NOTES:

I apologize in advance, some of this might seem a little dense. I have read probably every scrap of information about Elvhen legends, gods, modern religion, etc, etc, etc. And so I wanted to present some of my historical theories to you in this story, to set the stage, so to speak, for the rest of the world I want to create for you. Some of it is probably incorrect, but that's the beauty of a theory. Until the fourth game is released to shed light on some of the more obscure history, I am going to assume that my theories are correct. This chapter ends up being a bit longer than my usual chapters, but bear with me! I promise you'll be nicely rewarded for your patience in due time!

"Who are you talking to?" comes Solas' voice from the doorway. She spins around, her mind suddenly blank.

"I…." There's something there, just at the fringes of her memory, but when she reaches for it, it vanishes. "I think I was just talking to myself."

Solas gives her a strange look before shrugging and walking across the room to his desk chair, where he had left his robe. He is wearing loose linen trousers and has a towel slung around his shoulders. She finds herself staring at his lean figure, striking in the afternoon light.

She shakes herself suddenly, snapping herself out of it.

That is entirely inappropriate, she thinks to herself.

They lunch in silence, each consumed with their own thoughts. When Solas is finished, he stands and wanders over to his desk, hunching over the maps again while she pokes about the room, humming with curiosity at the different objects and books scattered about. She picks up a small ornamental dish, made of ceramic or porcelain or some similar material and turns it over in her hands. Elvish words are carved into it along the outer rim.

"I wish I knew more of the old language," she says woefully, mostly to herself, but she is aware of Solas looking up from his work to peer at her.

"I…may know a spell," he offers tentatively. "I have only seen it performed once before. I have never tried it myself, but I believe I know how to reproduce it."

"Why didn't you offer this spell of yours before now?" she asks, her chin jutting up.

His eyes flash defiantly at her tone. "I was rather distracted by the idea that you might be a spy of my enemies. And you never asked me to translate Andruil's words, so thought perhaps you were feigning your lack of ability."

Her mouth gapes open at this. "That was— You mean to tell me that was Andruil I ran into out there? But why didn't you say so?"

He stills for a moment. "Well of course it was. Who else would it be? She is not exactly unknown to the People."

"I'm not from this time, though, remember?"

"I…" he trails off, looking at her guiltily. "At the time, it did not cross my mind. I apologize for my rash thinking. Anyway…back to the matter at hand. Would you like me to do the spell?"

She hesitates, unsure of how to respond. The Elvhen language was all but dead in her time. Bits and pieces, fragments and phrases were all that remained, and even then it was likely they weren't all correct. If she accepted this gift and somehow found a way home… The possibilities were endless. She could revive the language. She could become someone important to her clan, to her people, rather than just an oddity, the girl with both the skills of a Hunter and the skills of a First.

"Will it hurt?" she blurts out. She has felt enough pain to last a lifetime at this point. The corner of his mouth quips up and he shakes his head slowly before standing and striding over to where she stands.

"It will feel like nothing more than the whisper of wind at your throat." She gazes up at him and swallows thickly, suddenly aware of his closeness. He is standing so close she can smell him, his woodsy scent mingling with that of an old library, making her feel slightly heady. Her eyes closed slightly from the intoxication, she nods up at Solas.

He gently pulls the fragile dish from her hands and places it on the shelf behind her. He then tilts her chin up, leaning forward, his mouth inches from hers. Startled into soberness, she pushes herself away frantically, her breath hitching in her throat as she stares at Solas in bewilderment.

"What in the Fade are you doing?" she barks at Solas, her brow rutted in consternation as her heart hammers in her throat. Solas tilts his head quizzically, standing upright again as his hand falls away from where it had cupped her chin only moments before.

"I am not understanding. I thought you wanted me to do the spell?"

"By kissing me?" she asks incredulously, her hands balling up into fists at her hips.

"It is a language spell. It stands to reason I will need to be in close proximity to the instrument used to produce said language. And in any case, I was not going to kiss you. Unless you want me to, that is," he adds, a wicked grin appearing on his face along with a dangerous glint in his eyes that makes her stomach flip over unexpectedly. She flaps her hands at him playfully, shaking her head.

"Sorry. I guess in my time, something like that just seems more… I don't know. Intimate I suppose."

"Well we certainly have intimacy in this time, too, but I assure you, I have nothing but chaste thoughts in my head. I would never force myself upon you or anyone else, for that matter." A silence passes between them while she absorbs his words. "Shall we try again?" he suggests, taking a tentative step towards her again.

Bracing herself this time, she lifts her mouth up to meet his. He is correct; while their lips are still touching, it is nothing like a kiss. There is no sense of feeling behind the touch, no urgency or lust. He merely presses his mouth to hers, and places his hands upon her shoulders. At all three points of contact, she suddenly feels as though wind is rushing into her body. Her mind clouds over with indistinct whispers, her vision turns to white behind her closed eyelids.

All at once, it is over, and she opens her eyes to see Solas standing about a foot in front of her, looking at her expectantly.

"Ma eolasa'ma?" Solas says tentatively, his eyes boring into hers. She shakes her head in frustration.

"I don't think it worked. I'm sorry." She gazes back at Solas sadly, but he is smiling widely at her now, and lifts his hand to place a single finger against her lips.

"Do you understand me?" he repeats, moving his hands back to her shoulders. A stabbing pain throbs at her temples, and subsides a moment later. She smiles.

"Yes," she answers at last. "It sounds like Common to me, though."

"And yet you are speaking it flawlessly. It takes some getting used to, but eventually you will be able to tell, almost like a whisper beneath the words." He gives her a reassuring squeeze before moving away, back toward his desk.

She turns back to the shelf and picks up the small etched dish again, peering at the words along the rim. This time, she reads it as clearly as if it had been written with the Common alphabet.

"Where refuge is freely offered, so too is loyalty," she reads aloud. "What does it mean?" She looks to Solas again, who glances back from his desk.

"It means that those who I have given aid to will not readily forget me. Although I have never asked for penitence in exchange for my help, it would seem that many are unwilling to accept my protection without offering their loyalty to me in return. In fact, when you first appeared here in this room, I thought one of them had gone a step further…" A sadness overtakes his features, and he looks down at his hands, his thumbs fiddling over one another. "I never wanted to be elevated, to be placed on a pedestal. I am not a god. I am nothing more or different than anyone else. All I did was try to treat everyone with fairness and equality, and when the others went too far and caused suffering, I tried to ease it. I do not see how that makes me special."

"How did you come to be in this position? Were you born to a prosperous family of this time?"

"I…I do not remember anything of my childhood, if I am being honest. I do not know from whence I came. Only that, at once, I was. I do not remember a time before them. My awareness begins with them. As nothing more than a dog, a courier, a liaison, an ambassador, or whatever word you wish to use for me. Was I a true god before, or just the tool of one? Perhaps I am but a medium in some unknown Artist's twisted canvas. And perhaps that Artist has abandoned this particular canvas, a half-finished painting for which I am now the chosen curator. But I have not been a good curator. Brushes are wielded by many copycats, all claiming to know the desires of the Artist, all claiming to know what the end product must be." He sweeps his arms before him, his eyes flashing around the room. He continues on, ranting in his retelling of history.

"These gods the people in your time worship, these false Artists, each and every one of them, even Mythal, who could have been considered better than the rest, they used me for their own ends. I was nothing more than a glorified servant, belonging to no single entity, and yet called upon to do the bidding of them all." An angry glint grows in his eyes, his fists balling up as he stares off into some unknown memory.

"In my time, they say that you walked amongst both the gods as well as the Forgotten Ones without fear of harm from either side," she prompts, stepping forward, thirsting for the knowledge her people had long since lost. "Are you saying that you were just tool to them all?"

"I do not know what you mean by these Forgotten Ones… but I can guess what you are referring to. The Wardens of the Old Gods, chosen long ago by the One Creator to keep vigilant watch over their prisons, lest they escape and bring madness upon the world once more. I am able to walk amongst them without madness overtaking me. Do not ask me why, for I do not know. Once upon a time, Andruil entered the Void in search of the Wardens and went mad from the experience. The sickness she brought home to her people would have meant her death if Mythal had not stepped in to help. I believe the sickness is a curse, or some sort of spell laid down by the One Creator to prevent anyone from doing what Andruil was attempting to do. Perhaps I truly was created to be a messenger, immune to the spell so that communication between our realms can take place."

She looks at him, her jaw hanging open, the dish in her hand forgotten. She takes another step toward him.

"I've never heard about anything like that. The Wardens in my time are people who fight the Blight. The Old Gods are the supposed gods worshipped by the Tevinter Imperium."

Solas looks at her strangely for a moment. "It does not surprise me to learn that the Tevinters worship them. My limited exposure to them shows me they are barely more than a savage race of people, basking in the misery of others." He shakes his head in disgust, his brow furrowing angrily.

"Our legends say that once upon a time, these Old Gods were proud and magnificent beings who were created by the One Creator to watch over the People and protect them. Then they became twisted, maddened by their influence and power, and the One Creator, sorely disappointed, locked them away. He chose Wardens from amongst the People to watch over their prisons and ensure they never escaped back into this world."

"Why didn't this One Creator just destroy the Old Gods if they were so terrible? Why risk these Wardens going mad as well?"

"He was proud. These were his creations. To kill them, to utterly destroy them, would mean admitting he had failed. His pride was such that he would rather see them locked away than destroyed completely."

Her mind whirs as she processes this information. "You said something similar, about your own enemies."

He smiles ruefully. "To be truthful, it is an ideal I have always admired about the One Creator. To show mercy where so many would have simply chosen execution. I am sorry to know that knowledge of his existence has not survived into your time."

She returns his smile, sadness tinting the corners.

"Where is this One Creator now?"

At this, Solas frowns and looks away from her.

"It is an interesting tale, one that I am afraid I have never learned all the details of. Of course, I have questioned Elgar'nan and Mythal at length about it, but they have never been willing to divulge too far into this particular piece of history."

"What do Elgar'nan and Mythal have to do with it? At least in my time, they are considered to be the creators of this world. But if it is as you say, they were not the first, nor did they make this land."

"Well, it is true that they did shape much of history, at least history in the last few millennia. Beyond that, however, no, they were not the first. The One Creator was first, and Creator knows where even he came from or if there are others like him out there." Solas smiles slightly at his little word play before continuing. "From there, he created the People, although they were different from the People today, much as you are different from us in your time."

She glances over him, noting his height, taller than any elf she had ever known, his lithe body more muscular and filled out than the lean, slight bodies of modern elves, and the facial structure, the eyes more balanced with the rest of his face rather than large and overwhelming like the elves of her time. If not for the long, pointed ears that marked all her kind as elven, she would have taken him for a human. If there was already such a vast difference between the elves of today and the elves of the future—her future, she couldn't imagine just how different elves of the distant past would look. She meets his eyes again and he continues his story.

"As with everything in the world, time marches on. The People grew and expanded and eventually the wickedness of their nature, for it is inevitable that People will become capable of such atrocities, became too much for the One Creator to keep track of. He was proud and powerful and capable of a great many things, but he never claimed to be all-knowing, and so he drew from the earth the ingredients necessary to craft a police of the People. He gave them the ability to fly over the lands, he granted them intelligence equal to his own, and gave each one a sector of sin or wickedness to command. They were the first dragons of this world, and the most powerful. They were meant as an extension of the One Creator's power. Their children, while intelligent, were not equal to them, and they are the dragons that survive in the world today."

"There are still dragons in my time, although there are very few now," she interjects with a frown. Solas nods sadly.

"The People of the world grew to worship these beings. They were powerful, and as an extension of the One Creator himself, as such were considered gods in their own right. But once again, the One Creator had failed, for it seemed he could not prevent wickedness from growing in the hearts of the very creatures he had created to stifle such things. And so he locked them away in the Void, plucking from the population those he felt most capable of being Wardens to the Old Gods in their prisons.

"Of course the reason the One Creator failed so thoroughly in his creations was because he himself was not immune to the effects of power. Pride was his uplifting and Pride was his downfall. Pride morphed into Vanity and Self-Worship, and then into Arrogance and Narcissism over time. Two of his disciples, Mythal and Elgar'nan, husband and wife, grew tired of his selfishness and took matters into their own hands. They called him down from his golden throne in Uthenera, down to the earth, where he had rarely chosen to tread before. And there they chained him and stripped him of his power, displaying him to his own People, humiliating him in his helplessness to strike back.

"What became of him after that, I cannot say. How they even accomplished such a feat, I can only hypothesize that it was because of his twisted Pride that he was unable to see their mutiny coming. His arrogance was such that he could no longer imagine a world that could ever turn against him. He and his remaining loyal disciples, whose names have long been forgotten to history, fought…and lost."

Solas trails off, and she stands in stunned silence, examining him in his reverie. Shaking himself, he meets her eyes once more.

"I can understand why your people believe them, Mythal and Elgar'nan, to be the Creators of this world. They did have a large hand in shaping history between then and now, but truly, they are merely stronger than most. They do not possess power like that of the One Creator, or even that of the Old Gods. I do not even know that they are more powerful than the Wardens, tasked with such a burden as they are. But Mythal and Elgar'nan used their cunning and intelligence to trick him, their prowess with magic to defeat him, and then naturally, the People turned to them for leadership. They have had children, and some of those children have taken on partners, others from amongst the People who possessed a similar aptitude for magic and intelligence, generals from the wars that ravaged the lands after the fall of the One Creator.

"But they have all fallen victim to that very same wicked nature. No longer do they care for the well-being of their people. No longer do they feel any sense of duty in the light of suffering and tragedy. And all too often are they the cause of it all. They enslave their own people, force them to build ridiculous temples and statues in their honor, all trying to outdo the other, to prove they are the best of the best. And while Mythal was perhaps better than most, even she fell victim to ego and worship."

"What causes this to happen? Is it simply power that drives them to such madness?" she wonders aloud.

"As for the Old Gods and the One Creator, I can only speculate. But for Mythal, Elgar'nan, Andruil, Ghilan'nain, June, Sylaise, Falon'Din, and Dirthamen, what we call the Evanuris, I know what caused their corruption. The same substance used by the Wardens to keep their prisoners at bay. Lyrium, stolen from the depths of the earth from the body of an ancient and massive creature. It enhanced their magic, allowed them to use their powers frequently and heavily. The worship of the People had never been greater. They went mad with the extra power it gave them."

Her eyes widen, her mind attempting to process this large intake of information. "But… You're telling me the Forgotten Ones, these Wardens, as you call them, they use lyrium to control the Old Gods? And the…Evanuris," she trails, her memory struggling to keep up, "they found the source of the lyrium and are now using it to make themselves more powerful?"

"Were using it," Solas corrects. "Mythal is the only one who seemed to become self-aware of this phenomenon. She knew she was becoming no better than the One Creator she had worked so hard to bring down. And so she slew the creature below the earth, slew it so that nobody could have that power any longer. And the others…they killed her for it. They saw her change of heart as a threat to their own power, her destruction of the creature whose blood was their secret to godhood as a betrayal, and they executed her for it. With the lyrium cut off and tainted by the creature's decay, the Wardens revolted. We are at war, and the People are nothing more than disposable shields against the onslaught of the Wardens and their charges. And so now I seek to free as many of my enslaved brethren as I can in this pointless, endless war. I have a plan to seal them all away, where they will never be able to enslave the People again."

He turns away from her at this, placing his hands palm down on his desk. She can see the anger and tension in the muscles of his back where his robe has pulled taut against them. By now she is close enough to reach out and place a hand on his shoulder.

"Tell me how you plan to do this, and perhaps I can help," she offers, squeezing his shoulder in reassurance. He sighs deeply, his shoulder rising and falling beneath her touch.

"Deceit. Lies. Trickery. I plan to lure them all to one location and then seal them away for good. It is a fate far worse than death, but a fate, I assure you, they are nonetheless due."

"How exactly will you seal them away?" she presses, her voice lowering to a whisper as she feels the tension rise within his muscles.

"While much of Uthenera is inaccessible, likely because the One Creator made it accessible only to himself,, there are other parts that we can still get into. Mythal and Elgar'nan were two of his disciples and had residences within Uthenera, just as all the disciples did. They extended this privilege to their children and their spouses. And while I was never raised to the status of one of them, I was still allowed to tread those halls while I was still their tool. I know where the entrance is in the realm between the Eluvians."

"You mean to break the Eluvian leading to their homes in Uthenera so they can't return?" she guesses, her thoughts roving over endless possibilities.

Solas stands, and her hand falls away as he turns to face her.

"No. Fixing a broken Eluvian is simple enough if one knows how to do so, and they all possess the knowledge. No, their piece of Uthenera does not lie behind an Eluvian. No Eluvian can reach directly into Uthenera anyway. Once they enter the In-Between, there is a doorway that appears there once they cross into the Fade. I mean to seal that doorway, and to do so, to prevent them escaping from any as-yet-undiscovered exits, I will need to seal away the entire Fade."

At this, she gasps and steps back, her hands flying to her mouth as it clicks into place.

"The Veil," she breathes. "You created the Veil." His eyes fall and he lowers his head.

"When you mentioned it before, this Veil… I suspected. I wondered if it was indeed the very thing I have been working so hard to put into place. To save my People. And it seems that I was successful, from what you tell me of your time."

"If there is no Veil here in this time and there is one in mine, logic dictates they are likely one in the same," she whispers, her eyes locked upon his, her emotions toiling and tossing within her skull. "How do you plan to accomplish this?"

"There are special objects I have placed at various and numerous strategic locations. I have been storing power in them, as much as I can, for some time now. I will not be able to accomplish this with my singular power by itself, even with my foci. I placed these objects in a network. Once I activate the first, the rest will follow, and with my remaining power, I would begin to knit a barrier into place around the edges of the Fade. The activated objects will lift it up and hold it in place so that I will not need to waste energy doing so myself. But once it is completed, it should be self-sustaining, self-powering, drawing on the magic of all the People to keep it in place, though the effect should not be noticeable."

"Can you still do it without a foci?" she questions, glancing at the orb, which she has left on a cushion in the middle of the room. Its soft amethyst glow captivates her for a moment before she turns back to Solas. His face falls as he gazes longingly at the sphere.

"No. Everything I have prepared, all the work I have put into getting things ready, it has all hinged on the use of my foci. Without it, I will not be strong enough to begin constructing the barrier."

"Then we better get to work on helping me give it back to you," she states, straightening her back as she stares up at him in determination. He stares back, an unknown emotion flitting over his features.

"I… Thank you. You are the first person I have confided everything in. It feels…freeing, to not have to carry this burden alone."

She smiles at this. "I want to help. I feel so…so foolish for worshipping them. For praying to them, asking their assistance in anything from trivial tasks to life-changing decisions. And they…they just don't care! They are so consumed with themselves and their power, they would gladly see us wiped out if it meant they got to sit on the biggest throne." Her voice rises almost to a shout and takes on a vicious tone at the word throne, her teeth gnashing together, her eyes flashing.

Solas reaches out and touches her arm, his eyes conveying a sense of gentleness and gratitude. "Yes, well, perhaps we can remedy that as well. Perhaps if there are better records left for your people, then the history of this time will not be forgotten and misconstrued."

His gaze excites over her face, a smile breaking out as he breathes in.

"Will you walk with me? I would like to show you something." He holds his hand out to her, his excitement infectious. She grins uncertainly and takes his hand, allowing him to lead her out the door and into the jungle. Instead of heading the direction she had gone the first night she had been here, Solas leads her around the modest dwelling to the back.

A standalone shed-like construction stood behind main building, and even from several meters away, she could see the shimmering magic of a barrier surrounding it. Solas raises his hand as they near it and pulls her right through, the magic zinging over her skin like static.

Inside the round room, against the far wall, stands a magnificent and ornate mirror.

"Is that—is it truly…an Eluvian?" she breathes, stopping short in the doorway as her eyes travel up the magical mirror in reverence.

"Yes," he answers simply, the corners of his mouth turning up in delight.

"Where does it go?"

At this, his small small widens impossibly in enthusiasm.

"Anywhere. Everywhere. But for this trip, I wish to show you the jewel of Elvhen civilization." He turns to the mirror and places his palm upon it. As soon as his skin makes contact with the smooth reflecting surface, it erupts in a brilliant blue light, which shimmers and undulates beneath his touch like molten metal. He turns back and holds his hand out to her, which she takes after a moment of hesitation.

Solas faces the mirror again and steps through, pulling her in behind him, and in an instant, they leave the tiny shed behind.

(MORE) NOTES:

Well now! We now know how and why Solas did what he did. We know some of the backstory of the Evanuris, and we know what happened to make things spiral out of control. Now it's just a matter of cleaning up the mess. Thank you for taking the time to read my story, and I hope you enjoyed it! Stay tuned for more adventure!

As always, I love to hear feedback. What do you love, what do you hate (I hope not much)? What excites you about the story? Let me know below!