As planned, they set out for the Dales the next day. Scouts went ahead, as usual, then the rest - a small group of soldiers and the Inquisitor's growing inner circle - followed. Solas found these journeys tedious. Skyhold was situated as well as could be for their purposes, but going the long way instead of just using Eluvians was probably not something he was ever going to get used to.
Throughout the journey Ellana acted completely unaffected by their shared dream. He did not expect anything less of her, even as he himself internally agonised over his… lapse in judgement. It was a bad idea to go with her into that dream to begin with, but at the time he was simply relieved that they didn't encounter one from the time Skyhold was his. To deny her going completely would've been too suspicious. But none of that was an excuse for how it ended. She deserved better. And the path he was set on left no place for the feelings she was stirring in him.
Happily, the Dales provided plenty of distraction in the forms of demons, undead and hostile soldiers. Ellana's mood had fouled as they entered the former elven lands, and she drove everyone hard to establish camps and deal with the unrest as quickly as possible. It was clear she wanted to just get it done and go back to Skyhold.
That was until they came across a Dalish clan trapped in the middle of all the fighting, their aravels damaged and halla injured, supplies dwindling. Suddenly the new priority was to protect the elves and make sure they had healing supplies and enough materials to make repairs. They were going to ensure the clan could travel again and then lead them out of danger. Ellana was able to get the Keeper to let a small group stay the night at the Dalish camp to keep them safe, though that took some convincing and a trip to Var Bellanaris to clear out the demons there. Cassandra moved on with the rest to proceed with the original objective, while a few people deemed the least offensive by the Keeper stayed behind.
That was a short list. Solas himself, while obviously a "flat-ear", passed muster along with Varric, Cole and a few elven Inquisition recruits. And, of course, their illustrious leader proudly wearing Ghilan'nain's vallaslin was acceptable.
In the evening, they all shared a meal after the hunters came back with Ellana, carrying plenty of game. The atmosphere in the camp was hopeful, but still wary. The elves were clearly grateful to finally eat again without the fear of having nothing to eat tomorrow, but there was still a lot to do before anyone would even think about celebrating. The Dalish mostly kept to themselves, talking politely to the Inquisitor, but rarely to anyone else.
That was, in a way, a relief. His last encounter with the Dalish was hardly pleasant for either party. He wasn't sure how much talk of the benevolent Creators and the wicked Dreadwolf he could take before no longer being able to control the urge to correct them, subsequently getting their party kicked out of the camp. Ellana, on the other hand, seemed to have no such issues. No matter how blasphemous she could get in their private conversations, with the clan she was nothing if not respectful.
For the moment, he was quite content to have been left alone.
Well, by all except Loranil. The young hunter seemed quite in awe of the fabled Herald of Andraste, especially after sharing a hunting trip with her, and for some reason had chosen Solas as the one to ask all of the questions.
"Do they treat her with respect?" Loranil wanted to know now. "A Dalish elf in charge of such an organization, surely a lot of humans would object?"
Nursing a cup of something hot and herbal, Solas thought back to the earlier days of the Inquisition, back when the rest of the Chantry was trying to brand them heretics and publicly denounced them in no uncertain terms.
"She has earned their respect," he said simply.
"Maybe it's a sign of change for our people," Loranil sighed. "I wish I could be a part of it."
"You want to join the Inquisition?"
"She won't let me," the young elf shot a glance at Ellana, who was currently deep in some conversation with the clan's Keeper. "Says the clan needs me more right now."
"She is not wrong." Solas thought he finally understood why the hunter kept trying to talk to him. Was he hoping Solas would convince Ellana to let him join? "Your clan is in a dangerous situation and cannot spare you."
"That's what she said," Loranil all but pouted. It was at the same time annoying and endearing, making him think of the young overeager elves that once flocked to his cause.
"You are doing your part," Solas assured him and stood up, handing him the cup of herbal tea he barely touched. And because it was done in a way that assumed no doubt Loranil would take it, he did. "And now, I believe I will have an early night."
It felt like the cry for help jolted him awake mere seconds after his head touched his bedroll. The camp was dark and silent, only the lookouts would still be awake at this point. He left the tent with the snoring Varric behind and, carefully cradling remnants of the dream in his mind, set out to find Ellana.
That has proven to be the easy part, as she was still sitting by the fire, quietly talking with none other than Loranil the Persistent. It took her one look at his face, however, to stand up in alarm and dismiss the young hunter.
"What's wrong?" she asked, keeping her voice down, but clearly worried. Solas had to wonder if he really looked as panicked as he felt, or if she was getting that good at reading him.
"I need a favour," he asked.
"Of course."
"One of my oldest friends has been captured by mages, forced into slavery. I heard the cry for help as I slept." He could see her mind working quickly behind her eyes, but he had no time for her to arrive at a wrong conclusion. "My friend is a spirit of wisdom. It was summoned against its will and wants my help to return to the Fade."
"Do you know where?" she simply asked, and he felt a wave of gratitude wash over him. This was not a situation where he'd want to explain anything or argue whether spirits were people. He couldn't figure out why mages would want to bind a spirit of wisdom, but surely it wouldn't be anything good. He didn't even want to wait until morning. The more they delay…
"Yes, I got a sense of my friend's location before I awoke. It is here, in the Dales."
"Alright. Let's wake Varric and Cole and then we'll go see about those mages," she adjusted her bow and paused. "You find Cole, though. You seem to have a knack."
"Thank you," he said heartfeltly. She just gave him a quick smile and went to find Varric.
They didn't have long to ride before finding the mages, who turned out to be a rather pitiful group, frightened and exhausted, not the evil masterminds he pictured. But then stupidity has probably caused even more harm throughout history than outright belligerence.
They were also lying.
"Shut. Up," he said in a low voice, his face dark with fury, and the apparent leader of the mages recoiled mid-sentence. Solas was beyond caring if he wasn't playing his chosen role well enough anymore. Not since the moment he'd seen the demon in the summoning circle. "You summoned that demon. Except it was a spirit of wisdom at the time."
"Uh-I can see how this can look…" the mage stuttered into silence under Solas's gaze. Satisfied that the pathetic creature was not going to interrupt anymore, he turned to Ellana.
"We must break the bindings," he said urgently. "No bindings, no conflict with its nature, no demon."
She nodded, unsheathing her sword. "Varric, keep an eye on those mages, don't let them attack the spirit. Or run away. Cole, can you do anything to calm the spirit so it doesn't attack us?"
Varric looked like he was going to argue, but thought better of it.
"It's too loud," Cole was shaking his head. "It wants to bring wisdom, not death, but the noise drowns the words and it lashes out to make it quiet."
"It won't work until we disrupt the circle," Solas reminded them.
"Alright. Then just keep it distracted and… do what you can. Solas, let's split up, I'll go right."
Between the two of them they made quick work of the bindings. But not quick enough. His friend was back, he could see it, sense it, but it was irreparably broken. Solas fell to his knees next to the fading spirit, crushed by despair he's not felt so keenly for a long time. He couldn't lose another friend, one of the few remaining links to the forgotten better days. They've been friends for so long, he could hardly imagine himself without it, truly, painfully alone.
"I'm so sorry," he whispered in a broken voice.
"I'm not. I am myself again. Thanks to you," the spirit answered, comforting him to the end.
"I couldn't help you," Solas objected.
"You did, and you still can. Guide me into death," it asked for that final favour he hoped never to hear. Pulled forcefully through the Veil, twisted and broken it needed his help for one final journey, the help only he could give. Solas closed his eyes briefly, fighting to let go.
"As you say," he said finally and concentrated on the place in the Fade where this spirit dwelled peacefully for untold years before stupid cowardly humans ripped it away from its home. His magic guided it to the other side of the world he divided, and now he had to endure, alone, on this side.
All that remained to do was deal with its murderers. Solas rose up sharply and stalked towards the mages who huddled together, Varric's crossbow still pointed at them.
"Th-thank you for helping us. We wouldn't have risked a summoning, but the roads are too dangerous to travel and–" their leader tried again with the lies.
"You," Solas growled, "tortured and killed my friend!"
"We didn't know it was just a spirit! Please!"
A hand gently landed on his forearm. He looked to the side and hesitated at the sight of Ellana's face, the wolf in him suddenly caged, uncomprehending, gnawing at the bars.
"You must answer for your crimes," she said, addressing the mages. "You will be brought before the Inquisition to face judgement."
"They'll make us tranquil!" The mages panicked and Solas saw some of them reach for their staves. "We'd die before going back to the Chantry!"
"Done," he obliged, conjuring up a flame more powerful than he'd ever been able to do since he first woke up. It blazed briefly in the night, and soon the murderers were mere smoldering embers at his feet.
He looked around, as if waking from a dream. Varric looked completely horrified and lost for words. Cole was still hovering over the place where the spirit of wisdom last was, quite disturbed and seemingly not noticing the dead mages. Ellana was looking at him expectantly.
"They were going to attack," he said, not really knowing why he was saying it, but feeling compelled to do so nonetheless.
"I saw them," she said neutrally, neither agreeing with him nor blaming.
"I… need some time alone. I will meet you back at the Dalish camp," he said, already backing away. Ellana just nodded.
He found a quiet place where he would unlikely be disturbed and went to sleep after hurriedly placing a few wards. He had to make sure. He had to see that the spirit made it, even if what remained of it would never recognise him again. Being there, sensing the stirrings of energy made him feel better. Well, not really better, but it wasn't nothing. By the time he awoke he was ready to face his life in this strange world again.
When he came back to the camp, Ellana was helping with aravel repairs, her sleeves rolled up. That made him feel a little better still. Helping the elven people in all the big and little ways she could seemed to be simply what she was about, and these people around her, surviving on the very edge in spite of everything, through all his failings and this hostile world they inherited, were still here. They weren't, perhaps, his people, but they were what has endured.
Ellana noticed him and walked over, looking him up with worry.
"How are you, Solas?" she asked carefully.
He wanted to brush aside her concerns, tell her he was fine and just continue with his plans as before. Instead, he found himself blurting out the truth.
"It hurts," he admitted. "It always does. But I will survive."
She let out a slow breath and reached for his shoulders, pulling him close so gently as to be a mere invitation, leaving the choice up to him. He told himself that it was wrong, that he couldn't take advantage of her kindness, but one of his oldest friends was dead and he felt even more alone than he's ever had, and that did not even seem possible before.
"Next time you have to mourn, you don't need to be alone," she said softly, bringing him into the embrace. He could feel the warmth of her through their clothing. The comforting reality of her. His hands came up to rest on her back, trying to hold on to the feeling.
"It's been so long since I could trust someone," he murmured into her neck.
"I know," she said, and in her voice he heard that, somehow, inexplicably, she really did know. Somehow, in this alien world, he felt understood.
"I'll work on it," he promised, pulling away. "And thank you."
"You should probably talk to Cole," she said, letting him go. "He's quite distraught, no matter what I tell him. And he's been waxing cryptic about you all morning."
Solas felt himself go cold. He's been very careful so far in keeping Cole from revealing his identity. But these events shook him so much he forgot all about that danger. Ellana nodded towards where the spirit of compassion was helping some injured elf, and went back to her work on the aravel, apparently unaware of his sudden alarm.