Chapter 4:
In Service, No Freedom
After all were safe, locked away; the wolf had little reason to roam. Finally he could rest. He set himself into his slumber, unknowing what impact he leaves behind. Everyone except Mythal, his companion. She fell to the slaughter. Her need for victory on those who came to overthrow their rebellion from the ancient elves, had outgrown her own strength. In her last moments, her last command echoed long and hard: "Get them to safety!"
For so long he walked in dreams, unable to awaken. He watched as the elves fell from grace. It angered him. All that she did to save them. This is how they repay her? They caused this, he would snarl in his memory. He began befriending spirits and holding tightly to the memory of the world, before all became lost to the ancient elves. He spent years wondering the fade, unable to join the physical world. As each year passed, he fell more and more into a rage about his people as they spun his tale into the Dread Wolf. He watched what they were becoming as they fell from the light of the ancient ones. Old tales became faith, old stories become truths. There were no other voices on the matters, one-sided tales told to make the elves fear. He watched as they refused to let go of pride and as each one fell, fighting. He watched as the history faded away and his people became divided. Hurt and anger grew, toward those he vowed to protect. Losing faith in all the elves were and what they had become.
After some time, he was no longer angry. He was void. Darkness had filled his spirit. He no longer wished to see the fate of the world without the knowledge they alone held. His intent, was to protect his own from what was to come. How could he know his decision would affect the future in such a way? He thought the people would see, would understand, and would come to their senses. In his rebellion, he thought they would see what their ways chased away and what it wrought. He thought it would make them all see the truth. That they would lay down their arms returning to the song. But they didn't, they fell. Filled with pride.
Time had went on below, warring never ending. Corruption filled the lands. An infection brought into the fade, lurking demons and corrupted memories lingered. This tainted vein had spread far enough to stir the elf, rustled from his slumber. In his weakened state, he began to rise. Checking on the key – the foci – he guarded. The ancient elf met with something stronger than himself. A blighted mage, feasted and fed on the red vein, waiting for this moment. As he had awoken, the magic stirred, leading the blighted one right to his location. He could not stop the blighted mage whose face once laid buried in the sickness. He tried in his weakened state to hold the magic, in the last moments he gave the orb over, for he was not strong enough to keep it from the corrupted spirits grasp. Never once believing he could wield the magic.
Opening the orb awoke the elf fully, but without the others, who was he? A wolf left to protect what? These dalish who polluted the old ways? He knew he must see what happened with this orb. Only it mattered. Falling into his physical form, the elf's feet touched the surface for the first time in ages. The world pulled at him, making it difficult to adjust. The magic was close and it helped guide him through. The wolves were out to play again. Long ran off by the humans and their Marobi. Some however, corrupted by the blighted fool who now wields his people's magic.
They did not surround him in honor, as the other wolves would have. They surround him with the intent, in some ironic twist, to devour him. But, his magic was alive and he laid the pack down with a simple burst. Bending down, he cursed the demon who would corrupt such loyal beings. Taking for himself, the jawbone of the beast who led the pack. Cleaning it, the mage casts his spell. It would serve as a tool, in reminder to what comes to those who cross the Dread Wolf. His intent solidified in that moment.
Making his way towards the stirring power of the orb. Arriving at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, a place holding the magic of old. A meeting was taking place, a chance for peace to come between the mages and those who sought to control them, enslave them. The meet bringing Mages, Templars, and many leaders to discuss the mage rebellion. He held hope that even though the blighted one meant to open the orb, the power that lay within would consume the corrupted and he could regain control of his orb. But, fate never followers orders. Nor, acts in a way that benefits one person.
An explosion rang throughout the lands. The power swept out for a moment to be drawn back in, just as quickly. The veil opened a hole in the sky. Tears were forming everywhere. Spirits begging to not leave, forced out of these rifts and corrupted. Demons filled the area. Through the dust and ash, he heard a voice pounding through.
"Get her to Haven, NOW!" Her voice was in command.
The troops struggled to carry the body through the destruction, while others were fighting the demons that came forth. Catching a glimpse of the magic, trailing off the limp hand he knew he had to act. Composing his story, he entered the town of Haven. No one knew what to do. Cassandra was pacing in anger. Leliana was commanding her spies to find anything on what happened. Cullen was busy commanding and fighting the demons with his men. The town's people were cowering, crying, broken from the loss. Confusion and fear consumed the thoughts off all. He offered his help and was let in, although not trusted. He was to aid Adan, the apothecary.
Walking in, caught by surprise, in front of him lie a tiny female elf. She was not well, not waking and she held the mark of this magic in her tiny hand. No one knew what to do. They were in fear of mages and magic. Their thoughts rang out. Cassandra ordered close watch and the moment she stirs, detained for the death of The Divine Justina. He spent his time studying her, the mark, everything! He needed answers for this world, only knowing remnants of what the fade had echoed. He had no clear answers. Solas gathered his thoughts and went out with Cassandra and her prisoner Varric, a child of the stone. He had to try to help close the rifts, left in the wake. But, try as he may, his power was not strong enough. "Just one more try, I must close this." He thought. Confusion and frustration grew in everyone. His intent was dark, he woke to avenge. Coming up over the hill, a small frame bursts through the demon he was attacking. Her knives thrust hard down on the demon. In a second, he sees her hand glow brightly, he grabs it… the first knowing touch. Together, hand on hand, they close the rift with a mere gesture. Changed, in that moment he saw a dream become real, one that continued to impress him. A spirit he never thought to find.
Those days still fresh in his mind. Her beauty struck him the moment he saw her lying on the small bed in Haven. Many hours watching her and the rare creature she was, able to hold this powerful magic. He still dreams of her, just as he did in the first days of their meeting. Still distracted by her, as he was the year before. He had never imagined to meet an elf with no intent for vengeance or power. Most elves had become animalistic in their lust for revenge on the shemlen. Maybe it was her naivety in never having any experience beyond her clan. In short time, she gained the respect and awe of all those who were a part of her world, the world she mended. The world, that suffered because of his vulnerability, in a bittersweet twist of irony, she could fix.
The last thoughts of his companion Mythal was all that had echoed inside him, until fate brought her. She was now what he had to protect, as she held the ancient magic in her hand. She was different from the other dalish. A pure spirit, protected from the Shemlen and their teachings. Nurtured in a clan who tried to remember what once was. He allowed himself to feel more than companionship with her. She was everything he had suffered for and what his heart severely needed. She made him question his pride. She pulled at him, beckoned him to be free.
It is not as if he did not dream this. His pride was in his people. She was something different. Old and new crashing together. She changed him, like everything around her, she gave him hope – belief. But, in his misfortune, he had to let her go. It was his Halam'shivanas. He still had work to do.
Watching her, in moments when he can quiet the voices that he protects now.
It is no easy task, but he knows he can always find himself when he thinks of her.
He can walk in her dreams easily now, for his consumption of Mythal has changed his song.
She does not know that feeling is him. He thinks this much kinder, for he has grown to respect her. On the nights when her soul is aching like deep tears of the flesh, he will send comforts and gently lay her to sleep. Whispering the sweet memories they had, so she knows never to forget how real they were. She hunts like the wolf, always on his trail. He remains fascinated with her. If not just to remind himself – the righteous can overcome. She was real, the most real he had seen in ages. With her, he found himself. He was free and she was his enansal. The most loving gift he can give her – freedom.
Her face in his hands, her body tightly pressed on his. Feeling the beating her heart on his, longing filled the fade around him, spirits stir. He wanted her, he meant to take her in that moment. His lust caught up deep. For one moment, he could feel happy with her in eternity. But, his master's call, he is not free. He had been selfish. He must return to them. "Ar lasa mala revas." His way of telling her how much he loved her. He gave her everything he couldn't be – free.