She is back in Arlathan, in the palace of the Evanuris. A huge throne covered in red velvet stands menacingly in front of her. Elgar'nan sits on it, the rest of the Evanuris at his side. Ainur'Len tries to make out the faces of the ancient gods. Perhaps the tall, thin, pale young elf with long black hair and ghostly eyes is Falon'din. Perhaps the silhouette with an impish smile curving his lips, blue eyes bright and cunning, is June.
Her assumptions are interrupted by Mythal's voice, she is the one who must have gathered them all there.
She begins to speak in a soft but firm tone.
"My dears. We must not turn our gaze from what is most important: our people."
The Evanuris exchange questioning glances. Elgar'nan stares at her with a bored look, his elbow resting on the arms of his throne, his face lazily cupped by a hand.
"Speak plainly, Mythal." he says, staring into her eyes. The ancient elf holds that gaze without a trace of fear.
"For centuries I have soothed your quarrels." She scolds him gently. Elgar'nan leans back in his chair, betraying a hint of embarrassment. "For centuries I have been reminding you of the right path for Elvhenan."
She glances at all her brothers, from Ghila'nain to Andruil, from Dirthamen to Sylaise. Then she smiles.
"And you followed." When she turns back to Elgar'nan, her expression is serious, her eyes stern. "I am asking you to do it again."
The eldest rises from his throne without taking his eyes off her. Silence envelops the vast hall. The air is heavy.
"I suppose your lapdog is still trying to get you to come back to him." He says quietly, approaching her. "I can almost hear his howls of joy at seeing you again," he walks around her, menacing, his eyes narrowed to two slits. Mythal follows him with her gaze, but does not turn her head when he stops behind her.
"Solas has raised a terrible doubt in me." She answers calmly. "But I did not believe him."
She feels Elgar'nan move closer until he towers over her.
"Then why do you scold us, Mythal?" His mouth is so close to his companion's ear that she can feel his breath on her skin.
"I did not believe him, but I had to investigate," she says carefully. "And what I discovered broke my heart, my brother." She holds out a hand and shows him a fragment of his orb, corrupted by red lyrium.
She hears him roar in rage behind her, he quickly turns to face her and moves closer until their faces are only a few inches apart. He struggles to control his anger, taking a deep breath.
"Mythal, do not..."
"What you are about to do will doom us all." she says firmly.
The entire pantheon of elves now surrounds her. She stands still, impassive in her icy gaze.
"It was you and your lapdog who created the Blight. You gave us this power."
"It is yours, sister. You only have to use it." "Mythal." "Be reasonable, Mythal." "It is not what it seems." "It can help our people be greater." "I will be able to create wonderful creatures." "Do not let Fen'harel manipulate you." "Mythal."
The elf closes her eyes.
"Enough!'" Her voice echoes through the hall. Silence creeps back between them. Mythal relaxes her gaze.
"I will not repeat myself. I trust your judgement, as I always have. I trust that you will listen to me."
"Or else?" Elgar'nan asks seriously. "What are you going to do, Mythal? Shall you join the Dread Wolf?" A hint of pain appears in his eyes.
She puts a hand to his face and shakes her head motherly, a smile on her lips.
"I know you will do what is right for our people, my beloved brother."
Elgar'nan closes his eyes and gives in to Mythal's touch. He squeezes her hand, sighs deeply and bows his head.
She continues to smile and then, as she must have done a thousand times before, turns towards the door, her back to her brothers and sisters, confident that she has given them something to think about.
She is not expecting the sharp pain that rips through her back. One hand grips her throat while the other sinks the lyrium dagger into her flesh. A deadly embrace.
"I cannot let you interfere this time, my love."
Elgar'nan's face is streaked with tears as he twists the knife in Mythal's back.
The goddess gasps, her hands clutching her brother's fingers as they squeeze her throat, holding back her last breath. She stares in disbelief as she feels her life slowly slipping away.
The scene melts like ice in the sun. Only a bright shard remains, glowing with Mythal's essence, abandoned in the midst of the darkness. Solas' agonising scream, exploding with pain, despair and hopelessness, is the last thing Ainur'Len hears before she falls backwards and finally loses consciousness.
"No!"
Aiunr'Len returns to the world with a scream. She jerks back, her forehead beaded with sweat, her heart in her throat and terror etched in her eyes. She looks around, gasping for breath, as if searching for a way out, until she meets Morrigan's yellow eyes.
The witch looks at her, her face tired. She rubs her forehead with a pained expression, as if showing Ainur'Len those memories had drained her of all energy.
Ainur'Len realises that she has finally returned to the world of the living. It feels as if centuries have passed her by.
Her head bursts. She cannot process all that she has learned, all that she has experienced. Thousands of years of suffering crush her chest.
"What... what happened next?" she can only mutter.
Morrigan lets herself fall back into her chair, exhausted.
"What you already know. Solas continued to lead the rebellion, but in anger and despair, until he was able to perform his ritual. But when you play with such powerful magic..."
"Something went wrong." Ainur'Len nods.
"Indeed. His intention was to seal the Evanuris and the Blight in a safe place. The veil was only meant to be their cage, but it ended up covering the entire sky and separating the Fade from the earthly world forever. Drained of all energy, he fell into a slumber, and when he awoke, he found a horrible world. His people slaughtered and enslaved, confined to alienages or hidden in the wilderness, robbed of their immortality and their deep connection to the Fade. Shadows of what they once were, worshipping false gods, tyrants who had taken everything from them. A world deeply flawed, to be erased. Until..." she smiles weakly, meeting the elf's gaze. "...he fell in love with a young Dalish girl with a witty mind and a compassionate heart who showed him that perhaps all was not lost."
Ainur'Len lowers her head. Her legs tremble.
"Solas..." she whispers in a hushed, heartbroken voice. She tries to bring order to her brain, overloaded with information and overflowing with conflicting emotions.
Solas was a Spirit of Wisdom. Her people are descended from spirits. Elves are responsible for the Blight. She falls to the ground, suddenly shaken by a chill that makes her head spin.
She throws up, trembling.
Deeply ashamed to show herself in such a state, she tries to recover, wiping her lips with the back of her hand as she slowly gets to her feet. She leans against the table so as not to fall again.
"How were you able to show me everything?" she asks, not making eye contact with the witch.
Despite her tiredness, Morrigan hides her sympathy behind her usual cold composure.
"These are fragments of Mythal's memories. I only showed you what you needed to see." she explains, finding strength in her own voice. "However..." she slowly points to the wolf statuette in Ainur'Len's pockets.
"Without it, I could not have shown you any of this. You would not have been able to see anything, for these are also memories of Solas that he wanted you to see." She pauses, not taking her eyes off the bowed head of the elf before her. "But I sense that there is still something in there - something meant only for you. That I cannot reach. No one else can."
Ainur'Len swallows hard, the horrible taste in her mouth haunting her. Not now. Now she does not have the strength to see anything else.
"This is not the time or the place." Morrigan reassures her, her tone suddenly softer. "You will know when it is."
The elf grits her teeth, doing her best not to lose control. Anger, pain, shame, horror, disgust. Love, compassion. Dozens of demons and spirits crowds her mind.
"How can you live with the weight of this knowledge, Morrigan? And how can you bear to carry Mythal inside you?"
The witch tilts her head slightly to one side, searching her friend with a questioning eye. She raises an eyebrow.
"You saw only a fragment of what was. Not enough to understand Mythal."
Ainur'Len clenches her fists hard enough to hurt.
"I have seen enough," she manages to reply, her voice a hiss.
"I made it clear that I only showed you what you needed in order to make Solas..."
"Solas is the only reason I'm still here, talking to the one who carries the monster that broke him." she interrupts, sharp as a freshly cut blade.
Morrigan flinches slightly, her gaze sharp.
"I am not her, Ainur'Len," she replies disappointed.
"I know, I'm sorry. I really am," the elf sighs, putting her hand to her face. "I've been an unforgivable bitch. I'm just really tired."
Morrigan remains silent for a long time, perhaps thinking about how ungrateful the elf before her is, or maybe she is just choosing her next words carefully.
"Solas and Mythal are both to blame for their mistakes, but I will not deny you what I think. What happened between them is a story of family, love, power and abuse. It is complex and millennia long."
She stands and approaches Ainur'Len with light steps.
"Solas' spirit is broken, his wisdom now clouded by pride. But even Mythal's spirit is not intact. Nor that of the other Evanuris, for that matter. How can the simplicity and purity of a spirit remain intact when it is confronted with the complexity of the range of human emotions? When their actions have real consequences for the world? How can they deal with it?"
"They can't."
"No. And that is why they break. I am surprised that someone as intelligent as Solas cannot dwell on this and let go of the deep regret that plagues him. He does not understand that it is not all his fault."
Ainur'Len does not have the strength to answer. She shakes her head and sighs loudly, as if to release the tension. She wishes she could sleep a billion years to recover, to have time to mourn Varric and to work out all she has learned in too few moments.
She is unaware that Morrigan is now standing before her, her usual enigmatic, mysterious gaze hiding all emotion.
"So what shall you do, Inquisitor?" She asks, her voice echoing like ancient music. "Will you be willing to let the veil rip, and unleash death and destruction upon your world? Or will you stop the Dread Wolf, no matter what the cost?"
Ainur'Len finally rises to her feet and raises her eyes to meet the witch's, who is only waiting for her answer.
"Neither, Morrigan. I have sworn to protect the world and save Solas from Fen'harel," she declares, her eyes clear of any doubt. "There is no other solution within me. I will do whatever it takes to help Solas redeem himself and stop him from destroying this world. At any cost."
Morrigan smiles, unable to hide the satisfied frown that lingers on her face.
"Very well," she nods. "Let us get back to work."