#solverne

It shone with a soft blue light, and it bobbed lazily among the plants, making quiet sounds akin to ringing bells. As if sensing Asharen’s gaze upon it, it leapt to attention, and seemed to beckon Asharen to follow it. Grinning, Asharen chased after the orb, following it as it weaved around tree trunks. Every time she seemed to get close to catching the light, it appeared farther ahead of her, and as she journeyed deeper and deeper into the forest, the darker and darker her surroundings become, until she could see nothing but the faint glowing orb she was chasing. Fear settling on the fringes of her senses, Asharen reached out to clasp the orb, hand outstretched desperately.

Her foot catching on an unseen root, Asharen tumbled forward, falling through never ending darkness. It wasn’t until she screamed that she landed on her back with a solid thud, wind escaping her lungs.

Coughing and gasping, Asharen struggled to sit up, a frightened sob caught in her throat. One thing was clear, she was no longer in the idyllic woods of her childhood. Below her was the ground, and above her were shattered fragments of earth, broken statues that hung in rotating suspension, pools of water gathered and faded at her feet, and everything was awash in a sickly pale green glow. Asharen knew this place, and she feared it.

Silence suffocated the air around her, and she scrambled to her feet, her chest rising and falling rapidly with each panicked breath. Clenching her jaw, Asharen strode forward, picking her way carefully around the pools, dreading what lurked bellow their mirror-like surface.

As Asharen delved deeper into the ever-shifting landscape, she swore she could hear whispers in the shadows, deterring her from her path.

“You are a beast, da’len.” They whispered. “A beast of destruction.”

“N-no.” Asharen said, her voice shaking like an autumn leaf in the wind. “I’m not.”

“Oh but you are.” The voices grew from whispers to steady voices. “You walk the Vir Banal’ras. You are a blade in the shadow, the hand of Falon’din that guides those into death.”

“I left that path long ago!” Asharen shouted to no one. “That path is no longer part of me.”

“Ma harel, da’len.” The voice grew louder, and louder, rumbling deep, the voice of an ancient magister. Corypheus. “With every strike of your blade you bring more into death. And though you deny it you enjoy killing. All around you is death. Your soldiers fight and die for you. Those in Haven died by your actions. Was it not your choice that lead to the end of the Champion’s life?”

“Fenedhis lasa!” Asharen yelled, her voice drowned out in the thousands of death cries filled the air, the memories of all that had died in Inquisitor Asharen Lavellan’s name floating past her then floating away. A blade piercing a soldier’s side. An arrow striking a scout’s neck. A blast of fire destroying an entire camp. A Red Templar Behemoth smashing an innocent woman to a bloody mess of mangled flesh and bone. A demon tearing out the throat of a child. And above it all, was Corypheus’ dark, sinister laughter.

Asharen tried to shut her eyes, finding them unable to close. She tried to cover her ears with her hands, finding the sounds unstifled. She tried to scream for help, finding her voice silent. She sank to her knees, panic and unbridled fear bubbling in her chest, all consuming. She was paralyzed, heart hammering against her chest, unable to breath, unable to move, unable to speak.

Asharen…

Asharen’s instincts screamed at her to get up, to look away, to run away, but her muscles wouldn’t respond. This was it. This was the downfall of the Inquisitor. She would remain trapped here, forced to watch everyone in their final moments. Forced to watch those she couldn’t save perish.

Asharen!

What a fitting eternal curse. So many lives depended on her, the Inquisitor, and yet there were countless lives she could not protect. So many crushed hopes. A fitting punishment, yes, for one who claimed to be a hero.

ASHAREN!

Asharen awoke screaming, clawing at her bedsheets, her skin clammy. Breathing rapidly, Asharen slowly settled back into some semblance of reality, feeling a hand on her shoulder. Crying out, Asharen quickly moved to strike whomever the hand belonged to, but was stopped.

“Vhenan, it’s alright.” Solas said quietly. “It is only me.” Solas sat on the edge of her bed, brow furrowed with worry. Moonlight poured in from the high windows of her quarters, the fireplace crackling with slowly fading embers.

“Solas…?” Asharen spoke, her voice rising to a panicked sob.

Solas quietly shushed her, running his hands through her hair then cupping her cheeks. “Focus on what is here.” He murmured, their foreheads touching. Asharen clasped his wrists tightly, desperate and needing something real to hold onto. “You are safe here. Whatever was in your dreams cannot harm you anymore. It was not real.”

“It wasn’t real.” Asharen repeated, closing her eyes, matching her breath with Solas’ slow, steady inhales and exhales. Adrenaline and fear left her body in a rush, leaving her exhausted and drained, a lake gone dry in the summer heat. Warm tears streaked down her cheeks, only to be brushed away by Solas’ gentle caresses.

“When I couldn’t find you in the Fade, I knew something was wrong.” Solas explained. “Are… are you alright?”

Asharen shook her head, hair falling around her shoulders. “No.”

Yesterday?

She had looked tired but nothing that would elicit any sort of worry. She had been active and had looked marvelous as she sparred against one of the warriors so she could ‘keep on her toes’ during the peaceful time of rebuilding. 

Even as the day turned to evening and evening turned to night, she had been her usual self. She just looked tired. Nothing more. 

At some point during the night, the fever had started. He had woken up to her writhing in discomfort, a cold sweat covered her and had soaked into the sheets on the bed. 

He had called for the healer and the medic immediately. From there, she had only gotten worse. The fever burned hotter, spiking to dangerous territory around the lunch hour and he had been rather forcibly removed from the room. A worker had brought him lunch that still sat untouched on the small table by the window. His uneaten dinner sat next to the still-full lunch tray.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. They were Wardens, so they didn’t have a promise of a lengthy life together but it was still much too soon. Sky was barely into her fifth year as a Warden and he, his fourth. They were supposed to have another twenty years or so. 

One of his fingers hit a nasty snarl as he pushed his hands through his hair again. The force yanked his head to the side and drew him back into the present. 

He had been pacing for hours it seemed and he realized only then how badly his bare feet hurt. Had he been stomping on the stone floor without realizing it? 

Nate turned and padded over to the chair by the table, the firelight didn’t reach this corner of the room and the darkness seemed fitting for the long thoughts he was trying to fight.

He heard the door to their bed chamber open and the light footsteps of the healer as she approached. He braced himself for the news he knew was coming: she hadn’t made it. 

“Warden Nate,” the healer said as she approached. Her voice was quiet and exhausted but lacked the sympathy of one delivering bad news. He didn’t want to get his hopes up, though, so he pushed that observation aside. 

He gestured for her to take the seat across from him as he steeled himself against the heartache he knew was coming. 

When the medic joined them, his shoulders slumped and his heart sank. He didn’t register the medic speaking to him. He was too preoccupied with a poor attempt at holding himself together long enough for them to leave. 

“Stable.”

It was a simple word and had clearly come at the end of a sentence but seemed out of place given the circumstances. 

“I’m sorry, what?” Nate chanced a look at the medic as he asked the question. His voice wavered as he spoke, caught up in the emotion of a potential life without her as he was.  

The medic looked rather annoyed at having to repeat himself. He rolled his eyes and shook his head before responding. “She needs rest. The fever has subsided to a manageable level but she is stable. You can go see her now.”

Nate didn’t wait a moment longer. His chair tipped over as he stood abruptly and he tripped over it as he ran the short distance to their bedroom door. He heard the medic, who had known Nate since he was a kid, mutter something that sounded like, “that boy. I swear,” and a responding chuckle from the healer as her chair scraped against the floor as she stood up to leave with the medic. 

Sky’s eyes were closed when he approached the bed. She was laying on her back, her right hand resting on her stomach and her left hand was resting under the pillow beside her head. She looked so peaceful. 

Trying not to disturb her, he gently climbed into the bed. He settled himself slowly so he didn’t shake the bed unnecessarily. 

He took her small, slender hand in his and ran his thumb over her knuckles a couple times, relishing in the blissful warmth of life he found there instead of the coolness of a life lost. 

“I love you. I thought I was going to lose you,” he whispered quietly before placing a barely-there kiss to her forehead. A tear he hadn’t realized he had been fighting back slipped out and trailed down his cheek. 

“I love you, too-” Sky whispered back without opening her eyes- “but right now I just want to sleep.”

Nate chuckled at her response. He couldn’t help it. It was a laugh of relief to have audible confirmation that she was going to be alright, that she was still there with him. “Of course,” he replied as he settled further onto the bed.

She turned over onto her side and Nate wrapped his arms around her to pull her closer. She was still hot because she was still feverish but she was going to survive and a night of sweating from snuggling with someone who was as warm as a cooking furnace was a small price to pay to still have her with him.