Look to the Sky

The sky burned. Emerald flames spread from the center of the tear in the heavens. The world shook as it ripped itself larger and larger. Lightning screamed down, corrupted with green and darkness. Shadows grew from nothing and demons ruled them all. A mighty Archdemon's roar slashed through the air, calling for the end of all days.

Numina was in the courtyard. Red lyrium sprouting from the ground, winding its way up walls, jagged teeth amongst a broken skull. Walls were crumbling, unsound and ineffective, though there was no opposition to defend against any longer. The land was falling apart or looked as it had been thrown into the air, suspended by the magic the poured from the Fade, the Veil no longer holding it back.

Liquid was drying on her hands, thick and sticky. She looked down at them. Dark blood smothering and warm was splashed across her hands, dripping from her fingertips. Gore covered the entire lower half of her arms. Panic. 'Whose blood is this?' her thoughts fluttered and frightened. The blood had not come from her. Turning around, her breath was driven from her.

They lay there. Torn to shreds as if some mad animal had gotten ahold of them. The wounds were fresh, blood still pooling around them from the slash and stab wounds that covered their bodies. Fear and pain frozen on their faces. Expressions held by time when they had finally died. All of them lay their, eyes glazed over, blind and unseeing. And they stared. Not at Numina, but at the sky, the whirlwind of chaos, the epitome of death.

Sera had a smile carved into her face. Varric's chest had been sliced open and then pulled apart. Blackwall's head had nearly been severed from his neck. Vivienne was no longer recognizable with how shredded her body was. The Iron Bull had been stabbed repeatedly, circular holes littering his body, the killing blow being in the center of his throat. Dorian's eyes had been stabbed out and his tongue lay a few feet away. Cassandra's arms had been torn off. And Solas, he lay in the middle of the carnage, his form outlined in blood, but you could not tell how he died.

Horror choked Numina. She quickly looked away.

A large shard of red lyrium was clutched in her right hand like a dagger...or a carving knife.

Numina's eyes snapped open, the terror in the dream shaking her awake, though not soon enough. Her body was about to make her sit upright in the same instance, but a strong arm held her down.

"You are safe and amongst friends, lethallan. Relax and remain still."

"Solas," she breathed, releasing the breath sucked in from her fear. He was seated beside her, cloak cast about his shoulders for warmth. His expression was kind and gentle, body relaxed. Numina looked into his eyes and saw relief.

A hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "I am pleased to see you yet live."

And Numina did smile. "He means 'I kept that mark from killing you while you slept.'" echoed from her memory. "Are you ever going to get tired of keeping me alive?" she asked playfully.

The hint became a subtle smirk. "If you insist on carrying on as you have been," he replied, matching Numina's playful manner, "then I suppose I will just have to get used to it."

"That's not exactly an answer," she teased.

"I suppose it is not," he hummed. "My answer would be, 'No,' then. I would not tire of it. And someone has to keep you alive since you do not attempt to at times." His last sentence sounded a bit like he was scolding her.

Numina's smile faded. Outside of the tent you could hear arguing. She looked to the entrance, and Solas guessed her question. "The destruction of Haven has changed everything. Tempers are short and tension is high. There is no plan for what comes next, and no one can agree on those that are proposed." He fixed her gaze with a warm smile. "But you needn't concern yourself. You are awake, something worth celebrating."

"I hardly think it's worth celebration." Numina said.

"Is it not?" Solas continued. "You are the Herald of Andraste and days earlier you had been willing to sacrifice your life for these people, giving them the chance to escape at the near certain cost at your life." He paused letting the view of the survivors settle in before continuing. "But you did not die. You survived the Elder One and his Archdemon, you survived the avalanche, and somehow you managed to make through a blizzard back to us. Your story is one that is akin to the legends that are recited of heros bigger than life."

"Well, when you put it like that…" Numina sighed.

"But I have already given you too much to think on," Solas said rising to his feet. "You need your rest, and I should inform the others that you have finally regained consciousness." He reached to the wooden crate that was beside Numina's cot and retrieved a small metal cup, heating its contents with a small spell. He then added softly, "This will give you a dreamless sleep."

"Thank you," she whispered, hating having to own up to her nightmares.

With a small bow, he exited the tent, leaving Numina to fall back asleep once more.

Solas carried a heart that was filled with a small amount of joy. Though the future looked bleak for the Inquisition and the faces around him were filled with sorrow and fear, he felt hope. Numina was awake and healing well. Soon she would be able to lead them out of the darkness that they had fallen into with the destruction of Haven.

And he would not have to carry the guilt of leaving her behind. He would not have to carry on thinking that she had died for him. Such thoughts, they tore deeper than he was willing to admit. Numina was important to the Inquisition and to the future of all of Thedas, yet selfishly, Solas only thought of her importance to him and the pain he would feel over her loss. Pain he should not be feeling, he would remind himself. And importance that should not exist. But those were thoughts he would quickly and readily forget.

It was midday, and the sun was shining brightly down and the blinding white snow. The advisors had stormed off angrily from one another as they had done every time a decision needed to be made. The Inquisition needs a leader, he observed. One person who had already been leading them crossed into his thoughts, as she ever increasingly did. But they would never put a Dalish elf in a position with that much power, he reminded himself cynically. Old grudges and wounds heal slowly.

~~.O.~~

"Shadows fall, and hope has fled. Steel your heart. The dawn will come. The night is long, and the path is dark. Look to the sky, for one day soon. The dawn will come."

When Numina was a far enough distance away, she would find her humming the tune softly to herself, wind wisping it around her before silencing it. She did not place too much meaning in the words, those that were around her tied it too readily to her, but she did enjoy the melody. It was soft and hopeful. Something we are running out of.

Colors were more vibrant now. Though the ground was covered in snow, the sun gave it a glow of purity. The mountains were hued with blue and grey, towering towards the sky. Far flung trees stood, full of life with emerald limbs. It was something that reminded Numina of her old life. Scouting and scouring new areas, alone but with purpose. The wind tickled her skin with a chill, but the sun kept her warm. For a moment, far away from others, climbing steadily up a moderate slope, she could forget her troubles.

Life poured into her. With each step she felt stronger. Confidence held her body with rigid elegance. Grace moved her forward with light steps that seemed to be part of a dance. The landscape around her was the nature, and she the beaty. Her life among the Dalish made her a part of the environment, gave her a connection most did not have. When most speak of natural, ethereal beauty, you expect to hear a description of a world lit in perfect light with shimmering detail. When you ask those who have seen Numina of ethereal beauty, they would speak of her and how she glided across the land, flowing like a river of wind.

Numina paused on the summit of the hill, shifting her weight to one side. The wound she received from her escape from the avalanche was mostly healed, but it would ache and throb after prolonged periods of walking. Starting to walk was also a bit difficult, especially since Numina refused to limp. Keeping up appearances was important, but what was more important was getting people to stop fretting over her.

"It something troubling you?" Solas asked as he reached her side.

"Yes," she teased, "how incredibly slow you are."

Solas chuckled, her levitivity something to enjoy. "How is your leg?"

Numina stretched it forward. The muscles were tense and sometimes there would bring pain, but… "It won't fall off anytime soon." He gave her a small smile and she returned it with one of her own. "How far do you think we have to go?"

Solas' smile faded a bit, "It is hard to tell. These mountains run for miles and have a tendency to look the same."

Numina nodded, readjusting the supplies she carried. "Shall we continue then?"

"Lead on," his smile returned.

They continued on for several miles, walking and climbing as the the terrain dictated. Numina would typically take the lead, Solas several paces behind her, though occasionally he would match her step for step, walking beside her on the lonely mountains. If she had not known Solas, it would have surprised her how easily he could keep up if he was inclined to. Most found it difficult to stay in stride with a Dalish in their element.

Few words were spoken between the two of them. Numina was enjoying the area, the sights and contours of the land as she walked. It was a nostalgic kind of happiness that had settled over her, reminding her of walking the forests or plains ahead of her clan. She did not wish to spoil the fantasy she carried by speaking of things that were real. Every now and then, though, she would look to Solas. He appeared to be lost in his own thoughts, so she did not worry too much about the silence as she might with others who needed friendly banter to keep time moving for them.

The sun was beginning to set. The clouds were alit with orange, brazen fire, sky blending with the blue of the sky to form a soft purple. Mountains were cast in shadows and outlined by the soft and harsh colors of the sky. Such radiance was hard to describe. It could only be committed to memory: Golden flame outlined the gentle and rough edges of the mountains cast about in night's shadow. Clouds floated in thin wisps, fires burning stronger as the sun sank lower and lower in the sky. Where flames did not rage, a deep purple lingered, trying faintly to smother the infernos brought by the sunset. The waves of lavender that washed across flickering fire faded into a deep blue, an ocean that was awaiting its many ships that shine dimly against the dark night. Awaiting an island of silver light that would hang in the air.

There was a small alcove sheltered from the winds and snow. Numina and Solas made camp there, a small fire for some warmth, their bedrolls and small tents only able to do so much against the cold. A light meal was prepared, a ration of a ration.

As Numina rested her head, she would not admit the fear she felt at the notion of falling asleep. Not even to herself. Before closing her eyes, Numina already knew what would be waiting for her in the Fade. What hope she gained from her travels, from forgetting her nightmares, was quickly abandoned as despair grew in her heart.

Each time was always different. What happened would always be different. But Numina would always see them. She would see the people she had failed to save.

Scarlet blood flowed down angry glowing red that grew from the ramparts. They had been set on top of the sharp edges of lyrium, impaled. Her friends had died slowly, their own weight carrying them downwards into unending agony and inevitable death.

Numina could not turn away, she could not run away. The nightmare would only allow her to follow a certain path. There was no such thing as backwards, left, or right. There was only forward. A set course created just for her.

It would always be the same. The sky would always be boiling with revolting green. The land would be burned and scarred by corruption and destruction on an unimaginable scale. Shadows would grow, clustering together and creating a darkness that would follow you. Blood and corpses would stain the walls. Red lyrium would grow like talons reaching from the earth to drag you down. There would be no wind. The air would sizzle and burn, enhancing the scent of death, blood, rotting and burning flesh.

Numina was in the courtyard of Redcliffe's castle, the setting becoming all too familiar. She was being dragged forward, her feet scuffing against the ground. Wherever the dream was taking her, she did not want to go, and when she finally stopped, dread filled her.

They appeared again. Moments ago they had been on the ramparts, now they stood before her. Red lyrium protruded from their skin like broken bones, bloodied and jagged. They were her clan members, Arleth, her friends, faceless soldiers, children. They were the people she had failed to save. And they began to whisper.

"Why didn't you save us?" they wailed in a hiss.

"You didn't try hard enough," they accused.

"Did you ever care?"

"We waited for you."

"You were supposed to end this."

"We thought you were a hero."

"Why did you abandon us?"

"You didn't come for us."

"We prayed to you and you didn't answer."

"We shouldn't have followed you."

"You lied to us!"

"You FAILED us!"

The dream allowed Numina to fall to her knees, the weight of her supposed failure crushing her. She placed her hand over her ears, trying to shut the voices of those she cared about and those who she didn't know out. But their words were not spoken. They were loud and sliced through the air. Numina heard them no matter how hard she tried to press them out of her ears.

Tears began to trail down her cheeks. She knew this wasn't real. She knew it was a dream. But the fear she felt, the despair, the guilt, the sense of failure; that was real. It was tangible. It burned her cheeks and poured from her eyes.

Numina breathed heavily. Darkness was swirling around her, a blanket of cold that was suffocating her. Panic began to settle in. She had to get out of this nightmare. The voices were getting louder, drowning out her thoughts.

"Solas!" she screamed, praying that he would hear her.

And he did. Fire rained down on the phantoms of failure that stood towering above Numina. The projection of them fading out as though they had never been there. Solas stood in front of her, defending her. It was then that Numina saw what had been torturing her in her sleep, what Solas was now protecting her against.

Failure.

The demon looked female in appearance, much like a desire demon attempts. Its skin was sickly pale, tinged with pale blue-green coloration. It was wearing a white tattered gown that was drenched. Its nails were black and moldy. Eyes were sunken in and hollow. Black hair, matted in tangles with rotting vines and leaves tied in it fell past its shoulders, obscuring most of its face, soaked with water that was dripping from the ends. It looked like the corpse of a drowned woman.

Solas did not give it time to speak. Lightning flashed, scorching a trail through the air. It met the demon with an explosion of light, a crack of fury, and a warped, twisted wail. The demon was no more.

Numina could finally breath. A pressure that had been suffocating her was lifted off of her chest. She still shivered from the fear she had suffered at the hands of that demon. Solas kneeled before her, concern etched on his face. He offered her a hand. Wordlessly, she took it and he helped her to her feet.

"Are you alright?" he asked, voice echoing across the silenced and stilled dreamscape.

Until then, Numina had not looked him in the eye. She did not trust herself. She still didn't, but she met his gaze. Words would not form. Tears threatened to fall. Numina could only shake her head, but her emotions took control of her anyway. She fell into him, leaning into his shoulder. Relief that it was over had overflowed the already pent up emotions that the nightmare, that the demon, had given her. Stress that she had tactfully hidden became unmanageable. Numina had no longer been able to hold it all in.

At first, Solas was taken by surprise, unsure of what to do. But when he felt her sobbing softly against him, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling Numina in closer. He held her in silence as she cried, comforting her with his warm embrace, softly stroking her back with his hand. She responded to his touch, pulling herself closer into his arms, seeking shelter from her storming emotions.

After a time, Numina's breathing became less erratic and evened out. The tightness she held Solas with lessened and she relaxed in his arms. Presently, she began to pull away softly, creating a small space between them. Numina wiped her eyes roughly, the red fading quickly from her pale skin.

"I'm sorry," she apologized. "You must think I am acting like a child."

Solas looked at her, sorrow tugging at his expression. She tried so hard to rely on only herself. It reminded him of someone. 'He who hunts alone,' and he knew what pain and stress such a life brought. He shook his head. "No. I only feel regret that I did not think to help you sooner."

Numina laughed nervously, shaking the remaining tears from her eyes. "You are too kind, Solas." She smiled, eyes still glistening, and reached out for his hand. Once she found it, her warm soft fingers gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "Thank you."

Solas' body was in near shock from the contact. Moments ago he had been holding Numina, something he only wished quietly to himself. Now her hand was in his. He felt the the tiny movements of her fingers as she was going to pull her hand away, but something in him, the part that was growing more bold, held her hand fast, with a tender yet firm grip. The flush of her cheeks did not go unnoticed. "Are you alright?" he asked her again, his words compassionate and concerned.

"I will be," she said. "But...what was that? I have never seen a spirit or demon like that before."

His face became more serious. "It was once a non-aggressive spirit. I believe that the Breach must have corrupted its true nature. What once was Virtue became Failure." Numina flinched at that word. Solas stroked the top of her hand softly. "You have a remarkably strong will, having withstood against it for so long." He then added reassuringly, "It will not haunt you any longer."

She nodded, having not fully come to accept that the nightmares brought by the demon were finally at an end. Lightly pulling her hand from his, regretting doing so but knowing she should not push anything, Numina turned to look at the dreamscape. Though the world of this dream had frozen in time, it remained the same: flaming green sky, infectious red lyrium, crumbling into nothingness. "This is what the future more horrible than words could depict looks like," she said sorrowfully.

It was like he was truly seeing this place for the first time. Solas took in his surroundings with mixed feelings of disbelief, disgust, and sorrow. What shocked him even more was the level of detail this place held. The fact that the landscape had not vanished with the demon's demise proved that it had been formed from Numina's memory, but the fact that it was incredibly accurate with the 'real' place showed something else: Numina was the one that had created the nightmare. The demon merely added to it, fed off of it… It was something he was going to have to help her with.

Solas grabbed Numina and turned her back towards him. "There is no reason to be here," he told her, voice soft and lyrical. "There is no reason to hold on to the memory."

She seemed to hesitate, thinking on his words. This place served as a reminder, a warning of what would happened if she didn't succeed. 'And that is what drew the demon,' she realized. Numina closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. Thoughts of Solas as she met him in the future came to the surface. Thoughts of the small gift he had given her emerged. 'I do not need this place to remember what is at stake,' she told herself, 'as long as I have him by my side.'

The dreamscape began to drift and dissolve as Numina let go of the memory she had held on to for long enough. The green and reed vanished into the grey that held on to the Fade's landscape. The walls and lyrium disappeared, growing faint before they were gone.

Numina opened her eyes, meadows covered in faint blue ice finding Solas' soft silver gaze. "Control can be a person's greatest strength," he told her, "but it can also be the greatest weapon turned against them." The bangs of her starlight hair had fallen over her eye more so than they usually did. It kept the Vallaslin hidden, but it also hid a small portion of her beauty. Solas longed to brush it behind her ears, to see her face completely; but he could not, the ever weakening voice against his fondness of Numina winning one battle of a losing war. "You have reclaimed this dream, but now we must continue our journey."

"Yes," Numina nodded in agreement. "It is time to wake up," she hummed musically.

The dream ended, and the dreamers returned from the Fade. They did not say anything to one another as they packed up their supplies and headed north once more. They did not need to. There was a quiet understanding that passed between them that they did not need to speak on what happened in their dreams.

The sun had just rose, soft light illuminating the sky, though the mountains kept them in chilling shade. Their cloaks were wrapped tightly around them as they continued forwards, hoping that today they would be able to send word that they had found what they were searching for: a place for the Inquisition to rebuild and grow.

There was no wind today, nothing to chase away the melody that Numina hummed softly to herself. The shepherd's lost, and his home is far. Keep to the stars. The dawn will come… She had forgotten that Solas was near and listening to her. Bare your blade-

"And raise it high. Stand your ground…"

"For one day soon...The dawn will come."

Solas' voice had not changed pitch, soft and peaceful, but it had carried the tune beautifully. And though Numina had finished the song, her cheeks burned with embarrassment. She ducked her head, trying to hide her blush. So focused on what Solas thought of her, she did not pay attention to the terrain. There was a dip in the ground, and her injured leg came down hard on it. Jarring pain shot through her leg. Numina gasped as her leg buckled underneath her.

But Solas was able to catch her, holding her up by her waist and arm. He held on to her tightly, allowing her to place some of her weight on him.

"Ma serannas," Numina breathed.

"Can you walk?"

Tentatively she placed some weight on her injured leg. Intense pain rushed back, seizing up the muscles. "No," she shook her head.

Still allowing Numina to balance herself on him, Solas tossed his pack to the side, before helping Numina with hers. "We could use a break," he said, as if trying to make her feel better. Taking her by both hands, he helped Numina lower herself so that she could sit down and rest her leg. "I am sorry for distracting you."

Numina blushed. "I am the one who got carried away with the song."

Solas smiled, his gaze gentle and kind as he looked at her. "I may have helped with that a little."

They sat in silence, staring out across the frozen scenery. Solas was watching the windswept snow, eyes betraying that he was deep in thought. Numina was leaning over, softly massaging her leg with careful strokes.

It was Solas who spoke first. "Your name…" he mused, "what does it mean?"

A question that she was used to answering. It was usually the first of many things regarding her origin that were asked. "It comes from the word 'numin,' the closest translation being 'tears' or 'cry.'"

"I am aware of the translation," he said, a small smile allowing her to know that he was not criticizing her. "I asked about your name's meaning."

Numina hesitated. Most were content with that simple translation. Very few asked her what it personally meant, and fewer still actually received an explanation. "It is not a very pleasant story, as you can imagine."

"If it does not bring you too much grief, I would like to hear it."

"Ma nuvenin," she relented. Pausing for a moment, she gathered her thoughts. "The day of my birth was shrouded in sorrow. My father had been out hunting earlier in the morning when his hunting party ran into the bandits that had already killed two of our clan members along an old abandoned road. They were outnumbered and at a disadvantage with weapons, carrying only bows. The bandits would not let them leave with their lives. They would either kill the elves and take their belongings, or they would sell them as slaves." Numina allowed herself a faint smile. "My father was not one to submit, however, and he created a third option that would not result in all of them either dying or becoming slaves. My father stayed behind, firing arrow after arrow, covering his friends as they escaped." She paused for a moment. "The bandits were never seen again. They never did find his body.

"My mother had just gone into labor when they returned with the grievous news… And as I have been told, it was an extraordinarily difficult labor, long and painful. Her sorrow did not help the process. Her life slipped away before she could even hold me… They have told me that she was beautiful, full of life and kindness. That sometimes she would care too much, but that was what was so lovely about her."

"Ir abelas…" Solas said softly.

She shook her head. "Those that had aided my mother did not want to touch me. My father dead in the morning; my mother, the evening. Both on the day I was born. They thought I was cursed, that Fen'Harel had marked me, that I would bring calamity to the clan." Numina's voice was filled cynical sarcasm, and she saw Solas shake his head, saw the disgusted turn of his mouth. "They were superstitious and fools. I do not blame them for it." He looked back to her, nodding an apology. She continued. "My mother's sister, the Keeper, simply scooped me up into her arms, ignoring their words." Her voice became soft and thoughtful. "As she has said to me, I reached out to her as she held me, my tiny hand brushing against her cheek where her tears where falling. I did not cry or fuss. I was quiet and still. Peaceful despite all that had happened."

Numina met Solas' eyes. "On a day that should have been joyous and happy, there was sorrow, crying, and tears. On a day that should have been one of mourning, there was happiness… I am the sorrow that weeps over loss and the happiness that cries out of joy. I am Numina, the daughter of those tears."

~~.O.~~

The day was growing old. The sun slipping down the side of the sky, no longer able to hold itself high. It lit the world in a faint orange glow. The terrain was becoming more steep and mountainous, making travelling slow work, yet Numina and Solas had made decent progress despite the small break they took earlier.

Their earlier conversation had not left Solas, his thoughts constantly turning back to it. Numina, the daughter of tears, he reflected. It was a name and title that sang a similar song to those from ancient times when the Elvhen had their empire and the Pantheon carried soul-filled titles such as that one. And the more that he thought on it, the more Solas found Numina's title to be true. With comforting words, selfless actions, a tender heart, or a merciful blade, she would end sorrow, removing tears from weary eyes. With melodies of sentences, gentle smiles, warm conversations, and honest kindness, she would bring happiness and joy to those around her. Numina sought to end the sorrow of the world, doing all she could. She is the daughter of tears, trying to remove the sorrowful things that bring tears for everyone...except herself. She always did so much for others, Solas wondered if she ever did anything for herself, for her happiness and enjoyment...

"Interesting thoughts?" she asked innocently, a teasing smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She had slowed down enough to walk beside him.

"Only of you," Solas said before he had time to consider his words. Numina blushed, her smirk growing faintly into a smile. "Of what you said earlier," he quickly amended, "Daughter of Tears."

She looked at him with a playful frown, "Are you ever going to use my name?"

"I..." what could he say? That her name was beautiful and he wanted to cherish it, using it less to indicate how unique it was, how unique she was? That he did not use it because it was too intimate for him and would make it more difficult to distance himself from her? "I did not think it was right to do so, and I did not know you very well."

"And now?"

I know you far better than I should. "I do not know... Perhaps."

She smiled at him. "And how are you supposed to get to know me if I am the one asking all the questions? Sure it is about your travels and the memories you have seen, but with each conversation, I learn a bit more about you as well."

"You may have a point," Solas agreed. "I did not wish to pry."

"No more than I do with you?" She was teasing him, the mischievous gleam in her eyes and the brightness of her smile intoxicating.

"Very well," he said, allowing himself to mirror her smile. "When we first met, you told us you were no mage, yet your use of magic proves otherwise. Why do you not call yourself such?"

Numina looked at him curiously, "You have pointed ears, does that make you a slave or do your pointed ears prove you that you are Fen'Harel or Elgar'nan?" she asked. From the corner of her eye, she saw Solas frown, wincing at the names of the Elven Pantheon. "What we have does not define us. I was not raised or taught to be a mage. Such a title does not define me as our ears do not define us."

"Why were you not trained as a mage?"

"There was already someone in the clan that had shown she had magic a few years before I did. Esholen was her name. The Keeper was already training Esholen as her apprentice. She thought it would be safer for the clan if I wasn't a mage." Numina saw the look of disapproval he wore. "I was fortunate. Other clans cast out children with magic if they view that there are too many mages already. Like Mineave. And I do not feel at a disadvantage for not training with the Keeper."

"You have a surprisingly strong will and an incredible amount of control for one not well practiced in magic," Solas observed.

Numina smiled wryly. "I never said I didn't practice." Solas looked at her questioningly. "I would practice in the Fade, shaping it into grassy training grounds surrounded by trees. There I would try to recreate the things Esholen would brag about, the ancient magicks you would here in old legends, the spells I would see the Keeper cast. It wasn't as difficult as you would think to learn that way, and I would do this every night, getting better with each dream. As I learned the skills of bows, daggers, and swords, I would incorporate that into my training with magic."

"You are completely self trained in magic?" Solas asked in disbelief.

"Is that so hard to believe? You have no formal training to speak of either."

There was a slight hesitation. "Yes, but I had the help of spirits and the memories of mages and magic to guide me," he stumbled through the sentence. "You should take credit where it is due. Few who are trained can match you in finesse or strength in whichever skill set you use."

"You flatter me," she said, her cheeks turning a warm pink.

"I am trying to." He was smiling, teasing her.

Numina giggled softly, the warmth from her heart rising to her cheeks, making her laughter soft and fluttery, like the beating wings on a butterfly. They continued forward, walking closer to one another than was necessary but was not unenjoyed. Numina longed to feel his warmth, and Solas longed to feel her soft skin. But neither made a move other than to continue walking, their destination some unknown distance ahead of them.

Solas spoke again, continuing to learn about Numina. "If you do not define yourself as a mage, what do you consider yourself, beyond a Dalish elf?"

"My ancestors are the elves that refused to surrender when the humans broke their treaties long ago, and I would be proud to consider myself one of them," Numina said. "But being Dalish does not hold that kind of meaning anymore. It is now like saying you are Nevarran or Fereldan; it is a point of origin, not a description of what you are."

"Then what do you define yourself as?" Solas asked more specifically, approving of her answer.

Numina frowned at the question. What was she? Hunter, warrior, mage, arcanist, rogue, archer, assassin? Savior? She did not rightfully know, but there was something she hoped to be one day. Something that drove her forward during her day to day life before the Conclave and the Breach. "I would define myself as one who hopes to become a loremaster, a scholar that seeks out and remembers things long lost." She chuckled quietly, "Though I suppose that would be easier if I was fluent in elvish and could watch ancient memories in the Fade."

He was not expecting such an answer. Solas knew of her innate curiosity that drove Numina to find any information she could, but he did not realize that it was such a strong part of her personality. Her thirst for knowledge was endearing, and it brought him hope. If she could learn the truth, see and practice the things long forgotten. It could be the first step in… He could not linger on such thoughts. It would only bring him false hope. Numina, as determined and wise as she was, would never know even a fraction of the secrets the dead past held.

But maybe he could help her learn a few… "A loremaster?" he smiled. "An odd way to define yourself, though not without merit. And as for being able to see memories in the Fade, you are not so far from being capable. You have an exceptionally strong will. If you let go of some of the control you wield in your dreams, let go of the memories you use to shape the Fade, I do not think it will be difficult for you to learn some of the secrets that linger there."

Numina smiled faintly, thinking on his words.

"And I would like to thank you for answering my questions...Numina," her named rolled off of his tongue so easily and saying it left an imagined sweet taste in his mouth. The smile he received from her, he did not think anyone could smile as brightly or warmly as she did, outdoing the sun with her radiant happiness.

"Was that so hard?" she joked.

"No," he answered a smile of fondness gracing his lips.

Solas allowed Numina to take the lead once more. Watching her traverse the land with grace that beget beauty was enjoyable, the subtle sway of her hips and legs as she walked. Though he would never admit such thoughts. We are very close, the landscape one the horizon looking familiar to him.

There was one last ridge before them. It was much steeper than what they usually had to scramble over. Numina and Solas abandoned their packs beside the slope and made their way up. Solas intentionally matched Numina's pace once more. He wanted to be by her side for what came next.

What Numina saw left her in awe, mouth slightly agape, eyes widened. It was beautiful. A castle fit for nothing less than a king nestled in the snowy peaks of the mountains. She stood frozen in place. Mist was swirling softly around the ancient looking stone walls.

Solas stood beside her, watching her reaction. The look of shock she wore turned to a smile. Her eyes shone with hope. It was something he enjoyed seeing in her. For too long had events slowly crushed Numina's spirit, now as she looked upon the ancient fortress, Solas could see true life burning fiercely within her. That he had been the one to give her that hope gave him a sense of pride and warmed his heart.

"Skyhold." He told her.

Numina did not look back at him, she was transfixed by what lay before her. She took a few steps forward, minding the edge but hoping to get a closer look. The wind chased her, tugging at her hair. She looked like the true hero she was built to be, standing on a cliff that overlooked a fortress no one knew about that would become the home of the Inquisition.

"I would never have dreamed of such a place existing," she breathed.

"Very few are able to," Solas said with a smirk.

She smiled at him warmly, at his small joke. "We should return to the others. They will need help making their way here."

Solas nodded, but hesitated before following her back to the rest of the Inquisition. A part of him wondered if he had done the right thing, leading them to Tarasyl'an Te'las. But it was the same part of him that warned him against becoming too attached to Numina, the part of him that was growing quieter. He knew that he had done the right thing. For once in his life, it seemed.

~~.O.~~

Author's Note:

I realize that this chapter is a bit shorter than the others, but I honestly couldn't drag this out any more than I already did. And I didn't want to jump a few weeks ahead in a chapter, that's just confusing and doesn't flow in my opinion.

Anyway, hopefully I will have another chapter started and finished soon, but we shall see #collegelife

Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy. :)