Chapter Text
She turned away from the bridge to face the cliffs, only to find the Fade had shifted once more.
Varric's voice spoke. "Now what about mine?"
She was in the Lighthouse again, standing on the landing facing the corridor that led to the infirmary where Varric had been convalescing. With no other path forward, she walked cautiously down the corridor and approached the infirmary door, wondering what she'd find on the other side. It swung open as she approached. The ritual site where it all began.
"What am I going to see there?" Rook asked.
"I think you already know," replied Varric.
In the ruins ahead, she could see what was left of the ritual dais where Solas had stood tearing down the Veil, and where Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain had escaped into the world. As she approached, it was as if time flowed in reverse. One by one, the ring of statues that Rook and Neve had collapsed around Solas, disrupting his ritual, began to reassemble themselves, rising from the rubble to stand again.
Passing through a ruined doorway, Rook first saw the staircase leading up to the dais, then her eyes fell upon the body lying at its base. It was not unlike what she'd experienced before falling into the Fade, where Lucanis and Varric had been juxtaposed into one body, as a lure for Rook's self-doubts and uncertainties to assure Solas' escape.
This time though, there was no lure—only the truth laid bare.
Varric was dead.
It was a truth that had been hidden from her, just waiting to be seen and grieved, and she did both—reliving each repressed moment in an instant. Vividly, painfully, the fragments of memory surfaced as raw and new to her as if they had happened only hours before.
Varric talking to Solas, begging him to listen. Their struggle, Solas plunging the dagger into Varric's chest. Varric falling, pulling the dagger from his chest. The dagger skittering away on the flagstones. Blood, Varric's last word. "Rook." Solas stepping into the Fade tear. An explosion, blacking out. Coming to, Varric unmoving. Harding pulling her away.
Rook stood motionless, blinking back tears as she looked down at her friend. He was lying there, still, just as he'd been when she last saw him. "You died back at the ritual site," she said. "You've been dead all along. Whenever I've been talking to you, asking for advice, I've been talking to myself, haven't I? Because you're dead."
Deep down, a part of her had known the truth all along, but she'd been too afraid to face the guilt she'd carried at letting Varric confront Solas, at letting him die.
Varric, or the memory of him she supposed, came to stand alongside his body and turned to look at her. "Shit. Didn't you learn anything from this place?" Varric said. "My decision. My sacrifice. And you don't get to take that from me."
She knew it was the truth, she knew these words were all coming from her, but it seemed she just needed to hear it in his voice to accept it. All of those who'd given so much—Neve, Harding, Varric—they gave willingly, their choice and she had no right to hide their choices beneath her guilt. It was after all what had kept Solas here in his own prison.
"I'm going to miss you, Varric," Rook said, and she would. His constant support and encouragement, the way he gave her confidence when hers wavered. He'd helped her hold on in spite of her doubts, fears and regrets, her failings and mistakes. Through him, her mind had projected her indomitable spirit, her hope — now all she needed to accept was that it'd been hers all along.
"Going to miss you too, kid," Varric said.
They stood at the bottom of the staircase, where a Fade tear had appeared on the dais reminiscent of the one Solas had stepped through. The memory of Varric took the first step up.
"What happens now? To you?" Rook asked.
"I'll disappear, go back to just being a memory," Varric said.
Rook and her memory of Varric ascended the stairs together towards the Fade tear. They spoke of Mythal, of Solas' regrets which they'd discovered and relived in the Crossroads. Of Solas' deep desire to want to be a hero, yet also his inability to reconcile the deep regrets he has making it easier for him to play the villain, which just leads to perpetual cycles of hurt and denial. To those he loved, those he trusted and ultimately the whole world.
Varric slowed on the stairs, Rook passing him as she continued to climb. She turned back to look at him. "So how do I get out of here?" she asked.
"Listen to your team," Varric said as Rook continued to climb towards the Fade tear. "That’s what you always do."
Then she heard it.
"This way! It's thinner here."
Emmrich! It was his voice, his beautiful, mellifluous voice and this time it wasn't just an echo of her memory played back for her to relive here in the Fade. The words were new, it sounded alive, real! Her breath caught as she turned to face the Fade tear, eyes widening. Emmrich's voice was coming from inside the tear - he was there, right there, on the other side of the shimmering light and he sounded almost close enough to touch.
Her fears forced their way to the front of her mind. Is this just another trick? she thought, Another lie of the Dread Wolf's prison?
Another voice followed the first. "You better be right." Unmistakably Taash, unbelievably Taash!
It was her team, they had found her just as she had found her way home to them. She placed her trust in them, her faith in her love and chose to embrace hope over her fears. It was the most perfect weapon against a prison built to hold gods and locked with regret. She looked back down the staircase to Varric.
"They're waiting for you," he said, and in her heart she knew it to be true, finally true. "Just take it one step at a time."
"Goodbye Varric and thank you," she said.
Lucanis' voice called her name from the far side of the Fade tear and her heart leapt with hope so strong now she must have shone like a beacon in the depths of the Fade.
"I'd say good luck," Varric said, "but you don't need it." He pointed to the Fade tear where her team were calling her home. "You already have everything you need".
She heard Emmrich's voice again. "There! A light!"
Turning back to face the Fade tear, Rook couldn't suppress her relief and joy, the hint of a smile on her lips at hearing his voice once more. She took one last step to reach the dais.
Then Lucanis' voice once more. "We've got something, get ready!"
She moved towards the Fade tear as two hands appeared to cross through. Steady hands, strong and familiar, long fingers and wrists clad in grave gold. Then the arms followed, the very same that had held her so tightly in the Gardens in Nevarra, now reaching for her, to bring her home. She reached out to him wholeheartedly, holding as tight as she could and wanting nothing more than to make sure once he had her, he would never let her go again.
Varric was right. She already had everything she needed.