Chapter 33: A New Hunt

Cullen couldn't believe his eyes when he came upon them in the clearing.

At first, it almost seemed like a piece of their past, Solas and Cole battling a rage demon against the backdrop of a rift. But then he remembered that Solas had been gone for three months, and that Cole had been nowhere to be found that morning, and that they weren't so much as battling the rage demon as dancing with it, calling to it, tiring it out. It was larger than any rage demon he'd seen, and more incoherent, flame leaking from its fingertips as it roared out in agony.

He struggled to hear what Solas was saying. "Fix your form!" What did that mean?

And then Cole said it, so soft the whisper carried only to Cullen's ears, like it was meant for him. "Errol, Errol, can you hear me?"

His stomach lurched and his heart stopped. He thought, for a split second that stretched for a millennia, that he would die. The creature turned its red eyes on him and he wanted to disbelieve, wanted to fight it, wanted to search the woods for Errol's unconscious body, to believe that she was somewhere here, but no—

She was right in front of him.

"Attack!" He heard Cassandra's call as if from far away, and his body sprang into action before his mind could catch up. He flung himself in their path, his sword drawn.

"Stand down!" he yelled. "Solas is the one you want. Do not attack the demon!"

"Do you hear yourself, Curly?" Varric yelled. "Don't attack the giant rage demon that's currently rampaging over the forest?"

Cullen locked eyes with the dwarf and tried to give him a significant look. "Don't. Attack. The. Demon," he said, then mouthed her name. Varric paled.

"Oh, shit. Right. Well. Solas you say?"

"Will someone please explain to me what's going on?" Cassandra asked, exasperated.

"I would also care for an explanation," Dorian said. "Errol's magical trail led us here, but now it's gone. No, not gone, just… I can't explain it. It's here but not."

The demon roared and Cullen felt the heat of flames brush far too close to his face. He ducked and rolled, springing back to his feet.

"And what do you think, now, Commander?" Solas taunted, though his eyes were fixed on the demon. "How do you feel, seeing what lies beneath? For all of your pretty words, can you accept this?"

"You know nothing!" Cullen snarled.

Solas twirled his staff, his movements quick and precise, expertly diverting fire with ice. "Look then, if you will. See the truth you have been so steadfastly denying."

Cullen turned, and the demon locked eyes with him, its eyes the red unthinking rage of a monster, a beast.

You made me hate myself, the memory of Errol whispered in his head. You told me I wasn't human, you looked at me like I was a monster.

She wasn't a monster. Even now, he had to believe that. He loved her. Even Rage demon, mutated, destroy-the-world her.

Cullen refused to break the stare. He held his ground as she approached, snarling. He looked into her eyes, those reddened eyes, and dropped his sword. Dimly he heard Cassandra shouting at him, but he didn't move a muscle. He wasn't afraid. Errol wouldn't hurt him. He would never hurt her.

He loved her too much.

The Rage demon paused, and slowly the red in its eyes began to bleed back into green. Sanity returned to them for one brief instant. Then it turned away and with a sweep of its massive hand pulled Solas into the rift and they were gone, the rift sealed behind them.

The forest was silent as death. Dorian barely had time to sputter "What was that?" when Cole was there, whispering "forget," and Cullen turned to see their eyes glazing over. He looked at Cole and the not-quite human boy regarded him carefully.

"She asked me not to make you forget. She said you had to remember." He cocked his head. "You're not afraid. Sad, but not afraid."

"Will she be okay?"

"She is herself again. She can control it now. She was lost. He cut her cord. He betrayed her. But she knows herself, and she won't lose that. Because of you. Now she has to face the Wolf."

Cullen found it suddenly hard to speak. "Will she come back?"

Cole crouched in the grass and ran his bony fingers through it, as if searching for something. "I don't know. We should return to Skyhold. There is nothing for us here anymore."

Cullen looked back at his dazed companions. "And the rest of them?"

"We searched but did not find her. Perhaps they will attempt to begin again later. You will have to deal with that. I've done what I can." He paused and took a deep breath, still combing through the grass. "She's angry. He wants her but he can't have her."

Cullen's eyebrows shot up. "Solas? Solas… wants her?"

Cole nodded. "You didn't know? You knew. You felt it, a writhing in the gut, a snake you couldn't name, couldn't displace. She chose you but he starved, craved, a Wolf famished, his meal just out of reach, and the need led us to here, now."

"Maker's breath. Had I known, truly known…" He ran a hand through his hair. "We should return to Skyhold."

"Yes." Cole finally stood and then something cold and wet with dew was in Cullen's hand and Cole was moving away again, back toward the mounts. Cullen opened his palm to see his coin, the sturdy chain that held it not just broken but melted, and with a spasm he clenched his hand around it again and brought it to his lips as Cassandra called out to him that it was time to leave.

Cullen couldn't sleep that night. He laid in their bed, the scent of her still heavy on their sheets, and couldn't shake the feeling that at any moment she would walk into view and curl up next to him, warm and safe.

He put his hands over his face, and they were shaking. He hadn't felt this undone since the first stages of lyrium withdrawl. He'd barely eaten, and his whole body was thrumming with tension and exhaustion. Where was she? What was she? Would she return, and could she return? If only he could speak to her, reassure himself of her safety…

With a sigh he dropped his hands from his face and she was there, perched next to him on the bed. The mattress hadn't even moved, like she weighed nothing.

"Hi," she said, softly, sadly. He sucked in a breath and instinctively jerked away, wondering if he had fallen asleep, if this was the Fade, a demon in her form.

She shook her head. "You're awake. I'm not a demon. Not anymore." Something changed, and now the bed dipped, as if she suddenly had weight. "Forgot about that part," she said. "So many things to remember. Am I breathing? Heart too. Gotta keep that going. It's a lot to think about, now. Not automatic anymore."

He sat up warily. "Errol?"

She nodded. "It's me. I promise. Are you— you're not afraid, are you?"

He reached out slowly and touched her. She felt real, if cool, her skin smooth and lacking in scars. "You're… here," he croaked. "Can I—"

She leaned in and he wrapped his arms around her. She felt too slight, like a breeze could blow her away, but after a moment she shifted and warmed and felt normal again. Her hands wrapped around his back and she tucked her chin into his chest, clinging to him fiercely.

"I can't believe you're not afraid," she said, almost whimpering. "I thought you'd hate me. Oh, Cullen."

"I've known what you are for too long to be afraid of you now," he murmured into her hair. "I came to terms with it a long time ago. You are Errol Kerr, forever and always Errol, spirit or human or anything." He pulled her tighter, clutched her to him. "Oh Errol, what did you do?"

"I trusted him," she wept, her shoulders shaking. "He said… he lied. He said I could see my family one last time, said I would be able to say goodbye. He said he was my friend. Instead he killed me. He killed me, Cullen. He killed me and now I'm this, and I can't ever come back."

Cullen simply held her. She had explained to him before what it meant, what would happen to her if, in her words, her "cord was cut," her tie to her human body severed. She was truly a spirit now, as Cole was when he first crossed over from the Fade. Fluctuating, without form, grasping at the memory of a body. He closed his eyes and tried to calm the rising swell of panic within him. How could they go on now?

When she had finally ceased crying he broached the subject. "Maybe after some time, you could return," he said delicately. "Once you learn to… ground yourself."

"It's too dangerous," she said, pulling away from him, her face dry and moon-pale, almost translucent despite how real she felt. "I don't know how long it will take to master this. I wasn't born to be a spirit, not like Cole. I'd slip up, and they'd know. The Inquisition would be torn apart." She hung her head. "I can't come back."

Cullen struggled to think of something. "Morrigan," he finally said. "We'll reach out to her, inform her of your new situation. She's already researching ways…"

Errol didn't seem inspired. "Maybe," she said, lifting her eyes back to his. "She would be the best to search. Perhaps she can help me with my hunt as well. But for now, I need to stay like this."

"Why?" he asked, brushing hair from her eyes. It was silver, not blonde, and spooled like silk through his fingertips, too soft and without tangles.

"I need to stop him."

"Solas?"

She nodded. "I can track him through the Fade like this, work with spirits, sense him… he needs to be stopped."

The webbed and gnarled mark was still shining on the crux of her neck. "He gave that to you, didn't he?"

She nodded again. "I didn't know what he was, then."

"And what is he?"

"A liar. Dangerous."

"What is he planning?"

"Something bad. Something bigger than the Breach, maybe. Something that will make Corypheus look like a child's game."

He sucked in a breath. "Can you be more specific?"

She shook her head. "I don't know. I can't say. It's all so damn frustrating."

"Cole said…" Cullen hesitated, then plowed forward. "Cole said that Solas… wants you. In a… well, that he's attracted to you. Did you know?"

"Yes." Her voice was little more than a whispered breath. "He was… predatory, and I was an idiot, because I wanted to believe that he could be changed, that he could respect me, that he was my friend." She buried her face in her hands. "I'm a fool, and I've ruined everything."

"Nothing is ruined," Cullen said, gripping the back of her neck as if anchoring her to the real world. He could feel her pain as if she was projecting it in waves, feel her shifting, slipping, trying to retain all of what she was. "This is unfortunate, but it's not the end. We will find a way to make you human, Errol, when the time is right. Perhaps it's even a good thing - could you have become human here when you still had a living body there?"

She looked up, something small and hopeful in her eyes. "I… I don't know."

"We have raised an army and made the Inquisition a power across Thedas, and you closed the Breach and defeated a would-be God. We can do this." He cupped her face in his hand and she nuzzled into it, her breath steadying, becoming more natural. "Believe in yourself, in us, in the Inquisition. We will do this, I swear it."

"I believe you," Errol said, her words the ghost of a whisper. She climbed further onto the bed and curled up in the crook of his arm, her head resting on his chest. He held her, and tried to believe his own words.

They sat in silence for a long time. Then, rubbing her shoulder comfortingly, he said: "What should I tell them?"

Errol thought, her teeth worrying her bottom lip as they always did, a very human gesture. "Tell them… tell them that my work was finished, and the Maker saw fit to pull me back to my world. Cassandra can take over the Inquisition. Let them write about me in history books, the hero that came to save Thedas and then vanished back to her strange reality. It'll make for a good ending to Varric's tale." She shoved her fist in her mouth as she fought not to cry. "Actually, you can… you can tell Varric the truth. Just him. He's… he won't write about it. Not this. Cole knows as well. That's it though. The rest of them… they'll mourn me, but they can never know. Never. I must be as good as dead for the Inquisition to remain. It must stay strong for whatever comes next."

His voice almost caught on his next question. "And what about us?"

She was quiet for a moment, and then she laced their fingers together. Her hand was warm again, as if she remembered how to turn on her body heat. "If you want to move on and be with a human, with someone who can give you a future, I understand," she said slowly. "It could be a long time before this is over, and we might never find a way to make me human. But I'm selfish, and I love you, and I want you all to myself. If you'll have me, I'll come to you at night in the Fade. I'm more real there at the moment. Eventually, once I'm comfortable in the real world, I'll be able to appear here as well. As long as no one knows, as long as no one hears… I still want to be with you."

"I would have no one else," he said, tipping her chin up to look him in the eyes. "There is and never will be anyone else for me."

She smiled at him, but it was infinitely sad. "You'll have to play the widower in front of everyone," she warned. "Iron Bull will likely try to set you up with rebounds. I expect you'll find women, and men, in your chambers on several occasions in the upcoming months."

"I'll send them away and fall eagerly asleep," he said, leaning forward to capture her lips. "Anything to see you, hold you, know that you're here."

"I love you," she said, and she sounded broken. "I love you, I love you, I love you."

"We will find a way through this," he promised.

She just kissed him again, and said nothing.

"I want to come with you."

Errol was invisibly slipping out of Skyhold when she heard the plaintive voice. She turned and saw Cole standing there, quivering with the effort it took to catch her, see her now in her ephemeral form. She shook her head.

"I'm so sorry—"

"I want to come with you!" he insisted. "I can help!"

Errol held her arms open and he rushed into them. She made herself more solid for him, and he clutched at her, rocking back and forth. "Too cold, too light, too bright, all Fade, not enough blood or beating or warmth, like I used to be," he whined. "I don't like it."

"I don't either," she said, stroking his hair. He was without his hat, and his hair had been freshly washed. He was learning to do it himself but still wasn't very good at it, and it was slicked with soap. "My Cole, I wish it wasn't like this."

"Then take me with you! I was like you and became human, I can help!" He turned his huge eyes on her. "You shouldn't hunt him, you should leave him be. He has too much power over you, too much hunger. He always knows where you are, always in control, and wants to play with you because it will make the taking all the sweeter. Become human and he cannot make you what he wants you to be."

"If I become human I can't stop him, either," she said, and he huffed.

"At least you'll be safe! You haven't seen inside his mind! The things he wants to do to you!"

She winced. "I… have an idea. I won't let it happen. I won't get close myself. I know spirits now, good ones like you were, and there's Morrigan and others like her. I won't confront him, I promise."

He buried his head in her shoulder. "Please let me help, please please."

"Cole, you're…" She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, you're too human now. You can't even enter the Fade anymore, can you?"

His shoulders slumped. "No," he said dejectedly. "You should have left me a spirit. Then I'd be able to help."

"You can help here, with the Inquisition. I can relay messages through you. You can still hear thoughts and sense the Fade without being asleep. You'll be my eyes and ears at Skyhold. You will help me, you just can't be with me."

"I'll…" He paused as if the words were foreign to him. "I'll miss you."

She kissed the top of his soapy head. "I'll miss you too, my Cole. I love you, you know."

"Love," he said softly, confused. "Not like you love Cullen."

She laughed a little. "No, not like that. Like I love family. You're my family."

His hands clenched around her back. "I… love you too, then. Family. Love. It feels good to say." He nodded. "I'll stay here and help."

"Good." Errol released him and took a step back. "If you miss me, you can always talk to me in your head and I'll hear you. I'm never far away, not really. You're the only one who can do that."

"Yes," he said, still sounding sad. "I'll do that."

Errol kissed him one last time, on his cheek, and then slipped into the Fade, her body lighter than air, leaving nothing behind except the faint scent of ozone and a hint of magic, and the sense the Skyhold would always, infinitely be emptier.

A month later, Cullen stood and watched the statue be erected in the middle of the courtyard. It made him sick to look at it. "Is that… thing really necessary?"

"It's by decree of the Divine," Cassandra said. "Skyhold has become a holy pilgrimage to honor her memory. Her origin and disappearance have placed her among Andraste herself, and the Chantry is struggling to find a way to incorporate her into their teachings without being blasphemous. This is the least they could do to appease the people for the moment."

"But it's—"

"Awful, I know." Cassandra stared hard at it, her lips thin. "To walk by her visage every day, as if she was some holy figure and not our friend, and to know that she is truly gone. It feels wrong. She would hate it."

"Damn right she would," Varric said, coming up to stand next to them. The statue showed Errol in light silvery armor, her ceremonial sword held high, her hair lifting around her head as if in a breeze. "It's better than bowls of fire, but she never wanted to be remembered like this. She wanted to be the girl who told dirty jokes and cursed way too much and got drunk and— shit." He ran his hand over his face. Cullen had told him the truth and it seemed to have shaken him even more than the lie that everyone else believed.

"At least she is home, and hopefully safe, with her family," Cassandra said with finality. To Cullen's surprise he found her hand on his forearm, and when he looked up he saw pity in her eyes. "Cullen, you must remember that. She is not dead. The ceremony we are holding is honoring her service here. It is not her funeral."

"I… know," he said, hoping he sounded appropriately sad. "Thank you, Cass— Inquisitor."

"It's odd, though," Cassandra mused. "The reports that some rifts are still closing, as if on their own. I wonder if a part of her power still lingers." She shook her head. "The Maker works in mysterious ways."

Then she walked away, turning so that she didn't have to face the statue. Varric leaned in.

"Word of advice, Curly? You want to sell this thing, try to cry. Just a tear or two. I've got a powder, a pinch will have your eyes streaming. And— say hi to her for me. Makes me wish I could dream too, for once." He clapped Cullen on the back and walked away, his shoulders slumped.

The water sways softly against the dock. The sun is bright and warm, the grass beneath him soft, the picnic abandoned along with their clothes. She is snuggled next to him, her hand tracing intricate patterns across his chest.

Cullen breathes in, holds it, lets it out. He's used to the Fade by now, but it's still a strange transition, letting go of that instinct that forever waits for it to turn into a bloody nightmare full of demons.

"You're safe," she says, and he captures her hand in his.

"I know." He brings her fingers to his lips, kissing each one. "You know, it wasn't nearly this bright and warm the day we came here."

"The water's warmer too, if you want to take a swim."

He chuckles. "Perhaps. I'm just glad you're here."

"I always am."

He rolls on his side and props himself up on his arm, looking down at her. She's now on her back, her silver hair spread around her like a halo, her smile shy. "Hi," she breathes.

He brings one hand to her breast and gently cups it, caressing the nipple with his thumb. "Hello. What have you been up to?"

Errol bites her lip and arches up a little. "Oh, you know, the usual. Closing rifts, trying to turn helpful spirits against a vengeful god, trying to figure out the next movements of said vengeful god, trying to break this damn magic that keeps me from telling anyone living about the vengeful god, trying to stay away from grabby hands vengeful god, dealing with Morrigan and her wondrously even-keeled and not at all condescending way of helping out, the usual. Yourself?"

Cullen continues his ministrations as he thinks. He knows a little about Solas now; she had been able to break through the magic enough to tell him that he was some kind of god and nothing else, but he finds himself bound by the same magic she is, unable to inform anyone else. "Let's see," he says, sweeping his hand down to her hip and back, tracing the curves of her body, relieved that it is starting to feel more real, even if they are in the Fade. Her scars are even reappearing, one by one, as if she is trying to meticulously trying to recreate her body. Oddly enough, her hair stays moon silver, as if she is keeping it as a reminder of what she now is.

"Leliana has created a college of Enchanters as she promised, and hasn't spilled too much blood - yet. Cassandra is settling into the role of Inquisitor well, though she continues to send search parties out for the Seekers. Once enough have been found she'll elect a leader and have them begin to rebuild in Skyhold.

"Unfortunately without you we have no one to lead a mission to Weissept. They won't let in anyone who's not a Grey Warden. Perhaps if Blackwall were here… but he's not. Cassandra has her hands full and they're not listening to the Divine or anyone else. We must wait and let them sort out their problems themselves, and hope that it is nothing more than an internal skirmish that Alistair and Blackwall can handle themselves.

"Varric is getting ready to head back to Kirkwall to meet with his editor - he sends his regards, by the way. Iron Bull, the Chargers, and Sera, are — here. But not the same. They miss you greatly. As does Dorian. He's thinking of returning to Tevinter, to begin to enact change. He'll return, eventually, because of Bull, but I think for the moment he was remaining because of you."

"Hmmm," Errol says, tracing his jaw with her thumb. "You should try to convince him to stay. A war may be coming soon. We'll need his talents."

"How can I can I convince him without telling him anything?"

"Tell him I mentioned it before I left. I don't know. Lie."

He huffs. "I'm not a very good liar."

She smirks. "You're getting better."

Cullen frowns. "I don't like this. The— that awful statue of you in Skyhold, people making pilgrimages there like you're Andraste herself. Cassandra is in mourning, they expect me to be in mourning. I have to — Maker's breath, everyone is always either avoiding me or trying to get me to have fun."

"I did warn you."

He pulls her closer. "I want you by my side again. I want this farce over with."

"I will be. Someday. Morrigan is hopeful it can be done. I'm considering… you know what, you're right about lying to Dorian. He's been in the dark long enough. Maybe he can help as well. I want a body as soon as this Solas business is finished with."

He buries his face in her hair, breathing in her scent. "And what will we tell people then?"

"That I fell from the sky again! It's a miracle!"

"You're incorrigible," he says. "They'll worship you even more, then."

"As long as you don't," Errol says. "Well, perhaps with your body."

Cullen chuckles softly. "I'll take that into consideration." He trails his fingers along the curve of her face, the smooth edge of her ear, the plush warmth of her bottom lip. "We will prevail, Errol. I promise you that."

She cups his cheek in return. "I believe you. As long as I have you…" She takes a shaking breath. "You have to know, no matter what happens, I'm so thankful I came here. I wouldn't change that. As long as I have you, I'm home."

He leans down and kisses her, and she tastes like something familiar and long forgotten, like warmth and sun and earth, and beyond it something foreign, the tinge of the Fade a far-off storm against his skin. "My home."

"My home," she breathes. He almost believes it then, in her arms, that all will be well. Despite all the odds, they have defeated everything else that has stood in their way, and they are still together.

They will prevail.