I will be ready. The Breach must be closed." Enya offered a soft smile, "Afterward we might all have the chance to take some time."

"Too right," Leliana's tone fell just short of a forced laugh.

The Spymaster nodded to Cassandra and Enya, "With any luck, this will be easy."

Enya tracked Leliana's movements as she left the room. Cassandra met her gaze, lip draw into a tight line of concern and brows casting shadows over her hazel eyes. The Seeker sighed.

"I wish she had not said that."

Enya nodded her agreement and crossed to the door. Cassandra followed her into the Chantry before breaking off, heading toward the room nestled under the nave opposite Josephine's office. The Chantry doors were open and instead of snow, afternoon sunlight blazed through the opening, painting the scarlet chantry rug with its warm golden rays. Enya smiled as she stepped outside, letting the sun's heat seep through her heavy armor.

The quartermaster, Threnn dictated information to one of the recruits. Her voice was slow and precise, each word articulated as though the recruit had a hearing impairment. Enya was quite certain, given the disgruntled expression on his face as he slipped past her, letter in hand, that he did not. She made her way along the paths toward the tavern. Dorian was often there and, like Varric, he had proven himself a capable storyteller with or without the aid of liquor. The distraction would be welcome.

Her eyes, however, were drawn to the figure of the elf standing outside one of the cottages at the top of the hill. Solas seemed to gaze onto the horizon as if he could see through it to some other plane. Perhaps he could. Perchance he'd felt her gaze, for he drew attention away from the distant peaks and stepped away from the worn stone wall. She made her way up the damp steps, pleased to see that for once they were not laden with ice.

"So the mages will arrive before the sun has set."

Solas' warm baritone greeted her as she drew level with his shoulder. He shifted, clasping his hands behind his back. With her by his side, he returned his attention to the clear sky.

"That is the hope."

She ran her fingers across the palm of her left hand, considering its twisted ridges. The Mark tingled again in response to her anxious breaths. She closed her hand into a fist and brought it tight to her side. A raven landed in the pine on the wall next to her and she flinched in surprise. Solas' grey eyes flickered back to her, and she caught sight of an extra crease between his eyebrows.

"You are concerned that closing the Breach will not be as simple as it seems," he intoned.

Enya met his concerned gaze, "Can it really be so easy? The mages arrive and I use their power to strengthen the Mark," she took a breath, "I am no mage Solas. Not like my sister."

Her voice was steady and strong despite her trepidation.

He shook his head, "You do not walk an easy path, lethallan."

Enya raised her eyes to meet his and opened her mouth to speak, but he continued.

"If you wish, I might clarify the sensations you will experience when the Rebel Mages add their power to yours."

She hesitated before nodding, "I would appreciate that."

Leliana had recommended she prepare, and so she would.

Solas guided her away from the business of Haven's main paths, retreating from the ever-present ears and observing eyes of passers-by. Magic was not a private affair, but it garnered and air of mystery from most. Perhaps he hoped to preserve some of that. She rather doubted though that this was his reason for seeking the quiet of the pines to the rear of his cabin. When he wished to speak with someone it was often only with that person and no others. She settled onto a rock that lay at the base of the cliff-face against which the needled pines huddled, and waited for her friend to gather the right words.

"When a mage casts a spell with the aid of others, their magic combines to form a whole greater than anything he," Solas glanced at her and added, "or she, could produce on her own. You are not a mage, but the Mark on your hand is born of magic and bound to your will, not unlike the magic of a mage. It is likely that the act of closing the Breach will evoke sensations similar to those experienced by enchanters casting together."

A ghost of an old memory filled his eyes, drawing with it an instantaneous change in demeanor. His gaze pierced through the wavering line of mountain peaks over the treacherous Sulcher's Pass as if they did not exist, as if there was some divine meaning hidden in the meeting of their ragged ridges and the endless sky.

"Solas?" she unfolded her legs and approached him.

The other elf drew a deep breath turning to her, "Ir abelas, da'len. When one's mind tends to be allowed to wander, it is sometimes difficult to convince thoughts to remain contained."

He smiled, though it did not fully erase the whisps of pain she noticed in his eyes. She reached out to him, the rough linen of his sleeve brushing the palm of her hand.

"We all have pasts, Solas," Enya replied, "It is no shame to be lost in them."

The fabric under her fingers shifted as the muscle there tensed with her words. She wondered how she'd manage to strike a nerve so easily, but as quickly as the rigidity appeared is was gone, lost under the pretense of control. He changed the subject with all the speed of a hare fleeing the jaws of a wolf. Solas stepped away, leaving a cold breeze to chill the skin of her palm. Enya curled her fingers inward as her hand fell back to her side.

"When mages draw on each other's magic it feels as though we are weaving the tendrils of our differing wills together. These tendrils of will are tangible, much like the sensation of someone's gaze."

A pale but still unmistakable blush rushed into her cheeks. Enya lowered her gaze to hide the added tinge of pink. The crusted top of the snow shimmered in the afternoon light. It crunched under his nearly-bare feet as he walked.

"Though a gaze might be tangible, one can do little more to respond than by turning to challenge it," he continued, unclasping his hands from behind his back, and gestured before them, "The tendrils of magic can be pulled into one's self and channeled through a focus with your own power. Many mages use a staff, but for you, the Mark should suffice."

Enya flexed her hand, stretching the fingers back as she imagined the power there, "So you are certain this will work?"

"As certain as one can be with such unpredictable magic," he drew a breath and added, "You will not do this alone, da'len. I will help to guide their magic to you."

It was far too easy to be reassured by the gentle rhythm of his speech, yet Enya was grateful for the way the knots of muscles in her shoulders released. She let out a long breath and crossed her arms, trying to imagine what it would feel like to be the focus of so much magic. Though there was much she knew that could go wrong, she stole herself not to be plagued by the worry. Closing the Breach was all that mattered.

"I am and will be grateful for your aid, Solas," Enya smiled up at him and this time it was she who clasped her hands behind her back.

The clement weather of the day made travel in Sulcher's Pass swift. Without drifted snow and the gale force winds Enya had come to recognize as typical of the Frostbacks, Scout Harding arrived in Haven with the Rebel Mages nearly an hour before the evening meal. Grand Enchanter Fiona was led by Harding to the chantry while Cullen's men attempted to direct the Inquisition's new allies to the tents in which they would be making their homes.

The people of Haven were not receptive to the newcomers. She recognized the accusation, the mistrust in their eyes that burned festered as a lesser form of what they had turned on her when Cassandra had taken her from the prison and guided her to the Breach. This was different, however. There were many Ferelden refugees in Haven who'd fled the Hinterlands during the fighting. Still more had witnessed the destruction of the mage and Templar war in service to the Inquisition. Their anger was understandable, though Enya feared it might make the Inquisition's knew alliance even harder to carry out than she had originally anticipated.

The hard rapport of metal-clad fingers on the weathered wood of her cottage door drew Enya away from the whetstone she dragged over the chipped blade of her sword. It had seen a great deal of battle since she acquired it, even been to that dreadful future and back with her and the wear was to be expected. Its edge had become considerably smoother in the time after she'd left Solas' company in favor of solitary preparation.

Cassandra raised her hand to knock again just as Enya opened the door.

"Herald," the Seeker greeted, "It is almost time. If you would accompany me to the Chantry."

There was an ashy determination to Cassandra's cheeks. Enya slipped her sword back into its sheath and belted it over her shoulder. Her friend waited on the threshold and they walked together toward the Chantry.

She really shouldn't have been surprised at Solas' presence within the war room. He looked out of place, standing near the wall between Leliana and the Grand Enchanter. He exchanged a curt nod with Cassandra upon their entry. The Grand Enchanter explained that she intended to offer only those she deemed fit among her party. Some argument later, Fiona managed to assuage Cullen's concerns by saying that she would offer only those who had had no past with demons and had shown no proclivity for forbidden or blood magics. She reminded Enya of Keeper Deshanna in the fierceness with which she protected the people under her command. Solas, though initially concerned that the power would be too little, conceded that this was a wise course of action. Josephine assured Fiona that the mage's effort in closing the Breach would be given special notice in any accounts of the event, which pleased the Grand Enchanter. Leliana's scouts and Cullen's soldiers reported that the Temple of Sacred Ashes was still undisturbed.

As they departed the war room, the Fiona approached her. Her back was straight, shoulders carried back with pride. Gone was the elf who cowered under the weight of her shame, replaced by the woman who started a rebellion to show Thedas that mages were not druffalo to be pushed around and taken advantage.

"I wanted to thank you again, Herald," Her deep nasal Orlesian accent emphasizing the weight of her words, "Your decisions on our account have provided us with the chance to show Thedas that mages are not to be feared."

The enchanter gave Enya no chance to reply, departing through the door and following the Inquisition's leaders down through the Sanctuary.

All of Haven was in turmoil. The contention that accompanied the mages arrival was only one reason for the Inquisition's recruits to be in an uproar. There wasn't a person who'd served the Inquisition, be it for a day or from its inception, that did not know the intent of this purposeful walk. Enya felt a spectacle as she walked next to Cassandra. The Seeker seemed immune to the gaze of the crowds that gathered outside tents to bear witness to this moment, as did the rest of the Inquisition's leaders. The eyes of everyone raked over her with anxious optimism, some bearing the guarded glimmer of hope in their depth while other bore the bald shadow of skepticism. As if to remind the onlookers who she was, her Mark blazed, exploding with light.

"Fenedhis," she hissed under her breath and fought the urge to grip her wrist.

Cassandra glanced down at her, concern painting her sharp features. Enya shook her head.

Dorian and Varric fell into step behind them as they left the walled village and emerged into the rest of the Inquisition camp. Outside the walls of Haven, the chaos and turmoil faded into stillness. The icy lake on the other side of the road stretched before them, echoing back the eerie emerald wound in the sky. No clangs of metal rang out from the training camp, no dull thuds of arrows in straw filled the air. Only crunch of their boots in the unfrozen snow that had fallen over the path only days before broke the tense silence. Men that Cullen had assigned to protect camp stood, feet together, right hands over their hearts and left behind their backs as she passed.

She had made the climb a few times since she'd arrived at Haven. It was long, and much of the path had been broken by the demons and Fade energy that fell from the Breach but it had served as a good walk to clear her head and a good run when she needed the exercise. Never before had the path seemed so interminable. With each step she took toward the Breach, it seemed to grow farther away. They went slower than she would have on her own or in a small party and the sun had begun to sink behind the Orlesian horizon when they finally reached the temple.

"You know, most sane people would see something like this and run," Dorian commented off-handedly, and for the first time without sarcasm.

Even his thick mustache seemed awed by the scale of the rift at the Temple's center and the Breach swirling higher than the highest mountain peaks above it. The Tevinter mage, staff in hand, crossed his arms. Did he question his decision to help them?

Varric was likewise effected, "I never thought I'd find myself this close to this thing again," he grumbled, "Andraste's ass, its huge. Chuckles, I hope you know what you're talking about."

"I don't presume to know everything about the Fade, but I am fairly confident in my assessment of this matter, Durgen'len."

Solas condescending response sparked a defensive reflex in Enya. Varric shared a terse, questioning, glance with her. She shook her head at him, irritated herself with the way Solas dismissed the dwarven author. However, when she took the time to look closer at the elven apostate, she recognized the stiffening of the muscles in his neck, and the tension that threaded through the taughtness of his stance as perhaps anxiety. It was not encouraging.

"Alright, alright, no need to get touchy, Chuckles." The dwarf raised his hand in supplicant surrender.

If Solas heard the conciliatory remark, he did not respond, instead directing his attention to the mages that began to line the wreckage of the temple. At his direction, they arranged themselves in lines along the tiers of crumbled walls and half melted shelves of rubble that surrounded the huge rift at the center. Enya glanced up at it, considering the depth of it. Her acceptance stunned her, for as she peered into its shifting crystal core, she felt no fear. It washed away with a cleansing calm that took her.

Before Solas, before even Cassandra, she dropped down onto the floor of what had once been the great Temple. The charred and blackened stones hummed with the bleeding rhythm of the wounded Veil. Some of the mages dropped into the pit as well and they too lined up along the periphery, staffs clutched before them, poised for action. Enya looked back over her shoulder. Fiona and Dorian stood next to each other, an odd pair to be allies considering the circumstances.

The first time she had been here, the walls had echoed with memories of the Divine's death. This time the air was still, filled only with the sounds of the long dead, just as it had been when she had come for answers. It had been a month since she stood in this exact spot, and she hoped that after this day she would never stand there again.

Cassandra stopped at her side, sword drawn out of instinct. There would not be any demons there, Enya thought, for they had be drawn through, forced through by the blast. The Seeker blinked at her and gave a small nod of support as Solas joined them. Enya drew a deep breath as the Mark on her hand burst to life with a tingling echo that reverberated off the cavernous temple walls. She stared deep into the vibrant green light that was drawn from her hand, by the closeness of the Breach and of the Fade. Enya let her breath out and looked away from her hand to her companions. Her heart pounded in her chest, but she was still calm, serene even. She bowed her head to them before she began the long walk to the twisting Breach before her.

"Mages!"

Cassandra called the men and women who lined the wall to attention, though it was hardly necessary. Every person present knew the importance of this moment, and Enya doubted any would risk failure. Still the strength in the Seeker's voice had a quality of stoic reassurance that she had scarcely heard elsewhere.

"Focus past the Herald,"

Solas' voice held the tremulous command of authority. As her steps grew labored, she focused on it for reassurance. At least if these were her last moments… Enya pushed the thoughts aside. These were not her final moments; this was not the end. Her hand grew painful as the pressure built below the scarred skin. Solas' voice was from a place far away when he next spoke and she became aware that it was being lost in the streaks of the Fade that bled through around her.

"Let her will draw from you," he commanded.

Enya tensed as the sensation Solas had described took hold of her, but as he had promised, it was only one tendril that she had to channel. She fought the urge to look back, to see what absurd, misplaced faith in her had produced in these men and women, but she couldn't turn her head.

Her feet could carry her no closer for the ground shifted beneath them, an unstable array of Fade and reality broke around her. Colors became muted, sullen, and sad. She thrust her hand forward before her and the blast of magical energy felt as though it might rip the skin from her palm more completely this time. She grasped her wrist with her other hand to steady it, sinking to her knees with the exertion.

Silence fell around her blasting outward in an explosion. Ribbons of Fade energy slid over her kneeling form. Her ears deadened as the magic that surround her, producing a soundless thrumming harmony that she could only feel, vanished. As abruptly as the mage's magic had touched her, it was now gone and she felt empty and very alone in the middle of the ruins of the Temple of Sacred Ashes.