It feels as though she has been unconscious for hours, but when she opens her eyes, she still hears the orb rolling to a stop, though it is distant and muffled. Before she can sit up on her own, Solas is yanking her to her feet. He shakes her by the shoulders and shouts something, but her head is fuzzy and she can't understand him.
"What happened?" he yells again as her head begins to clear. She looks at him in shock.
"Didn't you see it?" she asks plainly. He regards her momentarily.
"I…I do not know what I saw. It was like water, but vertical, rippling out before me."
"There was a room behind it. I think it might have been the room Alexius tried to sacrifice me. And I think Alexius saw me, but I'm not entirely sure it was him. They had me blindfolded. I never saw their faces. I panicked and pulled away. I thought he would take me back and finish the job."
By now, the adrenaline rushing through her veins is slowing down, leaving her trembling before Solas. He loosens his grip on her shoulders and slides them down her arms in a comforting manner.
"It is okay," he murmurs. "He cannot reach you now. You are safe here." There is a softness in his eyes and she believes him. He turns and walks across the room to where the orb has rolled.
As he bends down to pick it up, he looks over his shoulder at her. "We can try again tomorrow if you like. I was focusing on returning you home, but perhaps I focused too much on time rather than actual location. It seems focusing on time only returns you to the moment you left."
His hand closes around the orb and he frowns, standing upright and looking down at it in confusion. He stares intently at it for a moment, and she notices it does not brighten the way it had earlier.
"What did you do?" he whispers, still gazing at the sphere in his hands. She turns and steps toward him.
"What do you mean?"
"The orb. It is not responding to me." He looks up and glances down at her hands. She turns them over, looking at her palms. There, on her left palm. It is so faint, she almost thinks it's just part of the natural lines on her hand; but no, a thin white line nestles there amidst the regular lines, almost like a scar. Upon closer inspection, she notices a faint lavender light emanating from it.
Her head jerks back up, her eyes wide and fearful. "I don't understand…what is this? What happened?"
He marches over and his fingers close roughly over her wrist, jerking her hand up to meet his eyes. For a moment he simply stands there and stares at it. He turns her hand over and drops the foci into it, watching as it crackles to life at her touch. He appears to be holding his breath, and after an agonizing stretch of silence, he releases it all at once, letting go of her wrist and stepping back in one swift movement.
"It would appear the foci has attached itself to you completely, instead of only partially like I had intended," he monotones, his eyes glazed over as he stares off at nothing in particular.
Her jaw slackens in shock. "I—I did not mean… I don't want it! Can't you take it back?" She holds the orb out to him desperately.
Solas smiles sadly, shaking his head slowly. "Without knowledge of how to accomplish it yourself, forcing it from you would end in your death. It must be given willingly, and there must be considerable skill behind it. You are unfamiliar with such magic. I cannot instruct you without a foci of my own. We are at an impasse."
"But you're a god. You're Fen'Harel," she insists. What do you care for the death of someone such as I? I am nothing compared to you. Our lives are barely a breath in the wind compared to yours."
He looks at her sharply, eyes flashing angrily. "I am not a monster. I do not kill for the pleasure of it, and even in times of need, I would see my enemies locked away rather than snuffed out. Life is precious. To grind it beneath my foot as though it is nothing more than an ant would make me no better than my brethren."
She lowers her eyes in shame. "I'm sorry," she mutters. "The stories—"
"Whatever stories about me that have survived to your time are incorrect. I am not a god. The gods of old have long since been locked away in the void. We who remain, we are a powerful people, but no more gods than you are. As I explained before, some of us possess more prowess with our magical abilities, and some of us use it shamelessly, leaving chaos and destruction in our wake. The people worship them. It is easy to see why your people believe us to be gods."
Solas sighs and steps back again. "I am sorry, da'len, but I need a moment to myself. The loss of my foci is not something I take lightly. I will return this evening."
With that, he turns around and strides out the door and into the jungle, his robes sweeping behind him. Looking down at the foci clutched in her hand, she sinks to the floor. Her head buzzes and swirls with the events of the past hour. She despairs, knowing that she does not possess the knowledge nor the power to get back to her time on her own, and knowing she has taken the only means for which Solas had of helping her. She drops the sphere into her lap and buries her head in her hands, trying to stopper the tears.
They overwhelm her and spill from between her fingers. Once the dam bursts, she is unable to control the emotions from overflowing. She sobs and shakes, clenching her fists into her hair in frustration. She would almost rather be dead than stuck in an unfamiliar place, alone, with none but the boogeyman of her people to keep her company.
As her tears abate, she lies down, curling her body around the orb and resting her head on one of the cushions. She stares off into the distance, drifting in and out of awareness, though not quite asleep, and the hours slip away. It is during one of these moments of drifting that Solas returns. He walks silently over to where she lies curled up on the floor and crouches down, examining her emotionless features. She is not aware of him yet, her amethyst eyes staring out, seeing nothing but the images swirling within her mind.
He reaches out and brushes a stray lock of ebony from her cheek. Sighing, he scoops her up and carries her to his chambers, laying her on the soft white linens. He rests the unresponsive orb next to her body, and as he leaves, he gives it a baleful look.
The next morning dawns in a burst of radiant reds and oranges, and it is the mad twittering of birds that awakens her. She does not even remember falling asleep, and only vaguely remembers Solas, his touch gentle as he lifted her and placed her in bed the previous evening.
She sits up and rubs the sleep from her eyes. A soft weight beside her pulls at her senses, her arm tingling in response. She looks and sees the orb glowing a soft violet beside her.
Violet? she wonders to herself. Yesterday it had glowed green in response to Solas' magic. She shakes her head slightly, putting the enigma to the back of her mind. She hesitantly reaches out and takes the orb into her palm, letting the comforting weight of it consume her mind.
There's a noticeable clarity to the world now, as though a fog has lifted. Inspired, she reaches for her magic. Immediately, frost springs to her fingertips. Instead of being out of control as it had been the prior morning, it is steadfast and sturdy. She feels the connection, each minuscule tendril from the Fade flowing gracefully into her body. She feels every tiny shift, like a spider in its web.
Testing herself, she drops the orb onto the bed while holding onto the frost at her fingertips. Almost instantly, the frost turns into a great spike of ice, arching out of her fingers and into the air. She releases the magic in a panic, her heart beating in her throat. The orb seems to grant her some modicum of control over her magic in this time, but she couldn't very well go around holding the sphere at all times. She would need to practice. She picks the globe up again.
A soft knock interrupts her thoughts. She looks up to see Solas standing shyly in the doorway, a mournful look in his eyes. He holds a tray with a small sample of food on it. He sucks in a breath as his eyes land on the now-violet orb and he steps hesitantly into the room.
"I thought you might like something to eat. You barely touched your breakfast yesterday." His voice is resolute, as though he has steeled himself against the futile disappointment. She nods at him, not quite meeting his eyes, and draws her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. He perches on the edge of the bed, setting the tray down at her side.
"Thank you, Solas," she mumbles into her knees. "You continue to show me a kindness for which I'm not sure I deserve."
He cocks his head to the side momentarily. "It is not as though this incident were born of some ill-intent on your part. On the contrary, after all you have been through, with misfortune thrust upon you at every turn, I have acted quite appallingly. Frankly, you deserve more than what little hospitality I have shown."
She is quiet at this, her mind turmoiling with guilt. Finally, she looks up, directly into his eyes.
"Will you teach me?"
"It is… As I said before, it is impossible to teach you without displaying such power myself. Without my foci, I am afraid I may not be able to bring you to your full potential."
"So you'll give up without even trying?" Her voice takes on a steely, stubborn edge as she fixes Solas with a pointed look.
"I…" He falters, his head tilted as he gives her a piercing gaze. "I suppose there is no harm in trying. Very well. I will attempt to help."
A smile overcomes her features, with a hint of relief playing at the edges. She launches herself up from her curled position on the bed and throws her arms around his neck, breathing in his scent. Green, like the forest, with a hint of something else. Paper, perhaps?
Solas stiffens beneath her unexpected embrace, and clears his throat awkwardly. She pulls away, gazing at his flushed expression, suddenly self-conscious.
"I'm sorry. I was just a bit excited," she gushes.
"A bit," Solas agrees, shaking his head a little. He stands and looks back to her. "There are fresh clothes in the drawers beneath the bed. Please eat, then ready yourself. We should begin immediately."
She nods sedately and reaches for the plate, popping a small piece of cheese into her mouth for effect. Satisfied, Solas disappears through the doorway.
Twenty minutes later, she stands in the center of the common room, one hand around the orb, the other waving through the air, creating tiny ripples of wind.
"Good," observes Solas as he walks around her. "Now I want you to try the same thing, but do so without the orb. The idea is to build the connection to the point you no longer need to be in contact with it to retain the same amount of power."
She reaches out and drops the orb into Solas' outstretched hand. Returning to the task at hand, she reaches for the magic, directing it to her fingertips. Suddenly, a torrential gale pours from her fingertips, and with a tremendous crash, the heavy, solid wood desk flips over onto its side, skidding across the floor and flinging its various maps and papers up into the windstorm.
"Stop!" Solas shouts above the rush of air, clamping his fingers around her wrist. She releases the magic immediately, and the room falls silent, except for the fluttering sound of paper falling to the floor.
"Perhaps amount was the wrong term. The orb does not necessarily grant more power…we are all capable of extraordinary feats of magic. Instead, think of the foci as a means to focus that power. Without focus, many of use would fail to accomplish much. Many Elvhen have small trinkets or objects they use as foci, though admittedly it is not quite as good as a true foci such as this. Each one is bonded to a single person, and can only be shared by will of its owner. You would never be able to steal one successfully."
"In my time, mages use staves to focus their magic. But I've never heard of anyone bonding to their staff. You can just pick up any old staff and use it." She pauses, thinking for a moment before continuing. "I've never had such power at my fingertips before. Back home, I really have to reach for it, and it usually produces only minor results. Enough to accomplish whatever it is it's being called for, but nothing like what I've done so far. Everything just seems to flow through me. I can't figure out what's different about this time, but it's definitely there."
Solas hums thoughtfully. "It is a strange thing," he says at last, fixing her with a stare.
"It's almost like the Veil is extremely weak here," she offers, looking around, as though such a thinning in the Veil would be visible to her.
"The Veil?" Solas wonders, his brow crinkling in puzzlement. "I am not sure of what you refer to."
She drops her hands to her side and looks at Solas blankly.
"You know, the Veil. It's…well, it's not anything physical, you can't see it or touch it, but you can't just walk through it, either. It keeps the Fade separate from the waking world. It keeps out the spirits and demons."
His eyes widen at this, and for a moment, he is speechless.
"Solas?" she prompts, concern furrowing her brow. His eyes snap to hers.
"There is…no such thing in this time. Spirits cross freely from the Fade into this realm, and any who wish to visit the Fade may do so at a whim. Demons are rare, and are the result of their nature being twisted against their original purpose. Even then, it would take something monumental for that to occur."
She opens her mouth to respond, but Solas cuts across her.
"This Veil. It makes you weaker to magic?"
"Well, yes, I suppose it does. When I reach for it, if I'm distracted at all, it is difficult to grasp. But here, I feel it all around me, constantly ebbing and flowing against my skin. Is that how it is for you?"
He nods serenely. "Yes, but I do not notice it so much. Perhaps because it has always been a part of my reality, it is as natural as breathing. Certainly, if I concentrate on it, I am aware of it, the same way it is when I draw a breath, feel my lungs expanding, my body rejuvenating, and then expelling, warm air flowing from my body. But then the next second I've already forgotten all about it."
She listens to him intently, and answers in a melancholic voice, "I wish it were so in my time."
Solas gazes at her in silence before he shakes himself of his reverie. "Shall we continue?" He hands the orb back to her and she palms it, feeling the warm glow of the amethyst light sink into her skin.
They work on technique for the next couple hours, morning drifting into afternoon without a notice on either of their parts. Finally, Solas calls a halt to the exercises and disappears off toward the bath room to freshen up. She sits cross-legged on the floor, the orb in her lap, her thoughts consumed with the day's activities and conversations.
"Guilt, confusion, fear. He is afraid of what he might do."
She jumps in fright, her heart in her throat as she searches frantically for the disembodied voice that sounded behind her.
"Something more. Longing. Loneliness. He has secluded himself purposely, to avoid pain and hurt when his deed is done."
The voice sounds from her other side and she wheels around.
"Who are you? What do you want?"
"I want to help," the voice says from behind her. She spins around, and there a boy stands. But he is not quite a boy, not quite…solid. His blonde hair falls into his eyes, the tips of his Elvhen ears just peeking out beneath the curtain of gold. He wears a simple green robe, the tips of his bare toes just visible at the hem. He seems to be shimmering, shifting between translucency and swirling pearlescence.
"What are you?" she clarifies, taking him in.
"I am a spirit of compassion," he answers, bowing his head toward her. "Sorrow, melancholy. Relief. You miss him, but you are also relieved to be away. He was smothering you, and you ache for freedom."
Her cheeks redden as she stares at the spirit. "How do you know that?" she wonders aloud.
"Pulse racing, cheeks flushing. They have sent her to die for me. It is all my fault."
"All your—what are you talking about, spirit?"
"Jealousy, anger. Why has it forsaken me? A flicker of surprise. The scent of something sweet, something floral. Heart stuttering, I must regain control of myself."
"Are you a demon?" she whispers. She had never actually come across one in her lifetime of wandering with her clan. Was he truly a spirit, or something more?
"A…demon? No… You are lost in a world you do not belong to. Trembling, afraid, how will I get home?"
His piercing, ethereal blue eyes take on a solemn, mournful gaze, and she feels herself reaching out to him.
"Will you help?"
His eyes meet hers and he ducks his head sharply in acquiescence.
"Help. Yes, I will help."
She pulls her hand away. "What should I call you, spirit of compassion?"
"Call me?"
"Unless you wish to simply be called Compassion?" she prompts.
He gives thought to the matter, then lifts his gaze to her.
"I think I would like to be called Khole."
NOTES:
I know, I know, I had to alter Cole. I couldn't very well have a human-shaped Cole pop up in the middle of ancient Arlathan, could I? So I gave him Elvhen features and dehumanized his name. Don't hate me!
Let me know what you think! Thanks for all the follows!