Prelude:
The Forest
As the light of dawn gracefully infiltrated the dense canopy of the ancient forest, Serana awoke to a scene of enchantment. Shafts of golden sunlight filtered through the emerald leaves of broad trunked trees that touched the skies effortlessly, casting a gentle warmth upon the elven treetop homes. Dew-kissed leaves glistened like jewels, and the air was infused with the earthy perfume of moss and ferns.
Birdsong, harmonizing with the rustling leaves, filled the air as the creatures of the forest began their morning chorus. Serana relished the sounds that embraced her as she stepped through the tree line to reach the clearing. Her fingers traced the intricate carvings adorning the tree trunks, crafted by generations of Dalish artisans. Elven sentinels stood tall, their silhouettes blending with the trunks, guardians of this sacred woodland realm, eyes following her as she passed.
The clearing welcomed her, as it did every morning, with a vast sky painted in hues of rose and gold, reflecting off the dewdrops like scattered stardust. In this tranquil ritual of awakening, Serana embraced her profound connection with nature, enveloped by the timeless beauty of her ancestral home, untouched by the outside world. Protected by the spirit of Asha'bellenar. The whispers of the forest's protector filled Serana's ears.
It is time. Go. The whisper tenderly brushed Serana's face, which then whispered through the trees guarding the entrance to the clearing.
Serana sighed, weariness gripping her heart as the idea of departing from her home weighed on her. Yet, she understood that her mission was vital for the survival of her people, and perhaps, all of Thedas.
Chapter One:
Caretaker
The onset of winter announced itself through the brisk, cool air, nipping at the edges of Solas' ears. From his vantage point, he observed a diverse assembly converging on the Temple of Andraste grounds—Circle Mages, Templars, Chantry officials. The unmistakable arrival of the Divine herself became evident. Divine Justinia's grand procession included a multitude of Templars, Seekers, along with a gathering of Sisters and Brothers. Solas couldn't hide his distaste for the ostentatious display; the concentration of power and reverence in one individual unsettled him. Surprisingly swift, the procession moved faster than anticipated, allowing the Divine to disembark her chariot and enter the Chantry courtyard in under ten minutes. Impressed, Solas acknowledged the Divine's promptness, contrasting his initial expectation of a prolonged wait for the commencement of the Conclave charade. Evidently, the Divine had expedited her arrival in response to the pressing matter at hand.
As the crowds followed the Divine's lead, Solas sought out yet another vantage point from which to observe the gathering about to unfold in the Chantry courtyard. While watching the various factions assume their positions as though seemingly rehearsed, a figure captured his attention from across the expanse. Standing beside a pillar just a stone's throw away from the Divine's seat, this person somehow eluded the notice of everyone else, a perplexing mystery to Solas. How had they managed to get so close to the courtyard's center? Solas himself had to maintain a considerable distance, both to avoid drawing attention and due to the heavily guarded premises.
As the Divine commenced her speech, an eerie hush enveloped the crowd, raising the hairs on the back of Solas' neck. Despite the profound silence that gripped the gathering, Solas found it challenging to concentrate on anything other than his recent revelation. Squinting his eyes, he strained to discern the shadowy figure beside the pillar. It became apparent that the figure was a young woman, clad in lightweight armor crafted from more cloth and leather than metallic materials. A sizable hood obscured more than half of her face, leaving only a fraction visible. What Solas could discern revealed a solemn expression, her lips pressed into a straight line, exuding an air of tension. The young woman subtly edged along the pillar, as if drawing nearer to eavesdrop or observe. Perhaps both.
Apprehension swelled within Solas as he sensed a tangible tension enveloping the Chantry courtyard. Magic? His thoughts raced. He scrutinized the young woman more intently, searching for any signs of magical implements. Just as he delved into his observations, chaos erupted with a resounding crack echoing from the courtyard's center. An emerald-colored sphere materialized, hovering above the colossal statue of Andraste. Gasps and screams pierced the air as an ominous swirl engulfed those in proximity to the sphere, including the Divine and the enigmatic young woman.
In an instant, the remaining people erupted into shouts, casting alarmed and panicked glances at each other. Templars drew their swords, accusing the mages of treachery. The mages vehemently refuted the allegations, and just as a conflict seemed inevitable, the sphere abruptly vanished. The tension in the air escalated, accompanied by a dense mist of magic that enveloped the courtyard.
Solas swiftly descended from his vantage point, only to be seized forcefully by an armed female warrior. The painted white swirls of a flaming eye on her breastplate immediately marked her as a Seeker. Her expression was stern, her eyes a blend of accusation and apprehension. A lengthy, deep scar adorned the side of her face, undoubtedly a testament to her seasoned experience in numerous battles.
"Where do you think you are going?" she asked. She spoke with an Orlesian lilt, and her voice resonated with a depth and strength that aligned seamlessly with her stern countenance.
Solas maintained a silent demeanor, his gaze fixated on the spot where the sphere had materialized and disappeared mere moments ago.
He straightened, making no attempt to loosen her hold, recognizing it would be futile. "That magic will lead to an explosion. Everyone must be evacuated from the area. Now," he urged.
Her incredulous expression morphed into shock as another crackling blow sliced across the sky. Releasing Solas' arm, she swiftly began issuing orders for the evacuation. Other soldiers followed her lead, rallying the crowd to clear out. As she sprinted back in Solas' direction, she seized his arm once more, dragging him along with the evacuating masses. In the chaos of the moment, she was determined not to let a potential suspect slip away.
Ominous sounds continued erupting from above, like whips cracking across the sky. Solas held his breath as the magic in the air intensified, causing a disconcerting unease in his stomach. While a significant portion of the crowd managed to reach the Chantry gates, others were ensnared in the ensuing explosion that painted the sky in a fiery green haze. Demons emerged from the tear in the sky, cascading down like heavy raindrops from a storm cloud.
Those armed and even the unarmed fought with every ounce of strength they could summon. After what felt like an eternity, the courtyard was momentarily cleared of demons.
"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 furrowing 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. A beautiful flow of interlocking roots and veins blossomed across her forehead, curving up each cheek like wings. Solas instantly recognized the vallaslin, and his breath caught in his throat. Mythal.
Solas observed his patient's rhythmic breathing. Despite numerous attempts to awaken her, all proved futile. Her left hand pulsated intermittently, emitting flashes of green embers and emitting crackling hums. When she was initially brought to the Haven cells, her hand crackled incessantly. Eventually, Solas managed to temper the effect with a makeshift barrier. "It will have to do for now," he thought.
The young elf possessed soft features, fair-skinned with golden undertones that shimmered through as she murmured in her fitful slumber. Her hair, the color of burnt amber, was intricately woven into braids that coiled into a bun at the nape of her neck. Delicate wisps of hair framed her features, as if tenderly cradling the vallaslin that concealed most of her natural face.
Adan and Solas kept a vigil over the girl for three days until she awoke in the middle of the night. Her eyes were bright and wide, yet devoid of any discernible emotion. Just as quickly as she awoke, however, 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 before sauntering off.
Solas simply nodded, never averting his gaze from their patient. The word "prisoner" irked him, evoking a strong sense of injustice that he had to swallow back.
Solas left the cell, aware that Cassandra and Leliana would arrive at any moment to interrogate the young elf. He cast one last look at the girl before stepping out into the breaking dawn.
The next time Solas laid eyes on the young elf, she flickered in and out of view as she darted across the field, slashing at demons in every direction. Her grace and strength in battle surprised him, considering her youth. After the wave of demons had been cleared, he seized her wrist and directed her hand toward the tear. As expected, the mark on her hand reacted with the tear's energy, closing it. Shock and relief adorned everyone's faces except his; he simply wore a bemused smirk. Their eyes met, and she hastily snatched her hand back.
"What did you do?" she asked breathlessly.
"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." she said softly.
"Whatever magic opened the breach in the sky also placed that mark upon your hand. I theorized the mark might be able to close the rifts left in breach's wake. And it seems I was correct." He sounded pleased with himself.
"Meaning it could also close the breach itself." Cassandra said pensively.
"Possibly," Solas said. He clasped his hands and locked eyes with the young elf 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 and watched as she spoke with Varric and Cassandra.
She spoke in a soft, deliberate manner, carefully choosing each word.
"My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions," he smiled warmly. "I'm pleased to see you still live."
"He means, 'I kept that mark from killing you while you slept,'" interjected Varric sarcastically.
Serana arched an eyebrow and turned her gaze to Solas. There was a studious air about her as she remarked, "You seem to know a great deal about it all."
Cassandra commented on Solas being an apostate, noting his extensive knowledge in magical matters. Serana keenly observed a fleeting hint of discomfort that flashed 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." Maintaining a light smile, he proceeded to address 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, eyeing him thoughtfully.
Solas found it challenging to discern her perception of him. Her gaze penetrated him, as if she could see through to his depths, sending a chill up his spine. Guilt stirred within him, promptly silenced by the newfound hope that things might be made right again. Her mark held the potential to restore what was lost—all he had lost and would lose again if he couldn't find a way to close the breach.
Solas, Serana, Varric, and Cassandra approached the first rift in the courtyard. As they closed the distance, Solas couldn't help but wince inwardly at the sound of Corypheus' voice.
"What are we hearing?" Cassandra asked .
"At a guess? The person who created the breach," Solas replied. He strained to keep emotion out of his voice.
At Solas' suggestion, Serana opened the closed rift to repair the tear properly. The battle was hard-fought, and by the end, Serana released a fatigued sigh as she gazed at the glowing, ebbing rift. She held her hand out awkwardly, uncertain whether to say something or what exactly to do next.
Solas approached her and gently took hold of her wrist, aiming it higher.
"Feel the veil, sense the tear and repair it in your mind's eye," he guided her.
Serena swallowed dryly before closing her eyes, imagining the process of mending a tear in her armor. The energy surged through her hand and down her arm, spreading throughout her body. She felt as though she was on fire from the inside out. The humming of the breach intensified before everything went black.