a/n- I've taken a lot of care in writing this chapter. This is such a pivotal point in the story, I think especially if you are Dalish, and I wanted to do it (and the characters justice.) There will be a chapter or two of getting to Skyhold. I want to throw in some character development stuff and dramatize the deepening of Lavellan's relationships with her friends after this near death experience.

The Heart of Human Faith

Their song ended in an echo. Notes carried through the peaks, a great unifying, reverberating harmony of unison that bounced from mountain to mountain in the silver night. They might not know where they were, but to anything that might hunt them, this was their warning cry.

"An army needs more than an enemy," Mother Giselle explained, "It needs a cause."

Enya was frozen before them, a statue of herself and she might have remained that way had a voice not broken her reverie.

"A word," Solas' collected baritone whispered with urgency.

He passed behind her, and around the edge of the tent. Her gaze was slow to follow him, still waking from its stuporred state. She left the kneeling members of the Inquisition behind and followed the mage out onto the silver snow.

The night was complete, shadows long and snow pure, driven from soft powder to a hard crust by the wind. There was none now; the air was still and silent. But for the disturbance, the slight depressions Solas left in the snow as he walked through the dark, the serenity encompassed all. So strange it was to Enya, for only a moment before her heart had stopped, overpowered and awed by the Inquisition's faith in her, yet now she was calm and curious.

She was not far behind him, but Solas remained silent as he lead her away from the camp. He walked with such grace. Enya hadn't noticed it before, but like his magic, every movement, every muscle was controlled, yet effortless. Solas was surrounded by an air of easy confidence that filled her with envy. Though there were days he was wary, she'd noticed, and she wondered if this confidence weren't part of his control as well.

He extended a hand and lit a brazier that protruded from the ground. The blue-green flames licked around the edges of the sconce before they settled from burst into a soundless burn. Enya drew level with him and he turned his attention to her with the ghost of a smile. Even in the strange cold light of the veilfire, there was warmth in his gaze.

"The humans have not raised one of our own so high for ages on counting. Their faith is hard won, worthy of pride, Lathellan, save for one detail."

She lifted her chin and met his gaze. The light of the flame between them flickered in Enya's eyes as she tilted her head in question.

"The power Corypheus wields, the orb he carries. It is ours," his grey eyes shifted no longer fixed on her. Trouble settled into the corners darkening the stormy gray, but it was gone before she could speculate further. He looked up the mountain, "He used its power to open the Breach. Unlocking it must have caused the explosion that destroyed the Conclave. Such a blast should have killed him. He would have been at its center."

"As was I," Enya interjected.

"Indeed," Solas offered a small smile, "I would hypothesize that your fall into the Fade, and your Mark," he nodded toward Enya's hand, to which she glanced, "are responsible for that. Corypheus experienced neither. It is imperative that we discover how he survived." He glanced down to meet her gaze, "And we must prepare for their reaction when they realize the orb is of our People."

Enya took a breath and raised an eyebrow, "It's elvhen?"

She considered him more carefully, hoping to find a mistake or uncertainty in the way he stood, in the strong line of his jaw but there was nothing.

"I saw many artifacts of the Keepers at Arlathvhen. None were anything like that orb," she strove to remember the designs that wove about its surface, "even the marking are..."

She closed her jaw under his returned stare.

"How are you certain?" she asked after a moment.

"Your Keepers would not have encountered any such object. The orb is from Elvhenan," he paused and clasped his hands behind his back, "Most anything beyond whispers from that time have long since been lost. Such objects were foci, used to channel the power from our gods. Some were dedicated to specific members of our pantheon. They would have been protected by the People. Most would have been destroyed in the Fall. It was a grave error that it fell into the hands of an ancient Tevinter magister."

Enya's eyes followed the movement of his lips as he spoke. The light of the veilfire cast the deep shadows in the hollows of his cheeks. His jaw tightened as he continued.

"All that remains are references in ruins, and faint visions of memory in the Fade. Distant echoes of a dead empire." He paused letting out a long, weary breath, "But however Corypheus came to it, the orb is Elvhen, and with it, he threatens the heart of human faith."

Enya sucked in a quick breath. She had heard her place in the world after the Conclave described by many, Solas included. Never before, had Enya heard it put so precisely or beautifully. Her eyes flickered away from his, to the veilfire and back with an erratic urgency.

"Perhaps," she replied, "But can you or I really afford to question their trust? Once I was accused of killing the Divine. You are an apostate mage who has clearly never been in a Circle, nor do you bear the Vallaslin of the Dalish. Yet they have placed their trust in us, their faith in me. Can you discount that?"

He was silent, his brow furrowed in thought, before he conceded, "You are young, Lethallan, and perhaps you are right. But experience has taught that as quickly as Man might learn to trust, he might also turn to blame. Faith tends to make martyrs of its champions."

Solas broke their eye contact and turned away from the brazier. He raised his gaze to the mountain peaks above them, "In any case, their trust in you cannot grow while wandering in the wilderness. The Inquisition must have a new home."

Enya moved around the brazier and came to stand at his shoulder. He glanced down at her and gestured to where the mountains cradled the setting moon.

"The Frostbacks have long broken or bolstered armies. Once the Alamari, founders of Ferelden, fled across them for sanctuary. The tribal Avvar dwell in enclaves far to the South. Orlesian Chevaliers are held at bay by all but Gherlen's Pass. These mountains hold secrets that no mortal has remembered nor discovered for centuries. But I know of one,"

Solas stepped back and raised his gaze toward the north, "There is a place that waits for a force to hold it. There is a place where the Inquisition can build," the weight of his words grew yet it fell to little more than a whisper, "Grow."

Hope kindled in the heart of his tone. Enya glanced at him, her eyes flickering over the prominent curve of his cheekbone to the crease at the corner of his lips, for though hope was not unexpected, such optimism was a welcome and unbidden comfort. The other elf seemed to notice for he turned to her and met her gaze with warmth.

"Corypheus made a grave error in attacking the Inquisition. In doing so, he changed it, changed you," His mouth downturned in thought, "Scout to the North. Be their guide."

She did not worry that he'd leave her to find the way on her own. As he had guided her in closing the Breach, he was offering the same to her now, without so many words. The intensity in his stormy eyes made it difficult to hold his gaze, but she could not look away, nor did she want to. Instead she lifted her chin and asked:

"And in these memories, what is this place called?"

"It has had many names, in many tongues. But for all the languages, the meaning has remained the same," His face filled with a gentle, genuine smile, perhaps the first she'd seen born of actual happiness and not amusement or spite, " Skyhold."

"Leliana, your scouts have found nothing. We would be better off, heading out of the mountains into Ferelden."

The dawn had barely broken and yet here stood the Inquisition Leaders, already entrenched in heavy debate. Enya approached the war tent with trepidation.

In the night, Solas and she had visited the collection of maps, the Inquisition's leaders kept on hand, but none showed the Frostbacks in enough detail for him to show her the way. Instead, he showed her where it should have been and directed her to the location of Haven on the map. The Inquisition had fled westward, deeper into the mountains, for that was where the caverns had lead. Then he described to her the mountain where Skyhold rested. It was tall, capped with a glacier, its peak lifting above all the others. From its tip ran a river that tumbled in great, cascading waterfalls of ice melt, clean and pure. Skyhold itself was nestled over this river, protected from the North by the peak of the mountain and overlooking the great valley that served as its approach.

Enya committed his description to memory with great care for it seemed he shared a dear recollection with her. There was a longing in his grey eyes that darkened them. She wondered at the Fade's ability, for she assumed this was how he had obtained this knowledge, to evoke in him such an obvious reaction when only frustration or amusement had before shaken free his mask of composure and quiet contemplation.

"Our alliance with the rebel mages ensures that any move into Ferelden would be in direct violation of their exile," Leliana reasoned.

Josephine chimed in as well, "And our relationship with King Alistair is tenuous. Any move in violation of him would compromise his support or the support of his people. What is more, any move away from a border would place the Inquisition's support with that nation by default."

"Well, we can't simply stay in the mountains," Cassandra intoned, "Corypheus may be crippled but so are we. The longer we stay here, the more likely he will come for us. In this valley, we'll have no warning."

"So we go into Orlais. We know that Empress Celene's life is in danger."

The strain in the ambassador's voice was palpable, "As I have said before," she paused for effect, "To make our home in any nation would make us appear a threat to the rest of Thedas."

Leliana pursed her lips but kept her silence. Enya attempted to speak but Cullen cut her off.

"The Free Marches, then?"

The tip of Josephine's red quill rested against her lips in thought, but Leliana rejected the idea.

"If we had unlimited time and resources maybe, but we are too many and Corypheus is too present a threat," the spymaster crossed her arms, "It would take us more than a month to move everyone there. And our move would not go unnoticed."

"Have we any other option?" Cassandra's voice ended in a hopeless laugh.

"Yes," Enya stepped forward, her small frame a stark contrast among these much taller people, "There is a fortress called Skyhold not far from here. Three, maybe four, days at most."

In the absence of their argument, the silence was deafening. All focus fell on her and though it was not a comforting experience, Enya had become used to such scrutiny from her first moments in the Inquisition. Cassandra was the first to speak. Her friendship with Enya did not curb the skepticism in her words.

"And how did you discover this?"

"I spoke with Solas," Enya answer lifted her chin.

Cullen raised his hands before him, "Of course the hedge mage would have the answer. When has he not been there to supply us with convenient solutions?"

Solas had once indicated there was some dissent of the issue of his presence within the Inquisition. This was the first she could remember ever hearing a member of the Inquisition's elite voice an opinion on the matter. Unbidden, frustration boiled in her chest.

"We have been down this road before, Cullen," Cassandra's flat tone implied she did not wish this conversation to continue, "No matter how suspect his timing might appear, Solas has given us no reason to doubt his sincerity or devotion to our cause."

"First the world falls apart and he happens to know how to stop the Mark from consuming the Herald. And then he can explain to us how to close the Breach?" Cullen's mouth drew a thin line across his face, "Now he knows of an abandoned fortress hidden in the Frostbacks when we need it most?" he pressed his fingertips against the table, "Say what you will, Seeker, there is coincidence and then there is planning."

"Cullen, isn't that a tad disingenuous?" Josephine asked, "It's one thing to say you don't trust him, but another to imply that he is working for our enemy."

"Solas has done nothing but help you, and this is how you talk about him?" Enya raised a singular eyebrow in the peak of her irritation, "Enough. This gets us nowhere. If you really feel we must have this conversation, then let it be had after we find shelter for the people of your Inquisition."

Cullen tightened his lips again, but his brow softened with her admonishments. He lowered his gaze.

"Now," Enya leaned against the table, "When we fled Haven…"

Leliana offered to send her scouts along to help Enya, but she declined the aid. Cullen apologized and conceded that finding a place closer than the Free Marches would not only be convenient but preferred. Cassandra and Josephine offered their support. And with that it was decided that they set out for Skyhold.

The Inquisition was a river that ebbed and flowed over the mountains. Enya lead them, heading northward through low valleys and snow-covered passes. Her onyx armor was heavy, but it was the only thing that shielded her from the wind when she climbed up the great snowy peaks to look for their next turn and so she was grateful for it. The brontos that carried their supplies moved slowly. The carts hauling what remained of the injured stuck often on rocks or in soft patches of snow. They had lost all the horses, either by flight or by snow. It would not have mattered. They only had enough mounts to carry a hundred of the Inquisition's people and their numbers were still greater with the mages in tow.

Cassandra approached her at noon on the second day. The Seeker's face was worn by the shadows under her eyes. The Inquisition had stopped so the wounded might be tended and so those that needed sustenance could imbibe it. They were careful with their resources, however, for they did not know when they would next have the chance to resupply.

"I have been meaning to speak with you," The Seeker began.

Enya settled onto a rock that protruded from the snow, relishing the relief it gave her legs. Settling next to her, Cassandra stretched out her left leg with a sigh. Enya lips twitched in amusement. The Seeker tore a piece of dry bread in half and offered it to Enya. Grateful, Enya took it and divided it further into chunks she could eat more easily. The bread was hard and dry, all that was left over from the breadmaker in Haven. His house had been one of the first to burn. She hadn't realized her hunger until the moment she popped the piece into her mouth.

Cassandra drew a breath, "Actually, I suppose…I have been meaning to thank you."

Enya raised an eyebrow at her friend, blinking her eyes in question.

"I would have stayed at that trebuchet, had you not forced me to go."

The Seeker's gaze traveled over the circles of people that clustered close together. Even in the full sun of noon, the air fell shy of comfortable. The closer they sat, the warmer they were.

"And I would have died."

Enya's brow furrowed, "I made it out, Cassandra. You are more resourceful than I."

The Seeker gave a wry laugh, "Yes. I have survived many a fight, but I would not have had the chance to fire that trebuchet. You lived because you had something Corypheus wanted. His desire for your mark was what kept him talking long enough for the Inquisition to flee. He would have killed me on sight."

"Perhaps you would have found a way," Enya ate another piece of bread, relishing the sweet taste despite the dryness of it, "but you are welcome."

She smiled at the other warrior in reassurance, but Cassandra was not the kind that let dark thoughts flee her mind with ease.

"I forget sometimes that you are not part of this by your own will. That fate intervened on our behalf to give us a savior who could oppose this great evil, and that I was rash enough to see you as the enemy."

"It was not as though you had no reason, Cassandra. Your Divine had just died," Enya paused, and looked at her hand, "The entire Conclave was destroyed, everyone burned…except me."

"You are forgiving, Herald," Cassandra shook her head and this time did smile, "Regardless, I must think before I make such decisions in the future. If things had gone differently, if we hadn't realized the value of your mark, you might have been killed, and we would have lost the greatest chance the Maker has given us at saving Thedas."

Enya slipped the rest of the chunk of bread into a pouch at her waist, "Perhaps. But I'm here because I wish to be. I could just as easily have left after I was freed, Mark or no. I'm here because I want to be, because I believe in the Inquisition's cause, and because I believe that Corypheus must be stopped."

They rose from the rock on which they sat and Enya lifted her voice, "Inquisition! It is time to move on!"

While the Inquisition gathered its belongings, Cassandra and she continued to the top of the ridge. The mountain wind picked up on the other side, spitting snow at their faces, but the valley that descended before them showed promise. It was long and at its bottom a frozen river ran westward toward the Orelsian Empire. Enya could see out beyond the Frostbacks into the foothills of eastern Orlais, the Dales.

"You are right Herald, on all but one account," Cassandra crossed her arms and looked back down the ridge to the approaching Inquisition, "I do not believe that you ever thought to leave."