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Ellana almost preferred getting clawed by the blasted terror demons over the searing pain of continuously using her mark to close the rifts. At least she could down a healing potion and move on from the demons.
Her knees hit the ground as a particularly nasty rift sealed before her and the quiet sounds of the coast surrounding the cliffs of Stone-Bear hold in the distance resumed and interwove with the puffing breaths of her companions. She had seen Cassandra take a nasty blow from a Revenant just before having her attention forced to a despair demon launching spears of ice at her. Cole managed to be completely incapacitated by the backhanded swipe of a pride demon and Solas was unable to summon enough mana to revive the boy without losing his barriers under a barrage of energy from a damned arcane horror. The group had just barely managed to pull through and finish the fight in one piece.
From her spot on the ground, the anchor crackled and hissed, sending a fresh wave of pain through her. It pulsed like a second heartbeat in her palm and sent shoots of agony all the way to her shoulder. This was becoming more common as the group dealt with more powerful tears in the veil. The energies that encompassed the magical barrier resisted her attempts to close it without an increasing amount of focus and will poured into the power of the mark to overcome it.
She could hear the others moving about in the aftermath of battle, tending to wounds and picking corpses. She remained on her knees breathing slowly through the pain and trying to keep from making any unnecessary noise and worrying her ailing comrades. Not that she lacked trust in the people who had stood at her side, both on and off the battlefield, for near to nine months now. It simply seemed selfish to solicit extra attention as she was the one left relatively unscathed in comparison to those she fought with.
In fact, she thought to herself, I had really ought to take a closer look at Cassandra’s left flank. She’s been favoring it since our encounter with those rogues fighting with the Jaws of Hakkon.
Placing the welfare of those in her care above her own was an instinct instilled in her by Keeper Deshanna since she had summoned magic at the age of seven and taken her place as First of her clan. Although, that decision never sat well with the rest of her assorted family. Her magic had manifested in a peculiar, and very dramatic, fashion. It made the more superstitious members of their little community anxious.
Shaking herself from thoughts of the past, Ellana tried to raise to stand up and bit back a sob. The aftermath of sealing the rifts was becoming unbearable. Each time, it spread farther and the pain became even more overwhelming. The ground beneath her seemed to churn like the sea and every inch of her body beaded in sweat. Her stomach churned and threatened to empty itself in the throes of agony. She thought she heard Solas call her name, although it sounded as though it came from a great distance away. The roaring in her ears was far closer.
Unable to steady herself, Ellana stumbled towards the nearest tree, a true giant with a trunk the size of two trebuchets, and crashed into it. Her legs chose this moment to give way once more and she slid to the ground against the rough bark, thudding jarringly at its base. Hands found her shoulders before she could fall flat. Her back was propped up against the tree and her head flopped uselessly onto her shoulder. Every molecule in her tiny body felt as though it were being forcibly pulled into her left hand. She thought, vaguely, that it would consume her essence and leave her a lifeless husk. The idea did not frighten her nearly as much as it should. Then again, it was becoming harder and harder for her to feel anything at all now.
Frightened voices echoed down to her from a great height. She would have called back, bid them to mind themselves lest they fall as she had, but there remained no force in her to accomplish even the task of speaking.
Suddenly, a flash of green filled her vision covering everything until her entire world was constructed of an unbroken sheet of purest jade. Sensation lapped back to her like waves from the sea and she the grateful shore embracing them. The voices grew closer, their words growing more distinct until she finally heard what they were saying.
“Inquisitor? Can you hear me?” Solas’ voice ground out in concerned roughness as he knelt on the ground beside her, hands still griping her shoulders to keep her upright.
Cassandra stood over them looking pale and ready to fight her way back to camp singlehandedly to fetch some kind of aid for the infirmed elf. Cole paced frantically nearby; rapidly muttering unintelligible words unable to help in her predicament.
Her head remained on her shoulder, lacking the strength to hold it upright at the moment, but her vision cleared enough to see the three figures of her perturbed allies. A wave of guilt aided in her revival, hissing at her for her selfish weakness. She had meant to keep this burden to herself and heal her more gravely injured friends. Instead she lay on the ground, being held upright like a under stuffed rag doll while the others bled into the dirt. Slowly, she began lifting her head and attempting to straighten her shoulders and push herself up once more. They were having none of this, however. Solas held her shoulders more firmly and Cassandra let out a gruff, “rest easy, Inquisitor.” Cole finally stopped his pacing and made his way over.
“Pain, pulling, leaving less behind each time. It grows and it makes you smaller. You don’t have to hide it away.”
“Cole, now is not the time.” Cassandra kept an even tone, though a slight growl in her words revealed her stress.
Solas held her gaze for a tense moment before reaching out and gently grasping her left hand. The skin of her palm felt tight and tender as he probed with both the tips of his fingers and the caressing tentacles of his magic. The cold of his spell brought instant relief and Ellana sighed before allowing her eyes to flutter closed for a moment.
“Will she recover, Solas?” The Lady Seekers’ sounded genuinely worried over her friend's health. That she sought the council of the resident apostate mage spoke volumes, both of the depth of her concern and the trust that had formed between the two unlikely friends.
Solas continued to work his magic as he answered her, refusing to take his eyes from the currently docile mark on her hand. “She seems well enough for now. Though, without a restorative, I believe it will take some time for her to return to her full strength.”
Cass nodded her understanding. “It is not far to camp. And I do believe we have cleared the worst of our enemies in that direction. If I take Cole with me, we should be able to get the potions and return within an hour.”
Ellana opened her eyes once more and locked gazes with the spirit boy. He gave a tentative smile beneath the wide brim of his hat and nodded as well in encouragement.
“That would be most helpful, Seeker. I can remain here and monitor the Inquisitor.”
Cassandra seemed unsure at the prospect of leaving the two mages alone to defend themselves.
“I can set wards. With the rift sealed, this area should remain safe enough for now. It would be best if you set out before that changes.” Solas looked away from Ellanas’ palm long enough to give the Seeker a reassuring look.
Looking once more at the Inquisitors waxen complexion, Cassandra turned and set out in a light jog. Cole paused before following, eyes shifting restlessly between the two elves on the ground before coming to rest on Solas.
“You stay silent. Wounded. Wanting. But you can’t be free unless you say the words. She will understand.”
Cassandra barked at Cole to catch up from several meters ahead. The rogue hopped and spun to silently chase his begrudging warrior companion, sparing one last penetrating look for the two mages.
Ellana still felt drained to the point of absolute emptiness. Slight tremors shook her petit frame and sweat returned to accumulate on her brow. Solas watched her intently and shifted to sit next to her, he cradled her gently and lowered her into his lap. Grasping her left hand completely in his, he allowed his cool magic flow once more. Had she been more aware, Ellana would have been shocked at this sudden closeness. As it stood, the divine relief from the crippling pain kept her from considering it over much.
“You have been in pain for some time now.” It was a statement, not a question. Solas kept his steely gaze on the anchor.
The wiggling guilt in her chest brought a sliver of lucidity and she grimaced. She should have known that Solas, of all people, would realize that she had been keeping her predicament a secret far longer than she let on.
“Ir abelas, hahren,” she murmured.
“Tel abelas. Why did you not say something when you realized the severity of the situation?”
“I did not wish to burden anyone with my troubles...” There was more to it, but she hesitated to share hearing the guarded reprimand in his question.
Solas was having none of it. “Your ability to control the rifts makes you vital. Your intelligence and wisdom make you invaluable. But your unique, wonderful, irreplaceable spirit raises you up as cherished. In no way could sharing your worldly stresses be considered a burden.”
Ellana felt a violent thump in her chest as her heart skipped a beat at his proclamation. Never in her life had anyone spoken so highly of her, defended her honor even just to herself.
Cold iron and crystal violet eyes locked together at that moment. They continued to hold and she felt a rising bubbling desire to share herself with this normally stoic man who spoke of her incredible worth.
The magic in his hands had gently tapered off as they spoke. He did not move to take it away and she held still and hoped he did not notice and let her go.
“Have I ever told you the story of how my magic first manifested?”
He shook his head and waited patiently for her to continue.
“The summer of my seventh year, me and a few of the children in the clan found a mabari pup abandoned on the outskirts of a village near Markham. It was starving, wounded, and had likely been abused by its previous owners. It was astounding that it had lasted even that long.”
She paused, swallowing past a lump in her throat that formed as she recalled what happened next.
“A couple of older boys, teenagers, found us trying to convince the poor creature that it was safe to eat something. They mocked us for trying to save it. ‘That runts not even good enough to feed the wolves!’ they said, and one boy even tried to kick the tiny thing. It cried and tried to crawl away as we tried to fend the boys off with branches and rocks long enough to take it to safety. There wasn’t a lot that we could do though. They were older and stronger, just shy of becoming full hunters for the clan. And they were used to getting away with their bullying as long as they refrained from harming anyone permanently.”
Ellana sniffed and tilted her head to look at a sapling taking root on the nearby forest floor. “The tallest one was finally able to grab it by the scruff of its neck and made to climb an old oak tree with branches that started too high for any of us da’len to reach. He left it on a thin branch nearly halfway to the top. The way it keened, so terrified... it was awful. The boys kept goading us to climb up and get him if we were such great heroes. A couple of us tried, but we just didn’t have the size or experience to scale the larger trees yet. Which, of course, they knew. It was all a sick game to them.”
She managed to inch her right hand over and drape it across her stomach, hugging herself lightly.
“I remember feeling so helpless, facing my own weakness for the first time in my life. Every sense I had was locked onto that defenseless animal, innocent and crying out for mercy. It was the first time that I was able to connect with nature. I was mentally unguarded and reached out without understanding what I was doing until I saw the black shriveled shape of that once mighty oak laying at my feet. The earth around its roots turned black and sick as well. It took me a few moments to collect myself and realize how quiet and still it was. The boys ceased their taunting, the other children gaped at me in horror, and the pup lay in the middle of the husk of the tree. I didn’t understand what had happened, until I saw the viscous green of my magic slowly fading in my clenched fists. The youngest boy suddenly began to wail and it startled the rest into a panic. Everyone, even the thuggish boys, ran screaming back to the Keeper about the evil mage that sucked the life from the forest.
The mabari just looked at me. It... didn’t look afraid any longer. It just looked at me with this sad, knowing look. Like it understood more than I did in that moment. I wanted to help it, keep it and raise it to protect the clan as I would. But it would not follow me. After trying to coax and bribe him to follow me a few times, he came and pressed his nose to my chest and pushed me gently away. It was almost like he was telling me to go and face what had been started in that moment of panic...”
Continuing to stare at the sapling, Ellana felt a tear that she had not realized had been forming fall and melt into her hair.
“I had no choice. I left the pup to his fate in those woods that day and returned to camp. The entire clan was in an uproar, soothing incoherent da’len and already passing rumors of dark magic rituals in the woods. Had Deshanna not found me first, they may have... done something drastic.”
Her young mind had conjured nightmares of being tied to a tree and left for dead, burning at the pyre like the shem prophetess Andraste, and even being sacrificed to the Dread Wolf in an attempt to appease any wrath that might befall the clan through her actions. She did not want to believe that her family would ever kill her, even if she did accidentally perform dark magic. She had dedicated her life to their protection, as all Dalish were sworn to at birth. Perhaps it was best that she would never have to see the true depth of their loyalty tested.
“I later learned that I had accidentally cast a type of entropy spell. It took what I needed to fuel and awaken my magic, not stopping until the source of energy was depleted. Had I known what I do now, I could have staunched the flow and stopped the casting without killing the tree. In the end, it didn’t matter that the magic was known and that Deshanna trusted me as First to the clan. They treated me as a pariah from that day forward. My studies and forays into the wilds were the only company I had, getting stonewalled by the very ones that I was being trained to lead and protect.
That is, I believe, why I ended up at the conclave despite my position in the clan. I suspect they were quite glad to be rid of me and my ‘ominous’ magic. I have been taught from a young age that my duty is to others at the exclusion of myself and that my own needs do not matter. Moreover, that I alone was responsible for those needs as an afterthought to what was expected of me. So, despite my fear of the wicked shemlen and their abusive treatment of all elves, I went as I was bidden to do.”
Solas had been quiet through her story, imagining a young Ellana much like himself: alone and wandering. Submerging herself in magic to compensate for a lack of companionship. Finding solace in forgotten and unknown things to ease the pain of rejection by the societies that raised them.
Unconsciously, his fingers twined with the marked hand still in his grasp. His thumb stroked soothing circles on the back of her hand. His free hand plucked a loose strand of her hair and twirled it as he thought on her words.
Ellana noticed it all and was careful to give no indication that she was aware of the intimacy that they were sharing. Feeling his long slender artists fingers merged with hers left her with a warmth in her chest that chased away the bitterness of memory. She gave a small smile to the sapling still in her sights.
Before he could notice and protest, she reached out with her free hand and pushed a gentle wave of rejuvenating magic at it. A weak spell, compared to what she normally cast, but even more satisfying for her as she watched its thin trunk twitch and reach a few scant inches higher.
Finishing her spell, her hand flopped lifelessly to the ground and her eyes half shut in a fresh wave of exhaustion. She could feel Solas pause beneath her and reach to grab her fallen hand, collecting her hands in both of his and placing them on her chest. His chest huffed in an annoyed sigh, but he did not reprimand her wasteful use of her depleted mana. After hearing her story, it became obvious that she felt she was righting a perceived wrong from her past by giving of herself to bring new life to the forest.
He decided instead to map the contours of her delicate hands as she recovered in her semi-conscious state. He followed the line of her bones beneath her porcelain skin. Rubbing his thumbs over each of her knuckles. Lightly pinching each fingertip and tracing the lines of her palms. The sensation of her skin against his was exquisite, as was the feeling closeness they shared. Solas felt the need to lighten the tone of their rather weighty revelations.
“I came across a seer once who claimed to know the number of days of life you had remaining by mapping the lines of one's hands.” Solas smirked in the direction of her face, hoping to engage her and keep her conscious as they continued to wait for the return of their allies.
Her lids fluttered and he felt her tentative snort at the notion of such a ludicrous claim. He had to lean down slightly now to catch her words.
“Lots of high numbers I bet.”
He chuckled at her intuitive assumption. “Oh yes. The higher the number, the more likely she was to abscond with her earnings before she could be proven wrong. And, of course, news of extensive longevity can make a person feel quite generous. She lived quite well on the road, I’m sure.”
Ellana hummed in contented agreement. Her eyes remained partially closed, though a smile still graced her lovely features. Her lips suddenly moved, but he missed what she had said in that deathly quiet whisper.
“Sathan sal’dirtha, da’len.”
“I said that she could’ve lived like a queen if she applied those numbers to matters of the bedroom.”
Solas was so startled that he actually barked in laughter at her unexpected bawdiness. Her eyes fluttered open, glittering with mirth and shifting in his lap.
“Are you uncomfortable?” He adjusted his legs to rest on either side of her prone form beneath him. She shook her head and rested her cheek against his thigh, gaze now focused on him with an inscrutable expression. It was now her turn to slide her fingers between their still connected hands. She explored his much as he had hers, probing calluses made from years of wielding staffs and massaging swollen joints. Her search came to a stop when both of their hands pushed flatly together from palm to tip. There they hovered before them, the air bubbling with an affection felt rather than heard. Her hand was several times smaller than his spindlier build. The tips of her fingers barely reached the inner crux of his knuckles. He flexed and curled his lengthier digits around hers, capturing her in more ways than one in that moment.
The intimate silence was disrupted by her next hushed inquiry.
“Solas? How were you able to calm the anchor before?”
He was utterly frozen. This question was dangerous, he knew. He could not reveal his connection to the anchors magic without revealing his identity along with its origin. And how much longer the reasoning of his “journeys in the fade” granting him knowledge beyond all modern practices would pacify his companions he was unsure. It seemed unwise to push his luck by continuing to claim such.
Moreover, Solas was loathe to continue lying to this young woman. The breadth of his emotions for her, however foolish, only continued to grow by the day. Even this lie of omission was disrespectful to her. She had trusted him with her life on countless occasions, the only precious commodity in her possession, and he betrayed that trust daily with his deception.
While his gut churned in agonizing guilt, Solas kept his face clear and calm and searched for an answer that might appease her for the moment.
“You know that I studied the mark after the explosion at the conclave. I ran as many tests as I could devise without hastening your demise. For three days, I explored every avenue of possibility one can imagine. I searched both in the magical theories of the waking world as well as venturing deep into the fade in search of forgotten wisdom. I found little that proved to have any sort of affect. While it did not grant me power over the magic of the anchor, it did allow me to understand how it works to a degree.”
His hand continued to undulate and caress hers as he spun his careful half-truths.
“That knowledge proved most useful in your prone state. Much like your spells of entropy, it was a matter of stopping the flow of magic from the anchor from consuming its source of fuel. In this case: you.”
“But why did it not react any of the times before when I tried to control it?”
Careful now, da’len. You are too wise for this world.
“I suspect that, as you have grown stronger, so too has the anchor. You are now not only overcoming the resistance of the veil to being healed, but overcoming the power of the anchors draw as well. It must draw more from you each time you seal the rifts to achieve the desired result.”
Her voice was curiously empty as she said, “So, it’s eventually going to kill me then.” It disturbed Solas to hear her say that with so little emotion. His chest grew tight at the thought of her inevitable end and he was once more assaulted by an increasingly difficult to ignore crest of guilt. The wheels of fate were already in motion, in her case. It was only a matter of time, which became less as the legacy of the “Herald of Andraste” grew to new heights.
“Banal nadas, da’lath’in.” (Nothing is inevitable, little heart.) It was a false hope that he offered her, but he could not bear to place this burden on her shoulders as well. Instead, he untangled one of his hands free of hers and carded it soothingly through her sunlit tresses.
His words were enough, in that moment, to lull her into complacency. The pair spent the remaining minutes until their friends finally returned in a contented quiet, enjoying the simple intimacy of those fleeting innocent touches.
*****
Her screams tore at his self-restraint, already threadbare from the weight of the revelations he had finally given her. It took a loathsome amount of detached stoicism to retain his distance and rigid posture. The anchor, without his presence at her side for the past years to maintain it, was in the final stages of draining her.
Solas had managed to keep just enough distance between them as her party unknowingly pursued him throughout the eluvian network. Although he had tried to limit the watermark of his arcane energies, knowing it would serve only to agitate her condition further, the fervor of his Qunari foes left him little room for subtler tactics.
But his lover had taken his message to heart. In the face of relentless pain, betrayal, and exhaustive effort she pushed herself to overcome. And now she stood before him, aged a thousand years between her startled gasp at seeing the petrified Qunari Antamm and a heartfelt plea to follow him on his journey of death. But his final truth would be, he thought, what would finish breaking her.
It was his final deception revealed. Her end was nigh.
The force of the anchors next pulse knocked her to her knees, left arm extended in an unconscious bid to escape the pain nested there. Her voice broke in a gurgling moan. Her eyes searched for her lovers’ once more. Her body quaked and she silently begged for mercy, whatever form it may take.
His body reacted instinctively to her tortured plea. Only just managing not to fall to his knees and sweep her into a desperate embrace. Instead, he forced himself to tenderly clasp her marked hand in his, its magic recognizing him as its progenitor. She was swiftly losing consciousness in his arms. Solas forced himself to recognize the pain in her eyes, the pain he had inflicted on his one love, and remember it.
“My love...” His words a breath against her lips as they met in a bittersweet moment amidst the pain of him abruptly cutting off the anchor, now able to reabsorb its energy into himself, and causing what remained of her left forearm to disintegrate in a crimson mist.
He felt her groan as she stubbornly as she refused to part their joined lips, even in the terrible wrenching pain. But her limbs began to go slack and their embrace became support as she began slumping to the earth. Solas finally broke their kiss, but kept her close as he pulled her into his lap. He cradled her head in the crook of his arm, her body held tightly to his own. Her now vulnerable left side held protectively against his chest. His fear of their impending separation making him needy and desperate.
Ellana clung to consciousness as hard as she could. If this moment was all that remained of her, or her Love, she would take all that she could get. Her lips turning slightly blue, she fought to speak her heart to him one last time.
“Ar l-lath... m-ma, vhenan. B-b-bellanaris.”
Solas closed his eyes. “I lath mala din’an.”
Ellana gave a barely discernable shake of her head. Her remaining hand strained to reach for his face. He clasped it in his own and brought it the rest of the way, resting her palm against his cheek. He did not feel the tears that escaped him, eyes locked on her face.
“Ar... dhrua...” He felt the pull of her magic as it seeped into the rocks beneath them. “Var lath vir suledin.”
He grimaced down at her as her eyes shut. He felt her shallow but steady breaths and syrupy slither of her self-preservative entropy seeking out any source fuel to aid in her recovery. It was unclear whether or not she was still cognizant of her surroundings, however.
He placed another chaste kiss upon her heated brow and placed her hand to rest on her stomach. He wanted to believe her final proclamation so dearly it stole his breath. Reaching for her belt, he searched her stash of potions and grenades to find anything that might accelerate her healing until she might be returned to the Winter Palace and the healers there could tend to her myriad of injuries.
There remained only a cracked but mostly full bottle of Antivan fire, which he made sure to dispose of properly lest it bring her more harm, and the lees of a previously consumed vial of lyrium. It would have to suffice for the time being. With luck, it would allow her to extend the range of her entropic regenerative spell enough to revive her by the time his former colleagues caught up with them. Were he a believer in any sort of higher power, he would have prayed and plead with the almighty entity to save her. His grim and fatalistic soul could scarcely believe she might yet survive this ordeal through her own will.
He gripped her chin carefully in one hand and tipped the vial to drip the dregs of lyrium onto her tongue and was encouraged when she reflexively swallowed.
He tipped his forehead to touch hers and murmured gently, “I wish it could, vhenan.”
Their time had truly run out now. He could feel the presence of another mage, likely Dorian, attempting to manually unlock the eluvian that Ellana had come through before their confrontation. He would unlock it as he made his exit through the much larger mirror overlooking the palatial temple ruins, as he was certain that the magisters knowledge would have little to no effect on it otherwise.
He shifted out from beneath his heart, making sure to set her as comfortably as he could on the damp rocky ground in plain view of both eluvians. He allowed himself only a minute to collect himself and harden himself as he stood above her tiny prone form in favor of his regrettable duty.
“I will never forget you.”
He forced himself to turn without looking back and making his hasty retreat through the massive eluvian. He did not see the grass and plant life turn black in an ever-expanding ring around the inquisitor. Creeping out and slowly spreading to every nook and cranny of the ancient ruin as Dorian, Bull, and Cole rushed to reach her. Their expressions of shock and dismay at the blanket of black death that covered the entire mountain.
The Dread Wolf did not realize what he had unleashed that day, as the Inquisitor bled the life from the very rocks and awoke to begin her own mien’harel.