#some shemlen show up in the next part stay tuned

[ellenembee]

The Revelation of All Things - 44. In which a wolf struggles against taming

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The horses were exhausted by the time they finally stopped for the night. They were only a half-day's ride out now, and Solas nearly growled with anticipation. These mages, these fiends who had taken his friend, they would pay for their insolence.

"It's going to be alright, Solas. We'll get there. We just need to let the horses rest for a few hours."

Solas gave her a tight smile. "I know, lethallan. It's just... hard to be easy when you know a friend is in danger."

She gave him a sympathetic smile as she removed the saddle and groomed her horse. Solas did the same. Then she began gathering sticks and twigs to start a fire.

"I could just cast a warming spell over us if you like."

Evana paused to look at him strangely. "You can do that while you sleep?"

"It's a spell I developed for sleeping in cold places when I'm exploring the Fade. Much like a ward, once cast, it will remain in effect for several hours. Long enough for us to get some sleep. The only problem is that the area of effect is... rather small. It would require us to sleep closely."

She looked down, and he could practically feel her discomfort. After a small pause, he started helping her pick up branches.

"Or, we could build a fire."

She gave him a sheepish smile. "Ma serannas, lethallin."

Solas merely tilted his head. He berated himself for feeling disappointed. It was ridiculous. But as the days and weeks marched on, his affection for her only seemed to grow - and all this despite the unmistakable fact that she had been claimed by their commander. He'd been surprised by her attraction to a shemlen, but he'd been more surprised that she'd acted on it. It wasn't his place to judge, though. Neither was it his place to keep her warm at night.

It didn't mean he didn't want to.

With the flick of her wrist, fire burst to life between her fingers, and she lit the branches they'd collected in a pile in the middle of the clearing. Soon a blazing fire fought back the dark chill of the night, and they threw out their bedrolls on opposite sides of the fire. The horses stood nearby, dining on withered grasses as far as out as their tethers would allow. Solas and Evana then walked around the perimeter setting wards so they wouldn't need to take watches.

They settled down, and Solas expected to fall asleep immediately. The crackle of the fire, however, kept him just on the edge of sleep. He opened his eyes to see her facing him, eyes closed in apparent slumber. Because they typically used tents when traveling as a group, Solas had never had an opportunity to study her features so closely. Now, however, with her slumbering face slack and open to him, he found himself memorizing her features. The smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks that had grown more pronounced since they'd spent more time outside. The soft, natural purse of her lips. The slight upturn of her thin nose.

He wasn't sad that she'd chosen another. Not really. Even if he'd given in to his early feelings and attempted to woo her, he wouldn't have been able to stay with her. His mission was too important. He must retrieve the orb from Corypheus, no matter the cost, and she offered him his best chance. That she also happened to turn his head around and muddle his brain was of no consequence. It merely revealed his weakness.

He forced his eyes to close and gradually slipped into the Fade.

 **

 Excitement built inside him as Solas realized he'd never traveled this part of the Fade before. Here in the Dales, there were many ancient memories of elves and wars and marches. Although he loved seeing the here and now, the "then" of every new location was a never ending well of new memories, secrets and explorations. The knowledge of his friend in danger, however, tempered the excitement.

Nevertheless, he stood on a pathway and let the memories slip past him, sifting through the ones he might want to step into. As he watched the ghosts of scenes change before him, a snippet of a faint but alluring tune caught his ear. Memories forgotten in favor this new mystery, he turned to follow a path behind him, and the voice grew louder - and more familiar - as he approached. He crested a hill and, as he'd expected, found Evana lying on a grassy river bank, singing an old elven tune to herself. The melody differed slightly from what he remembered, but her voice rang out confident and beautiful. She appeared to be in her traditional Dalish robes, and her silver hair spilled out behind her in a halo as she absently mangled a stalk of prairie grass in her fingers. She seemed unaware of his presence, and the secrets of the Dales slipped by him unnoticed as he focused on her completely.

Solas had observed her several times as they dreamed side-by-side during their travels, but he'd only interacted with her once shortly after they arrived at Skyhold. In the dream ruins of Haven, they'd spoken of his time watching over her after she had been spit out of a Fade rift but before she'd regained consciousness. Then she'd cornered him about a turn of phrase, a careless use of the word felt, and his world had shifted yet again, only for her to end by calling him a good friend - the first time she'd used the word in reference to him. Then he'd blurted out how much she threw him off, affected him, and essentially pushed her out of the dream to cover his lack of composure. He had not attempted to find her in the Fade since then.

Even now, he knew he should leave, but he always felt a little bolder in the Fade. He also trusted her forthrightness. If she didn't want to speak with him in her dream, she would tell him.

The sun hung high in the sky and became clearer as he walked more fully into her dreamscape. All at once, the sounds of summer surrounded him - the buzz of insects, the gurgle of the river and her voice now humming the tune instead of singing. She turned her eyes to him as he neared her, and a brief look of confusion passed over her face.

"It is me, lethallan," he assured her in a quiet voice. "I heard you singing and came to listen. You have a wonderful voice."

She blushed but remained lying in the grass. He took it as a sign of her comfort and relaxed a bit himself.

"I... I know," she replied. "I felt you, but..." After a moment, she shook her head and gestured to the space next to her. "Will you not sit with me?"

A slight shock of surprise rippled through him at her admission, but outwardly, he simply smiled and sat down next to her. "Certainly."

"You've never visited me in the Fade while we're traveling," she finally explained. "Wouldn't you rather be out there searching for more secrets?"

"I would, but..." Solas felt a strange need to be as honest with her as possible. He couldn't about everything, but in this one thing... "It feels wrong to enjoy the pleasures of discovering new memories and places when my friend is in distress."

"Then you'll stay and keep me company?"

Solas smiled again. It was always so easy to do around her.

"Of course. I do have some questions for you, if I may?"

She gave him a surprised look but then smiled. "I'll answer them as best I can. What would you like to know?"

He took a moment to glance around him. She had not really changed the geography of their location, only a true dreamer could do that - but she had made it still, more real. The sun felt warm on his face and the grass slightly damp as he leaned back on his palms.

"What were you like before the anchor? Has it affected you? Changed you in any way? Your mind, your morals, your... spirit?"

"I don't believe so, but - I'm not sure how I would know if it had."

"Ah. Yes. That is an excellent point."

"Why do you ask?"

Solas sighed almost imperceptibly. "You show a wisdom I have not seen since... since my deepest journeys into the ancient memories of the Fade. You are not what I expected."

Evana looked away from him, a slight tinge of pink forming on her cheeks. "I don't think of myself as different from anyone."

That frustrated him. Modesty did no one any good. Perhaps she truly didn't see it?

"Not in the form of your body, no. Most people are predictable, but you have shown subtlety in your actions. A wisdom that goes against everything I expected. If the Dalish could raise someone with a spirit like yours... have I misjudged them?"

Evana sighed. "I certainly don't hold the Dalish up as perfect. Most of the Dalish I know care more about impressing other hunters with a good shot or talking about how awful humans are. They care little for knowing the truth."

"But you would know the truth, even if it conflicted with what you had been raised to believe?"

"I don't know that I ever truly believed the things I was raised with - especially not after my first meeting with other clans at the Arlathvhen. When we come together, all we do is fight over whose version of the truth is ‘right.' How can we hold up our old ways when we don't try to reconcile these legends with real history? What do we have but glorified bedtime stories? That's why I tried to read as much from non-elven writers as possible, even though it eventually caused... trouble. My version - my understanding of elven history - is much different than that of my clan. And you have only added to that knowledge, lethallin. For all that you have shown me, I thank you."

It was a moment before he could respond. Her answers, her insight into the world, her practicality all clashed with what he'd come to know of modern elves. When he finally spoke, he couldn't keep the surprise out of his voice.

"Perhaps that is it, then. I suppose it must be. Most people act with so little understanding of the world... but not you."

"So what does this mean to you?"

Thoughts roiled through his mind as warmth bloomed in his chest. It frustrated him that she could have this effect on him. Why did she have to be so intriguing? So unique? He wanted to kiss her as she lay there on the grass, but even at his bravest, here in the Fade, he wasn't so foolish as to think it would be welcomed. She had gone out of her way to demonstrate friendship. Nothing more, nothing less. He looked away from her eyes. Those familiar eyes. The eyes that reminded him of a time long past.

"It means that I will always respect you, Evana, no matter what may happen in the future."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her sit up slowly, a concerned look on her face. "Does... does this have anything to do with the secret you hold?"

Solas turned quickly to look at her, a sliver of panic running through him. But her calm demeanor told him he had nothing to fear.

"Yet another example of your discernment and wisdom. Yes, in a way, it does. Once our work is done, I must continue, alone, on my own journey. I cannot say more."

Her eyes bore into him, and for the first time in eons, Solas had a strong urge to confide his secrets in this uncommon elven spirit. It would be a mistake, but it was one he almost wished to make. With her by his side...

No. What I have to do must be done alone. Once they recovered the orb from Corypheus, he must take it and leave the Inquisition.

In another moment, her face had turned from concerned to accepting. "I understand. Each of us has a path. We may not choose it, but it is ours to walk, regardless. Mine is with the Inquisition until I'm no longer needed."

The urge to kiss her, especially now that she sat so close to him, grew stronger. He forced himself to look away from her and out across the river.

"Yes."

A long pause settled between them before she spoke again. Her voice was small and hesitant.

"I know you said you'd rather not right now, but maybe some other time, you could show me how you walk the Fade - how to find the memories?"

He felt the warmth in his chest grow. "I don't feel right walking and enjoying the Fade, but teaching you to safely engage with memories would not be a conflict. Come, lethallan."

He saw the familiar spark of excitement in her eye as she stood and looked up at him. That ardor for learning was one of the many things that endeared her to him. They spent the remainder of their dreaming hours wandering the Fade together. Solas showed her how he let go of the concrete to allow the memories to take shape around him. She had trouble with this at first, but at his coaxing and direction, she gradually began to point out slivers of memories. Solas then showed her how to focus on a memory so she could watch it play out before her or even step into the memory itself. For this first foray, he deliberately chose the benign memories. Perhaps if they traveled together again, he would let her go deeper into the memories. Deeper memories, however, carried more risk of running into demons, and he warned to not go too far on her own.

After many hours, Solas felt the tug of wakefulness. He turned to find that Evana had disappeared, so he closed his eyes and willed himself to wake. His eyes opened to see her staring at him over the dying fire, frost catching on the tips of her strangely dark lashes. A gleam in her eye and the slight smile on her face spoke her gratitude, and he warmed under her attention. But the smile faded as she sat up.

"Ma serannas, Solas. Once again, you have been my guide in learning more about our world."

"Any time, lethallan."

She tilted her head in acknowledgement, and then her face fell further into a look of concern as her eyes turned up into the darkened sky. A faint hint of light played at the eastern horizon.

"Dawn approaches," she murmured. "We should break camp."

Solas disarmed the wards as Evana mixed some heated water with dried porridge. To simplify, they both ate out of the same small bowl, taking turns tipping the bowl up for a bite. Then, they quickly saddled their horses and set out west.

They rode for several hours until the trees began to thin out and large rock formations jutted out of the ground. It was nearly midday when they finally reached the location Solas thought they would find his friend. As they approached, a purplish light shone over a small hill. He dismounted and began running. He crested the hill to find a giant pride demon bound in a small clearing.

"My friend!"

Evana gasped and turned to him. The sadness in her face mirrored his own.

"The mages turned your friend into a demon."

Solas could only growl out a, "yes."

"You said it was a spirit of wisdom, not a fighter."

He was beside himself. Although he knew he'd regret it later, he couldn't help his angry tone.

"A spirit becomes a demon when denied its original purpose."

Evana nodded in understanding. "So they summoned it for something opposed to its own nature, and it was corrupted. Fighting, maybe?"

As they spoke, a man in mage robes approached them. Solas could barely hold back his anger. If he were at his full power...

"Let us ask them!" he growled.

The mage spoke before Evana could. "Mages! You're not with the bandits? Do you have any lyrium potions? Most of us are exhausted. We've been fighting that demon..."

Solas thought his head might explode. "You summoned that demon! Except it was a spirit of wisdom at the time. You made it kill! You twisted it against its purpose."

"I- I understand how it might be confusing to someone who has not studied demons, but after you help us, I can-"

Solas seethed through his teeth. "We're not here to help you."

Evana held up a hand to the mage. "A word of advice? I'd hold off on explaining how demons work to my friend here."

The mage threw his hands up. "Listen to me! I was one of the foremost experts in the Kirkwall Circle-"

He'd had enough. "Shut. Up. You summoned it to protect you from the bandits."

Finally, the mage hung his head. "I- yes."

"You bound it to obedience, then commanded it to kill. That is when it turned." He turned to Evana, the realization dawning on him. "It's the summoning circle. If we break it, we break the binding. No orders to kill, no conflict with its nature, no demon."

The mage became panicked. "What? The binding is the only thing keeping the demon from killing us! Whatever it was before, it is a monster now."

Solas turned to Evana. "Inquisitor... Evana, please."

She placed her hand on his arm briefly, reassurance permeating her tone. "I've studied rituals like these. I should be able to disrupt the binding quickly."

Solas breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you. We must hurry!"

But she was already off and running toward the demon as the mage ran in the opposite direction. Solas took a very brief moment to admire her courage and skill as they quickly destroyed the bindings holding the pride demon while dodging the giant's lightning attacks. As the final binding tower was destroyed, he watched as the demon dissolved into his familiar friend, wisdom. He crouched down before his friend, holding back tears as he spoke.

"Lethallin, ir abelas."

"I'm not sorry. I'm happy. I'm me again. Ma melava halani. Now you must endure. Guide me into death."

Solas had to look away. This isn't how it's supposed to be! Wisdom must endure, not die at the hands of bumbling fools! Finally, he looked back at his friend.

"Ma nuvenin."

He raised his hands and concentrated on guiding wisdom to the next stage, whatever that might be. The spirit's form gradually fell away in the wind until he was left staring at the river bank beyond. Wisdom was dead.

"Dareth shiral, ma falon."

He could feel Evana's presence behind him, but she said nothing. He was again overwhelmed by how much he'd come to trust and rely on her guidance. She held the wisdom in his life now. Finally, he rose from the ground and turned to her. Her eyes glistened with tears as she spoke.

"I heard what it said. It was right. You did help it."

Solas hung his head. "And now, I must endure."

She approached him and placed her hand on his arm. Her touch burned him, and yet he craved more. A deep longing to pull her into an embrace rolled through him. Her soft, kind words did nothing to alleviate the desire.

"Let me know if I can help."

"You already have, lethallan."

He gave her a wane smile, but as he looked over her shoulder, he suddenly saw the mages responsible for this mess, for killing his friend. Fury burst into a flame within him, but he kept his voice a low growl.

"All that remains now is them."

The mages approached now and the same man they'd spoken to before stepped forward. "Thank you. We would not have risked a summoning, but the roads are too dangerous to travel unprotected."

He'd barely finished speaking before something snapped inside Solas. These fools would pay. They could not be allowed to continue summoning innocent spirits! He stalked toward them threateningly.

"You! You tortured and killed my friend!"

The mage cowered before him and Solas reveled in the power. This was familiar. This was right. But the mage was speaking again. Why did it keep speaking?

"We didn't know it was just a spirit! The book said it could help us!"

Uncaring, Solas raised his staff and began an immolation spell. They would burn for this. Somewhere behind him, though, a soft voice cut through his rage.

"Solas..."

He froze, breath coming in short gasps. One more twist of his wrist and they would be gone... but he dropped his staff to his side instead. The spell fizzled with only a slight shimmer in the air indicating the power he could have unleashed on them. His voice, filled with every ounce of venom he could manage, spit out the only words he could think of.

"Never. Again. If I ever hear of you summoning spirits again, I will find you. And I will kill you."

The mages turned and ran, and part of Solas wanted to run after them, to strike them down. But her soft presence held him steady. The rage, however, had not been quenched. He couldn't even turn to face her.

"I need some time alone. I will meet you back at Skyhold."

And without another word, he mounted his horse and rode away from her. She could not help him now.

[theramblingscribe]

Warden Reborn

Chapter 1: Then It Was Over

Nyx had been told, when she awoke, of everything that had occurred. Of all that had happened on the rooftops of Fort Drakon. The darkspawn horde had nearly overwhelmed them, but she held her bow fierce and true, each new arrow sinking between dragon scales. Wynne healed every wound that struck Nyx. Alistair stayed close, ever the defender, shielding from the worst of the blows. Leliana ran circles around the darkspawn, felling them one after another, barely a flicker in the dark of the night.

The Archdemon, recognizing the growing threat of the two Grey Wardens, flew over to them, crashing in with a furious roar. It was weakening, slowing. A few more well placed arrows and Nyx could end it all, for good. She would let herself disappear, take the responsibility of the Wardens, the burden of death that came with ending the Blight, upon herself. She wouldn’t let it touch Alistair. Not when he needed to be king. Not when she loved him still.

Then, she felt a hand on her shoulder, something gentle to pull her away as the dragon’s head fell, a soft grumble in its throat the only proof that it still lived. Nyx turned to stare at her love, certain that he only meant to say goodbye. She knew he couldn’t love her anymore. She was nothing but a Dalish elf, risen to become a leader through circumstance alone. To think that she’d grown so attached, not only to one shem, but to many, proved she was no longer the Nyx that left her Keeper and clan behind.

She parted her lips, to tell him goodbye for himself, but Alistair stopped her.

“I know you told Riordan that you would do this, but I can’t let you,” Alistair said. His brow was set so firm, but the eyes beneath still showed the softness of a child. How he’d known so many cruelties yet remained so kind was nothing short of miraculous. He was her miracle.

“It’s my decision, Alistair. I have to do this,” Nyx said. She could barely look him in the eye, but stood firm.

“I know, you’ve always been so willful and brave, but I can’t lose you. Not to this,” Alistair said. “I love you too much to watch you throw your life away.”

Nyx couldn’t hide her surprise. That day, which seemed a lifetime ago now, he’d broken her heart. Alistair was going to be king and no heir could be born of an elf, especially one of the “savage” Dalish. None of the nobility would accept it, no matter how much they respected her as a Warden. Nyx thought that his willingness to give her up meant he felt for her no longer.

“You…” Nyx tried to speak, but her heart swelled before it sank again. Of course. He still loved her, despite everything, but he was a dutiful man. She should have seen that before. “And I love you,” she said, trying to steel herself. “So will all of Ferelden, when you are king. You can’t die, you’re too important. In comparison I’m—”

“Don’t,” Alistair warned. “You are more important than I could ever be. I don’t care about the throne, but I do care that you stay alive. I won’t let you do this.”

“Have you ever considered that maybe I don’t want you to die either?!” Nyx said. She was frantic. The darkspawn were still flooding in, even as their leader’s breath fell shallow. They couldn’t argue forever. One of them had to sink the blade into the monster’s head.

Alistair smiled, still charming even now. “I know,” he said. “That’s why you have to live. You’re better than I could ever be. You see the good in everyone, you’d do anything to see that everyone gets to live happily. They need you, Nyx.” Alistair raised a hand to his fellow Warden’s face, thumb brushing away a rebellious tear that had managed to escape her eye.

Nyx stood frozen as Alistair took up his blade and rushed at the dragon. Her fingers felt numb, her grip on her bow loosening. It fell to the ground, and she snapped back into focus. No, she thought, no, I just need to get to it before him.

A shaking hand took up one last arrow. She’d sink it into the Archdemon’s eye, before Alistair could reach it. She wouldn’t let him sacrifice himself.

Nyx lifted her bow to see Alistair raise his sword. She drew back her arrow. He brought the sharp steel of his blade sinking down into the skull of the Archdemon. Her arrow sailed, flying far to the right, striking the heart of a lingering genlock. Nyx, who prided herself in perfect aim, missed her target.

The rest was hazy, but Leliana had filled in most of the places where Nyx’s own memory failed. Light streamed from the final wound in the Archdemon’s skull. The light had looked as if it was filling Alistair, but he weakened as it surged through his body. He grimaced and pushed the sword deeper into the monster’s head. Then all that gathering light exploded around them, blowing everyone on the roof backwards.

“You hit your head,” Leliana said. “We were afraid that you were dead, but thankfully you were just unconscious. Wynne was one of the few people still able to move much, so she went to heal you when I called to her. It wasn’t long before reinforcements arrived, but most of the darkspawn started to flee as soon as the dragon was slain. They brought you here, to the palace, to rest.”

“And Alistair?” Nyx asked. It was pointless to hope, she knew, but the longer she waited to bring him up, the longer she would be able to hold on to that empty wish. Leliana’s face said it all. The way her lips tightened, gaze falling, Nyx knew.

“They brought his body here, too. To hold a funeral before putting him to the pyre. He will be sent off as a king,” Leliana explained. As if an honor in death made the dying any better.

Nyx brought her legs up to her chest, hugging them. She was still in the bed she’d woken up in. Wynne would be back soon with food and to check any lingering wounds. Nyx felt foolish for the thought, but wondered if the old woman could heal the pain inside her chest.

She was dressed as soon as she’d finished eating. Nyx was to look her best in the finest armor, her wild hair tamed as much as possible, then put on display with her new title as Hero of Ferelden. An empty title that she didn’t deserve. She stood in front of the gathered crowd as Anora was made Queen. Nyx tried to look brave. She wasn’t sure what heroes looked like, really, but she wanted to fool everyone she could into believing that she was one.

They cheered and Anora granted Nyx’s people land of their own, so they might never be made to fear by cruel shemlen ever again. That much, Nyx wanted to give. Then Anora asked what their hero would do next, and she just wasn’t sure what to say. The Blight was over. She had no goal any longer. Nyx would always be a Grey Warden. The memory of their call in the Deep Roads served as a reminder that there was no escaping that. Yet, the Wardens held no home for Nyx anymore.

“I’ll travel, for a time,” Nyx found herself saying. It seemed right. She’d find some goal, something to latch onto. Her mind was still muddled in the shock.

Nyx said her final goodbyes to the people she’d traveled with. None of them seemed appropriately broken up about the loss of Alistair. They already had plans, places to go. Their lives moved forward. Hers felt stuck.

“I heard you say you planned on traveling, is that correct?” Zevran asked her. “Perhaps you could use some companionship. Plus, you’ve already done a great job keeping the Crows from killing me horribly, I could use that kind of protection.”

“You’re welcome to come, if you wish,” Nyx said. “I’m not really sure where to go, though.”

Their lives moved forward, but there was nothing in the future for Nyx anymore. Nothing left that she wanted. There was only the past, which lay behind her in thousands of broken shards. It was a mirror that had started this all, wasn’t it? If she’d never gone there with Tamlen, if she’d only dragged him back to the keeper maybe she would be with her clan still. Nyx knew what she wanted, but it wasn’t ahead of her.

“Well, I will follow your lead regardless. Just so long as we don’t stay in one place for too long. Makes it easier to be found and that is the one thing I don’t want to be,” Zevran said.

Neither did Morrigan, Nyx thought. She’d thought over and over again of that night, how she’d kept Morrigan from Alistair and prevented the ritual from taking place. At the time, Nyx convinced herself it was selfless, protecting the world from dark magic Nyx couldn’t possibly understand, offering her life to the world as sacrifice instead. Now she knew the true selfishness behind her good intentions.

Maybe Morrigan would know a way to fix this. The witch was no stranger to dark magic. If there were a way to make everything better, make it all okay again, Morrigan would be the one to know how. Nyx exhaled, realizing that she had one mission left after all.

Despite her love for Alistair, and because of it, Nyx did not stay for the funeral. She asked Leliana to take her place, to make sure everyone knew just how wonderful of a man Alistair had been. Her friend promised her this much, though not without begging her to attend. With one look into Nyx’s eyes, Leliana could tell that Nyx needed to leave. She argued no further, but asked that Nyx stay and listen to the song Leliana had written in Alistair’s honor. It was the most beautiful thing Nyx had ever heard, and the most heartbreaking. The tune stayed in her head for days after she left Denerim.

In 9:32 Dragon, Nyx was alone again, with only her mabari hound at her side. She felt like she’d been endlessly chasing ghosts, hunting rumor after rumor of a witch with dark hair and bright eyes. Morrigan was not only elusive, but she was also busy. No doubt her plans had required a great change when she was denied her ritual.

Now Nyx found herself back in the Kocari Wilds, at the door of Flemeth’s hut. There was no sense of life in the wooden house anymore. Both Morrigan and her mysterious mother were long gone. A lingering sense of immense power remained in the air, but that was the only hint that either of the women had ever been there. Perseus, the mabari that Nyx had met back in Ostagar, howled softly.

“Shh, boy, I know,” Nyx said gently. “We’ll find Morrigan. I know we’re close now.” She gave the loyal dog a gentle pat on his head, then opened the door. It was unlocked, nothing left inside that required protecting. Nyx looked around the room of the small hut. It looked exactly the same as the last time she’d been here, when she retrieved Flemeth’s grimoire for Morrigan. She didn’t remember the moment fondly, as even in her hands she felt the weight and power behind the old tome. There was much of this place that frightened Nyx, but she couldn’t lose face.

A girl popped out from around the back corner of the house, wielding a blade. The two women froze, but Perseus was at the ready, growling a warning at the stranger to protect Nyx. Yet, it only took one look at the mysterious girl to know that she was a Dalish warrior.

“Wow, of all the people I would have thought to find here, I would not have believed it to be one of my kin. Andaran atishan, lethallan,” the elf woman said, putting back her sword. Nyx ran a hand over Perseus’ fur to calm him.

“Andaran atishan,” Nyx repeated the greeting. It felt almost foreign now, having spent so much time away from her clan in the world of humans. It was almost like she had lost the right to use her people’s language at all.

“Might I ask what you’re doing out here? You’re not from my clan, but perhaps the Witch of the Wilds has stolen from you, as well?” the elven woman said.

“No, I’ve other business with Morrigan,” Nyx said.

“Business?” the stranger pressed.

“She is…was, a friend. I need her help with something,” Nyx said.

“A friend? It is strange to hear someone describe the witch as such, though I suppose even someone like her must have friends. My name is Ariane. I need to find Morrigan because she stole something from our people. You know how precious our history is to us, don’t you? Well Morrigan took some of our oldest books. I need to see them returned, we Dalish have already lost so much to dirty shemlen, I couldn’t bear to see another piece of us lost,” Ariane said.

Nyx was reminded of lectures from her own Keeper about such things. Old secrets and magic and all that the Dalish had lost remained only in descriptions on paper. So much of their history was gone, but the wild elves held tight to every piece they could find. What Morrigan wanted with these secrets, Nyx did not know. Her memory of the woman was not of a common thief or someone who would take important things just for money. The books themselves probably held no worth to any but the Dalish. They had a wealth in information, but what could a shem – mage or not – do with information alone?

“Do you have any leads?” Nyx asked. It was obvious Morrigan wasn’t here and she probably hadn’t been for a very long time. Now Nyx’s sources were tapped, but perhaps Ariane still had an idea.

“Not really. All I knew is that she was said to have lived here, in the wilds. My best guess is that, if we try to figure out what she’s looking for, we could follow in her search and find where she’s hiding,” Ariane said, pacing as she thought. “I remember overhearing her and my Keeper speaking of eluvians. Some sort of old magic artifact of our people.”

“I’ve never heard of those,” Nyx admitted. She’d not taken as much of an interest as Tamlen and her other friends once had in Dalish history. When they’d discovered those ruins ages ago, Nyx just wanted to run back to the Keeper and stay far away from the giant spiders and hordes of undead that plagued the place. If only Tamlen hadn’t been so stubborn.

“I don’t really know much myself, but…” Ariane stopped pacing, looking up at Nyx. “I hear the Ferelden Circle has some ancient books like our own, on old elven magic. If we go there we could…no, they’d never let in two Dalish. Even if we’re looking for something that should belong to us and not a group of shemlen.”

“Actually,” Nyx said, “I should be able to enter without issue. I know both the First Enchanter and the Knight-Commander personally. It’s a long story but I know they’ll allow me access.”

Ariane perked up immediately. “Well what are we waiting for then? Let’s go!”

It had been ages since Nyx had set foot in the Circle Tower. Unfortunately, Wynne was off Maker-knows-where with Shale, trying to find some reversal to the golem making process. Even Irving and Greagoir were unavailable. Nyx was still welcomed in without trouble, recognized by Knight-Captain Hadley as the Hero of Ferelden. Ariane was aghast, as in their many days of traveling together Nyx had kept her true identity concealed.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Ariane asked as they walked towards the Circle’s library.

“You didn’t ask?” Nyx said, trying for a smile. Her companion didn’t look pleased. Nyx sighed, saying, “Alright, honestly I didn’t want you to know. I’m tired of the way people change when they know who I am. They don’t know that I wasn’t really responsible for ending the Blight.”

“Then, who was?” Ariane asked, her voice just above a whisper. This felt like a secret to her.

“Another Grey Warden,” Nyx said. She hadn’t spoken his name since she’d left with Zevran a year ago. She didn’t dare. “He defeated the Archdemon.”

“But I was told you were the only Grey Warden to survive the siege on Denerim,” Ariane said. There was a lull of silence before a quiet, “Oh…” left Ariane’s lips. She understood. “I’m sorry, lethallan. By the look in your eyes, this other Warden must have meant a lot to you.”

Nyx didn’t answer. She hadn’t wanted to talk about this at all. It was a welcome distraction when she reunited with the odd dwarf, Sandal, and asked him to show off his enchanting skills for Ariane. Nyx knew this would be impressive for the Dalish woman, as most magic was done only by Keepers and their First in a Dalish clan. Enchantment was a rare sight, especially by a dwarven savant. The Dalish had no Tranquil.

They went along their way, finding the book they required as well as another on ancient elvish to assist with translating the old text. They poured over it for a while before a whining voice scolded them.

“Maker, be careful with that thing! Look at the spine, oh and the pages you’re bending the pages. Please be careful with that you have no clue how old it is!” the whiny mage cried. The two Dalish women stared at him, their brows raised in non-verbal sarcasm.

“Oh, or maybe you do,” the mage corrected himself. “Still, you should be careful with that.”

“I can’t make much sense of it, to be honest,” Nyx admitted. “Have you read this before?”

“Not…a lot, but I remember pieces. Anything particular you want to know?” the mage asked.

“Eluvians,” Ariane spat out before Nyx could even begin to say something. “We’re looking for information on eluvians. Do you know what they are?”

“Oh yeah, those. Yeah, eluvian. The literal translation is ‘mirror,’ but they’re supposed to hold great power. It’s unclear what they did exactly but they seemed to be a means of communication. No one knows if there are any left, though,” the mage said.

“A mirror? My clan heard of another group of Dalish who lost two young warriors to a mirror tainted by darkspawn. One disappeared and the other got sick, but I believe they found a cure,” Ariane said.

Nyx’s already pale face lost any lingering color. “There is only one cure for darkspawn taint, and that is to become a Warden,” she said, feeling breathless. “Tamlen is dead. He became a ghoul and I killed him.”

“I…it was you?” Ariane said. “You are just full of surprises, lethallan. I’m sorry for what happened. The clan spoke much of their love for you and Tamlen.”

“But the eluvian? What happened to it?” the mage asked.

“They destroyed it. Tainted it was too much of a danger to leave intact,” Ariane said.

Nyx remembered Duncan saving her. Remembered him destroying the mirror after they were unable to find Tamlen. That was the same day she’d left her clan behind forever. The same day that she swore she would never lose another like that, not if she could help it. Nyx wanted to scream.

“But that’s a precious, priceless artifact! Long before our time! It was probably the last of its kind…oh <i>no,</i>” the mage half-sobbed, hanging his head in defeat. Funny how he glossed over the rest of the story.

“That can’t be,” Ariane said. “We need to find one. A working one. Morrigan would be able to, I’m certain of it.”

“Any ideas, mage?” Nyx asked.

“It’s Finn. My name. And well, there is someone I could ask,” the mage, Finn, said, staring off into the distance. He snapped back into attention in an instant. “Come with me, I’ll show you.”

They found themselves leaving for the basement, to solve yet another issue with tears in the Veil. Nyx, having never had the talent of magic, could not understand why mages couldn’t just keep the Veil shut tight. It was under their command and control, but every time mages were involved in something, it seemed there was an issue with demons or the Veil being torn.

Once they had the situation under control, Finn lead them back to a room with a statue. Then, he started to talk to it. Nyx stared for a long moment until she heard a voice in her head, responding to Finn and introducing itself as the statue. Would magical wonders never cease?

“We’re trying to find an eluvian, a working one. Do you know where one could be found?” Finn asked the statue, apparently an artifact from Tevinter.

“Scry, and you shall find what you seek,” the statue said.

“Scry…with a piece of the broken mirror! Oh that is brilliant!” Finn said. “I read about scrying a bit, it requires...what else will we need?”

“Seek the light left by elven hands, in lands where dwarves once dwelled. There is a sanctuary in the deep halls of Cad’halash, now known by the name Cadash. There the Lights of Arlathan can be found,” the statue said. Both Ariane and Nyx perked up at this name.

“The Lights of Arlathan? They can be found?” Ariane asked. “Nyx, our people could regain some piece of our history! But what would they be doing in dwarven ruins?”

“When I first discovered the eluvian, it was underground in ruins that appeared to belong to humans,” Nyx said. “There is so much of elven history we don’t know, it’s possible that our artifacts remain in many odd places. Places you wouldn’t think to look.”

“It would explain why we have a hard time finding anything, other than them being simply destroyed by the Imperium,” Ariane said bitterly.

“Cadash must mean Cadash Thaig,” Finn said in an attempt to refocus the two women. “Perhaps I can find some maps while we’re here, to lead us to it.”

Nyx nodded and had Ariane help the both of them search. Once they found what was needed, they returned just once more to the statue, to thank it for its help. Finn insisted it wasn’t necessary, but Nyx knew better than to be impolite to something ancient and magical. She had, after all, dealt with Flemeth.

“Goodbye, Finn,” the statue said. “We will not speak again.”

Finn blanched. “Wh-what is that supposed to mean? Statue? Hey, statue!” he called, waving his hands in front of the stone. True to its word, the statue said no more. “Maker, you don’t think I’m going to die, do you?”

“It could mean any number of things,” Nyx said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “We shouldn’t jump to conclusions like that so quickly.”

“Though it wouldn’t hurt you to be a little extra careful from now on,” Ariane teased. Perseus barked, his way of telling her not to be so mean. “I’m only joking,” Araine said.

The group made their way back upstairs. As the Dalish women and the mabari approached the door, Finn paused. They would not have noticed that he stopped, save for the pathetic croaking noise that escaped his throat. They turned back to face him.

“What’s the matter?” Nyx asked.

“So, you’re leaving then?” Finn said.

“Yes. To find Morrigan. That was the whole point, wasn’t it?” Ariane said, crossing her arms. She seemed unable to dial down the intensity of her voice.

“Well, won’t you need some help? To scry?” Finn said sheepishly, gazing at his shoes.

“I...Finn, would you like to come along?” Nyx said. She’d always intended to have him join them. Though mages could often be trouble, in her experience, they were also of great aid. Finn in particular had specialized in creation magic, much like Wynne, which made him useful protection against the dangers they were sure to face.

“Could I?” Finn said with glee. His eyes lit up, and he hurried without a word over to Knight-Captain Hadley. Nyx heard the older man sigh loudly, but Finn ran back to them with the same enthusiasm. He’d gotten permission to assist them on their quest.

Since the Circle Tower was far closer to Orzammar than the Brecilian Forest, the group agreed that going to Cadash Thaig first was the best choice. Ariane walked with nervous excitement behind each step. She and Finn chatted most of the way, sharing what they knew of the Dalish. They would sometimes bicker, but Nyx watched as the two grew fond of each others company. If she mentioned this to Ariane, her fellow Dalish would be quick to deny it, but she knew the look. It wasn’t like Nyx would judge Ariane for falling for a shemlen.

Perseus whined and kept close to Nyx on their journey. The closer she got to Orzammar, the more she dreaded a return into the Deep Roads. The more she denied the Grey Warden blood within her, the more nightmares had plagued her. It had been worst when she travelled with Zevran, who would have to calm her every time she awoke screaming. There was no longer an archdemon to taunt Nyx, dare her to challenge it, but still she heard their voices. Nyx would never stop hearing the growling and crunching and tearing of flesh.

When they stopped and made camp, she was certain to sleep with Perseus’ weight on her. It kept her grounded, reminded her somewhat of the nights she spent in Alistair’s arms. She had slept so many years alone, it was hard to believe that now she had trouble falling asleep without the warmth of another body by her side. Nyx had not allowed herself to think of him this much in so long, but the ache in the pit of her stomach opened like a fresh wound. She covered her mouth to muffle a sob. This was all for him, this struggle to find Morrigan. Nyx had to undo her mistakes, one way or another. She wasn’t sure she could live with herself otherwise.

Nyx longed for the nights with Zevran. At first they had taken separate tents, respecting the boundaries Nyx needed. He would still flirt during the day, in his playful way, but never propositioned her for anything more. She’d told him once that she loved Alistair, and that was supposed to have been the end of it. There was no man between her and Zevran after the Blight.

It had started with gentle comforting, sharing a tent and sleeping side by side. Zevran would not touch Nyx unless she asked, but he admitted many times to the temptation. One night, Nyx simply could not sleep, and moved to lie face to face with her companion. She kissed Zevran with a need she had been unable to voice for so long. He returned the sentiment, and then some.

After that first night, it became almost routine. The two would play as if nothing had changed during their days together, but when the sun fell beneath the horizon they found themselves entangled. Sex with Zevran was nothing like it had ever been with Alistair. Nyx hadn’t minded the inexperience, as she had been unfamiliar with what two people were meant to do in bed together as well. But Zevran showed her things Alistair never could, kissing her in places Alistair would not have thought to place his lips.

Nyx was glad to enjoy the physical pleasures, even though there was no romantic attachment for either of them. It kept her from thinking of her loss, kept her from dwelling on pain, and helped her sleep even when nightmares of darkspawn threatened. If she awoke from a bad dream, Zevran would still be there, and she could kiss him and fall back into his arms until she was asleep again.

It had seemed like the perfect arrangement, but Zevran knew Nyx never stopped thinking of Alistair. He insisted it didn’t bother him, and it hadn’t, at first. Yet, as the time passed, Zevran wondered just how often another man was on her mind while Nyx slept with him. He had not fallen in love with Nyx, no. However, Zevran wanted those he took to bed to think only of him. He told Nyx this shortly before he left her. They could not travel as mere friends after they’d become so familiar with one another, and they couldn’t travel as lovers while Nyx still suffered her heartache. Nyx agreed with him on both counts.

Which made traveling with company again feel very strange. She had no desire to sleep with either Finn or Ariane, but she had forgotten what having company was like. Nyx would not have said so before they joined her, but traveling with no one beside her but Perseus had been rather lonely. The mabari snorted in his sleep, which she took as his agreement. Both of them liked having companions.

The next day, the group drew up on Orzammar. The gates were still impressively massive, even to Nyx who had spent a good amount of time there. She almost looked for Oghren, out of instinct. Nyx knew that he was a surfacer now, with no intent or desire to return to the life underground. With luck, he was with Felsi. Nyx wished every happiness for her friends, as she thought how well she knew what the loss of it was like.

“By the Ancestors, if it isn’t the Hero of Ferelden!” the dwarf guarding the gates said, opening his arms wide. “What brings you to Orzammar? Couldn’t resist the call of the Deep Roads? Wanted to check in with our King, bless his reign? Or just missed the fine taste of roast nug?”

“I’ve business in the Deep Roads again, I’m afraid,” Nyx said. She didn’t have the heart to tell him she had hated the taste of nug. Oghren had been deeply offended when she said so before, so she figured it was an unpopular opinion amongst Orzammar dwarves.

“Well, good luck in there. I will never understand why you Wardens keep going back,” the guard said.

“Where the darkspawn go, we go to kill them,” Nyx said simply. Of course everyone knew this basic information, but the bit they didn’t know was how the taint in all Grey Wardens made it so the darkspawn called to them. Nyx had heard from Riordan that one day, the voices became too strong to fight, and each Warden would go to the Deep Roads to fight until they were dead. It was a horrifying thought that Nyx never cared to entertain for long.

“Heh, alright,” the dwarf chuckled. “Just try not to get dead. Ferelden would miss their hero.”

Nyx once again restrained herself from correcting him. She was no hero. Not until she found a way to save Alistair would she accept that title willingly.

Finn’s maps lead them to the Thaig without trouble. Well, no trouble other than the darkspawn. Thankfully, given that the Blight had not been over for long, they were not quite as numerous, needing to replenish their numbers. Nyx did not mention that she had seen up close the disgusting creatures called Broodmothers, women taken and molded into a form of darkspawn meant to breed more of them. It sickened her to remember the story of how they were created. All darkspawn smelled foul, but within the Broodmother’s cavern the stench had been something far worse than the usual smell of taint.

This journey was not so deep, though the part they had to reach was unfamiliar to Nyx. She was simply glad when Finn declared that they’d arrived. He was working to prepare the spell to find the Lights of Arlathan. Ariane was reluctant when he told them he required blood of a descendant of Arlathan. Nyx’s blood, unfortunately, would not do. She was Dalish, yes, but her clan had no connection to the Arlathan elves. Ariane, on the other hand, was a perfect candidate.

“This isn’t blood magic, is it?” Nyx asked as Ariane offered her palm cautiously.

“It’s magic that involves blood, but it’s not like I’m dealing with demons or anything,” Finn said defensively. “I’m not stupid, you know.”

“I’m still not completely certain about that,” Ariane said, wincing as he brought a small blade close to her skin. He sliced quick, hoping to avoid more pain than necessary, but she still shrieked loudly as he cut her skin. “Ow!”

“Sorry! Sorry, I have all I need now. Please, let me mend that…” Finn said. He cupped his hands over hers, and Nyx watched the blush spread on Ariane’s face. Finn’s hands glowed with the green energy of healing magic. When he removed them, there wasn’t even the faintest hint of a cut.

“Thank you,” Ariane mumbled, looking away. “We’d best get going.”

Glowing orbs lead the group through the Thaig. They dispatched of any darkspawn in their path, then continued forward a few more paces before something else could appear and threaten their little group. The Lights of Arlathan were quite literally lights. In fact, they were lanterns. Ariane was impressed, saying she would need to take notes and sketches of the things back to her clan once all of this was over. Nyx agreed that it would be good to share the knowledge.

As they gathered each lantern, a guardian spirit would appear, meant to deter thieves. There was no reasoning with the elven spirits, as they were nothing but that. Ariane lamented over the knowledge the spirits probably possessed. If they weren’t so busy fighting them, there was even more they could learn from them. But the group had to keep moving, and defeated each spirit in turn.

“And that’s the last of them!” Finn cheered. “That went quicker than I expected. Though I suppose I should have known that would be easy with you around.”

He was gesturing to Nyx. He’d barely even watched her fight, and she knew it. Finn’s eyes were glued to Ariane the whole time, making sure to protect her as she got up close to the enemy. Nyx had stayed back from most of the fighting, clutching her bow and determined to keep her aim true. She would never miss another shot again.

Nyx nodded at the well-meaning compliment anyway, before insisting that they press on. There was no need to get comfortable in the Deep Roads. They’d already stayed long enough.

They left Orzammar and set up camp just on the outskirts of the surfacers’ trading community. Perseus could sense the anxiety that set in on his owner’s mind. Nyx spoke to the hound in hushed tones, patting his head gently as she did so. She didn’t want to wake the others, but she needed to talk to someone.

“Next we go back to where this whole mess began,” Nyx said, staring at the ceiling of the tent. “Where I lost Tamlen, where I became sick, where Duncan found me… If I had pulled him out, dragged him away before he could touch that stupid mirror…”

Nyx was crying. She’d held this all back too long. Alistair wasn’t the only hole left in her heart. But somehow she knew she couldn’t save them both. Nor could she save Duncan, as she knew the man would charge into battle beside his king regardless of warnings. At least Alistair, she could keep. Alistair she could, perhaps, truly save. But only if all this worked and Morrigan lead her to the right place.

The road to the Brecilian Forest was incredibly tiring. Nyx had insisted on taking side paths, knowing that the more main roads they stuck to, the more likely people were to recognize her. It ran more risk of small bandit groups jumping them as they traveled, but Nyx trusted in the strength of her allies enough to take that chance. Ariane was unbothered by the divergent paths. Being Dalish as Nyx was, she was used to these quieter, hidden roads that the aravels often took to avoid most shemlen. Finn would have been bothered either way, not at all the outdoorsy type, but he particularly claimed about the mud and thick roots of the trees on the back roads.

Nyx remembered the way to the cave as if Tamlen had lead her there only moments ago. Like she’d only just encountered those three trembling shems, who she spared out of kindness. Nyx wished she could take a few different turns, find Keeper Marethari and Ashalle, hugging both of them tightly.

She’d seen Ashalle at the celebration after the end of the Blight, but not since. Another clan had informed her, while she still traveled with Zevran, that her people had gone all the way to the Free Marches. Nyx tried to picture her friends packing themselves into a boat, but couldn’t imagine it no matter how hard she tried. Knowing the First, Merrill, she likely puked.

At the mouth of the cave into the ruins, Nyx froze. Ariane stood nearby, watching closely.

“Do you need a moment? I know this must be hard for you, after everything,” Ariane said.

Nyx shook her head. She would be strong. She was the Hero of Ferelden. Nothing should be able to stand in her way, not anymore. For once, she needed to believe in all the stories people spread about her.

“I’ll be alright. We have to do this,” Nyx said. She felt the ghosts follow her through the ruins, clinging to her back as they always did. One day, she’d manage to ignore the feeling and simply live.

There were loads of undead within the ruins, but worse yet, there were sick Dalish, likely taken by the lingering power of the mirror. Nyx could barely look as she shot them down, silently praying to the Creators to have mercy on them. “Mythal take your spirit, lethallan,” Nyx whispered.

She urged the others forward, though the squeamish Finn kept staring at the fallen bodies, wondering if they might simply get back up again. Ariane tugged on the mage’s robes to make sure he stayed with them as they reached the final chamber, a round room in which the eluvian once stood. Shattered pieces remained scattered on the floor, though it appeared as if someone had already gathered some of them. Nyx suspected Morrigan had been here as well.

“I’ll have to take a moment to scry properly. I’ve only tried it once before, and it’s not really an exact...it might take me a few tries,” Finn said, preparing the materials on the floor of the ruins. The two Dalish women stood guard while he worked. Perseus circled the area, curious about the scents that lingered in the air. It seemed like an hour before Finn had finished, and he knew the location of the witch.