The shuttle hummed steadily beneath him as it banked eastward, lifting above the last outstretched arms of Brelen's ancient forests. Below, the continent fell away into waves—dark and endless, the ocean stretching like a great breath held between worlds.
Andersson sat near the viewport, one shoulder leaned into the frame, watching the sky shift in slow, deliberate color.
Two suns hovered low now—twin beacons casting long shadows across the sea. The larger, golden-white orb blazing to the left—Oranth. He knew it instinctively, though no one had pointed it out mid-flight, and he hadn't asked. The smaller one, with its softer, reddish hue, trailed further along the horizon.
Rhess.
He'd been told the names before. In briefing. On star charts. During conversations. But now, for the first time, he didn't have to think about it. He just knew. Knew that Oranth would vanish first, its descent a swifter arc, while Rhess would linger longer in the sky, casting that faint, mythic glow the Elarin called the dreaming light.
As the shuttle cut east across the ocean, Andersson felt a strange sense of orientation—not the mechanical certainty of nav coordinates, but something quieter, deeper. Familiar.
He shouldn't know where they were, not exactly. He'd only made this crossing once in daylight. But still, some part of him whispered it out—like a pilot mentally ticking off landmarks at 40,000 feet. We're past the Brelen Gulf… cresting the low clouds over the Sea of Echoes… Arlathan's cliffs will rise next, just beneath Rhess's tail.
It wasn't learned knowledge. It was felt. Like a map had been etched into his bones while he wasn't looking.
Reece sat opposite him, elbows on his knees, watching Andersson stare out the viewport like he wasn't seeing anything at all.
"Hey." Reece reached out, fingers brushing the edge of Andersson's knee. "Talk to me… What's going on?"
Andersson didn't flinch. Didn't blink. His head shifted slightly, like the sound had landed somewhere far away—but that was it. No answer. No sign of acknowledgment.
Reece let out a breath through his nose, leaning back into his seat with a thump. His jaw tensed, eyes narrowing, but he didn't push it. Alright. You want space? Fine. His knee started bouncing, the fingers of one hand drumming against the armrest, the rhythm twitchy and uneven.
The silence stretched.
After a few more minutes, Reece leaned forward again, voice quieter now, edged with worry. "Andersson? Hey… you with me?"
Still nothing.
Andersson heard him. He understood the words. Nothing was stopping him from replying—no pain, no fog, no confusion. But he didn't. Couldn't. The visions were still there, swirling just behind his eyes. Images pressing against his thoughts like a tide: fire, ruin, chains and screaming skies, the slow death of a thousand ages.
He wasn't lost. He just didn't know how to come back.
Hale crossed her arms, exhaling through her nose. "You sure he didn't leave part of himself back there?" she muttered, more to herself than anyone else.
Reece didn't respond. His eyes never left Andersson.
His jaw tensed as he studied him—silent, still, unreachable. He'd seen Andersson exhausted. He'd seen him wounded, grieving, furious. But this? This was something else entirely. This was a fracture he didn't know how to mend.
Hale shifted in her seat, her gaze flicking toward the window. Her fingers curled into fists in her lap.
What the hell did they do to you? she wanted to ask.
But the words stuck, lodged somewhere behind her ribs. So instead, she stayed quiet. And watched.
The shuttle streaked across Arlathan's night sky, a quiet thunder of motion against the stars. Below them, the continent spread like a living map—settlements and cities sparkling in the dark, delicate and distant. A thousand points of light scattered across valleys and coastlines, untouched by the storm inside the shuttle.
Hale broke the silence first, arms crossed, her voice low but sharp. "I've got half a mind to burst into Skyhold. Karass has some explaining to do."
Reece gave a humorless snort. "We shouldn't have trusted him."
"Any of them," Hale snapped. "I knew they were fucking with us."
Andersson stirred.
It was subtle—just a shift of his posture, a faint narrowing of the eyes—but it was enough. Enough to show he was clawing his way back.
"Try not to start any diplomatic incidents," he muttered, voice rough like gravel.
Both of them snapped their heads toward him.
Reece leaned forward instantly. "Are you okay? You're worrying me."
Hale's gaze sharpened, studying his expression. "Is your mind… all there?"
Reece didn't wait. "As soon as we're back, EDI's running every scan she's got."
"Maybe we should take him to Skyhold," Hale added, her voice laced with unease.
Andersson's jaw clenched. He straightened, just enough to sit upright, his eyes finding focus.
"Stop talking about me like I'm not here."
That broke through.
Reece looked away for a beat, his voice softer now. "You're not here. Not all the way."
He met Andersson's eyes again. "What's going on? You seem… confused."
Andersson rubbed his temple, fingers pressing into the corners of his eyes like he could massage coherence back into his skull. "I'm just… processing a lot," he said finally. "My mind's trying to reassemble itself."
Hale didn't look convinced. "I knew they were going to fuck your head up."
"I don't think they did," Andersson replied, quiet but firm. "It's just… taking time to adjust."
Reece leaned in, his voice light but deliberate. "Alright. What's the name of your dog?"
Andersson blinked, then smirked. "Buck."
He paused.
"But I also have a needy puppy called Kyle."
Reece exhaled, the tension in his shoulders easing just a fraction. "Alright," he muttered, but the concern never fully left his face.
He sat back again, watching Andersson closely—as if expecting him to vanish or shatter. Hale said nothing, but her eyes stayed fixed on him, unreadable behind the hard line of her jaw.
The silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable, exactly. It was waiting.
The shuttle landed at Vael'theron's spaceport in near silence, settling like a breath held too long, the landing gears hissing softly against the platform. Night had settled across the city, casting the vast landing bay in long shadows and muted light. Most of the terminal lay dormant, its usual bustle replaced by silence and the occasional flicker of automated systems.
A familiar figure waited near the ramp—the same Stonari attendant who had seen them off. He stepped forward with practiced courtesy.
"Do you require assistance?"
Hale didn't hesitate. "No. Your people have done enough. Just let us get him out of here."
The attendant said nothing further, merely stepping aside as Hale and Reece guided Andersson down the ramp and into the open air of the bay. Their boots echoed faintly against the metal decking, each step steady but cautious.
As they crossed toward the Pathfinder's dock, Reece muttered under his breath, "You know he wasn't Elarin, right?"
Hale didn't look at him. "I meant your people in general. Thedans."
The words hung in the air, too raw to address further.
The ramp to the Pathfinder's docking airlock extended before them like a lifeline. As they stepped inside, the airlock sealed with a gentle hiss, and the ship's ambient lighting dimmed without a word of command—shifting to a softer hue, as though the ship itself knew what Andersson needed.
"Medbay," Reece said. "Now."
Andersson didn't argue. He let them lead him through the CIC, the quiet hum of the ship a low, familiar pulse in the background. His steps were slow, uneven, each one requiring more focus than it should have. Thoughts swirled in his head—disjointed, slippery. Past and present blurred at the edges.
As they neared the stairwell, Andersson's brow furrowed. He glanced around, confusion darkening his features.
"Wait… how did we end up back on the Pathfinder so quickly?"
Hale and Reece froze. Hale glanced at Reece, her frown deepening.
"We docked a few minutes ago," Reece said quietly, careful not to startle him. "You were just… quiet."
Andersson blinked, like the words had to travel farther to reach him. He looked around the corridor again, slower this time—like double-checking the world was real.
He shook his head once, almost imperceptibly. "That's… not like me."
Reece gently took his arm again. "Come on. Let's get you downstairs. Quickly."
The ship sealed itself behind them—not with a single hiss of an airlock, but with the quiet certainty of distance. The city, the forest, the visions… already slipping into shadow behind them.