Chapter 12: Revelations/Resignations
Errol's fire spells got her out of the hole and kept her warm enough to survive the trip through the mountains. Just because she was a spirit didn't mean she couldn't die from exposure. It was brutal, but after the panic faded the hours of walking gave her plenty of time to think, and plan.
The Breach must have torn her soul from her body when she crossed over, and the Fade must have given it form. How? She must be a spirit like Cole. He had a physical form. She saw him sweat. She was pretty sure he could bleed. She must feel hunger and pain because she expected to. Perhaps she looked the same and her clothing felt the same because she expected it to be. And when she slept and entered the Fade, she left a physical form behind because she expected that would happen.
Solas would know, she thought, trudging through the snow, but as soon as she had that thought the truth hit her like a ton of bricks.
How could she have been so stupid? Solas did know. He'd known from the beginning. What was one of the very first things he'd said to her? "There might be other roads that can access your home that one soul could slip across…"
"I'm going to kill that motherfucker," she muttered, then said it again, louder, her voice ringing through the mountains. "I'm going to KILL THAT MOTHERFUCKING BALD ELF!"
She stopped and shivered, conjuring more fire to warm her, but the more she conjured the more it exhausted her. How many times had he let hints slip? Saying that no demon could possess her? Insisting on no Harrowing? Of course, because a demon could never possess another spirit. The amulet around her neck was likely a fake. It was the reason she could hear Cole in her head, the reason she could feel the red lyrium's hunger, the reason she could enter the Fade so easily and change form in it, the reason she had magic to begin with - she was part of the Fade, born from it, made of it, of course she could draw power from it. She was no mage. She was nothing.
Another terrible thought overtook her. She was a spirit - could she become a demon? No, no that wasn't possible. If it was going to happen it would have happened by now. Another thing to ask Solas, the lying bastard.
So I'm a spirit, she mused, lifting one leg after another through the dense snow, each step harder than the last. What did that mean for the Inquisition, for her friends?
She couldn't tell them, that much was clear. She imagined the look on Cassandra or Leliana's face as they realized that their Herald wasn't even flesh. The look on Cullen's face. No, they could never find out. They thought spirits were the same as demons, or close enough. No one would ever follow a spirit Herald, and the doubts would tear the Inquisition apart. She would have to keep the act up indefinitely, even if that meant distancing herself from the people she cared about.
Maybe Solas had a reason for keeping it from me, she thought, tears freezing on her cheeks. What am I going to do? Oh God, Maker, if you're there… what am I going to do?
Something smelled like smoke. Her legs were becoming heavy. She pushed on. You're a spirit, damnit, you can't die from hypothermia! Soon she came across the ashes of a small fire, still warm. She couldn't feel her arms. Her ability to conjure fire was gone. The snow was so thick it was like wading through concrete.
I just want to be a person again, she thought, just before she fell. The snow was soft as it rose up to greet her, and as it went dark it sounded like someone was calling her name.
When she woke, she was still cold but at least dry, a blanket draped over her shivering, mostly stripped form, and Cole was sitting next to her.
"Mother Giselle wanted to tend to you," he said when her eyes opened. "But I made her forget, made her go to the other patients. It only works for a little while. She keeps coming over here. Her need to see you safe is strong."
Errol sat up a little. Down by the fire, her clothes were drying, and Cassandra, Josephine, Leliana, and Cullen were arguing. They hadn't even noticed that she'd awoken.
"Yes," Cole said. "But they will. Soon." Then: "You know now. I knew you'd know eventually. I wanted to be there when you figured it out. So I could help. You need me, now more than ever."
Her eyes were leaking tears again. "How?" she rasped, her voice hoarse. He leaned in, covering both of their faces with the brim of his huge hat.
"They need you," he said. "The Inquisition is alive and you're the heart, pumping, pounding, beating back the dark. It can't live if it knows what you are. But you know that already. You figured it out. That's why the heart needs me. That's why I came. To help."
"How?" she asked again, so tired it was like she was being dragged back down to the dark, to sleep.
"I can make people forget," he said. "I'll stay near to you, make them all forget. They'll never know the truth. You will be the Herald they need, the beating heart, the light in the dark." His voice dropped. "You're torn, terrified, tangled, you hate that I'm saying this, hate that it is necessarily, you think maybe it's not true, maybe they wouldn't hate you, but they would, I know, I'm like you, we're the same, I've had to make so many forget, so many friends, and I wouldn't ask this of you but I heal hurt and this whole world is hurt and you're the one who can heal it now and to do that they can't know the truth."
He stopped, gasping for breath after his rant, like he wasn't used to speaking so much or so vibrantly. "Oh," he said, trembling. "Don't cry. I usually make people forget if they start to cry."
"It's okay," she said, wiping the tears from her eyes with her fingertips. "It's fine, Cole. You're right, thank you. I… accept your offer."
"My dear, who are you talking to?"
Errol looked up to see Mother Giselle walking over to her with a gentle smile on her face. Errol forced her muscles to mirror the expression.
"No one. Mother Giselle, if you wouldn't mind, I would love to have my clothes back. I'm sure they're dry by now."
"Of course, my child. And then, let us talk."
Errol wasn't sure how long she could keep acting like everything was normal. "Of course."
It was all so much worse when they started singing and kneeling.
No! she wanted to scream. Can't you see I'm wrong! Can't any of you see that I'm not even really here! She wanted to tear her hair out. She wanted to run, far away from these wonderful people and their misplaced trust. She felt the tell-tale bile rising in the back of her throat, but she choked it down.
When it was over and they had dispersed, she ran around to the back of the tents, fell on her hands and knees in the snow, and vomited.
Then she cried. She curled herself into a little ball and cried her heart out, until there were no tears left, until she thought she would never cry again. She was shivering, her fingers and toes numb, the mountains a dark shadow before her.
A blanket dropped around her shoulders and she looked up. Solas held out a hand. "Come," he said softly. "They will be missing you soon, and we have much to discuss."
She took his hand and stood, drying her face with the blanket.
He led her to a cliff overlooking the valley, where he filled a torch with veilfire with a casual wave of his hand. Then he gently removed the blanket from her shoulders and laid it on the ground, and with another wave she was warm and dry. He gestured for her to sit, and followed suit, until they were both cross-legged, their backs to the warm lights of the camp, only the blue of the veilfire illuminating their faces.
"You had a near-death experience," Solas said, his face pensive. He handed her a small vial of dawn lotus and embrium and she swallowed it without hesitation. It eased the cramping in her stomach, and the foul taste in her mouth was replaced with spice and mint. "I assume that you saw something you did not wish to."
"You knew." She didn't want to beat around the bush. He nodded, looking out over the valley.
"I had my suspicions early on. They became certainty rather quickly. Yes, I knew, and I did not tell you."
She nodded. "Okay."
He looked surprised. "That is all?"
"What, you want me to blow up at you?" Errol made a small noise in the back of her throat. "You were right. You saw how I just reacted. I wouldn't have handled it any better. I probably wouldn't have believed you. It was a mercy, giving me peace for a little while longer."
He was quiet for a moment. "I… wasn't expecting acceptance. You surprise me. That was a very mature response."
"Oh, go fuck yourself," she said, laughing, her first real laugh.
He leaned back on his palms and regarded her thoughtfully. "That, I'm afraid, is physically impossible."
She laughed harder, then shook her head.
"Is any of this even real? Or is it all a delusion of my comatose mind?"
He sighed, like she had just been particularly dim-witted. "How arrogant. Do you really think you could conjure all of this? Do you really think you created Cassandra, Leliana, Corypheus, me, from nothing? You are not a God, Errol, and you do not have infinite creativity. If your mind was to spin you a story, would it really have created this place? Languages which you don't understand, religions you don't believe in, history you're still learning?"
She felt an almost immeasurable sense of relief. She leaned back, mirroring his posture. "Oh Solas, thank you so much for being a condescending ass. Really, I say that with all sincerity."
"Then you have my sincere appreciation of the compliment." He looked at her very gently, his blue eyes only a few inches away, made even bluer by the flickering veilfire. "Errol, at the end of the day, all you must do is continue to be yourself. Interact with your fellow members of the Inquisition. Use magic as you know how. Curse indiscriminately and make references we don't understand. You are still and always will be Errol Kerr, and that tenacity is why you are still alive today. Being a spirit doesn't change who you are at heart. It simply gives you more options about what you can become. This is a gift, Errol, though you cannot see it yet. You will do great things."
She tilted her head up to look at the stars. They sprayed across the sky like diamonds, and she found herself fruitlessly searching for the familiar constellations of home, for Orion and Draco and the Great Bear. "You said that to me once before. In the future."
"So I know what I'm talking about." He made a small humming noise as he thought. "I am pleased that you know. We can speak more freely now. Come to me in the Fade when you're ready. We have much to discuss."
"Yeah," she said, looking back toward the fires. "I'm sure they're missing us by now."
"They'll send a search party out soon," he said, only half joking. "But there is one more thing I must tell you before we return. The orb that Corypheus carries. It is elven."
Errol whistled low. "You said your people used to have some serious magic."
He nodded. "It is ancient. He used the orb to open the Breach. Unlocking it must have caused the explosion that destroyed the Conclave and tore open a path between realities, consequently bringing you here. We must find out how he survived… and I must prepare for their reaction when they learn of the orb's origin."
At first Errol didn't understand. Then her jaw clenched. "I won't let them come after you. It's an ancient artifact! It has nothing to do with you or elves now. Is racism so embedded in your culture that they'd be out for blood because some monster human dug up something your ancestors used?"
"Unfortunately, yes."
She groaned. "Humans are the worst. I mean, I gotta like them 'cause I am one, but wow."
"Indeed," he said, but he was smiling.
She faced him, as if making a proclamation. "If a spirit can be the Herald, then elves can be equals, and so can mages. This whole system needs to be torn down."
He leaned forward and regarded her with a curiously satisfied expression. "I don't think we've ever been more in agreement than we are at this very moment."
"Scary, isn't it."
"Absolutely terrifying."
She grinned at him. "Hey, Solas?"
"Hmm?"
"I'm glad you're alive."
He seemed mildly startled, then something in his shoulders relaxed and he looked momentarily content. "I am pleased that you live, as well." He stood. "Now, we must escape from this desolate place. Luckily, I know where we can go."
She stood and carefully shook out the blanket. "You do? Where?"
Even in the darkness she could see his smirk. "Scout to the north."
Skyhold was a wonder. Desolate, with holes in the ceiling and covered in bird shit, but a wonder. Errol wanted to ask Solas how he knew about the place but she knew he would just say "the Fade" so she didn't. She was just happy that they had a place to call home again.
But now Leliana was standing in front of her with a sword and the whole of the settlement was watching her, and she was faced once again with the enormity of her lie.
"The Inquisition requires a leader," Cassandra said, pride in her voice. "The one who has already been leading it. You."
"I…" She tried to think of some way to dissemble. "I don't know what to say."
"Say that you will not make me regret this," Cassandra said, but she was smiling.
I can't promise that, she thought, but then Cole's voice layered gently over her thoughts.
You must lead them. I will make them forget if I have to. They need you.
She looked out over the crowd and found Cullen's face. He was looking up at her with fondness and pride, his face flushed and smiling.
"This is meant to be," Cassandra said. "Though you are from another world, the simple truth is that without you, there would be no Inquisition."
You're the beating heart, Cole's voice said. You're their Owl. It's okay. I'm here. Make them believe.
She reached out, and took the sword. She turned to the crowd.
"I wasn't born here," she said, in loud, clear voice. "I didn't grow up learning of Andraste as you did. But Thedas, and the Inquisition, is my home now. I have fought for you, broken bread with you, cried with you, and I promise you that I will not rest until Corypheus is defeated and Thedas once again knows peace. I promise my every heartbeat will be dedicated to the Inquisition and to you until we see victory!"
The crowd went wild. Cullen raised his arms.
"Inquisition, will you follow?" The cheering was near deafening. "Will you fight?" Another roar. "Will we triumph?" They screamed and stamped their feet.
He drew his sword, every bit the shining lion. "Your leader, your Herald, your Inquisitor!" he shouted, and as they both raised their swords high they met eyes and for one brief, shining moment, Errol felt like she could fly.