Sule'din

The temple was...terrible. Horrifying. The way the Fade had been twisted and shaped into a thing of dread and madness gave me a strange kind of existential vertigo that made me dizzy, even though it had nothing to do with my actual balance. "There is a demon here," I told my companions as they looked uneasily at the corpses littering what had once been the vestibule of the building. "Old - ancient - and very powerful."

"Do you know what it is?" Cassandra asked.

"Fear," I whispered, "but more than fear. There are hints of...despair. Pride. Its attention is no longer focused here, thankfully, though it still lingers near this place." It frightened me far more than any demon still unable to cross into the waking world ought, and I didn't know why. Perhaps there was some specific reason, but I still couldn't remember anything beyond my fall as I had tried to descend the slope to the temple.

Then we began to hear voices, and moments from the past washed over and through us. It was unsettling - upsetting - to see myself doing things I had no memory of. The visions called up no sense of familiarity, only a desolate ache and a deepening conviction that I would not find the missing memories within myself. They were gone .

Even so, I tried to do what Cassandra demanded of me - what I had come to do. I poured myself into the rift, though it felt like I was an insect attempting to adjust the sails of an aravel. When I realized that it wouldn't be enough, I found myself pushing aside the tatters of the Veil, reaching beyond it, calling on the energies of the Fade itself, attempting to halt the feedback loop that continued to force the Breach open wider. And I prayed. I prayed to any Creator whom I thought might be listening, up to and including Fen'Harel, because that was the depth of my desperation.

There was so much power rushing through me. It was an angry, hot torrent that I was trying to calm and cool by will alone as it careened away from me, prodded in a general direction, but far from controlled. And it hurt. Oh, it hurt - the pain of the spell on my hand was nothing compared to the pain of so much enraged magic pouring through the conduit of my body. The agony built, and built, and built again, until it and my purpose were the only things I could keep hold of. I didn't even know if I was succeeding. I did know that I was going to die.

Then, as my torment reached an apex that I knew marked a boundary from which I would never be able to return, a new magic circled me, gentle and tasting faintly of frost. It touched the spell on my hand, manipulating it with exquisite care, and the torrent of energy slowed. The pain flickered and dimmed slightly and I -

I passed out.

I knew, when I woke, that I wasn't dead. There was no disorientation, no sense that I had awakened in the the aravel I had grown up in, the one belonging to Maela . But light surrounded me, and I lay atop something soft - too soft, truthfully; it felt like I was in danger of drowning in it - and so I knew I wasn't a prisoner. At least not the way I had been the last time I woke.

When the servant came in, babbling about the Herald of Andraste, I nearly laughed. When I heard, felt, and walked through the unnervingly quiet assembly of Haven's denizens outside my house, the urge to laugh died. That was the moment I gained my first fragmentary insight into what my future among a group of Chantry-devoted shemlenaan held, and it chilled me even more thoroughly than the mountain air.

At least my gear had been left for me, and so I had a staff as I made my way slowly up to the chantry.

Though Cassandra had asked for me, I had little part in the discussion there. Chancellor Roderick was still threatening me, and the two confidants of this dead Divine they argued over endlessly were still ignoring him. They intended to raise up an Inquisition. Fine. They would have done it regardless of my presence.

I agreed to help, of course. Though I had, it seemed, succeeded in stabilizing the Breach, it still threatened to pull the world apart.

After the meeting, I went walking, keeping to paths in spite of the way people moved out of my way, murmuring things I preferred not to hear and saluting me with fists over their hearts. When I found a path that branched from the main one, I followed it, even though I quickly found myself on a rough set of stairs whose varying heights and depths required all of my attention. At the top, I breathed a sigh of relief, both because I had made it without falling, and because there didn't seem to be anyone moving in the little square created by three small houses. At least - I presumed them to be houses. Their color and general shape and size seemed right for buildings.

Then a familiar voice said: "The Chosen of Andraste, a blessed hero sent to save us all." There was humor and light mockery, and an undercurrent of something else - inquiry? - in Solas's tone. My lack of peripheral vision had tripped me yet again.

I turned towards him and covered the distance between us slowly, feeling the way with my staff, though that was more excuse than reality. My heart was pounding. I still didn't know if he knew me as I knew him. I wished I could think of something clever to say - something that would match the emotional intent behind his words. "A hero," I repeated instead, somewhat bitterly. "I hope they have something for me to ride, or I'm liable to fall over a cliff on my way to perform whatever deed needs to be done next."

"A griffon would serve to prevent that eventuality," he replied as I came to a stop in front of him. At that distance, I could see both that a faint smile touched his lips, and that it failed to reach his eyes. "Alas that they are extinct." Some of the pretense of humor faded from his face and voice. "Joke as you will, posturing is necessary."

"It is preferable to execution," I allowed, though I hadn't actually been joking.

His gaze rested on me thoughtfully. "I've journeyed deep into the Fade in ancient ruins and battlefields to see the dreams of lost civilizations, but what you did at the temple, when you stabilized the Breach, was unusual - perhaps even unique. How did you know to do it?"

I thought back over what I had done. "I don't know," I told him. "I - I have always been able to see the Veil, at least for as long as I can remember, and at times I manipulate it on instinct. Though Maela, who was my Keeper and my trainer, tried to train me out of it," I admitted. "Manipulating the Veil is a dangerous thing to do, especially when one is not certain of what one is doing."

To my surprise, he responded: "Your actions seemed certain enough to me, and they were effective, as well."

All at once, I remembered that thread of someone else's magic twining around me. Familiar magic. Familiar because it was his . "You - you were the one who stopped me before I…"

"I was," he agreed easily. "Your death would have served no purpose and likely would have resulted in considerable harm - and you had succeeded in stabilizing the Breach, as well as the mark on your hand."

"Oh," I replied. "How did you know how…?"

"Everyone must rely on instinct sometimes," he said. "As the power poured through your mark, it...unfurled, one might say." He shrugged. "How it might be manipulated became more apparent, and it was, in that state, more susceptible to manipulation, as well."

"Well... ma serannas."

He inclined his head in acknowledgment. "I've watched as hosts of spirits clash to reenact the bloody past in ancient wars both famous and forgotten. Every great war has its heroes, and I am curious what kind you'll be."

I still had seen no flicker of recognition on his face, and these words reminded me of it forcefully. In my own dreams, he had sometimes shown me such places within the Fade. Not battles, but old memories. "Must you sleep in ruins and old battlefields to see such things?"

"Well," he said, looking a bit taken aback, "the Fade is somewhat tethered to the waking world. It is certainly easier to find such memories in the places where they originally occurred. When I dream in such places, I go deep into the Fade. I can find memories no other living being has ever seen."

"And is it dangerous? Falling asleep, alone, in ruins?" I asked. After all my dreams of him within the Fade, I would have been lying had I said that I hadn't occasionally gone looking for small treasures of my own. But when I had slept in strange places, I had done so surrounded by members of my clan.

"I do set wards," he assured me. "And if you leave food out for the giant spiders, they are usually content to live and let live."

"It sounds as though you see amazing things there," I told him, my voice a little wistful. "I can see why you would take some risks."

"Yes, exactly. It is occasionally dangerous," he allowed, "but more often it's just sad to see what has been lost. The thrill of finding remnants of a thousand-year-old dream? I would not trade it for anything."

I couldn't hold his gaze and looked away. He had shown me such fragments - or, at least, I had spent my entire life having dreams in which he did.

Perhaps he saw some of my feelings written on my face, though his words only reinforced my growing conviction that I was a stranger to him: "Though this conversation has not told me what kind of hero you will be, it has provided insight into your character. I believe I will stay - at least until the Breach has been closed."

I looked at him in shock. "Was that in doubt?"

"I am an apostate mage surrounded by Chantry forces," he responded, his voice becoming testy, "and unlike you, I do not have a divine mark protecting me. Cassandra has been accommodating, but you understand my caution."

"But - you are the only reason I am alive, which makes you the foundational reason for the stabilization of the Breach," I pointed out. "No one could forget that...surely?"

"People can forget a remarkable variety of facts when it suits them," he replied, relaxing somewhat.

"Well...I won't let them," I told him, raising my chin a little.

The smile he gave me hovered somewhere between impressed, grateful, patronizing, and amused. "Thank you. Has Cassandra told you of our plan for sealing the Breach yet?"

"She and Leliana were preoccupied with reiterating to the chancellor that they weren't interested in seeing me executed," I replied.

"Ah. There is a fine example of one who has a talent for forgetting facts," Solas said, his tone sardonic. "I suppose I will tell you, then. After watching how you manipulated the Veil and the energies of the Fade, it occurred to me that, if you were fed magic from other mages, you would likely be able to channel enough through the mark to disrupt the current maelstrom and collapse the Breach. Perhaps you might even fully seal it. The problem was the raw power of the Fade flowing through your body, not the ability of the mark to channel that power. So - we must seek out a...less wild source of power."

"Oh, well, I guess it's good I stabilized it, then - that should make a disruption easier," I replied.

He flashed me a pleased smile. "Yes, precisely."

"Well," I said when he didn't go on, "I only came up here to avoid some of the prying eyes below - but I should likely complete my exploration of Haven, so I don't get lost in the future."

"That seems a pragmatic use of your time," he replied, "but as long as you are here, Adan's workshop is that building over there." He gestured, but I knew I wouldn't be able to tell what he was gesturing towards and kept my gaze fixed on him. "Adan is the healer and potion-maker in Haven, and you may wish to speak with him."

"Thank you," I said, and hesitated. I thought there were only three buildings up here, and clearly this Adan didn't inhabit the one in front of me. It would be simple enough to check both of the others - but also embarrassing if Solas saw me choose the wrong one first. Was it more or less embarrassing to ask him to show me?

I was going to have to become accustomed to asking for help. As much as I might prefer to become accustomed to it with literally anyone else in town...I might sometimes need help from Solas, too. I couldn't afford pride. "If - if it wouldn't be too much trouble - "

His eyes widened before I managed to finish the request. "I'm so sorry," he said, and actually offered me his arm. "Of course I can take you."

I swallowed, remembering how it had felt when his fingers touched my wrist - but placing my fingers on the sleeve of his tunic, which appeared to be layered over at least one other shirt, didn't have at all the same effect. It was still exciting, of course. I could feel the heat of his body and caught the scent of herbs - feladara most prominent among them - and a note of woodsmoke. Of course it was exciting, but it didn't rip through me in the same way, as though my emotions had doubled in volume and spilled over both of us...or more likely just over me. I had no evidence that touching me had affected him the same way.

At least this close I could see his face clearly without squinting, though I dared take it in only in swift, furtive glances as he led me across the little square. Even so, he caught me at it. "I'm sorry," I said before he could ask me what I was doing, feeling cheeks and ears heat. "I am rarely close enough to anyone to see them clearly - it - I - "

We stopped in front of the house that was apparently Adan's, across the little square from the path I had ascended. "Think no more of it," he told me kindly.

"Ma serannas. For the help," I murmured as I released his arm, not looking at him. In the future, I would try harder to ask someone else in Haven for help - anyone would be easier than asking him again.

"De da'rahn," he replied, which made me look up sharply.

"You speak Elvish." His accent was strange, but the words were comprehensible.

"I do," he said, his voice richly amused.

Why had I thought he wouldn't? It was clear he knew a great deal about the Dalish, and his accent in Common wasn't that of a non-Dalish elf, even if it wasn't precisely that of any other clan of Dalish I had ever met. "Ir abelas - ar de felasil tel'enleola."

"Perhaps I would be inclined to take offense had you had less on your mind," he replied lightly, "but as things stand - the apology is unnecessary, da'len. Enjoy your exploration of Haven."

With that, he turned and left. I wished I could have watched him go, but, with the snow swirling around, even his movement was masked too thoroughly for my weak eyes to follow with any certainty. I sighed and entered the workshop to meet this Adan and sample his potions.

De da'rahn: It was a small thing (essentially "no problem")

Ir abelas - ar de felasil tel'enleola: I'm sorry - I was a fool not to realize (it)