The Conclave:
The beginning of winter made itself known as the cool crisp air nipped at the tips of Solas' ears. From where he stood, he could see a colorful array of groups arrive to the Temple of Andraste grounds; Circle Mages, Templars, Chantry officials. There was no mistaking the arrival of the Divine herself. Divine Justinia's grand procession entailed a gaggle of more Templars, Seekers, and a cluster of Sisters and Brothers. Solas grimaced in distaste at the grand display. No one person should wield such power and reverence. The procession moved faster than he anticipated, allowing the Divine to disembark her chariot and enter the Chantry courtyard in under ten minutes. He was impressed; he expected to be standing in place waiting for hours before the Conclave charade would begin. Clearly the Divine made haste in response to the urgent matter at hand.
As the throngs of people moved along taking the Divine's example, Solas found yet another perch from which to look upon the gathering, now about to begin in the Chantry courtyard. As he watched the different factions take their places, almost as if rehearsed, a figure caught his eye from across the courtyard. She was standing beside a pillar, about a stone's throw away from where the Divine was seated. How no one else seemed to notice this person was a mystery to Solas. How did she even manage to get so close to the center of the courtyard? Solas himself had to watch from yards away, so as to not attract too much attention, but also, he was not quite sure he would be able to get much closer, the premises heavily guarded as they were.
The Divine began speaking and a hair-raising silence overtook the crowd. Solas could not focus on anything besides his latest discovery, however, squinting his eyes in an effort to make out the shadowy figure beside the pillar. It was a young woman; he could tell that much. She was clothed in light armor, more cloth and leather than any metallic material, with a large cowl that covered her head, shading more than half of her face. He could make out a solemn expression from what was visible, her lips set in a straight line, almost tense. The young woman gradually ebbed further along the pillar, as if leaning in closer to listen or see. Perhaps both.
Solas felt apprehension swell within him. The air around the Chantry courtyard grew thick. Magic? Solas thought. He looked harder at the young woman, studying her for any magical instruments. Within moments chaos erupted after a loud crack sounded from the center of the courtyard. An emerald-colored sphere emerged, hovering over the giant statue of Andraste at the courtyard's center. Gasps and screams filled the air as an ominous swirl sucked in those nearest to the sphere, including the Divine. And the young mysterious woman.
In a breath, those remaining began shouting and looking to one another in dismay and panic. Templars wielded their swords, accusing the mages of foul treachery. The mages' decried the accusations hurled at them, and before fighting could inevitably begin, the sphere vanished. The tension in the air grew, and so did the thick mist of magic surrounding the courtyard.
Solas quickly leapt down from his perch, only to be grabbed forcefully by an armed female warrior. The painted white swirls on her breastplate immediately identified her as a Seeker. Her face was grim, and her eyes dark with indictment and fear. A long deep scar ran down the side of her face, marking her experience as a veteran of many battles, no doubt.
"Where do you think you are going?" she asked. Her accent had an Orlesian lilt, and her voice had a depth and strength that matched her stern expression.
Solas remained quiet and looked at the space where the sphere had appeared and just as quickly vanished.
He straightened, making no attempt to loosen her hold as he knew it would be fruitless. "That magic will result in an explosion. Everyone must be clear of the area. Now."
Her incredulous look was replaced with shock as another crackling sound whipped across the sky. She let go of Solas' arm and began giving orders to the people to get to safety. The other soldiers followed her lead and encouraged the crowd to do the same. As she ran back in Solas' direction, she grabbed his arm again and dragged him off with the evacuating crowd. She would not let a possible suspect evade her, even in the chaos of the moment.
Ominous sounds continued erupting from above, like whips cracking across sky. Solas held his breath as the magic in the air became so palpable it made his stomach uneasy. Much of the crowd was able to reach the Chantry gates, but many were caught in the resulting explosion that caused the sky to erupt in a fiery green haze. Demons began pouring out of the tear in the sky as if heavy rain droplets from a storm cloud.
Those who were armed, and even those who were unarmed, fought with all of the strength they could muster. And after what seemed like an eternity, the courtyard was cleared of demons for a moment.
"There!" cried the Seeker. She pointed at what seemed like a lifeless body near the now destroyed statue of Andraste.
"The girl…" Solas muttered to himself. His brow furrowed with consternation as he realized hers was the only body to rematerialize after the explosion.
The Seeker ran toward the body and pulled back the hood covering the young woman's face. Her face bore the markings of a Dalish elf. Solas recognized the vallaslin instantly and the breath caught in his throat. Mythal.
Caretaker:
Solas studied his patient's rhythmic breathing. It was all he could do after countless efforts to rouse her, but to no avail. Her left hand pulsated intermittently, with flashes of green embers, and crackling hums. When she was first brought to Haven's cells her hand crackled incessantly. Eventually, Solas was able to calm the effect with a barrier of sorts. It will have to do for now, he thought.
The young elf had soft features. She was fair skinned, but he noticed the golden under-tones that shone through as she murmured in her fitful slumber. Her hair was the color of burnt amber, weaved throughout in braids that coiled into a bun at the nape of her neck. Wisps of hair framed her delicate features, as if cradling the vallaslin that masked most of her face.
Adan and Solas watched over the girl for three days before she awoke in the middle of the night. Her eyes bright and wide, but with no discernable emotion. Just as quickly as she awoke, she fell back into a fitful sleep.
"I guess we'll have to let Seeker Pentaghast and Lady Nightingale know the prisoner is responsive. Sort of," shrugged Adan.
Solas simply nodded, never taking his eyes off their patient. Prisoner. The word irked him. It's context reminded him of a people lost in time. Forgotten. His people.
Solas exited the cell, knowing that at any moment Cassandra and Leliana would come to interrogate the young elf. He gave the girl one last look before walking out into the breaking dawn.
When Solas next saw the young elf, she was fading in out of view as she dashed across the field slashing at demons in every direction. She fought with a grace and strength he had not expected in one so young. Once the wave of demons was cleared out, he grabbed her wrist and aimed her hand at the tear. Just as he expected, the mark in her hand reacted with the energy of the tear and it closed. Everyone's face but his bore shock and relief. He simply wore a bemused smirk. Their eyes met and she quickly snatched her hand back.
"What did you do?" She asked tersely.
"I did nothing," he said as his smirk deepened. "The credit is yours."
She looked down at her hand, watching the glow ebb away. "At least this is good for something."
"Whatever magic opened the breach in the sky also placed that mark upon your hand. I theorized that mark might be able to close the rifts left in the breach's wake. And it seems I was correct." He said, sounding pleased with himself.
"Meaning it could also close the breach itself." Cassandra added pensively.
"Possibly," Solas said. He interlaced his fingers and looked at the young elf in the eyes before saying, "it seems you hold the key to our salvation."
Solas watched as she looked at her surroundings with no discernible emotion. Fascinating, he mused to himself.
He learned her name was Serana Lavellan. He watched as she spoke with Varric and Cassandra. Her candor was guarded, yet warm and inviting.
"My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions," he smiled. "I'm pleased to see you still live."
"He means, 'I kept that mark from killing you while you slept,'" interjected Varric.
Serana arched an eyebrow and looked at Solas. She seemed to be studying him when she remarked, "You seem to know a great deal about it all."
Cassandra made a comment about Solas being an apostate and his knowledge in magical matters.
Serana noticed a hint of discomfort flash in Solas' eyes.
"Technically all mages are now apostates, Cassandra." He quipped, and then looked at Serana. "My travels have allowed me to learn much of the fade. Far beyond the experience of any Circle Mage." He kept his smile light as he continued addressing Serana.
"I came to offer whatever help I can give with the breach. If it is not closed, we are all doomed, regardless of origin." He added.
"I see," Serana said plainly.
Solas could not seem to identify what her perception of him was. She was eyeing him as though she could see through him, down to his core, and it sent a chill up his spine. He felt guilt stir within him, only to silence it with the hope he now felt that things might be made right again. Her mark could restore what was lost; all he had lost and would lose again if he could not find a way to close the breach.
Solas, Serana, Varric, and Cassandra reached the original rift in the courtyard. As they closed the distance to the rift, Solas inwardly winced at the sound of Corypheus' voice.
"What are we hearing?" Cassandra asked, her voice lightly tinged with fear.
"At a guess? The person who created the breach," Solas replied. His effort to keep emotion out of his voice strained him.
At Solas' suggestion, Serana opened the closed rift in order to repair the tear properly. The battle was long fought and by the end Serana heaved a fatigued sigh at the sight of the glowing and ebbing tear. She held her hand out awkwardly, not knowing if she should say something, or what to do exactly.
Solas came up alongside her and gently grabbed her wrist, aiming it higher.
"Feel the veil, sense the tear and repair it in your mind's eye," he said softly.
Serana swallowed dryly before closing her eyes and envisioned seaming up a tear in her armor. The energy coursed through her hand and ran down her arm, spreading throughout her body. She felt as though she was on fire from the inside-out. The humming of the breach grew louder before all went dark.
Solas caught her limp body in his arms. She is strong. She will have to be.
(To be continued...)