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The next Emellith knew, he was dreaming. One glance at both his hands told him as much. The Fade around him was thick, but it lacked the disorienting quality of the nightmare he’d walked through in the Western Approach; it was another sign that he was asleep, or at least unconscious. Something moved behind him, a light tread on stone.
“We meet again, Inquisitor.”
Emellith turned. His old friend regarded him with cold eyes. “Solas.”
“You have no idea what you have done. Again.”
Emellith laughed bitterly. “I’ve never known what I was doing. The world hasn’t ended yet.”
“It just might this time,” Solas said darkly.
Emellith stepped forward, trying to get a better look at Solas’s face. “And whose fault is that? Again. After all, you were the one drowning the world in demons,” Emellith shot back. Solas twisted his hands, one pushing away from him, one pulling in. The ground clawed itself apart, a chasm of grasping stone arms opening between the two elves.
“You still do not know what you are talking about. Your interference once opened the Breach, and yet you accuse me of ‘drowning the world in demons.’ And now your interference has let loose something even worse.” Solas was too calm, perched on the higher ground across the chasm. Still preaching to those beneath him.
Emellith moved towards the edge of the chasm, pushing away the lingering guilt Solas’s words evoked. “Worse than the Fade crashing down on an unsuspecting world?”
Solas sneered. “I had the last of the Evanuris—the Elven gods—imprisoned. That prison was crumbling, Inquisitor. I was ensuring that they would never escape.”
Emellith closed his eyes for a brief moment, head bent as he pinched the bridge of his nose. When he looked back at Solas, he let his exhaustion show. “You could have sent a letter.”
“Would you have heeded it?”
“Maybe!” Emellith snapped.
Solas immediately pounced on Emellith’s weakness. “‘Maybe’ isn’t good enough. Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain are all that’s left of the blighted tyrants I rebelled against. Thanks to you, they are now free, and I am trapped. If I had written to you, could you say you would have wished a different outcome? I know you have long desired to see me pay for my supposed crimes.”
Emellith ignored all of that to focus on the one word that twisted like a knife in his gut. “They’re blighted?”
“Yes. I suppose you would say it’s my fault. I harried them, and when they could not stop me, they turned to the blight and its power, becoming corrupted until all that was left of them was twisted beyond imagining.”
“That must have been what I sensed,” Emellith murmured to himself as much as to Solas.
“Ah yes,” Solas said. “The Warden’s curse. So you believe me?”
Emellith looked away. “The last time I caused you this much inconvenience, you lied through your teeth at every opportunity, happily leading me into your trap.”
“I took no pleasure in misleading you, Inquisitor,” Solas said, his voice suddenly pained.
“And yet, you used me as you would a tool, a means to your end.” Emellith gestured broadly with the dream-phantom of his left hand. “What will you use this time?”
“What can I use?” Solas shrugged, but there was a cold fear under the feigned casualness of his words. “From this prison I have no access to the Lighthouse, and the network of eluvians that connects to it. I cannot leave this place, let alone chase the Evanuris. I do not even have my ritual dagger, though it would do me little good here.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t have stuck it in Varric, then,” Emellith spat.
“Varric…” The pain crept back into Solas’s voice.
Emellith squeezed his eyes shut, blinking back the grief that lodged in his throat. Wishing to move on before he fell apart in front of the Dread Wolf, Emellith cast about for another topic. “If you are trapped here, why am I here?”
Solas tipped his head in slight surprise. He expected me to linger in my pain, Emellith thought as Solas gathered his answer.
“I knew as I was pulled here that I would be helpless to stop my old enemies. Who else should I reach out to, but the man who has saved the world twice over?”
Emellith lifted his dream-phantom left hand again. “You have lost your hold on me, Solas. You had a moment, at most, to latch onto me. How?”
“You bled a little at the ritual site. Enough for me to snatch at a connection. After all, we once knew each other quite well. It wasn’t hard to catch you.” Solas looked smug.
Emellith snorted in disgust. “You knew me quite well, you mean. And blood magic is a new low for you.”
“Do you truly think I’d stoop to that?” Solas snarled.
“Do you take me for an idiot?” Emellith snapped back.
“Yes.” Solas’s immediate reply made Emellith blink.
“You just admitted you need me. How is this any different from last time?” Emellith asked, wearily.
“Were you expecting me to continue flattering you?” Solas asked, the sneer firmly back on his face. “Congratulations, Inquisitor. You’ve broken the world again. I’m sure you’re pleased for the chance to save it once more.” Solas flicked his fingers in a disparaging dismissal. “I’d wish you luck, but I’m sure you don’t need it. After all, I’ve done you a favor. I’m sure you were just waiting to play the hero again.”
If Solas had meant his last, fading words to cut Emellith as he woke, he’d missed his mark badly. Emellith knew better than anyone that he was no hero. How much more could the world ask of him? The ache of his injuries as he struggled to consciousness made it abundantly clear that the answer was always, “Just a little more.”