"Pholeri," asked a child's voice, it couldn't be more than seven or eight. Around the child laid the pieces to a puzzle strewn upon a table that had certainly seen better days. The air carried a sweet scent, sweet rolls. On the other side of the table, peeking from just beneath the chair, it saw a mouse. Big, beady black eyes staring up at it."Do you think Y'ffre grants wishes?"

"What do you think?" answered. Familiar, stern, comforting. It liked the comfort it provided.

The child pouted. "That's not an answer."

"It's as good an answer as any," replied the voice. It hated how she always sounded so assured, so lax. "A good question would be, why do you ask?"

"I dunno. Maybe I just wanna."

"Irina—"

"Okay, fine! I made a wish."

"You did?"

"Yep, and before you ask, I'm not gonna tell you! Priest Javene said that'll spoil the wish and it's important."

"It is?"

"Mhm," the child held its head high. "I haven't even told Elle, so don't think I'll tell you."

"Hm, so Edelweiss is more important than me?"

The child faltered. "No!"

The voice laughed. It sounded like it was in its very skin and bones, on the very table, in the puzzle pieces the child held within its hands. "'M just teasing, quhal. Won't you come and help me fold the sweet rolls?"

The child nodded to no one. "I'm coming!"

"I'm waiting."

The child hopped down from the chair. The wooden room seemed so big to the child. The godrays of the sun painted the floor and walls pale shades of brown. Everything besides the hallway, which seemed to be painted onto the wall with its pitch black shadow. Faintly, at what the child could only presume to be the end of it, came the peaking of a small orange light. It didn't like the light, it didn't like the dark either, but it needed to reach its sister.

It stared at the orange light. A horrible feeling welled up in it.

Pholeri.

"Hurry up Irina, or I'm gonna start without you."

The child jumped at the voice, but felt an even greater sense of foreboding. She couldn't leave. It couldn't let her not this time.

"Wait! I'm coming!" It said as it dashed down the hallway. Something was there, it knew. Something was waiting, watching, studying, hunting. It ran faster.

"Hurry, Irina." She sounded closer. The light was coming closer. Just a bit more. A bit more.

A hand, rough, painful, yanked at its arm. It stumbled. No, no it couldn't, not now. It struggled, fought, bit. Useless. All useless. It should've know. It always did know.

"Wake up."

Irina's eyes shot open as she gasped for breath. She could feel hands grab onto the sides of her arms tight, yet firm. She stared wildly into concerned gray eyes and pale skin. She recognised that face. Solas, the group mage.

"Deep breaths," he said. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, feeling the air course through her body. "And out," then she let go.

They repeated that motion until she was relatively well enough to breath on her own. The elf then passed her a cup full of clear liquid. "It is a medical tea, made from elfroot," he said when he noticed her staring curiously at the cup. She nodded and took a sip. Her face scrunched up immediately.

"Suppose I couldn't convince you to just give me a bit of wine instead of this shit, huh?"

Solas smiled. "It may not have the best taste, but it will make you feel better."

Irina grimaced, but she pushed through and took the liquid to the head. It tasted as bitter as unripe jazbay grapes and as disgusting as fresh dragon's tongue, but it certainly did something as the soreness of her abdomen softly eased. She handed the cup back to him before wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

Studying her surroundings, she noticed she was inside of some sort of makeshift tent, undoubtedly one at the Inquisition's campsite. To the far right walls lay a small rack of potions, scrolls and ingredients she had never seen before, all dimly illuminated by some sort of blue fire. Auri-el's bow was haphazardly propped up against the rack, next to it lay the knapsack her sister had given to her.

Pholeri.

She held her head in her hands. It had been a while since she'd dreamed like that, it seemed like Vaermina still had a grip on her. She fleetingly wondered if she could get Sheogorath to deal with that particular issue as well. A bitter smile tilted the corners of her lips. As long as she remembered that night, such an endeavor was futile.

"Are you listening?"

Irina jumped. She looked over at Solas confused, only to be embarrassed and apologetic as she realized the man had been talking to her for quite a while. Now wasn't the time to be focusing on the past. Right now, she needed to know why she was in this tent in the first place.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" She asked.

Solas, for his part, didn't show any outward annoyance. "The herald is outside waiting for you," he said as she gestured towards the open tent flap. "I also wanted to thank you personally for saving her. Despite our bickering, I do care for the da'len."

"'Da'len?'"

"Child."

Irina chuckled. "I suppose I shouldn't tell her you called her that?"

"Unless you wish to see another fight, it would be best to keep it between us."

Irina nodded and moved across the room to put on her boots quickly. Knowing Evette's temper it was best not to keep the woman waiting.

As she strapped out the laces on her boots, she saw Solas look towards her. She briefly stopped her motions to give him a cursory glance. The man looked conflicted, an unusual expression on a usually calm face, at least in the brief time she'd known him.

"Something wrong?"

"Answer me honestly," Solas said. "Are you a mage?"

Now she fully let go of her shoelaces to look at him as though he were crazy. She laughed a bit too loud. She herself was unsure whether it was out of confusion or nervousness. "Course not. The most magic I've ever casted was stealing a coin purse right from some old noble's nose when I was seventeen."

"Are you sure you're not at least magically inclined?"

"Where is all this coming from?"

"When Cassandra brought you to me, I noticed some similarities between your condition and the effects of a templar restricting a mage's access to the Fade. At first I brushed them off as merely effects of the fight, however I am unsure."

"Why?"

"I will be honest, there is something odd about you." Irina remained calm despite the gray eyes that studied her. "Something I can not place."

"Well, I can assure you that all my symptoms are probably from the fight," she replied, She quickly finished up her tying and moved towards the tent flap. "And honestly, I shouldn't keep our Dalish friend waiting, lest she barge in here." She hoped the underlying threat wasn't lost. "Thank you for your help, Solas."

She didn't stay long enough to hear him reply.

Irina walked towards the campfire in hurried steps. Too close, she thought. It was good enough Alduin wasn't even a dot in the sky, she didn't need the title of 'apostate' either in a society that seemed to despise magic. Especially when it would tie her closer to this 'Demon' title she'd be granted among people who were actively hunting said demon down.

Shit, she needed to leave. She should've grabbed her things in the tent.

An arm was suddenly slung around her shoulder. For the second time that night, she jumped. "Sweet Y'ffre!"

She felt something nuzzle against her cheek, to which she immediately recoiled. She turned her head to met with the pouting face of Evette. Her hair was askew and her skin held an unnatural warmth. "C'mon, lethallan. Don't be mean."

There was the faint, yet pungent scent of alcohol on her breath. Before Irina could properly respond, she heard hurried footsteps accompanied by an exhausted voice. "Feisty, what'd we say about personal space?"

The pout seemed to deepen. "Everyone deserves it."

"So, what are you going to do?"

Evette grumbled.

"Feisty?"

"I'm fine, really." Irina said. Varric shook his head, but Evette seemed to light up at the statement.

"Nah, merc. Drunk Feisty has gotta learn."

"But it's not an 'invasion of personal space!'" Evette argued.

"It's the principle."

"Principles, schimciples."

"Feisty," Varric said. "Do I have to get the Seeker again?"

Evette narrowed her eyes. "You wouldn't dare."

"But I would."

"I'll tell her you made fun of her name!"

"You really want to sit through that chantry lecture, huh?"

Those words made Evette immediately dittach herself from Irina, albeit obviously reluctantly. She looked wronged, hurt, and damned all at the same time. Varric stood his ground.

Evette cast her eyes to the ground. Child. She was like a petulant child. "Can I at least stay to talk to my friend?"

Varric pretended to think about it for a second. Then he nodded. "You may." Evette lit up once again. "But, I'm going to supervise." She frowned immediately and opened her mouth to argue. "Ah, ah. No backtalk."

Evette stomped her feet, but didn't say a word. Instead, she took Irina's hand and dragged her over to the campfire. While walking, Irnia snuck a peek at Varric. The dwarf smiled apologetically.

"It's medicine making her loopy. The Seeker and I've been taking turns watching her, sorry to drag you in."

"Solas said she wanted to see me."

"The guy's been taking naps ever since she stomped out of his tent in the evening. The Seeker must've told him to tell you to come out and see her."

"She stomped out his tent."

Varric shrugged. "You know how they are."

When they hit the campfire, Irina was pulled down to sit next to Evette which she did without any resistance. Varric sat across from the pair and pulled out a book to read. Evette eagerly pointed to the sky.

"Look, look!"

Irina squinted, her eyes searching for anything out of the ordinary. All she was stars and night. "What?"

"Draconis!"

Irina tilted her head until she could see the star that signified the end of the tail. She traced it up to make the figure Evette had shown her all those nights ago on the pier. The high dragon appeared in its full glory in the sky.

Irina smiled. "It's making quite the show tonight."

Right next to it, she could see as she looked ever so closer, was the tower, looming and tall and surrounded by Lorkhan's two moons. An uneasy feeling welled up within her as she stared at its splendor. Pholeri had never quite liked her birth constellation, the home of thieves and cutthroats, she dubbed it. Irina wanted to laugh at the irony.

But Elle had always seemed to take the tower in a different way, always sticking her nose into old tomes in the library. Change, she'd whispered when they'd looked upon the night sky together from one of the tallest trees in all of Woodhearth. Sudden and quick.

Something within the night sky, painted by the shadow of the moonlight and the stars. It glided swiftly across the mountains. A bird, Irina thought dimly. She watched it with rapt eyes however, paying attention to its path throughout the night sky. It soared in large arcs and glided towards the forest. It must've been looking for food. Maybe for a nest.

Then, she heard a faint noise. Loud, ferocious, guttural, familiar.

She shot up from her seat. She could feel Varric's surprised look at her, as well as Evette's sad stare, but she didn't care at the moment. Her eyes refused to tear them away from the figure dancing in the night sky. She looked closer and noticed that though it flew, its shadow looked nothing like a bird. Bat-like wings attached to a body that looked reptilian.

She felt as though she was watching that beast approach the western watchtower all over again. The thrill and the fear mixed in her stomach, but this time joined by a newer sensation. Elation.

"Draconis," Evette whispered.

"Yeah, Draconis," She said numbly, when she saw the dragon fly right by the constellation that marked the tip of the Tower. When she saw Elle again she'd have to tell her that maybe all her constellation bullshit wasn't such bullshit at all.

The dragon swooped down for just a moment, before flying off to somewhere behind the tall mountains. Irina snuck a look at Varric who looked warily at the night sky. "You have any idea where it might've landed?"

"No damn clue exactly, but by Andraste's tits I hope it didn't land at the Crossroads, because that looked close."

"The Crossroads?"

Varric looked at her weirdly. "You never heard of it?"

Irina managed a nonchalant shrug despite her excitement. "Never been outside Redcliffe since the war started."

"It's a place the Inquisition set up for refugees that either couldn't make it to Redcliffe, or just seeking shelter from the war," Varric said. His tone gave away his uncomfortableness. Irina knew that the last thing she should be doing after seeing a damn dragon in the sky is smiling, but she couldn't help it.

Draconis.

"Do you know where it is?"

"Wow, now merc," he snapped his book shut. "Don't tell me you're training to go dragon hunting."

"Maybe I am, Maybe I'm not," Irina replied. "You gonna stop me?"

"No, but I can tell you its suicide. Trying to make it big off of killing dragons isn't a good line of work. Trust me, I'd know."

Irina crossed her arms. "Look you gonna tell me, or not? I could always just ask around."

Varric sighed. Something about his expression said, it's gonna be your funeral, but Irina didn't care. Not when she was so close.

The dwarf stuck out his hand. "You got a map?"

Irina smiled.

The group saw the large gates of Redcliffe by midday and by Nocturnal's knicker's it was the happiest she'd ever been to see the city.

She practically danced on her feet in anticipation. She would need to sleep the night here and then be on her way to the Crossroads by next morning's light. After she found the refuge, it was only a matter of finding where the dragon landed and then extracting the information. Nothing was a guarantee, but damn did she feel like her journey in this godforsaken place was inching ever so closer to an end.

As the gate's woman let them in, she heard Varric mutter something about 'Kirkwall', to which Cassandra idly commented something in agreement. She didn't exactly hear anything clearly at the moment besides her own persistent thoughts.

She did perk up when she felt a hand on her arm and Evette telling her companions that the two of them would go off on their own for a moment and telling them to do the same. The Dalish walked slowly, idly almost, as Irina was led like a horse on a leash. Finally, they stopped at a crate on the pier. Evette sat down and so did Irina follow.

The sky was clear and the air was cold. Evette spoke finally after some long minutes.

"Sorry about the drunk act yesterday," she said. "Mythal's mercy, I don't think I even remember when I took the damn medicine."

Irina laughed. "It's alright. Though, I will say you owe me a new shirt after you vomited on my old one."

That had happened in the dead of night when Evette had woken Irina to tell her she felt 'funny.' Before she could even mumble the words, "go get Cassandra," she felt something wet and warm hit her chest.

Evette grimaced. "Ugh, please don't tell me any more of the embarrassing shit I was doing," she said. "Varric already told me about how clingy I was."

"Then I suppose you wouldn't want to hear about your recounts of halla stories…"

"No, Irina."

"Fine, fine. Suit yourself." Irina looked out over to the sea, soaking up that salty smell. She may have to walk along the coast again, but she knew it wouldn't be like this. Her eyes took a small peek at Evette. The Dalish was nervous.

"Something wrong?"

"You were pretty great in combat. Efficient, clever, and you worked well with a team."

"Thanks."

"So…"

"So?"

Evette then proceeded to say the following words in such a slurry that Irina had to wrack her brains to figure out what she was saying. "Would you be interested in joining the Inquisition?"

Irina blinked. She couldn't have heard her right. "What?"

"We pay pretty well. Haven's is probably forsaken by Elga'naran and you'd still have to move around a lot but—"

The Mer held up her hands. "Wait, wait. Slow down. You want me to join the Inquisition?"

Evette nodded, determined. "You'd be a great addition."

"Are you even the one with the hiring power?"

"No, but it's pretty hard to go against the supposed Herald of Andraste," Evette said. "You wouldn't have to worry about whether or not you'll get hired. So, will you?"

Irina averted her eyes for a moment, before shaking her head and deciding that she owed the elf to look her in her eyes. She smiled apologetically. "No, I'm sorry."

Evette stared at her. There was a tilt of her lips downwards, before she turned her head to look at the side. "Oh."

Her fist clenched by her side. She knew that if she found Alduin by tomorrow, she'd probably never step foot in this place ever again. Goodbye was inevitable, even in Tamriel as leaving was the fate of all things. Still, she couldn't help herself.

She took off her knapsack and dug into it, ignoring the surprised look of Evette. After a minute, she produced an old septim she'd kept lying around inside. Gingerly, she took Evette's gloved palm and placed the coin in the middle. Then she closed the elf's finger's and wrapped her own two hands around the closed fist.

"What is that?" Evette asked.

"A cool relic I found some time back in one of my journey's," Irina said. "Keep it, as a sigil of good luck on your adventure."

"I can't accept—"

"Ah-ah. If you give it back now it's returning a gift and I've always been told that's quite rude."

Evette snorted. "Sounds like bullshit."

"And yet it isn't," Irina said. She knew she needed to get back to Sakn'vunen and consider her next move. She let go of Evette's hand, and patted the woman on the shoulder.

"Fare thee well, Evette."

Evette smiled in turn. Her hands gripped the septim tighter.

"Dareth Shiral, lethallan." Evette replied.