Chapter Text
Four sets of legs splashed along the current of Halin’sulahn. Cassandra grunted the most, bogged down by the sludge and heavy from the arms, armor, and water that encumbered her movements. Solas led the way this time, silent and focused ever since the group arrived at the Exalted Plains. Though he’d made no protest, Lavellan could see he wasn’t too pleased to take so many on their quest to rescue his spirit friend. She knew him averse to be a burden on others, but she was wary of what they might find, and, as they made preparations to search for Wisdom, it seemed like the wisest course.
As Cole helped the Seeker out through the tributary, Neris hurried her pace to meet with the other elf.
“Thank you for this, Inquisitor,” she heard Solas say, so very formally, as the soles of her feet squished the mossy rocks of the river bank. The leather and cloth of her armor was soaked and reeking from trudging through the Dirthavaren, its land, water, and air corrupted by the smoke and death of battle. “We are not far from where my friend was summoned.”
“It’s the least I can do,” Lavellan said. Solas had helped her so much since the beginning — he’d kept her from dying, showed her how to use the mark, taught her the secrets and lore of their ancestors, had her back in countless fights, became her friend, even given her the most amazing kiss that Neris could ever dream of — really, helping him out with his spirit friend was the bare minimum she could do, given how much he did for the Inquisition, and how little she and the Inquisition did for Solas.
“Everything here is blurry. It wants to forget, but now the rocks are solid,” Cole mumbled to the wind — a whisper, barely there — and she wondered sometimes if anyone else could hear the boy at all.
As they climbed the rocky face, Lavellan could smell the distinct scent of sulfur, clinging acrid and nauseating to the walls of her nose. The air brimmed with electricity, crackling and snapping like a whip, tickling her skin until all the hairs in her body stood in attention.
A ball of worry formed in the pit of her stomach, and though she didn’t want to say anything, she feared her movements and expression would speak for her. Uneasiness tinged the air, and she felt the rest of the party tense up.
They spotted several tall rocks, like pillars, and despite the weight of their damp clothes, Solas sprang into a sprint, and she followed instantly after him. A bit forward, the first sight of the thorny silhouette that appeared made her gut sink, and she heard the other elf gasp in horror.
“My friend,” he trailed off. Lavellan, too, stopped in her tracks once she saw it. In front of them was a huge monster, deformed and twisted and terrifying. Even though it hunched, shackled by some manner of binding, it towered over her. With huge clawed hands and scaly purplish skin, the horned figure ahead was unmistakably a demon, not the kindly wisdom spirit Solas said it was.
Surrounding it, she noticed the stone pillars were not a coincidence: they were, in fact, charged with magical energy, and arranged in a specific pattern — the markings of a summoning circle. Many a Dalish Keeper had had need to do so, and, as a First, Neris was no stranger to such a sight. What she did not understand was why the supposed benevolent and peaceful spirit so corrupted.
“Your friend… The mages… they turned it into a demon.”
“Yes.”
“You said it was a spirit of wisdom. How could it change to this?”
“A spirit becomes a demon when denied its original purpose.”
“So— what? They forced it against its nature so that it became corrupted? What would do that?”
The rustling of a nearby bush made them both snap their heads to the sound, on edge as they were. An unassuming human came into their view, and Lavellan could feel the faint undulation of mana coming from him — a mage. A couple more appeared behind him. They had to be involved in this, and Solas must’ve thought the same.
“Let us ask them,” he said.
“Mages! You’re not with the bandits?” And with that small question the shem had already answered hers. “Do you have any lyrium potions? We’re exhausted from fighting that demon...”
“You summoned that demon! Except it was a spirit of wisdom at the time,” Solas growled, startling Neris by the ferocity undertoning his voice. “You made it kill. You twisted it against its purpose.”
“I… I… I understand how it might be confusing for someone who isn’t hasn’t been educated in demonology, but after you help us, we can... ”
“We’re not here to help you,” the older elf replied coldly.
It took all her effort not to take her palm to her face, and were it not such a serious situation, Lavellan might’ve laughed for the mere thought of a Circle mage implying anyone, especially Solas, could not be knowledgeable about demons and spirits due to lack of academic background.
“If I were you, shem, I wouldn’t presume to lecture on how demons work to my friend here.”
“Listen to me! I’m— was — one of the foremost experts in the Kirkwall Circle—”
“Shut. Up,” Solas cut him off as she snorted.
“One would think someone hailing from Kirkwall would know better than to deliberately unleash a demon.”
“And I did not! Do you think me mad?”
“I think you stupid. That’s far worse.” The mage’s mouth gaped at Solas’s words. Human egos were always so easily bruised. “You summoned it to protect you from the bandits.”
“I—” The man paused, finger upright in objection, before the whole of his body slumped. “Yes.”
“You bound it to obedience, then commanded it to kill. That is when it turned.” The elf stopped for a moment to think. “The summoning circle. We break it, we break the binding. No orders to kill, no conflict with its nature, no demon.”
“What?! But the summoning circle is the only thing keeping the demon at bay! Whatever it was before, it’s a monster now!”
“Lethallan. Please.” Solas had turned to Neris, almost begging, and she found herself unable to do anything but acquiesce.
“The Dalish have rituals similar to this. I know how to disrupt the bindings.”
“Thank you.” She could hear the hope in his voice, and found it made her even more nervous than the roar coming from the demon. “We must hurry!”
It’d been years since she saw a binding circle such as this, when she was just an apprentice to Deshanna: it was inactive, and she’d done nothing but study the markings. And now Solas, of all people, needed her help to free his dearest friend. Lavellan swallowed her nervousness away, awfully aware of the consequences should she fail.
As she reached for her staff, tapping it lightly with her fingertips, a blanket of comfort fell down on her, and she felt the familiar protective magic involving her. She looked back at the other elf, and saw the smallest of smiles on Solas’s lips — the kind that, somehow, always assured her that everything would be all right. Lavellan’s eyes then shifted between the demon and the bindings, and her brow furrowed in concentration. She would not fail.
Neris, Solas, and the rest of their group assumed their positions — Cole ready to help with the spirit, Cassandra ready should anything go awry. Taking a deep breath, she called upon her mana, and in her palm swelled a ball of searing hot energy. The Anchor flashed green, and the Veil gave in her demands for more.
“Get ready,” she heard the other elf shout, just as the pressure called for release.
The pillar shattered with the force of the blast of fire, scattering hundreds of little pieces in every direction. Grass lit aflame as the melted, bright orange rocks rolled until they blackened.
A deafening roar announced the breaking of the binding spell, and once free, the demon bared its teeth and claws, and sprang towards Neris. Cassandra jumped, shield up, and knocked her aside to take the blow. Sharp talons met veridium, sparking and screeching as they etched their marks onto the Seeker’s shield. The cacophony of ungodly noises rang in Lavellan’s ears, sending a shiver through her spine as the young elf labored to get up.
The warrior dodged another strike, and took the opening the demon left as it staggered to run her sword through its underarm. The ground shook with its scream.
“Do not harm it! Focus on the pillars,” she heard amidst the grunts and clanking of metal.
While Solas shattered a pillar after a series of attacks with fists made of pure magic, the demon’s massive paw came crashing down on them. Both Neris and Cassandra leaped out of its way, the impact ousting what little breath Lavellan had in her lungs. As the claws rained down again, she scrambled forward, frantically gripping patches of grass until she reached her knocked down staff. From the left she saw Cole running to assist them, after dealing with a smaller pillar of his own.
The Seeker rolled onto her chest and stood up in a jump. “It wants to kill us!”
She grunted as she banged her sword against her shield, the loud thump drawing the demon’s attention away from the elf. It turned to her, baring its fangs in an eerie grin, and an it laughed, terrifying and unnatural.
“No,” Cole said, pointing at the monstrous creature, “it wants to feed.”
Its awful laughter boomed once more, shaking the very ground like a quake.
“Such confidence, such faith. My, Seeker, you truly believe you can defeat me!”
“When my sword cut through you, it became slick with blood. Whether red or black, you bleed, and as such, you will die.”
“Do not listen to it!” Solas shouted from across the field.
“Cassandra, stop! We must keep it alive.”
The warrior turned towards the elves, unsure of what they'd asked. It wasn't a situation Neris wanted particularly to have inflicted on her. She hadn't consider this possibility, that Solas's friend could be reversed in its corruption. Cassandra was there if the worse had come to pass and Wisdom could not be saved. A demon was a demon, after all, and this one knew it well. In this moment's hesitation, it turned to the human woman once more.
“Ah, but do you believe it in your heart it is the right thing to do, Seeker? Do you have faith in these apostates, or in the teachings of the Maker and your training?”
“I…”
“Don’t do anything it says,” Lavellan urged the warrior. Static filled the air, and her hairs raised once more.
“Should you really believe anything they say? They rejected order, they consort with spirits, they even brought one in your midst even though you never approved. You know it in your heart you never really trusted them, but do you have faith in yourself?”
“Y—yes.”
“Then show me,” the demon smiled, and in the split second Cassandra roared a battle cry and charged against it, Neris saw the spell it had been casting. A massive ball of electricity clashed against the Seeker, engulfing her in a seizure amplified by the metal of her arms and armor.
“No!” Cole cried. “You hurt her!”
Solas ran to her, panting. Even though he’d casted a protective barrier just before the demon’s strike, it couldn’t absorb all of the damage, and Cassandra fell to the ground, twitching in pain.
“I’ll help her. Go, you must break the other bindings.”
At his command, Lavellan sprang away, glancing at the Seeker behind, feeling guilty for her inability to protect her. Cole sank his daggers into the demon’s calves, drawing it away from the fallen warrior, and it shrieked from the blow. Neris nearly toppled in her sprint as it smashed its closed fists into the ground, missing the spirit for just a few centimeters.
“You can’t hurt me,” he said, distracting the demon as Solas kneeled next to Cassandra and tipped a healing potion against her lips. Lavellan summoned once again her power, willing both ground and air to explode, the force off the blast destroying another pillar.
“But you are hurting me, Compassion. How can you do such a thing?”
“You hurt us first. You want to feed on us. I can’t let you do that.”
“Do not let it turn you, Cole,” the older elf said hurriedly as he started his healing spell.
“You forget. I was hurt first. Bound and shackled in this prison. You do remember the prison, don’t you spirit? Don’t you remember how it hurt?”
“Cole was innocent. He didn’t hurt anyone.”
“So was I. Before they made me into this. And now that I have my chance to break free, you hurt me. Tell me, how is this Compassion?”
“You… are right. I’m sorry.”
“Cole, the demon is twisting the facts to turn you its side. You must resist it! Look deeper into the hurt. Look for Wisdom.”
He shut his eyes in concentration. “Death and doubt, the world becomes dark when wisdom’s blinded by pride. It hurts inside. It wants to be free, but not in the way it speaks. We must help the hurt inside.”
The demon roared in anger, and swing its paw against Cole, but the spirit boy vanished before it reached him. As Neris headed towards the pillar closest to the Enavuris river, he appeared by her side to help. The demon turned to Solas as he helped a groggy Cassandra up.
“You! You know what’s best for everything, don’t you?”
“I will not play your games. You are not yourself, lethallin.”
“Lethallin. Your definition of it is curious indeed. Tell me, Rebel, how many of your kin will you betray until that word no longer means anything to you?”
“You will not bait me.”
“We’ll see about that…” The monster smiled. It stalked across the field to where Lavellan prepared to destroy the second-to-last binding mark, each step trembling the earth, and, as it neared, its massive shadow drowned the small elf’s frame in its darkness. “So you are the pride of the Elvhen.”
“There’s nothing you can say to me that will stop me,” she spat, turning to the stone pillar, but the demon cut her off.
“Such fire! Look how much you’ve achieved. You do your people proud.”
“Stop it!” Solas shouted from behind.
To her far right, a pillar fell down as Cole helped Cassandra bashing it with her veridium shield.
“Their pride in me is not why I do this.”
“No, of course not. Your pride in the People is what drives you. One of your gods has touched you. Your ancestors’ magic was real. Your beliefs are true.”
“Where are you going with this?”
“Nowhere. I just wonder if any of your gods will save you. Will you be proud then, when they watch and let you die?”
She furrowed her brow in confusion and it was the opening it needed. Without pause the demon swatted Neris, the blow drawing out the breath from her lungs. She landed with a loud thud on dirt and jagged pebbles of the river bank. Her staff rolled away from her and near the stone pillar. She only got a fraction of a moment to breathe before two clawed hands came raining down on her, one after the other after the other, several blows in quick succession. Lavellan barely had time to roll to the sides, the dirt choking her each attack she evaded.
Tears welled in her eyes as the raising dust began to blind her. Unable to see, the elf rolled a moment too late, and the demon’s sharp talon ripped through her robes and slashed her side.
She cried out in pain as her crimson blood seeped between the sand and grass and pebbles, a thin trail painting the ground beside her in lines of red...
Exhausted, Neris simply closed her eyes to prepare the blow to come. In three heartbeats of hers, her body tensed, then relaxed as she heard the hot exhaled breath of the demon as it swung its clawed arm down. She felt the displacement in the air, the gas hitting her before she noticed the descent in temperature and the sound of ice cracking. Solas had called upon the forces of Winter and frozen the demon just as it began its attack. The pause broke her from her apathy, and almost without thinking, Lavellan grabbed her staff and summoned the rest of her mana in one last spell, and with a hit of a searing ball of flames, the last standing pillar crumbled, and she felt the binding glyph vanish.
The monster cried out in pain and the ice fractured and fell to the ground as it rejected the demon’s metamorphosis. Its body became alight, and shone an ethereal green, utterly otherworldly. The brightness turned more intense as its form turned smaller and its horns and claws and unnatural eyes shifted into the form of a woman, bent-over and small.
Solas ran towards them, throwing his staff to the ground before kneeling before the spirit.
“Lethallin. Ir abelas.” Kin. Sorry. The words were familiar, distinctly elven, but the inflection… it made them difficult to make out.
Lavellan winced and clutched at her exposed cut, the sudden movement to stand up proving too strenuous for her torn muscles and skin. Her hand became warm and slick with thick red blood.
“Tel’abelas. Enasal. Ir tel’him,” the spirit said, and though wounded and in pain, Neris felt both pulled in by the melodic sound of her ancestors’ language and alienated by the strange idiom. She’d only heard it once before, in the Fade, when the Nightmare spoke to… Solas. But he never spoke it to her.
Though they had distincts dialects, no Dalish pronounced elven as such, not even the clans roaming the farthest reaches of Thedas. Was this one particular to the denizens of the Beyond?
“Ma melava halani. Mala suledin nadas. Ma ghilana mir din’an,” the spirit continued. Help. Endure. Guide my death. They were too late.
Solas averted his eyes, and though his back was turned to her, Lavellan could sense his pain, and she couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt. Maybe if she’d come sooner. If she’d undone the binding faster. Or maybe if she hadn’t brought anyone else. Perhaps Wisdom could’ve survived.
“Ma nuvenin.”
He reached out to it, slowly, with his hands outstretched, and the air turned light and rarefied. Her gut churned when she felt the Veil thinning — like she always did every time she used the Anchor — and the mark on her hand flared. Then, the spirit started to vanish into ash, its hold onto to this world crumbling, and it passed on to the other side. The Veil closed again. Wisdom was gone.
“Dareth shiral.”
“Falon’Din lasa ma ghilan,” Neris whispered, as she used to do during funeral rites of her kin, invoking her patron god to grant guidance to the departed. Solas let his head hang. “I couldn’t understand everything, but you did the right thing. You did help it,” she said, hoping to could impart whatever comfort she had to offer him.
“Now I must endure.”
“You I’m here for you. Whatever I can do to help…”
The older elf got up, slowly, with a sad smile upon his face. “You already have.” His hand reached out to her own, movements slow and hesitant, until his fingers stroked the tips of her bloody ones. Lavellan could still feel the last remnants of his spell, echoes of the magic invoked but not spent. As he slipped his hand through her body to her wound, his touch carried an electric current, travelling from her arm to her head and stomach, leaving her light and ticklish and just the littlest bit giddy.
She felt the Veil bend faintly for the passage of mana, and her skin tingled from the gentle healing spell, or the light pressure of Solas's fingertips. Their eyes met briefly before his turned to look behind her, and his expression steeled. In an instant he retrieved his hand back. The feeling was gone.
“All that remains now is them.”
The young elf turned around. The humans mages approached in irregular steps, unsure of what had happened.
“Thank you. We would not have risked a summoning were the roads not so dangerous to travel unprotected,” the “demon expert” said, obviously uneasy.
“You tortured and killed my friend!” The anger in Solas’s voice reverberated across the air, so intense she could feel it in her bones. Brow furrowed and nostrils flaring with barely contained rage, the apostate stalked over to where the Circle mages stood nervous.
“We didn’t know, it was just a spirit. The book said it could help us,” said the head of the group, but no words he could say would ever assuage the pain and anger that Solas carried heavily with each step he neared towards them.
And it was then that Neris felt the stirring of mana being called forth. Despite the fatigue settled onto all of them, she felt the air around Solas heating up, and she saw the first tendrils of magical fire licking his fingers. By sheer force of will — and anger is indeed a powerful motivator — he summoned the last shreds of energy he had, and she just knew he was going to kill the shems.
Without thinking, she lunged forward to him, her recently stitched muscles protesting the rash movement, and casted the measliest dispelling enchantment in the hand that grabbed the older elf’s wrist. Although weak, it was enough to make him lose focus and snuff the flames out.
“Solas…” she started, not quite knowing what to say.
It was not until Lavellan looked into his eyes that she realized the depths of the anger that coursed through his body, the muscles of his face twitching almost imperceptibly, betraying just how close the usually calm man in front of her was to losing control.
He yanked his arm from her grip, never once breaking eye contact. If the surrounding atmosphere was once choking hot, it was not anymore. She could swear she felt the temperature dip to freezing.
“Never again,” Solas said with such coldness and authority that no one could find themselves indifferent, and Neris didn’t imagine the icy glare Solas gave her just as he started. The threat was not just for the shem mages, she knew. And the irrational fear that settled in her bones and raised all the hairs on her skin was not unlike what she felt in the Fade.
The others ran as fast as they could, but Lavellan was frozen in place. Was she really terrified of her lethallin?
“I need some time alone. I will meet you back at Skyhold,” the elf said as soon as the humans were gone, never once looking back at her.