It was cold. So cold. The wind bit into his skin and the snow crept it's way into his clothes, biting through the innermost layers with cold, melting ice. A wolf cried in the distance somewhere, barely audible over the sound of the wind rushing down the mountain side and into his face. His eyes watered, blurring his vision. He rubbed his hands across his face.
The spell he used to keep warm was wearing thin, the cold of this winter biting straight through. He made his way up though, and collapsed at the top. He rolled onto his backside and looked down the mountain. He could feel his heart pounding fervently, though he wasn't sure if it was from fear or from exhaustion.
"Fenedhis," he shook his head as he struggled back to his feet and veered to the left. There, peeking through the snow and ice, was the painting. He was on the right track then; a little good news. He shivered against the cold and grumbled to himself as he reset the spell and threw a ward over it. The cold was almost intolerable. If it weren't for the spell, it would be intolerable.
The hike went up and up. The sun shined brightly in the cold sky, but did nothing to warm the chill that had settled down into his bones. His body hurt and his feet ached.
It had been so long, he wasn't sure that it would even be there anymore. He was beginning to question if it were even worth it, but knew it was. There could still be survivors, if the castle still stood.
At the top of the next rise, he saw it. "Tarasyl'an Te'las," Solas whispered to himself. "After all this time.."
He didn't dally any longer. The rest of the journey was easy to make. He pushed himself hard the last couple of meters up to the bridge. One of the doors hung ajar, like someone had forgotten to shut it. His heart plummeted into his belly as he listened for any sounds at all, but heard nothing. Just the whistling of the wind pulling snow off into its twirling currents.
He walked across the stone walkway slowly, trying not to bite into his cheek, but doing so anyway. At the door he stopped; his hand extended and pressed against the cold, weathered wood. He took a deep breath and pushed the old wood door open. It creaked unhappily on its rusty hinges and made a few popping sounds as he swung it open and slid inside.
Tears stung his eyes as he looked over the empty training yard. The stairs were intact but the overhead bridge that connected the castle to the battlements had crumbled and blocked the path way to the stables. He swiped the tears away before they could make their way down his face.
Carefully he took to the stairs. The courtyard was in shambles. Most buildings were caved, splintered wood stuck up straight towards the mocking sun. He quickly made his way up the stairs and into the castle. The door took a little elbow grease to get open, but eventually squealed open. Something skittered across the floor and hid under a pile of brittle wooden planks. The old wood was blanketed in a layer of fluffy snow and the sun wriggled in through the caved ceiling.
He nodded in acceptance as he stepped carefully over debris and opened the door to the rotunda. The paint on the old walls has all weathered away. Weather and time had taken its toll on everything expect the stone.
He made his way next to the war room, a withered and unintelligible map was strewn across the table, he slid his fingertips over it softly. The crystal? He whirled around and went back through the office and into the grand hall. Then he had to shove some debris around to open the door to his private quarters. He made it up the stairs quickly, taking two at a time.
The balcony had let in the snow and it covered that half of the room. The desk was broken under the weight of the snow, and the bed was weathered beyond repair. He looked over to the bookshelf that lay on its face, books strewn haphazardly around. He tried to lift the shelf once and barely got it an inch up. He stood and breathed hard through flared nostrils.
"Weak. Worthless," he spat through gritted teeth. Anger shoved it's way past his calm and took over. He snatched the bookshelf hard this time and threw it back with all of his might. It raised, but was too warped to stand upright and started to fall again. He threw a wall of energy against it and it banged against the wall, splintering off into a few mangled prices before plopping back down on the books.
He moved the remains of the bookshelf and threw books around wildly, searching in vane. It wasn't here. He covered his face with his hands and rested back onto his feet.
Despair and anger mixed into a dangerous concoction in his chest. It swelled and bubbled like a chemistry experiment gone wrong. How could he be so careless? Why hadn't he taken it with him? Who would have had it now?
Another rat retreated across the room. It ran under the remains of a desk and something hard and round rolled around as it skittered away. Solas snapped his head up and crawled over to the desk. He threw back the rotten wood and saw it. The orb looked out of place amongst all the rot and snow. He grabbed it with one hand and pulled it closer. His heart pounded as he held the orb closely.
He had one just like it.
But how? Why would he ever give it to a monster, it's too powerful of an instrument. He ran his fingers over the ridges in contemplation. The energy inside shuddered, begging to be used. When he called to the power, it pulled away from him. He tried again, harder this time.
The power inside locked itself away, unwilling to be used by one so unworthy of its power. His insides twisted. He was too weak to use his own instrument of power. Tears formed in his eyes as he looked around the ruined room and dug his fingers into the grooves of the orb until they ached.
A sob clawed it's way out of his chest. It was all his fault. The people.. the orb.. the world even. Creators, why had he done this? Why had she let him do this? She had encouraged him to continue, to fight. Why? This world was dead and cold and not worth fighting for.
He set his jaw, disregarding the tears that teetered on the tip of his nose. He demanded the power within the orb, he commanded it obey. Nothing happened; it didn't even give him the respect of a denial this time.
He frowned at himself, his heart aching for what was lost. "And now we know, da'ean."
.......
Translations
Fenedhis: common curse
Da'ean: little bird
Tarasyl'an Te'las: the place where the sky was held back (elvhen name for Slyhold)
ВЫ ЧИТАЕТЕ
Mala Suledin Nadas
Фанфик"Now You Must Endure" When Fen'Harel awakens from uthenera he must learn to cope with the world of his making. Goes along with "Making Fen'Harel" and "In Your Heart Shall Burn" as storyline, and one should probably read at least "Making Fen'Harel"...
