This story takes place after Merrill's personal quest 'A New Path' but before the events of 'The Last Straw.'
The night Merrill returned home from Sundermount, everything was silent, befitting her mourning- and her guilt. That first night, she didn't sleep. Their faces flashed through her mind, The Keeper, the hahren, the hunters and the da'len...
Two weeks later and she still had yet to leave her house. Hawke, Isabela, Varric and even Aveline had come to tried and coax her into going out for fresh air, but she still stayed inside. It was nothing new to her, Merrill had grown accustomed to staying indoors for time on end... but that had been so she could work on repairing the mirror.
Tonight the Alienage was not silent as it had been. The wind whistled through the holes in the roof and howled through the foundry district so loud it could be heard in her home. It was eerie and unnerving; she thought it fit her loneliness and internal conflict.
The elf feathered the fingers of her right hand over the Eluvian's quicksilver surface. She didn't know what to do with it. Over seven years of her life wasted on it. So much time spent on it... so much time lost to her. She had imagined the face's of Marethari and the clan when she returned with a working relic of The People's past, showing them that they had nothing to fear and how she was right! But... she wasn't. She couldn't bring herself to destroy it, not after all she had done to repair it, but at the same time she began feeling sick whenever she thought of continuing to repair it.
The former First opened the front door to retrieve the food Varric had delivered for her, as he often did when she didn't leave her house for long periods of time. As the young woman lifted a fruit and checked over it, wondering if it could be eaten raw she noticed something by the stairs that led into the area that housed the Alienage. Or rather, someone by the stairs. She wished her mind wouldn't play such tricks on her. She had already started to think she'd gone mad when she thought she seen Tamlen... but now this.
Other elves were still shuffling through the deprived district, finishing their business for the evening, but there was one woman in particular who had drawn Merrill's attention: standing at the Alienage's entrance dressed in light armour was a slender, blonde haired elf. She stood still, her hands hooked on the pommels of the daggers hooked along to her hips. Tattoos ran from the base of her neck and up along the sides of her faces, almost meeting at the center of her forehead. Vallaslin, the blood writing of The People. She was Dalish. She was supposed to be gone, she was a memory... alive, but gone somewhere. Merrill's mind had to be playing tricks on her. It had to be. Didn't it? She had to know for sure.
Merrill pulled the basket of food into her apartment, got on her knees and left the door open a sliver, just enough to peek out of and see if she was still there. She was. Merrill whistled a few bars from an Elvish song that her clan knew and drew herself tightly against the wall and her knees pressed against her chest, not daring to look out again.
Creators, I really am going mad!
There were footsteps, and then they stopped. Merrill heard another verse of the song whistled back to her and the mage let out a small squeak. It was her voice. She got back on to her knees and crawled closer to the door and opened it a few more inches to look again. The footsteps started again and Merrill poked her head outside the door.
"Lethallan?"
Merrill fell backwards upon seeing a pair of dark green eyes looking into her own.
"Ly-Lyna?"
On one knee peering into the hovel Merrill called home was Lyna Mahariel. Sweet, wonderful Lyna. Her only friend amongst the clan. Her... her last clan mate. Oh... oh no. Merrill thought. How can I- How... What cou-
The blonde woman stood to full height, opened the door all the way and offered Merrill a hand up.
"Oh, Lethallan," Lyna said again, with a different tone than she had the first time. Softer, less confused and questioning. More... Lyna like.
"Aneth ara," Merrill said, welcoming Lyna inside. The elven woman smiled and followed Merrill towards a table, eyeing a sculpture of a Halla on a desk on the side of the room.
"I have heard of troubling events happening in this city," Lyna said, taking the seat Merrill offered her. "I came to speak with the Alienage's Hahren before finding one of the human's of note in the city. I often find that elves trust me more that the humans, and are willing to give reliable and honest information... But Mythal, I never expected this. What are you doing here Merrill?"
Seated at the table now too, the ex-First looked away, over to the fire place in the corner, "I... I live here."
The soft look in Lyna's eyes made Merrill's insides ache. She felt like her heart was beating in her throat. "Why Merrill?"
"I needed to walk a different path than the one that was before me," Merrill said.
Lyna looked as if she understood her. She did understand her, Merrill thought. She was one of the only people who did. Though... she did not understand her anymore. The person Lyna knew so well was dead. Dead like... dead like Marethari, like Paivel and Fenarel.
"I had heard that the clan was based somewhere near Kirkwall. I intended to go there once my business here was concluded. If you like Merrill, I will speak with the Keeper and... Maybe we both can be part of the clan again." Lyna took Merrill's hand, making Merrill look up at her again. "I've missed you all so much Lethallan. You, Fenarel, The Keeper and Ashalle especially."
The person Lyna once knew was dead like Ashalle was.
Merrill tightened her grip on Lyna's and led her towards her bedroom. "I left the clan so that I could help them... I thought I could restore something that The People lost... I thought I could help you, I thought I could find Tamlen."
The two Dalish stood before the unfinished Eluvian and Merrill released her hold on the person who had once been her friend's hand. Lyna's mouth quivered and she whispered a soft, "Mythal," attempting to invoke the Goddess' protection.
Merrill did not look at her. She couldn't bring herself to, she felt too ashamed.
"Y-you put it back together...? You put the Eluvian back together?"
Merrill nodded.
"H-how could you?" Lyna cried. "It... it..." Her voice had grown faint but it was now fierce."It turned Tamlen into a monster!"
Merrill flinched, as if the force of Lyna's words were a slap across the face. She almost wished they were. She deserved it, and more.
Lyna was shaking. "He was like... them... He was like the Darkspawn! He... he was corrupted. Driven insane by that things taint!" she cried, pointing at the mirror. Tears began to pool in Lyna's eyes. "He begged me to kill him... and I did." The elf drew her daggers and held them by the hilts in each and thrust the pommels into the Eluvian. Shards and fragments flew out, some cutting Lyna's pale skin, others falling to the floor.
Merrill shrieked out in panic and put her arms around Lyna's shoulders to try and restrain her.
"Marethari must have told that you were mad to repair this... thing! Is that why you had to leave the clan?" Lyna cried, freeing herself from Merrill's grasp and hitting the Eluvian again.
Merrill buried her head in her hands. "She's dead Lyna! They're all... the whole clan is dead... They're dead because I killed them!" the elf sobbed. "I didn't want to! I didn't mean to!" she said between hiccupping cries. "The Keeper, the hahren, the da'len and the hunters... Our friends... our family... Mythal I didn't want-" her words became unintelligible between in her tears.
Lyna's face was a tragedy mask, twisted by sorrow and pain. She turned from Merrill and put her foot through the mirror and Merrill cried out again and tried to stop her.
Neither knew who struck the first blow, but now the two clan mates faced each other in Merrill's small bedroom with weapons drawn. Merrill had retrieved her staff from the corner of the room when the fight had began and now parried strikes from Lyna's twin daggers with it and managed to open a gash in Lyna's thigh with the staffs spear end.
Lyna struck Merrill with the pommel end of one dagger and opened a wound on hand- which now was bleeding profusely- and knocked her to the ground. Merrill threw Lyna back with a Mind Blast spell and traced the fingers of her left hand over the gaping cut on her right hand's palm. Lyna quickly regained her balance and came charging towards Merrill again. The pariah raised her right hand and attacked Lyna with blood magic. Her eyes went wide with shock and panic. Her body began to seize up and her muscles locked. Blood from the scratches Lyna got when shards from the Eluvian cut her and from the gash on her thigh began to pour out of her body and into the air, flowing towards Merrill's hand and began healing the injury. Old scars unsealed and bled, more blood flowed from Lyna's mouth. Her vallaslin tattoo's bubbled and burst. She dropped her daggers and crumbled to the floor and lay in a growing pool of her own blood.
"Lyna?" Merrill squeaked. She sank to her knees and crawled over to Lyna. The elf's body lay on its side and Merrill brushed her bangs from her face. "Lyna? Lyna!" Merrill began shaking Lyna's body. "Lyna, get up! Please!" she begged. "Please, Falon'Din don't take my Lethallan from me! Please!" Lyna had no pulse and no heart beat. "Mythal... I didn't mean to... Why! Why couldn't I see...?"
Merrill stood up and walked around Lyna's corpse. She looked to pale. Merrill remembered that both she and Fenarel had pointed that out to Lyna when she became sick with the Blight disease she contracted from the mirror.
Lyna's blood stained the floor in a large pool and it stained her knees from when she had been sitting next to the corpse.
Merrill looked at the Eluvian. Its shattered pieces were spread across the floor, but a few shards still remained in the mirrors stand. Merrill pulled one of the remaining fragments out of the stand. Its edges cut into her fingers and they bled. Her hand was red. Red with her own blood, red with Lyna's blood and red with the blood of the clan.
The pariah looked at her reflection in the mirrors shard and raised it to her throat.
There were no members of the Sabrae clan left.
Halamshiral means 'the end of the journey' and it was the name of the capital of the Dales.
Thank you for reading, feedback is always welcome.