That's the way things come clear. All of a sudden.
And then you realize how obvious they've been all along.
—Madeleine L'Engle
To have seen your lips and not ever kissed them
would have been the ruin of me.
—Helen Oyeyemi
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Tephra hurtled through the abyss at a sickening pace — through an endless, disorienting nothingness — until she came crashing down into rancid, shallow water. She tumbled end over end, as she crashed into the stone flooring. Pain lanced through her knees, and then her shoulder as she hit the floor. She scrambled up on all fours, choking on old stagnant water. She retched and gasped for air, as a hand grasped her roughly by the collar of her coat and hauled her to her feet.
"Blood of the Elder One! Where'd they come from?!"
She had just enough time to scramble back from the swing of a soldier's sword. He stumbled in the water awkwardly, before he was blasted from his feet by a torrent of magic cast by Dorian.
The other soldier was too close and too quick for Dorian to get a spell off; Tephra kicked the man's legs out from beneath him as he attempted to rush past where she was sprawled to strike at her companion. The soldier went crashing to the ground, spluttering in the water.
A weight plowed into her back, and she found herself beneath the water again. She tried to push herself up, but the weight only pushed down harder as she struggled to rise. Panic flared in her chest, as her lungs began to burn.
She thought of the prison, of the water torture; she thought of struggling in the currents, trying to reach her brother before they both drowned.
Abject terror poured through her, as she managed to pull her legs beneath her. She pushed with all of her strength, kicking herself up off the floor, and sent both the soldier and herself sprawling backward. As he was scrambling up out of the water, she launched herself onto his back, and sent him back below. Tephra hooked an arm around his throat, and tightened it like a vice. She held on as he thrashed beneath her, and it took nearly all of her stamina to keep him there in the water until he stopped moving.
Dorian was finishing off the other soldier when she staggered up onto her feet and out of the water.
Her mind was racing, and flooded with adrenaline. What the fuck just happened?
They were in a prison cell of some sort, and there were massive growths of red lyrium coming out of the walls around them. The terrible red light coming from them made her head hurt. Her ears were ringing, and it felt like a tremendous weight was pushing down upon her.
No, not down — it came from everywhere.
It reminded her of the Breach, of when she'd did her best to stabilize it, and it left her head throbbing with a ceaseless dull ache.
"Displacement? How interesting," Dorian mused. "It's probably not what Alexius intended. The rift must have moved us — to what? The closest confluence of arcane energy?"
"I'm not sure I would call this interesting," Tephra grumbled, wiping slick grime from her armor. It smelled profoundly awful. "The last thing I remember, we were in the castle hall. Now we're wherever the hell this is."
"We're certainly still in the castle, though... it isn't," he continued to muse, pacing through the shallow water. "Ah — of course! It's not simply where, it's when." Dorian began to gesture excitedly, "Alexius used the amulet as a focus; it moved us through time."
She gaped at him, "Through time? You can't serious. How far?"
"An excellent question. We'll have to find out, won't we?" he replied, brimming with delighted fascination.
Crouching next to the soldier, Tephra began checking his pockets. She pulled out a ring of keys, "These should be useful."
Following her to the barred gate, Dorian continued to contemplate their predicament, "I believe his original plan was to remove you from time completely. If that happened, you would have never been at the Temple Of Sacred Ashes, or mangled his Elder One's plan."
"It'd be easier to take credit for that, if I remembered it happening," she muttered, as she worked the lock and released it.
"I think your surprise in the castle hall made him reckless. He tossed us into the rift before he was ready. I countered it — the magic went wild, and here we are. Make sense?"
The hall was lined with more prison cells, and massive growths of red lyrium jutted through the walls and the floor. Water was spilling from fissures in the ceiling, which continued to flood into the cell block.
"Not really," she admitted, as she began toward the stairs. Whatever this was, she needed to undo it as quickly as she could. If she could. She didn't want to think about the alternative.
Dorian continued on behind her, "I don't even want to think about what this will do to the fabric of the world. We didn't travel through time so much as punch a whole through it and toss it in the privy."
"As if the Breach weren't enough," Tephra replied, grimly.
Dorian put a hand to her shoulder to stop her, as he assured, "I'm here with you, Tephra. I'll protect you."
She had already been growing fond of the ridiculous man, who pestered her so often on everything Dalish, which was a pleasant counterbalance to Solas's utter disinterest. She found that he was insatiably curious about many things, which made him enjoyable company to keep.
And here he was, stranded wherever — whenever — the magister had magicked them off to. All because he'd decided to follow her and serve as a companion in their endeavor to close the Breach.
Clearing her throat, she continued up the stairs, "What of the others? Do you suppose they were drawn through as well?"
"I doubt it was large enough to bring the whole room through. Alexius wouldn't risk catching himself or Felix in it. They're probably still where — and when — we left them. In some sense, anyway."
She thought of the magister's son, who was dying a slow death to the Blight. Alexius had shown his hand; all of his actions — going to the Venatori, taking the mages, meddling with time magic — had hinged on the promise of his son being saved.
"We do terrible things for the ones we love," she mused, darkly.
"Pardon?"
"Alexius," she clarified. "All of this — he's doing it to save his son."
Dorian lapsed into a bruised silence beside her as they walked.
"You're close to him?" Clearing her throat, she clarified, "The magister's son."
"For a while now, yes," Dorian replied, quietly. "He was barely more than a boy when I became apprenticed to Alexius. He was such an earnest child, and headstrong." He gave a sudden, warm smile, "He would sneak into my study to bring me treats and tea when I was up far too late studying."
She thought of how her brother would creep up on her while she worked — making nets, or mending parts of their shelter — and leave handfuls of berries, or the rare peppercorns that only he managed to ever find in the forest. He'd known how much she loved them, and the spicy foods of their people she'd grown up on — how she missed them. He was always finding ways to give her things.
She stilled her face despite the pang in her chest, as she remarked, "Like a little brother would."
"Yes, very much so," Dorian agreed.
The prison was a maze of stairs and cell blocks, and many of the areas were blocked off by red lyrium growths or made impassable by structural damage. Many of the cells lay open, and were filled with skeletons and bodies in varying stages of decomposition. All of them were infected with the tainted lyrium; even the bone remnants bore them.
Tephra stopped to idle at a desk shoved against a wall, which was littered in an assortment of paperwork and books. There were bizarre anatomical drawings depicting gruesome experimentation and detailed diagrams of vivisections.
She was no stranger to the inner workings of the body — she had studied them, to some degree, with a well-known healer among the clans. Hefina, of Clan Vir'las, which was prided amongst the Dalish for producing adept healers as well as tutoring those who came to seek the knowledge. She had gone for two summers, as her father before her had, to learn of opening and mending bodies to the best of her ability. She, in turn, shared her father's work with their apothecaries, who regaled her with tales of his youth.
But this — this was not for the healing of bodies.
"This is horrific," Tephra said quietly, as she stared down at the abominable drawings.
"His obsession with curing his son has led us here," Dorian sighed. "Oh, Alexius. What have you done?"
"Let's keep moving," she said, reeling from the desk and pressing onward.
What had happened to their companions, after they fell into the portal? Did they manage to escape, or had they been taken prisoner? The sight of all the bodies left a sinking weight in her stomach, as any of them could have been one of her own.
They pushed onward, and up yet another flight of stairs. The dungeon was enormous and winding, and several times they ended up doubling back because of the impassible sections. They finally came to large room, with walkways made of iron grating suspended over water. They were spotted almost immediately by the guards idling at the far doors at either side of the room, but they had the advantage of being ranged fighters against simple warriors.
Tephra dropped to one knee, and loosed several arrows at the soldiers in quick succession. The first caught two in his gut, and a third in his throat, before sprawling to the floor. The other managed to avoid most of her shots, catching only one arrow in his shoulder. Dorian sent him tumbling off the walkway with a burst of crackling magic and into the waters far below.
There were only two paths to choose from, as the third way was inaccessible due to the bridge being drawn up. She had the sinking feeling that it was the prison's exit, and was drawn up to prevent escape.
"Well, then," Dorian declared, cheerily. "Left, or right?"
"Unless the first happens to be the way out, I suspect we'll end up checking both," she mused, before heading for the far right door.
They descended into the right wing of the prison, only to be met with much of the same. Red lyrium growing out of walls and floors and bodies, permeating nearly everything it could take root in.
Dorian was aghast at the sight of it, "If red lyrium is an infection, Maker, why is it coming out of the walls?"
"Are you sure you want to find out?" she asked, grimly.
In the next hall, more water was flowing down from cracks in the ceiling. She moved for the closest door, and readied her dagger, before stepping through. The last thing she needed was to be caught off guard by a patrolling guard.
The door groaned loudly on its rusting hinges, which echoed through the long hall of cell blocks.
She'd only just stepped inside, when a voice called out from one of the far cells.
"Is someone there?"
Tephra's heart leapt into her throat.
Solas.
But his voice was wrong — distorted, and tainted. There was both wariness and resignation in his tone, as though he expected terrible things she could only begin to wonder at. Had he'd been here the entire time, however much time had lapsed between now and when the magister had magicked her away?
She quickened her pace through the flooded hall, stopping to peer into each cell until she found him.
He was standing with his back to the entrance of the cell. He kept his head bowed, and his shoulders slumped, as though he expected nothing less than the absolute worst.
Still alive.
Her heart was racing, as she called out to him, "Solas?"
He flinched as though he'd been struck, and turned to face her.
Her heart sank at the sight of him.
His eyes burned with the red glow of the tainted lyrium, and the flesh around them was dark and ashen. His skin was pallid, and the veins running through his body pulsed with that same unearthly red magic.
Solas staggered back at the sight of her, shock writ viscerally across his face. It did not last long, though, as suspicion set in.
"This is a trick," he surmised. His red eyes bore into her, and his eyebrows knitted together in a pained look, "A clever one, though — I'll give Alexius that much credit."
Tephra stepped closer to the bars, "Solas—"
"Ma harel!" he spat, with sudden fury. "Do you take me for a fool?"
Oh, Solas.
Grief washed through her as she watched him begin to pace, clearly distressed by her appearance.
What in the Void did they do to you?
Tephra turned back to Dorian, and quietly said, "I need a moment. Let me calm him down."
Dorian looked between them, "I'll be just outside the door. Shout, if you need me. Someone should be keeping an eye out for the guards, anyhow. Might as well be me."
As he left, Tephra moved back to stand by the bars that separated her from her companion. She needed to talk reason into him before she could release him; she could not risk hurting him, or herself.
Solas continued to pace the back of the cell, veering between fury and grief as he cast glances at her, as though he expected her to disappear at any given moment.
"What is the lie this time?" he seethed. "That the Commander yet lives, and his forces have taken the castle? That they've waited all this time to reveal her? All lies. She is dead. You cannot have her face."
Tephra took hold of the bars, "Ask me, then. Something only I would know."
He stopped pacing and regarded her with a fevered wariness.
"If it's a trick, then I won't know the answer, will I?" she reasoned.
She could reach him through reasoning, she hoped. Tether him back into reality with truth.
She could only hope that he wasn't too far gone.
Frowning sharply, Solas clasped his hands behind his back and approached the bars separating them. "Very well."
Standing this close, she could see the damage that the red lyrium had done to his body in excruciating detail. Yet, behind the unearthly red glow in his eyes, he was still in there. Still Solas.
He scanned her face with suspicion, as he said, "She gave me something once. After the fire. I don't remember the fire anymore, just her — burning. Saving something. She was always—" his face hardened, "You mocked me when you took it. You know what it was, but you wouldn't know what it meant. Why she gave it to me. Only she would."
Tephra drew closer to the bars, pressing against them as she thought of the cabin in the Hinterlands. The iron was cold against her forehead. She thought of him, with her, in the water. Healing her hands. Then later, that long night in the tavern. Sitting by the fireplace, finding a small bit of peace drawing what she remembered from the dreams she'd had, from the stories he had told. How his face had lit up when she'd given it to him, as though he had never been given a gift before in all of his life.
"You told me a story," she said, finally. "Of the star-trees of the Tirashan. And the moths."
Solas gave a violent start, as clarity set in. He began to tremble as he lifted his hands to grip at the bars, putting them just above hers, but not touching her.
"I drew what I dreamt, and I gave it to you. The story gave me comfort, and I hoped the drawing would do the same for you."
The look of pain that crossed his face tore at her heart.
"I thought you'd have tossed that silly thing away by now," she mused, with a humor she did not feel.
"I would not," he assured, before shaking his head. "Ir abelas, I did not — they almost took it, too. You don't look like the you in my head anymore. Nearly all of it is gone, even you."
"I don't—"
"They took the dreaming from me," he continued, his voice breaking with grief. "They put the red lyrium in us to feed its growth, and it takes everything eventually. I tried to hold on to them, but the images keep disappearing — the words, the memories. Every time I wake from dreamless sleep, something else has been lost to me. The mortal mind is a fallible, useless thing. I feared the day that would come when it would all be gone from me. I'd sooner die than wake when that day comes."
It hurt beyond what she could put to words to see him like this.
Solas looked over her face, committing her to memory as though seeing her for the first time, or the last, "If I had lost you, too, I would have—"
Tephra shifted her hands to lay hers over his, compelled to comfort him, but he removed them from the bars before she could.
"No, you mustn't," Solas pleaded, as he stepped quickly out of her reach.
Her hands hovered at the bars a staggered moment, before falling back uselessly to her side. That she couldn't even comfort him, even in this small way, stabbed deep.
"Ir abelas, but I fear the red lyrium will infect you if you touch me," Solas said, more quietly. His eyebrows knit together as a softer expression crossed his half-dead face. "The intent matters more than you know."
All this time, from the first moment they'd met, he'd spent so much of his time worrying for her well-being. Looking after her, tending her wounds, chiding her recklessness, and here she couldn't even—
Futile anger swelled in her.
What good was anything, if she couldn't even offer the smallest comfort?
Tephra moved and began undoing the lock. She threw it angrily down the cell block, furious that she'd broken her promise.
Hadn't she sworn to keep him safe? To protect him from this sort of fate?
When she stepped into cell, Solas backed up against the wall, as though even close proximity to him could harm her.
As she stepped closer still, he raised his hands almost defensively, "You musn't."
"I've been running around this stuff for a while now," she replied. "I don't think this will hurt me anymore than it already has."
When she took Solas into her arms, his resistance crumbled. His whole body slackened against her as he shuddered, and gave something very close to a sob.
Tephra ran her hand over his head, smoothing her palm against his scalp, "I am so sorry this happened to you, Solas, but I'm going to do everything I can to make it right."
"Ir abelas, I was a fool," he pleaded quietly, voice shaking. "You would think such understanding would stop me from making such terrible mistakes. You would be wrong."
"This isn't your fault," she assured, and felt him begin to shake harder in her arms. She held him tighter against herself, "You're safe, Solas. In another world, this doesn't happen, and you're safe. I'll make it right, I promise."
A ragged sound tore itself from him, as Solas leaned into her heavily, forcing her back a step. Old sorrow dredged up from whatever deep well he'd kept it hidden in all this time.
Solas buried his face against her neck, trembling and muttering in a rush of Elvhen she did not know, lyrical despite his ragged tone. She thought perhaps she heard him invoke the Dread Wolf, but his words were too rushed for her to be certain. The only thing she understood with any certainty were his breathy repetitions of ir abelas — a plea for forgiveness.
"I don't know what you're saying, Solas, but if you need forgiveness you have it," Tephra assured. She cupped the back of his head, "You're forgiven."
When he drew back to look at her again, his face was shattered open with grief, left entirely unguarded as he confessed, "It is everything I could never tell you, before. I hope that I find the courage to tell you in the other world."
"Your secrets were always safe with me," Tephra reminded. "Whether you shared them, or not. Even here. You don't have to apologize for never having done so."
A pained look crossed his face, as he reached for her face. Tephra's heart leapt into her throat as his fingertips ghosted her jaw.
"I was a fool, to have never—" he mused in a sorrowful tone, as his thumb brushed a slow, burning path across her mouth. There was nothing but grief in his face, as he said, "Not once — not ever. I should have told you."
It became clear to her, in that moment, that he had — in his own way. Saying it, in not saying it.
She thought of him, that night in the little fishing town on the Storm Coast. Of him laughing, after he'd startled her off the statue in the elven ruins. He'd followed her to see her back to camp safely. Sitting with her in the sand, and enduring her grief with a respectful silence and not expecting her to speak of it. In her tent, startlingly close and playing along with her farce — her fumbling attempt at flirting. How he'd respectfully excused himself, rather than risk crossing boundaries with her when both of them were at an inebriated disadvantage.
All those times he'd flinched or trembled beneath her touch had not been a signal of aversion but the clarion call of a desperately lonely man.
That truth staggered her.
She couldn't help but to imagine how it must have been for him before, and she certainly couldn't imagine how it had been for him now — in this dark future, having spent all this time suffering a fate she couldn't begin to imagine, without the hope of it ever ending or being fixed. The scars that littered his face and what she could see of his body were a litany of brutality, which said more than enough without him elaborating on them. She thought of him, alone in this cell and dying a slow death, cut off from dreaming, as his memory began to fail him, and that she had never, not once, either—
When he withdrew himself from her, she reached for his face and drew him back. Solas inhaled sharply through his nose as she pressed a soft kiss to his mouth.
I am so sorry, she wanted to say, but it was a futile, useless thing.
His hands knotted in her hair, and he trembled as he returned the kiss gently.
It felt like finality.
It felt like saying goodbye.
When he pulled away from her, she let him.
"When you disappeared, the world fell. We fought, and we failed. I have not dared to hope that it could be undone, yet here you stand. Once again, you have surprised me."
"Dorian has a plan, to make this right," she assured. "Help me fix this, Solas."
"I am dying, but no matter. My life is yours," he said, as it were nothing to him at all. "If you can undo this, they can all be saved. This world is an abomination — it must never come to pass."
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The dining area in the barracks was a gruesome sight; Tephra found it hard to believe anyone actually ate here.
Corpses and skeletons littered the floor, and some had even been left sitting in chairs as though they were honored guests. Yet sure enough, multitudes of dishes lined the tables, with food arrayed in varying stages of freshness and decay. Mostly decay.
Had Alexius's followers descended into madness, living in such proximity with the red lyrium for so long?
As Cassandra and Varric reemerged from the armory carrying armfuls of weapons and armor, Sera and Solas swept various items from the nearest table, clearing a space for them to lay out what little gear they'd found.
They'd all been as surprised as Solas was when she found them, and they were just as infected and dying. Yet, as she watched them arm and armor themselves, willing to give what little life was left to them to fix this mistake, her heart ached for them.
"Slim pickings, but it's all we got," Varric grumbled. He sighed wistfully, "Wish they hadn't taken Bianca. Doesn't feel right fighting without her."
Sera gave a snort, then gestured at the weapons, "You could always swing that mace there. Take 'em out at the knees."
"Tempting, but I think I'll stick with you and Teph on the firing line," Varric replied, a shadow of his old humor crossing his tainted face. "Just don't tell Bianca that I've been unfaithful when you go back."
"Never," Tephra promised.
Dorian returned from one of the barracks carrying a simple mage's staff. He offered Solas an apologetic smile as he handed it to him, "This was all I found, unfortunately."
"It will serve well enough. I will not have need of it for long," Solas replied, grimly.
Dorian cleared his throat, and said nothing further.
As Cassandra worked to fasten her breastplate, she recited a hymn to herself, "The light shall see her safely through the paths of this world, and into the next. For she who trusts in the Maker, fire is her water."
"Hate to break it to you, Seeker, but no one's listening," Varric mused, as he fastened vambraces to his arms that were a bit too big for him.
Cassandra fixed Tephra with an intense look, before replying, "If she is here with us now, then clearly someone is."
As she watched her dying companions don what meager armor they'd managed to scrape between them from the corpses littering the barracks, Tephra could not help but think, I cannot fail them.
If she failed here, in this terrible future, she failed everyone. The world was dying, and everything she knew, and she had only one shot at getting back to fix it.
That truth weighed heavily on her, crushing her lungs and choking out her breath.
Dorian put his hand to her shoulder in silent reassurance, as though he knew what she'd concluded. She gave him a tight nod, before shrugging him off.
She couldn't afford to be weak.
"The Grand Enchanter said that Leliana is here," Tephra said, turning her focus to the next goal.
She had to keep moving forward.
If she stopped too long or looked too closely at this terrible world, to consider the gravity of it all, she was lost.
The grief would consume her.
"She's probably still strung up in interrogation," Sera remarked offhandedly, as she inspected the string on the bow she'd claimed. As though that fact was as banal and everyday to her as discussing the weather, or the price of bread. "They usually keep us there for a few days when they take us. Wastes their time hauling us back and forth and all, so they just leave us hanging there all night."
Tephra's stomach heaved, as she looked over the various scars which marked Sera's face. They pulled at her features garishly, as she laughed to herself, at some grim memory which amused her.
Taking notice of her scrutiny, Sera's gaze skipped away in shame as she muttered, "They give the priests worse than that, anyways. Could always be worse than that."
Her hand fisted at her side uselessly, nails digging trenches into her palm. The mark hissed and crackled to life, flaring up her forearm with a vigor she'd never seen before, as though some strange force seemed to pull at it from every direction.
Alexius would pay for this, if it was the last thing she did.
"You might not know," Sera said quietly, almost to herself. "There were so many." As she hefted the quiver up onto her shoulder, she continued, "The day you died? I ran out of arrows making them pay. Then it didn't matter anymore."
What am I supposed to say to that?
What, if anything, could begin to express the nameless thing growing inside of her chest? Only that it beat alongside her heart with furious grief.
"The Inquisition broke itself on the walls of this castle," Cassandra informed, as she fastened her sword belt. "Ferelden made three attempts, as well, but none could stop the Elder One from rising. Empress Celene was murdered, and the army that swept in afterwards — it was a horde of demons. Nothing stopped them. Nothing. No one else came after that, so Thedas must have fallen."
"Everything is gone," Sera said, in agreement. Her anger was palpable, as she continued, "Or red, and wrong. And I just — I want them to hurt. If you're really here, I'll frigging die to spit in their faces."
"I should have been here," Tephra said, quietly, broken.
Her words were raw and useless.
"You're here now," the Seeker replied.
"Our only hope is to find the amulet that Alexius used to send us here," Dorian spoke up, thankfully sparing her from her fumbling attempts to console her companions. "If it still exists, I can use it to reopen the rift at the exact spot we left."
As an afterthought, he mused, "Maybe."
"Good," Cassandra said.
"I said maybe. It might also turn us into paste," Dorian advised.
Tephra forced a cheeky grin, and said, "You're full of sunshine and hope."
Dorian shot her a droll look, "That isn't my job, Herald."
Looking between her haggard companions, she assured, "I'm going to make this right."
"Well, I'm pretty sure you're crazy. Or I'm crazy," Varric mused. "Either way, it's a nice thought. You want to take on Alexius? I'm in. Let's go."
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"There's no use to this defiance, little bird. There's no one left for you to protect!"
Little bird.
Hearing the torturer mock Leliana with an endearment she'd once bestowed on her brother incited fury in her. Tephra barreled into the room, charging ahead of the others before they could protest, or stop her.
Inside the room, she was confronted with the sight of her adviser suspended from the ceiling by thick chains, shackled at the wrists. The torturer was holding Leliana's head back by her hair, and held a knife at her throat.
"You will break," he hissed, unaware of Tephra's arrival.
"I will die first," Leliana seethed. Her gaze shifted and met Tephra's; it took the spymaster no more than the space between one breath and another to recognize her, but if Leliana was surprised to see her, she did not show it.
Tephra gave a sudden, shrill whistle.
The soldier turned on his heel and gaped at her stupidly. "How—"
In a surge of uncanny strength, from whatever deep reserve she kept it hidden, Leliana lifted her legs and locked them around the torturer's torso and effectively pinned his arms to his sides. "Or you will."
Tephra stalked toward him, feeling her fury mount with each step. He struggled to break free as the spymaster's grip tightened, but it was no use. She unsheathed her dagger, in no particular hurry as she approached the struggling man. It took surprisingly little effort for her to shove it up through the soft underside of his throat.
The torturer coughed and gasped, spitting blood across her face as he drowned in it. The spymaster only released her hold when the soldier stopped moving.
Her chest heaved with ragged breaths, as Tephra scowled down at the dead man.
He died too quickly.
She consoled herself with the knowledge that there would be more to find later.
More to pay for what was done to her people. To this world.
She turned her attention back to her adviser, who stared at her with a burning, accusatory look.
"You're alive," Leliana remarked, her voice barely above a whisper — as if she dared not believe her own eyes.
She heard the others come in behind her as she worked to unlatch the shackles and free the woman. "You're safe now."
"Forget safe," Leliana scoffed, as she was let down to stand on her own feet. "If you came back from the dead, you need to do better than safe. You need to end this." Her eyes — sharp as ever — scanned the group, as she confirmed, "You have weapons. Good."
The spymaster moved to crouch at a heavy chest, and rummaged through it to retrieve her own.
Dorian shot Tephra a frown, before eyeing the spymaster with a curious look, "You don't seem surprised to see us."
"What I feel doesn't matter," Leliana huffed, as she stood once more, shouldering a bow and quiver. "Nothing matters, but ending this."
"I am going to end this," Tephra assured. "I'm going to fix everything."
"Alexius sent us into the future. This, his victory, his Elder One — it was never meant to be," Dorian informed. "We have to reverse his spell. If we can get back to our present time, we can prevent this future from ever happening."
Leliana fixed him with a hard stared, "And mages always wonder why people fear them. No one should have this power."
"It's dangerous, yes, and unpredictable," Dorian conceded. "Before the Breach, nothing we did—"
"Enough!" the spymaster snapped. She gestured between them, and her fury was palpable as she said, "This is all pretend to you. Some future you hope will never exist. But I suffered. The whole world suffered. It was real."
Leliana's words twisted like a dagger in her gut, and spurred her to step closer to the woman, to put her hand out to her, to assure her, "Leliana—"
"No," she interrupted, in a clipped tone. "You don't get to do that, not here. Not now. I didn't break, and neither will you."
Tephra withdrew her hand, and let the woman's words chasten her. Leliana was right; she could not afford to be weak. She had to hold it together, at least long enough to get back and to fix this.
"Carry that weight as long as you can — for us, and for the world," the spymaster advised.
Tephra gave a terse nod, and made no further attempt to comfort the woman. "We need to know where to find Alexius."
"That's the easy part," Leliana scoffed. "He never leaves the main hall. With every failed attempt to return to the Conclave, he grows more paranoid as the Elder One will certainly kill him for his failure to do so."
"Well, then—"
"That's as easy as this will get, though." Leliana continued, in a tone that cut through Dorian's interruption more effectively than any blade. "He hides himself behind a shard door, as though it will keep the Elder One out when he comes for him."
"Kaffas," Dorian cursed. "How in the Void did he manage to have one transported here?"
"Does it matter? There are five shards. Five of his spellbinders carry them. The only way to access him, is through them."
Keep moving forward.
"Then we find them," Tephra said, and headed out into the hall.
"You should not lead, Herald," Cassandra advised, as she moved ahead. "Whatever comes, I'll clear the way for you, as long as I'm able to."
Her step faltered, but she did not stop.
Forward.
.
.
.
.
.
.
She felt the press of the Breach before she stepped out into the courtyard, and the sight of it staggered her.
"The Breach, it's—"
"Fasta vass, it's everywhere," Dorian gasped, turning on his heel in a slow circle as he gaped up what was once the sky.
"The veil is shattered," Solas said. "There is no boundary now between the world and the Fade."
Her head swam at the sight of it.
This was what she'd been feeling since she had arrived in this dark future — the Fade itself. There wasn't a trace of blue left in the sky, only murky green, like an old bruise spread out over the world. The magic pressed in around her, invasive and heavy, and the mark in her hand throbbed deep in her bones.
The others were already moving ahead, when she managed to push herself back into motion. Something about being outside, or above ground, made it feel heavier. It was like walking through water.
"If we accomplish this, we can go back?" Cassandra cast a glance between Dorian and the spymaster, as she continued, "Will it be as though it never happened?"
"We die," Leliana replied, in a flat tone. "They go back."
It was neither pain nor fear which crossed Cassandra's face, but rather a quiet acceptance instead. Something shatteringly like relief.
As if it were an acceptable loss to die, to make the world right again.
It hit her, then, and that truth was heavier than the Fade itself crushing down against her.
She had resigned herself to the truth that is was only her and Dorian who would be going back, had steeled herself against feeling the whole of it until after — but that was just it, wasn't it?
After.
She would remember this, and they wouldn't.
They would be dead — this version of them, anyway — even if the other ones weren't. They would not live to see the world made right, nor would unmaking this world invalidate what they went through.
What had happened, happened.
Even if they were the only two to remember this broken world, even this brief glance of it, it was real.
Leliana was right.
She would have to carry that weight.
Varric continued to grapple with understanding the situation, as he turned his own questions to Solas, "Does that mean we never existed, or that this never happened? Even right now? Or does some version of this play out in the Fade forever?"
Solas looked to her, with an apologetic expression, as he said, "As long as one remains to remember it, it can be reflected in the Fade."
"Ugh, this hurts my head. I don't want to be nothing," Sera groaned, and shook her head. She took a quick, steadying breath, before nodding to herself, "I'm going back. I won't remember this, so it won't be real. That's what matters."
Leliana scoffed, "Tell yourself whatever you must to keep going. That's what matters."
Ahead of them, Dorian spoke up, "What became of Felix? Do you know?"
"Yes, I know," the spymaster conceded.
When she said nothing further, Dorian prompted, "You're not going to tell me?"
"You'll find out soon enough," she assured.
Frustrated, Dorian continued, "I'm just trying to understand what happened while we—"
"No," Leliana snapped back, in a sharp tone. "You're talking to fill the silence. Nothing happened that you want to hear."
When she looked to Solas at her side as they walked, he shook his head. "I do not wish to burden you with the details, either. I would not have you carry that back with you," he said, quietly.
"I already have to," she replied, grimly.
"Move carefully through here, Herald," Cassandra called back to them, as she motioned ahead.
Ahead, the courtyard was split by a blockade of red lyrium growths, with only narrow paths running between them.
At first, they appeared to be the same as the other massive formations of red lyrium which grew out of every surface they rooted in, but when Tephra stepped around one, she found herself scrambling back in horror.
Dorian caught hold of her, keeping her from stumbling back into another formation behind them.
"Kaffas," he cursed, as they both stared in horror at the sight around them.
The courtyard was filled with the massive eruptions, as if it were an orchard, yet it wasn't fruit they bore, but bodies.
At first glance, it seemed they to be entirely red templars, but on closer inspection, she could see that just as many bore their insignia. Inquisition insignias.
They were her people.
"I'd heard a small force had managed to infiltrate, but they failed just as the rest of us had," Leliana mused, looking over the half-rotted face of one of their soldiers.
They had been there long enough to rot to some degree, yet the red lyrium seemed to preserve the bodies as it continued to feed on them.
As she stepped carefully through the pillars, Tephra caught sight of the Commander. She moved closer to look at his remains, mouth agape in horror and morbid fascination. She had never seen such a thing in her life, before coming to this horrible world.
His eyes remained open and unseeing, sunken into hollow sockets, and eruptions of glaring red crystals grew from the sallow flesh of his face. He was almost entirely encased in the lyrium.
When his eyes moved to meet hers, she gave a violent start and staggered back. "Gods, they're still—"
"Alive? Of course they are," the spymaster replied, darkly amused. "It feeds on us."
She found herself turning in place, looking at all of the bodies — the people — both theirs and the Elder's Ones, left here like bizarre half-living statues.
Leliana watched her with a tight, controlled expression, as she said, "We need to keep moving."
"But he's—"
The spymaster acted before she could react or protest, and stepped up to the Commander. She produced a dagger, and swiftly drew it across his throat. Cullen opened his mouth as blood pumped in great spurts from his neck, but said nothing.
His death was disturbingly silent.
It was a mercy, but it shocked her no less despite it.
"We need to keep moving," Leliana reiterated, as she wiped her dagger clean and continued ahead. "We do not have time for grief."
Tephra followed after, numbly.
The only thing she could feel was the anger growing inside of her, a furious grief at what had been done to her people — to the world itself — and at how they continued to protect her despite being half-dead, with only the smallest hope that she could fix it.
When they came upon Alexius's men idling outside the entrance to the castle proper, her fury took over. They had the advantage of surprise, as well as outnumbering them.
Tephra zeroed in on one of the enchanters as she slipped into being unseen, and skirted the sudden outbreak of fighting. He neither saw nor sensed her approach, until she launched herself onto his back. She hooked an arm around his neck, and locked her legs around his torso, before stabbing her dagger deep into his windpipe and holding it there as he flailed and struggled to throw her off. He wheezed and struggled to breath, as blood began to fill his throat. She held on until he sank to his knees, and slumped to the ground.
The others had nearly finished the rest, but for one last enchanter who was laid out on his back, clutching at the ruin of his chest where a spell had blown it open.
Despite the mortal wound, the man was laughing.
"You're too late, Herald of nothing," the enchanter mocked, between wheezing breaths. She crouched beside him, as the half-mad enchanter exclaimed, "No one can stop the Elder One. None have stood against him and lived."
"He hasn't met me," she seethed, and thrust her dagger into his exposed heart.
"Doesn't look like the Elder One is much interested in saving his followers," Varric mused, with a humorless laugh.
Tephra stood, and let the others search the bodies. She brought a shaking hand to her face, to wipe her sweaty bangs out of her face, and let out a slow breath.
"This arsehole here has got something on him. Glowy bit," Sera said, crouched by one of the enchanters. She held up a red shard, which glimmered darkly between her bloodied fingers. "Maybe that's it, yeah? The door thingy."
Dorian took the shard from her for a closer look, before surmising, "Yes, this looks right. I'll have to study it further, to be sure. Check the other two mages, see if they have them as well."
"Study it as we go. The Elder One surely knows you're here by now," Leliana advised. "If he gets here before you return to the past, then it is all over."
"Cheery one, your spymaster," Dorian quipped, as he tucked the shard into an interior pocket in his robe.
"Let's keep moving," she replied.
Forward.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Standing before the shard door, watching as Dorian worked to activate the magic and open it, Tephra felt a crushing sense of urgency.
Her companions stood around her, idling at a safe distance.
Safe — for her.
They all seemed acutely aware of the inherent risk of infection, and endeavored to avoid it.
And they said nothing, as though they were just as aware as she was of how little time remained before the end.
But ending this meant ending them.
Not just Alexius, or this dark future, but her friends, and every person still living, every person born after the moment she'd been magicked into the future, and—
She glanced at Solas, who was watching her with a heavy gaze.
It felt wrong — was wrong — but what choice did she have? Let this terrible future stand? Let the Elder One come and claim her?
It was an impossible choice, and not even hers to make, but who else could go back and stop this from happening?
She had to kill this world, to save the other.
She had to kill her friends, to save them.
It was an impossible thing to wrap her mind around, and only served to stoke the furious grief burning in her belly.
When she turned back to the door, Dorian was casting a spell over the shards he'd inserted into various recesses in the ornate stonework. They began to shimmer and brighten, and they were greeted with the sound of many locks shifting and unlocking inside the door.
The doors parted and swung open slowly, granting them access to the throne room.
She did not wait for the others as she strode into the room, letting anger guide her steps.
Alexius stood at the massive fireplace, watching the fire. He was clearly aware of her approach, yet he neither turned to meet her, nor spoke. A haggard man crouched near his feet, head bowed and muttering to himself.
Tephra stopped and stood at the base of the steps, as she remarked, "I'd almost thought you'd be hiding behind another magic door."
"There is no point — there's no longer anywhere to run," The magister mused, before sighing. "I knew you would appear again. Not that it would be now, but I knew I hadn't destroyed you. My final failure."
Dorian was at her side, as he called up to his former mentor, "Was it worth it? Everything you did to the world? To yourself?"
Still, the man did not turn. There was something defeated about his posture — or perhaps he truly had nothing left to fear, but the Elder One. It only served to make her angrier.
She wanted him to feel what he'd done, and then she wanted to end him.
Violently.
"It doesn't matter now. All we can do is wait for the end," Alexius replied, more to himself than to anyone. He started to laugh, and it was a half-mad, desperate thing. "The irony that you should appear now, of all the possibilities! All that I fought for, all that I betrayed, and what have I wrought? Ruin and death. There is nothing else. The Elder One comes — for me, for you, for us all."
Tephra bristled, but it was the spymaster who acted first.
Leliana was up the steps before any of them could react, and she grabbed the ragged man by the collar of his shirt and hauled him to his feet. She held a dagger to his throat as the ragged man's head lolled back, and he was limp and unresponsive in her grip. His feverish eyes lolled, focusing on nothing.
Alexius startled, and finally turned to face them as he reached for the man in Leliana's grip, "Felix!"
"That's Felix?" Dorian was at once aghast, and furious, as he shouted, "Maker's breath, Alexius, what have you done?"
"He would have died, Dorian! I saved him!" the magister reasoned, mad with grief. He continued to hold out his hand to Leliana in a pacifying gesture, as he pleaded, "Please, don't hurt my son. He's done nothing, and I'll do anything you ask."
Tephra let her anger harden her, as she said, "You can have him, if you hand over the amulet."
"Let him go, and I swear you'll get what you want," Alexius replied, as though he were in any position to bargain.
Leliana regarded the man with barely contained fury, and seethed, "I want the world back."
With that, she drew the dagger across the apple of his throat.
The magister stared in shock, as his blighted son crumpled to the floor in a bleeding heap. He staggered toward him, as reality set in, "No, no, not my son, not my Felix—"
Enraged, Alexius brandished his staff and slammed the butt of it to the floor, sending out a concussive spell that sent them all stumbling backwards.
Tephra was sent — once again — tumbling end over end by the magister's magic. She rolled and was up on her feet quickly, as she focused on putting distance between herself and her opponent.
Powerful as he was, he was outnumbered. They only needed to—
Another spell tore through the hall, as the magister tore open a rift, loosing demons upon them.
How he was able to do that, or how rifts worked in this blighted world where the Fade was everywhere, was beyond her.
Alexius shouted over the chaos, "Accept your death, as I have!"
As a wraith reared back to swipe at Tephra with its clawed hands, Cassandra knocked her back and met its blow with her shield.
Tephra scrambled back on all fours, to put distance between herself and the demons. In a flash of energy and smoke, Alexius appeared from nowhere and towered over. As he raised his hand to ready a spell, she felt Solas's barrier magic snap down around her, and Dorian sent the magister tumbling through the air with a blast from his staff.
"Bad time to take a nap, Snowflake!" Varric quipped, as he continued to fire on the shades skirting the combat.
Tephra rolled and pushed herself off the ground, internally cursing herself for being caught off guard.
Close the rift, you idiot.
She slipped the cloak on, letting the magic conceal her, as she padded through the combat and did her best to avoid friendly fire from the mages.
As the demons fell, she felt the mark pulse in her hand. When she neared the rift, she slipped out of concealment and let the mark hook itself into the rift. The torrent of energy felt fuller somehow, different — as though the presence of the Fade around them changed how it worked. It burned up her arm, overcharged and bursting with power, as she tore the rift shut.
Tephra staggered and stumbled to her knees, gripping at her arm as the magic crackled and hissed around the limb. She could feel the remnants of the mark's power buzzing in her jaw. As she grappled with shaking off the effects of the mark, Alexius took advantage of her disorientation by sending a torrent of energy barreling towards her. She barely managed to push herself to her feet and scramble out of the way before it struck the floor where she'd been just seconds prior.
Fury burned in her gut as she watched him fade-step closer, skirting the combat to reach her. His movements were evenly measured each time he teleported, so that she could anticipate where he'd pop up next. Slipping her dagger free, she launched herself to the side to meet him when he reappeared once more.
His shock was satisfying, as she sank her dagger into his eye. She felt the end of it shatter against his skull, and the magister howled in pain and rage as she wrenched the rest of it free from his eye socket.
What remained there was a bloody ruin.
She felt the ends of her hair stand up as Alexius keened, and summoned a spell. Cassandra charged in, and bodily hauled Tephra out of the spell's reach as the magister loosed a concussive blast around himself.
It was Leliana who gave the killing blow, as she thrust her dagger through the magister's chest and stabbed deep into his heart. Alexius gave a breathless gasp as he sank to his knees, and slumped to the floor.
Dorian was crouched next to Alexius when Tephra reached him.
"He wanted to die, didn't he?" he mused, looking over the body of his former mentor. "All those lies he told himself, the justifications — he lost Felix long ago, and he didn't even notice." Dorian pulled the amulet from an interior pocket of the magister's robes, and sighed as he stood, "Oh, Alexius..."
The pain on his face spurred her to console him, as she said, "This Alexius was too far gone. But the Alexius in our time might still be reasoned with."
"I suppose that's true," he replied, before stepping close to show her the amulet. "This is what he used before — I think it's the same one we made in Minrathous, all those years ago. That's a relief. Give me an hour to work out the spell he used, and I should be able to reopen the rift."
"An hour?" Leliana parroted, in an incredulous tone. "That's impossible! You must go now!"
The ground shook beneath them as though to answer her urgency in terrible accordance. The tremors caused her to stumble and right herself, as the castle shook around them.
A deafening roar sounded distantly overhead, and Tephra felt the bottom drop out of her stomach.
Was that a dragon?
She could not say for sure, as she'd never seen one before, and she really did not want to stick around to find out.
"The Elder One," Leliana despaired.
Solas held out his hands to her, and pleaded, "You cannot stay here!"
A heavy look passed silently between her companions, as they came to an unspoken agreement.
No.
Solas turned back to her, and said, "We'll hold the outer door. When they get past us, it will be your turn."
She looked between them — battered and barely standing and in no condition to fight, let alone to hold the door against what was coming. Tephra shook her head, "No, please, I can't let you all kill yourselves for me. There must be another way."
"Look at us — we're already dead," Leliana replied. "The only way we live is if this day never comes."
I can't do this, she wanted to say, but couldn't bring herself to.
This was their choice to make, not hers.
It twisted like a knife in her gut, as she swallowed any further protest.
As always, the Seeker read her like a book. The woman offered her a strained smiled, and said, "Be strong for us, Herald. Whatever comes, you will not face it alone."
Tephra's hands fisted at her sides, as she resisted the urge to grab a hold of the woman, to offer what comfort she could, yet she could only watch as Cassandra turned and headed for the door.
What tenuous hold she had on her emotions broke at the sight of Sera, whose face was a mirror to her own furious grief.
"You would come back just to make me cry, you arse," Sera complained, not quite meeting her gaze. "The other me better punch you in your dumb Herald face."
"I'm sorry," Tephra replied, voice wavering.
Sera sniffed and rubbed at her face, before taking a slow breath to steel herself. She finally met Tephra's gaze, and said, "Make it right, yeah? Make him pay for us."
"I will," she promised, still clutching the broken dagger with the magister's blood on it.
The other Alexius would be lucky to still have both of his eyes when she was done with him.
And perhaps killing him twice would quiet this rage and grief inside of her.
Tephra swallowed at the hard lump forming in her throat, as Varric stepped up to her.
She'd never told him, not once, what he'd meant to her.
Better here, than never.
"You were the best of them, you know," she informed, voice breaking around the confession. "From the start, you always treated me like a person."
She strained to hold back most of it, but could not stop the tears rolling down her face as she looked at him.
"Come on, Teph. No tears," Varric scolded gruffly. "This shit ain't worth the salt."
When she unthinkingly moved to embrace him, he held up his hands to stop her.
"No — save it for the other me," he said. "We only got one shot at this. No good sending you back infected with this shit."
She gave a trembling nod, as she fought to regain her composure. "I'm gonna hug the shit out of your stupid face when I get back."
Varric gestured and tipped up his own chin, as he said, "Chin up, Snowflake. I'll see you soon."
She watched him walk out with Sera, leaving only—
Tephra shook her head as she turned to him, "I don't know how to do this, Solas."
His eyebrows drew together in a gentle expression, as he said, "I meant it, that night on the beach — I mean it still. I am with you until the end. In this world, and the next."
She shook her head, stubbornly, and reached for him. He backed away from her, and held his hands up to ward her off.
"Please, don't, not again," he begged. "It was enough, once, to get me out of that cell. It gave me a strength I have not had for years. But I cannot do what I must, not if you touch me again. I do not have the strength left to leave you, if you do. I have taken enough from you — I cannot bear to take any more."
What did he mean — taken?
Taken what from her?
Tephra frowned, "You haven't—"
"Let me do this," he entreated. "Let this be enough."
She exhaled raggedly as he turned from her, and for a moment she could see his resolve wavering as he stopped.
He did not turn back to meet her gaze, as he said, "When you return, tell him — tell me — that the path is wrong."
She frowned, "I don't understand—"
He faced her with a look of absolute conviction, as he assured, "I will know what it means. The path is wrong. I was wrong. I pray that I listen, this time. If you must do anything, do this for me."
Tephra nodded, furiously blinking away the tears in her eyes, "Of course I will."
He said nothing more as he left her there, and she resisted the urge to call him back.
As the doors shut behind her companions, Solas cast one last look back to her.
The weight of it took the breath out of her lungs.
Tephra gave a terse nod to him as the doors shut between them.
Dorian was once again at her side, and said nothing as he took her gently by the arm. She let him lead her to where Alexius had first cast his spell to send them here.
"Cast your spell," Leliana called after them, as she readied herself and faced the door. She raised her bow, and waited for the inevitable, "You have as much time as I have arrows."
I won't let it end here, Tephra thought to herself, as she followed Dorian up the steps.
I won't let them die for nothing.
.
.
.
.
.
.
One last look was enough, to say all that he could not bear to burden her with. He could not risk that she might falter because of him, so he carried it with him into the fray as the demons fell upon them.
Dying was nothing to him, if it meant that it all could be undone. For her, for the world, for his people — dying was far simpler than anything he'd endured to make things right in his long life.
When his barrier spell broke, the last of his strength went with it.
The terror demon grasped him by the throat and lifted him from the ground as if he were nothing more than a toy. Solas dropped his staff, and began clawing at the demon's hand, to no avail. Its grip only tightened, and crushed the air out of his throat.
This is not the end.
That truth was a comfort, as was the numbness settling across his nerves and the dimness at the edge of his sight.
Solas could feel the power of Dorian's spell radiating out from the throne room, reaching its apex. It was a comfort, to know that the man had succeeded. To know that he would take her back, and make this right.
The terror demon reared back, before thrusting its other claw into his chest cavity. Solas gasped, and went slack in the demon's grip.
The pain was beyond everything, and the world began to dim around him.
As it thrust its claw further into him, tearing through bone and sinew in search of his heart, Solas consoled himself with the knowledge that the demon would not find it.
His heart was in the other room, and soon would be safe and far from here.
Solas closed his eyes, and thought of her.
Ar lath—
.
.
.
.
.
.
Solas staggered numbly to his knees, crushed beneath the sudden realization that he could no longer sense the Anchor — could no longer sense her.
No, no — this cannot be.
Something had gone terribly wrong.
His stomach heaved with grief as his mind grappled with the reality that she was gone, erased from the world as though she'd never been. Her spirit, her life, her—
The portal tore through the world once more, as magic flooded the room in a torrent of energy. Solas shielded his face again, feeling the burn of raw magic singing across his skin, but forced himself to peer through the chaos of black smoke and crackling green energy. He held his breath, and dared to hope that once again she would surprise him.
The Herald of Andraste came striding out of the portal as if she'd never been gone, battered and bleeding, a storm of fury and grief barely contained by flesh. She turned to look at each of her companions, as though to reassure herself of something unspoken, breathing raggedly and shaking where she stood.
Whatever had happened between the time of Alexius's original spell, and whatever had brought them back, the Herald standing before them now was not the Herald who'd been swallowed up into that void of time magic.
Without a word, she turned to stalk towards the magister, who in turn withered at her approach. His attempt to banish her from the world had failed, and with it, whatever confidence he'd previously had. Tephra stood over him with a stillness and silence that filled the entirety of the hall.
With little more than a sigh, Alexius sank to his knees and submitted to defeat.
It was not enough for her that the magister surrendered.
The Herald struck him in the face with her fist, as she raged, "Do you even know what you did?!"
Alexius spat blood on the stone flooring beneath him, and did not meet her gaze out of shame.
"You would have killed the world because of him," she seethed. "You don't get to make that choice!"
The bottom fell out of Solas's stomach at her words, as he watched rage swallow her whole.
"I just wanted — you don't understand, he's dying," Alexius pleaded in a hollow tone. "I couldn't lose my son, not him too—"
Tephra seized the magister by the collar of his robes and hauled him up, just enough to force him to look at her as she berated him, "You think you're the only asshole in the world whose ever lost someone?! We've all lost someone! You don't see us breaking the world just to — just to—"
She moved to strike him again, but it was Dorian's hand who stayed the blow with a gentle touch. Her hands were shaking when she released the magister.
Tephra drew herself up, and stared down at the defeated man with cold fury as she said, "Concede, Alexius,"
"You've won. There is no point extending this charade," the magister sighed. He looked to his son, and grief broke across his face, "Felix..."
The magister's son crouched beside him, and gently assured, "It's going to be alright, father."
Alexius shook his head, "But you'll die."
"Everyone dies," Felix replied, simply, clearly more at peace with his fate than his own father was.
The magister bowed his head and gave a ragged sob, as the Inquisition soldiers took him into custody.
Solas could not help but gravitate toward her as she moved down the steps to meet her companions. She was still shaking as she reached out to clasp Cassandra's arm with one hand, and Varric's shoulder with the other.
As though to reassure herself that they were real, and that they were safe.
She regarded them with a tight, sorrowful expression that she hid poorly. Her usual composure was a frayed, brittle thing, and she could not keep the grief from her face.
When she turned to him, Solas found himself bracing for the inevitable reality of her touch. It tore at him to see her like this — so thoroughly broken by whatever she'd gone through without them. He wanted nothing more than to console her, to take her into his arms.
Tephra reached out to him and put her palm to his chest, just over where his heart beat out an erratic pace against his ribs. As if to confirm that yes, he was also still there, still with them, still—
What had happened to her, for her to be so shaken?
Solas laid his hand over hers, to offer what small comfort he could.
Tephra took a shuddering breath, and withdrew. When she turned to address the hall, she was once again the Herald. She donned the mask, and the mantle, and hid her grief as she spoke with an authority she had not had before.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Outside, the world was a torrent of cold rain and biting winds.
It was fitting, really, that the weather seemed to mirror the tumult of emotions raging through her.
She avoided her companions as she made her way through their forces, between the wagons and the horses and the soldiers. The pain and grief of seeing them die was still too raw, too real.
She couldn't be around them.
Not now — not yet.
It was Dorian who found her, soaked and shivering against one of the wagons, attempting to get a hold on her ragged emotions.
"Ah, there you are," he exclaimed, almost cheerily. He seemed bewilderingly unfazed by all that they'd gone through together.
It was only when she looked at him, that she saw the concern on his face.
"Come," he bid, and gestured for her to follow. "I know precisely what you need."
"If it involves magic, I'll have to sit this one out," she called after him, though she still followed after him through the mud and rain. "I've had my fill of it today, I'm afraid."
"No, it's better than magic," he laughed. "More effective, too."
Dorian led her to one of the transport wagons, which idled with its rear doors left open. He gave a ridiculous bow as he gestured for her to enter it.
She rolled her eyes and gave an amused huff, "I don't—"
"No arguments, Herald, if you would just trust me on this," he chided, still holding himself in that ridiculous position.
She gave an annoyed sigh, before climbing up into the wagon.
At least it was dry inside.
Several lanterns hung from the ceiling, which bathed the interior in a warm glow. A good portion of the wagon was occupied by crates and supplies, but Dorian had cleared a section for them. He'd arranged an assortment of cushions and pillows around a ridiculously elaborate array of finger foods and bottles of alcohol.
Where in the world had he found the time to scrape up such food?
She idly wondered if he'd pilfered it from the castle's kitchen while the rest of them were hammering out the details of mage alliance.
She gave an incredulous laugh, "What's all this?"
"A well-earned reprieve, if you ask me," Dorian quipped, as he shut the wagon doors behind them and moved to claim his own section on the mound of pillows. "If anyone has earned that, it's us, my dear."
They looked suspiciously like the ones she'd seen in the great hall, on the fancy couches that lined the hall for guests to await their turn to address the Arl.
If her mood wasn't so grim, she could have laughed at the mental image of him hurrying out the castle with his arms full of King Alistair's pillows.
She settled down across from him, and reached for the nearest bottle of alcohol. It was some fancy whiskey, from some place she'd never heard of.
This is probably from the castle kitchen, too, she mused, with dark amusement. Or more amusingly, the king's personal reserve.
"As we've got a long trip home, I thought you'd might like to spend a portion of it drunk. Or all of it, really," Dorian said, as he reached for a bottle of wine. "I know I certainly want to be, given the day's events."
"I don't even know what to say to them, how to explain any of it," she sighed, as she uncorked the bottle. She took a long drink, before musing, "How do you tell someone you watched them die?"
"Preferably, you don't," Dorian chuckled. "Stick to what they need to know. The rest is just—"
He sighed, and said nothing more.
"A weight for us to carry alone," she said, thinking on what Leliana had said to her in that dark future.
"Not alone," he said, gently. Dorian watched her with a tight expression, before shifting and reaching for a plum, "So, this apostate friend of yours... You're rather close, aren't you?"
Tephra frowned, and felt the flush creeping up her face as she said, "If you breathe a word of what happened in that dark future, I will destroy you." She offered a sharp smile, "I'm quite fond of you, Dorian, so I'd rather not. But I will, if I must."
He gave a hearty laugh, "Yes, of course, I will keep your secrets, my dear. And delight in reminding you of them every chance I get when we're alone."
"You're an ass."
"I've been accused of worse," he mused, fondly. He met her gaze again with a soft expression, "I'm sorry that you had to see your friends die. Take comfort in that you prevented it from happening here."
It still happened. It still could, she thought, grimly.
Another time, another way.
Where else could this bloody path lead her, but to more death?
"I'm sorry yours still is," she replied quietly, thinking of the magister's son.
"Yes, well—" Dorian heaved a heavy sigh, and changed the subject, "Drink, my friend. Say what you must, or nothing at all. Shout, curse, cry — whatever you need to do. It will not leave the small space of this wagon."
She regarded him with a tight look, before reaching over the clasp his hand. "I'm glad you're here, Dorian. Do stay with us a while."
"I'm sure I'll wear out my welcome eventually," he laughed.
She drank deeply, as the wagon began to roll forward. Eventually, Cassandra would come looking for her, but for now she intended to get very drunk.
Everything else — the mages, her companions ire for allying with them, whatever came next — could be sorted out later.
She thought of the magister, and how he had done what he'd done on the misguided hope of saving his son. He had damned the whole world just for the chance to, and even that had been rotten fruit offered from a would-be god who couldn't even cure one man of the blight.
It filled her with futile anger to think of that nameless, faceless enemy of theirs out there somewhere, actively working to break their world apart.
And for what?
Ruin and death.
Yet the horrible truth was that she was now no different from Alexius, in a way.
I killed a world for them.
She drank deeply from the whiskey as her own words came back to her then, filtering in through the burning haze of alcohol.
We do terrible things for the ones we love.
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Author's Note: Forgive me for the few scattered chunks of parroted dialogue from the game, I tried to keep that to a minimum.
This statement is due to change, but I officially consider this chapter to be my best, thus far. I am happiest with it, at least. I hope you all enjoyed it, sad as it was! Do let me know.