Lavellan

Step by step, Lavellan made her way through the forest toward the ritual. She followed the team from a distance, stopping far enough for them not to sense her, but assisting them occasionally with a burst of magic. So focused were they that they didn't notice the external help.
Better for her, Lavellan thought.
She recognized the Pride Demon that Rook (a name she had heard Varric call her) had taken down so cleanly.
These demons were lured by Solas's Pride, she realized, with certainty in her heart.

When they arrived at the ritual, she stopped nearby, moving among the chaos so she wouldn't be seen. She hid behind a wall, her nerves heightened.
She was afraid to peek, she told herself, clenching her eyes tightly.
Solas was so, so close. Almost close enough that she could brush against him with just a few steps forward. Then she concentrated, listening to the voices of the others, who were also near Fen'harel, but hidden, behind another wall, just as she was.
—Solas just needs another reason, a strong enough reason to justify his change of heart— she heard Varric say, trying to convince his team, justifying the reason for his decision.
—Come on, Varric, we're not here just to talk to him— Rook responded, annoyed, not understanding the dwarf.

It was clear that she did not share the memories that Lavellan and Varric had with Solas, Lavellan thought sadly.
—He was my friend, Rook. I have to try to convince him. And not just for me— Lavellan closed her eyes in pain, knowing he referred to her. —And if I can't convince him... he will answer to Bianca.
No, her heart thought painfully, but her mind quickly dismissed that feeling.
She knew it had to be done. But that didn't make it any easier.

She watched as Varric approached the stairs while the others remained fighting, preventing the torrent of demons from following and interrupting him. She peeked around slowly, curious about what her dwarf friend was going to do.
Varric approached the figure atop the altar and, with tension in his body, spoke casually.
—I hope I'm not interrupting you, Giggles.

At that moment, Solas turned abruptly toward him, unaware of Lavellan's presence.
But she felt it like a direct blow to her heart when she saw those violet eyes that she adored so much. Her breath caught in her chest as she began to tremble, covering her mouth, trying to stifle the scream that wanted to escape, even biting her hand.
Solas.
Solas. SOLAS.
Her heart screamed in pain, an old, deep sorrow. Her eyes filled with tears without her being able to help it, cascading down her cheeks, unbridled.
God, it was real. After so much time, it was real.
Solas was there.

Solas's gaze softened in that way she knew he would when looking at his dwarf friend, so close to him, as if the memories overwhelmed him for a moment.
—Varric— his voice, a bit deeper than she remembered, let that word out in a sigh, exhausted, as if he knew what was about to happen.
Lavellan stifled a sob while watching him, as if she had discovered an oasis in the middle of a desert.

Eight years. Eight years had passed since the last time she saw him. His gaze seemed more tired; there were new wrinkles around his eyes. Darker circles. He even seemed a bit taller, although perhaps it was the height difference that was deceiving her. With a groan of desperation, she wiped away her tears and gripped her prosthetic, feeling a slight pain, that phantom pain that had accompanied her in recent years every time she remembered him.
Then, Solas spoke. And Lavellan listened attentively, not missing a word.
—The veil is a wound that must be healed, Varric. It is a mistake that causes the world to suffer— he said, avoiding introductions and justifying himself, knowing why the dwarf was there.

With a turn, he returned to face the ritual he was conducting, raising his weapon, with a serious, determined expression. His hands gripped the lily dagger tightly as if it were familiar to him.
—Filling the world with demons and destruction, Solas?— Varric questioned him sarcastically, shaking his head slightly, unable to believe the words coming from the mouth of his former elven friend.
—I have taken precautions to minimize the damage, Varric— Solas replied indifferently as his eyes roamed, looking at the rift he was causing in the Veil, as if it were an unsolved puzzle, fitting the pieces together in his mind.
—Minimize the...?— Varric choked on his words, incredulous. Gripping Bianca, he shouted— People are dying right now, Solas!

With no other option, he aimed Bianca at his old friend. His face held determination, but Lavellan could see a hint of desperation too. She swallowed hard as she steadied her aim at Solas, her eyes narrowing.
—You have to listen to me, damn it— she pleaded, the anguish reflected in her voice.
Solas slowly turned toward him, lowering his hands and the dagger, with his jaw tight, clenching his teeth, annoyance flashing in his eyes as he locked them onto the dwarf. Varric tightened his grip on Bianca upon seeing his expression but didn't back down.
—Please— he begged again, this time almost in a whisper, barely audible even to the elf.

Lavellan held her breath from where she was watching. She saw Solas's eyes light up green, with ancient magic flowing from them, anticipating what was about to happen. Lavellan held her breath, feeling anguish.
No, no, no. Varric. Get out of there.
She froze in place, as if her feet didn't know how to walk, a deep fear gripping her. Suddenly, after a moment of tension, Solas let out a growl, almost a roar, and wrenched Bianca from Varric's grasp, shattering it and causing it to fall to the ground in pieces. Varric staggered slightly at the sight of his broken crossbow, closing his eyes for a moment in pain.

Lavellan gasped in distress. Bianca, Varric's crossbow, lay useless, irreparable after such destruction. The beloved crossbow of the dwarf, which had been with him forever, like his faithful companion. Solas looked at him coldly, but a shadow crossed his face, as if he regretted having done it. Then he clenched the dagger, his knuckles turning white from the pressure. He inhaled deeply, looking away, with a somber expression.
—People die every day, Varric— he said to the dwarf, firmly. He turned back toward the ritual, raising that weapon, deadly for their world once more. And spoke with the coldness of a god who knew what he had to do.
Like Fen'harel, not like Solas.
—It's the law of life— he declared, authoritatively, as the elven god he was.

And with those words, Lavellan knew she could not wait any longer.
She knew there was no other choice but to stop him, come what may, before her world fell, with him as its executor.