Velthorn had never seen a Pride Demon in person and especially not outside the Fade. But that is most definitely what the creature they faced now had to be.

It was huge and intimidating. It chuckled at their attempts to harm it as it swatted attackers away like flies. Could they stop this thing, even with all the archers, even with the Seeker, Cassandra, and Varric and Solas? They had to, didn't they?

The elf knew he couldn't be responsible for the destruction of the Conclave. He could never be involved with something like that. He knew that. But the mark on his hand could help put things right and he wasn't about to sit idly by as more death happened around him, responsible or no.

Lifting the staff he'd found on their way up, Velthorn shot a bolt of frost magic at the demon. Unfortunately, it fizzled out once it hit that chitin-like hide. Arrows bounced away and sword strikes did the same. Cassandra was getting frustrated; he could see that even from behind her.

It's protected, Velthorn realized. He looked to the Rift above them, then thrust his hand towards it.

Instantly, a line of green connected him to it, a thread of lightning crackling through the air. It stung and tingled, but Velthorn just grit his teeth and kept his hand raised.

The Rift exploded and something happened to the Pride Demon as well. A shock of green hit it in the face and it fell to one knee, interrupting its next attack.

"There! Strike it now!" Solas shouted, recognizing that its defenses had been weakened by attacking the Rift directly.

Next to Velthorn, Leliana shot off three arrows in as many seconds, one hitting the demon dead in the eye and the other two burying into its flesh. It howled with pain and locked its remaining three eyes on the woman, infuriated. It lifted one arm and a ball of blue lightning formed in its hand and came directly at her.

Both she and Velthorn leaped out of the way in the nick of time. As the attack hit the ground, it sent a spray of dust and bits of stone everywhere.

The elf rose, rubbing his hands together. He'd scraped them both on the way down. But no time to worry about that. He retrieved his dropped staff and began to fire off magical bolts at the creature, not bothering with other spells at the moment. The only other spell he knew was chain lightning anyway, which wouldn't help in the least. Good thing this staff was made to convert his magic into bolts of frost.

The creature swung an arm out, nearly striking Cassandra, but the Seeker moved out of the way and took advantage, swinging her sword out and slicing several of the demon's fingers clean off.

Now it roared, clearly enraged, and tried to grab her with its uninjured hand, but she took a swipe at that too and cut its palm. Reflexively, the hand retreated, giving Cassandra an opportunity.

With a shout, the Seeker took aim and thrust the sword upward, into the creature's chest. It howled and grabbed at her, but she kept shoving, driving the sword deeper until finally, the creature fell to both knees and dissolved into dark grey mist, which was sucked upward and into the still open Rift. With nothing to hold it up, her sword clattered to the ground.

"Now! Close it!" she shouted. "Before more of them come through!"

Velthorn once more thrust his hand at the Rift, the line connecting them again, but he could feel the difference. Nothing was keeping the Rift here any longer, and now it was closing. The energy lanced up and down his arm, making it hard to keep it steady.

The Rift exploded again, momentarily blinding everyone in the vicinity, and also sending a shock of energy throughout the elf, causing him to cry out in surprise and knocking him off his feet. He hit the ground several feet away and lay still.

At the same time, the line that had connected the Rift to the Breach above retracted, almost too quickly to see. And the following shockwave bent the trees and could be felt miles away, sending everyone else onto their backsides.

As the dust cleared and everyone regained sight, they took stock of what had happened. Cassandra saw her prisoner lying on the ground, unconscious, the mark on his hand sparking once, twice, then calming.

"Something's happening," Solas said, pointing upward at the Breach.

It too sparked once, twice, then stilled. Then something shot out of it, falling like a green meteorite, headed directly for them.

"Another demon?" Cassandra asked, taking up a fighting stance.

"We're about to find out," Varric told her.

It crashed about twenty feet to their right. They all waited and watched. Nothing emerged from the dust. Cassandra picked up her blade and began to advance.

The others heard her say, "What…is that?" and came her way.

"Uhh, that's a very good question," Varric said.

"Solas, is it a demon?" Cassandra asked.

Solas examined the being before him. They were clearly out cold and looked like an elf. Except for the ashen grey skin, which looked like it should belong on some bloated corpse. But they were breathing, slowly. That was no corpse.

"I don't believe so. It doesn't feel like a demon," he answered. Though he kept the fact that it didn't feel like a human, elf, or any other race he had ever seen. There was power here, but it wasn't anything he had ever felt. He would need more time to examine this being without prying eyes.

"Wonderful. More mysteries." Cassandra sighed. "Is the Breach sealed?"

The apostate looked up. He looked out. He felt the Breach. Sealed? No. But temporarily closed.

"It is not. But from what I can tell, it is closed, albeit, temporarily. I'd like to examine his mark when we return to Haven," he said, looking back towards Velthorn, who was being lifted by one of the soldiers. "The two are connected and we can learn just as much about the Breach from that mark."

"And what about this guy?" Varric asked, gesturing at the newcomer.

"It goes in the dungeon, until we can determine its origins," Cassandra said. No one argued with her. "Let's get back to Haven. I have a feeling this is not the end of our problems."

His head ached. All he could see were flashes of bright green light. And it was a commonly known fact that vampires and light don't exactly go together.

Volyn tried to move his hands, but couldn't. What? Oh. I love waking up in shackles. That always bodes well.

He opened his eyes, taking quick note of what was around him. Which was mostly nothing. A typical dungeon cell. How dull. But it wouldn't be a good first impression if he were to break himself out, stealthily or not. No one took kindly to their prisoners disappearing.

Unless it was Markarth. In which case, they could care less, apparently, if their prisoners died or escaped, or were even guilty. Considering he had killed everyone in that gods forsaken mine and left without any repercussions.

He could hear a heartbeat in front of him. He moved towards the front of the cell and saw what he assumed was a guard sitting in a chair, watching the entrance of the room.

Do they speak my language here?

"Excuse me," Volyn said, attempting to get the guard's attention.

The guard started and looked back at him. His eyes widened and stifled a gasp. Then he ran off, leaving Volyn alone.

Is that a no?

The dark elf sat back against the bars. Likely the guard was off informing his captors they had a daedra in shackles or something like that. But this didn't mean diplomacy wouldn't work. Perhaps they would believe he didn't remember anything? First and foremost, he needed more information.

Footsteps were approaching. Three pairs. Three heartbeats. And three people came through the door. The first was a woman, outfitted in armor with an eye-shaped emblem on the front. Her short black hair was windblown and all three smelled of the outdoors. She seemed angry. Or was that just her face?

The second was an elf. A bald elf. He had a look of superiority similar to many Thalmor Volyn had encountered. But there was also something very old about him, though he seemed young enough. His eyes told a different story.

The third was another woman, not the guard from before as he had expected. This woman wore a hood over red hair and chainmail over the rest of her.

The first woman was demanding something of him, but he couldn't understand it. So they didn't speak Tamrielic*. This was going to be a problem.

As he didn't answer, the woman seemed to get angrier, furrowing her brow and just shouting the same question she'd just asked.

Calmly, Volyn said, "I have no idea what you're saying."

The woman looked at the elf and the two exchanged words. The red-head shrugged and said something as well. Then the elf said something, gesturing to Volyn.

Volyn knew a spell that would sort this out. He'd learned it while studying in Apocrypha. But he didn't want to display any of his powers yet, in case those sorts of things didn't exist here. He wasn't even sure his magic would work.

The elf had a staff with him, though. And he seemed to be preparing a spell. His eyes were closed in concentration and he aimed the staff at the dark elf. The tip grew bright, the small orb glowing a pale yellow, then shot at Volyn suddenly.

He forced himself to remain silent, though he was startled.

"What was that?" he asked on instinct. The magic that flowed through him now felt…very strange.

"There. Much better," the elf said. So he knows a translation spell as well. Good to know. Wonder where he learned that. Obviously not from Hermaeus Mora.

The black-haired woman asked, "Now, who are you? What are you? Solas says you are not a demon, but your eyes glow with an…unholy light. And your skin is not a normal color."

"As far as I know, I'm still an elf," Volyn answered. Playing dumb may give him more information about this world, after all.

"Really?" the elf asked. "What is the last thing you remember?"

"I don't."

The woman made a sound that can only be describe as disgusted. "And why should we believe you?"

"If you weren't going to believe me, why did you ask?"

She made that noise again. "Is this going to be a common occurrence? The Fade spitting out elves that can't remember how they got there?"

The Fade? Is that something like Oblivion here?

"Look, I don't know why I look the way I do. I know I am an elf. And I know my name is Volyn. If you want to know anything more than that, your guess is as good as mine," Volyn told them.

"Mysteries upon mysteries, it seems," said the elf. "Well, my name is Solas. This is Seeker Cassandra and Leliana."

"Wonderful. Good to meet all of you. Now how long before you let me out of here?"

Leliana quirked an eyebrow at him. "Who said we were letting you out?"

Her accent was one the dark elf didn't recognize.

Volyn shrugged. "I had hoped. I don't know what else you would keep me for, unless I did something illegal that I can't remember."

"He's right," the elf, Solas, said, "He hasn't done anything and he is no demon."

"I am not convinced," Cassandra said.

"So I'm in here on your whim?" Volyn asked.

"Until we understand more about the situation, it would be for the best to keep you here. We aren't sure what others will think of you yet," Leliana said.

Volyn sighed. "Then I suppose I'd better get comfortable."

The Dalish elf was headed back to Haven, having spent the last hour or so running around outside the town searching for elfroot. Now that his bag was bulging with the plants, he figured it was time to return. He also couldn't feel the tips of his ears anymore.

"Someone's been busy," Adan said when Velthorn emptied the bag into chest of other medicinal herbs.

"I just felt I should pitch in," he replied.

"Because you haven't been doing enough around here," Adan said wryly.

Over the last few days, as the Inquisition had begun to establish itself and become an actual organization, Velthorn had helped the smiths, set up the requisitions, scouted out good places to log, and gone hunting for elfroot, which was a common plant around Haven despite the cold. Because of him, or so it seemed to everyone, things had been set up smoothly and quickly, all things considered.

They called him the Herald of Andraste. Velthorn wasn't sure what to make of that. He didn't even really believe in his own gods, let alone the humans' Maker. But they believed in him, that much was certain. He knew that by the way they treated him. By the way they blew his help out of proportion. The way they talked, it seemed they believed he had single handedly raised the Inquisition up.

At least it gives them something to work for, even if the real binding agent should be the Breach and whoever caused it, the young elf reasoned.

Then there was that other matter. The supposed elf that had fallen from the Breach. He was still down in the cells below the Chantry, since no one knew what his presence meant. Apparently, he'd woken a few hours ago, but he hadn't gone to see him yet.

Solas walked into the healer's small house. "Ah, just who I was looking for," he said at the sight of Velthorn.

"What do you need?" he asked.

The older elf's eyes flickered briefly to Adan and his assistant before saying, "It's about our unusual guest."

"Oh. All right."

"There you go, helping again," Adan called out the door as they left.

Velthorn followed Solas to the apostate's own lodgings. As with all the homes in Haven, it was small, but sturdily built and warmer than one might think. Solas lit a fire in the hearth with a wave of his hand and bade the Dalish elf to sit across from himself.

"Leliana, Cassandra, and I spoke with the one who fell from the Breach. He claims to not remember where he is from or anything else about his life."

"Do you think he's lying?"

Solas was quiet for a moment, but then said, "I believe he's hiding something, but I'm not sure of what. I've never seen or heard of anyone or anything that looks as he does. You have not yet seen his eyes. I've never seen anything like them either."

Velthorn considered this. In the few days he'd known Solas, he'd come to understand that the other elf was not easily surprised. He was well informed about…well, a lot of things. Even the Breach and the Rifts. So for this…creature? Person? Elf? For them to surprise and perplex Solas was unusual to say the least.

"What are we going to do with him?" Velthorn asked.

Solas shrugged. "At the moment, Cassandra only trusts him in irons, so who can say? And if we were to let him wander free, what would people think of him? He might even be attacked, mistaken, as Cassandra mistook him, for a demon. And if he is innocent and not the one that opened the Breach in the first place, then his blood would be on our hands."

"You think it's possible he's the one who opened the Breach?"

"It is a possibility, though we searched him and found no trace of whatever object was used to cause the explosion."

Velthorn blinked. "Would such a thing have survive the blast?"

"You did. And if something had that much power, I doubt it would be destroyed so easily. I will not believe it destroyed until I see its shattered pieces before me."

The younger elf nodded in agreement. "Have you spoken of this to the others?"

"Leliana's people have already searched the mountainside. There is no sign of whatever it may be."

"If we could recover it, it would bring us that much closer to the person who cause all this. And closer to understanding the Breach and who knows what else," Velthorn said.

The corners of Solas' mouth curved up. "Indeed."

"So, do we know anything about this prisoner of ours?"

"He says his name is Volyn and that he is an elf, but he knows no more than that."

"Hmm." Velthorn sat forward in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees and folding his fingers together. "I'd like to talk to him. I'm not sure exactly what I'll get from him, but I want to see what he's like with my own eyes."

"That's reasonable. Should I accompany you?"

"If you'd like. We should probably avoid Cassandra though. I doubt she would approve of this."

"Probably not," Solas agreed with the slightest smile.

Just two minutes later, the duo entered the room of cells. The guard, who was sitting with his back to the prisoner, looked up at their entrance. He stood and saluted.

"Herald."

"Um, right. Uh, could you give us a few minutes with him?"

"'course, sir," the guard said and hurried from the room, closing the door behind him.

"Very trusting of him, to leave you all alone down here with me," came a voice from the cell.

Velthorn stepped up to the front of the cell, replying, "We're perfectly capable of defending ourselves."

"I'm sure."

From the darkness of the back of the cell glowed a pair of orange eyes, the yellow irises, pupil-free, were settled on him. The young Dalish was startled by the sight, but quickly regained composure.

"Come to ask more questions I can't answer?" the prisoner asked.

"Can't or won't?" Velthorn returned.

"I can't convince anyone of anything so long as I'm in here," Volyn said.

"Well, you certainly speak like a demon. But I don't want to jump to any conclusions. I'd like to believe you, but with what's been going on these last few days, I'm not really sure what to believe anymore."

For the first time, Volyn showed some emotion, eyebrows pulling together. "And exactly what has been going on? I don't know anything."

Velthorn looked to Solas, wondering if he should actually tell the stranger about the Breach. Solas simply shrugged.

"Simply put, there's a massive tear in the sky leading straight to the Fade. Smaller tears have formed in other places, spitting out demons. You came out of the big one."

"Ah. So that's why the angry one called me a demon."

Solas put in, "Yes, and now you understand our suspicion."

"Besides," Velthorn said, "the people out there barely tolerate regular elves. What do you think they'd think of you?"

"All right, all right. Just try not to leave me down here to rot."

The two elves left and the guard resumed his station, though still refused to look in the direction of his prisoner. Volyn settled himself back against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest.

He wondered if he should simply become mist, use the guard as a snack, and get out of this place. But he was curious, too. A hole in the sky? Demons? The Fade? Obviously this was the place to be if you wanted information. He'd just have to suffer a little longer.

*The primary language in Cyrodiil. Thanks to everyone who commented!