[Soundtrack: "Hope" by Adrian von Ziegler]
When I came to, I wasn't sure where I was. All I knew was the hard, frozen ground pressed firmly against my back, my ankle wedged underneath the end of a crooked metal railing of the mining rail. I felt no pain at first; my mind was slow to catch up and searched my memories for what had happened prior to waking up in the cold, dark mine shaft.
I squinted in the dark, attempting to make out shapes throughout the tunnel. My neck felt as stiff as the boards that barely clung to the ceiling above which let a little moonlight and snow seep through its cracks. A soft flake fell on my cheek as my mind began to reel at the events that happened just moments before I had landed myself here.
Had it been mere moments? Or had it been hours?
The ancient magister that attacked Haven with his army of red lyrium-crazed Templars knocked me into a trebuchet and snapped at least one rib. I also remember managing my way to the edge of the cliff just in time to dodge the avalanche that ensued after I released the boulder from the trebuchet -- my last desperate act of defiance against this "Elder One."
I thought I was going to die... but after jumping from the low cliffside, I fell into the abandoned mine shaft as the snow plummetted across the cliff's edge. Everything went dark after that.
Now I find myself here, cold and alone, with only the whistling wind to keep me company.
I finally attempted to move, and that's when the pain started to set in. The cold made it much worse. I sat up slowly, and my ribs felt the pain of a thousand knives digging into my side. I was seeing stars. I managed an upright position and examined my body to make sure I wasn't missing anything.
Then I tried to wriggle my ankle free of the rail. The metal had cut through the leather of my boot and started digging into my ankle. I gritted my teeth as I carefully angled my foot to slip out of the bent railing and examined it further. It was cut, but it wasn't so serious that anything vital was severed.
I took my time getting to a standing position and reminded myself that I should be in a hurry. Everyone was waiting on me. They probably thought I was dead. I thought that was oddly humorous -- I wondered how long they'd wait for their "herald" to return.
I searched the dark cave for my bow. Sadly, I found it snapped in half with the bowstring tangled around a stalagmite. Without bothering to gather what arrows had fallen out of my quiver, I hobbled my way down the path of the railway to hopefully find an exit.
The moonlight couldn't reach where I had stumbled into, so I carefully walked with one hand clutching my ribs and one hand outstretched to feel for my surroundings.
I had traveled so far into the tunnels that I began to feel claustrophobic. One false move and I could get completely turned around. For all I knew, I could be lost down there forever. I made sure to follow the tracks closely. All that worried me with this plan was when the tracks split. I had to take it on faith that I took the right turn.
Finally, I could hear the wind again. I followed the noise to an area where the ceiling of the tunnel was barely sheltered by wooden boards, much like the entrance I clambered into after the battle. The moonlight was lighting the area through the cracks and holes.
Before I could breathe easy, I saw the silhouette of a hooded frost demon floating his way around the open room ahead. As it floated mindlessly, it bumped into a weathered barrel and startled itself. It attacked in an instant, slashing the barrel in half. The sudden attack alerted other demons -- three green whisps -- who searched the area.
I was frozen in place. I was afraid to make my way down the tunnel. I could see the exit just on the other side of the wide room, but there was no way I could make it past the demons in one go. I was too slow and had no weapon. After careful consideration, I attempted to backtrack to the last area the tracks split off and go a different route.
As I took a step backward, I stepped on a rusty old hammer with my bad foot and tripped on it. My back hit the side of the mining cart filled with old tools, which rattled and slammed into the cart behind it. I sucked in a sharp breath, trying not to cry out in pan as I had wracked my ribs with pain.
Then I heard the high-pitched hiss of the frost demon who had turned his attention down the tunnel. A cold sweat overtook my palms and my neck. The demons floated their way toward me with hisses and screeches.
Tears filled my eyes as my inevitable doom crept closer and closer. This isn't how I wanted it to end. No one would ever find me here. I reached for the tools inside the mine cart and flung them at the demons in a desperate attempt to deter them, crying and screaming for them to come no closer. I reached out as they closed in on me to force their distance.
Then the mark on my hand suddenly burst alight. A green, glowing ball formed in the center of the tunnel and seemingly began to suck the demons into it. Their forms stretched and contorted as they were sucked into the green light. Then the light vanished, and I was once again left alone in the silence.
I blinked, mouth agape. I had never done that before.
Whatever had happened, it took a lot of the energy I had left. All I wanted to do was close my eyes and give up. I forced myself to get to my feet and continue walking.
Finally, I had made it to the end of the mine shaft and into the open air of the vast, snowy plains. The wind howled and froze my very core. I began the trek into the wilderness to find the remains of the Inquisition.
I tried to shield my eyes from the snow. The moonlight was of little help out here with how heavy the snowfall was. The wind was blowing the loose snow from the mountains as well, and every now and then, the moon would be blocked by heavy grey clouds.
In the distance, I spotted a cart that had been burning. The flame had almost went out entirely. Once I had reached the cart, I knew it had to be one of ours. I recognized the bindings on the wheat, the fabric of the sacks of beans. It was left in the snow because the wheel had broken off, and it caught fire from the broken oil lamp. The snow finally snuffed out the last of the flame as I continued my journey.
It felt like I had been traveling for hours. The cold had almost frozen me to death. I couldn't feel my fingers, ears, toes, or nose. My teeth chattered and my body shook so violently that it jarred my ribs constantly. I prayed to Mythal that I would make it back to my friends alive.
I could feel myself losing consciousness. I trudged on through the ankle-deep snow, weary and almost out of hope until I spotted hot embers from a small campfire. I pushed onward with sheer force of will until I could see them in the distance. I could see everyone in their camp at the base of a small mountain, fires alight and tents strewn about and horses tied onto temporary posts. There were a few stray lights who I assumed were scouts or a search party.
I had no way of showing them that I was there so I continued walking until my legs wouldn't carry me anymore. I collapsed into the snow. As I lost consciousness and begged for mercy from the Gods that this blasted cold would be over soon, I faintly heard someone cry, "It's her! Thank the Maker!"
____________________
I was too exhausted to dream. I was thankful, because of my recurring nightmares of red lyrium, distorted faces, and torturous deaths. When I awoke, I was in a cot, bandaged, warm, and with a tent above my bed. I could hear raised voices outside the tent. I looked around, and Mother Gizelle sat beside me, silently praying over me.
The voices outside sounded like Cullen, Cassandra, Leliana, and Josephine all talking over each other in disagreement.
"We must see reason!" Josephine pleaded. "Without the infrastructure of the Inquisition, we're hobbled!"
"Well, that can't come from nowhere!" Cullen barked.
I could barely see them through the tent flap. I felt like I needed to be there, figure out what was going on, reach out to my friends, see if I could be of some help. As soon as I sat up, the muscles throughout my back tensed.
"Nngh!" I cried through gritted teeth.
Mother Gizelle opened her eyes and halted her prayers. "Oh, you're awake, Miss Lavellan. Please, no sudden movements. You need your rest."
"How long have they been arguing?" I asked quietly.
She frowned. "Give or take... a few hours."
My own frown rivaled hers.
"But," she added with a hint of optimism, "they have that luxury, thanks to you. The enemy could not follow, and with time to doubt, we turn to blame. However, infighting may threaten us more than the Elder One."
"Do we know where he and his forces are?"
She shook her head slowly. "We are not sure where we are. Which may be why, despite the numbers he still commands, there is no sign of him. That, or you are believed dead. Or without Haven, we are thought helpless. Or he girds for another attack. I cannot claim to know the mind of that creature, only his effect on us."
I heard Cassandra's raised voice over the others. "Arguing is getting us nowhere!"
"Then why are you arguing?" asked Leliana.
I clenched my fists. "If they're arguing about what we do next, I need to be there."
"No. Another heated voice won't help, child. Perhaps especially yours. Our leaders struggle because of what we survivors witnessed. We saw our defender stand... and fall. And now we've seen her return." She rubbed her chilled hands together with a faint smile. "The more the enemy is beyond us, the more miraculous your actions appear. And the more our trials seem ordained. That is difficult to accept, no? What 'we' have been called to endure? What 'we,' perhaps, must come to believe?"
I waved my hand. "No, no, I escaped the avalanche. Just barely, perhaps, but I didn't die and come back to life."
"Of course, and the dead cannot return from across the veil. But the people know what they saw. Or, perhaps, what they needed to see. The Maker works both in the moment and in how it is remembered. Can we truly know that the heavens are not with us?"
Rather than answering her, I clammed up. Mother Gizelle -- though she meant well, and her job was to be priestess and spread word of the Maker -- was very kind, but I didn't share her religious views. Therefore, I never knew how to answer her pressing questions without offending or simply talking in circles with her.
I sat up slowly and pushed the bear skin blankets off of me. The cold hit my body quickly. I was bandaged around my ribs and ankle and only wore my tunic and riding pants.
"Who...?" I asked, motioning to my bandaged ribs.
"Adan did his best with what we could salvage from Haven in a hurry. The rest was due to healing magic. You have many mage friends here now, Inquisitor. Consider yourself lucky to have them as they sped your recovery along tremendously."
My mind wandered to Solas. I had faith that he made it out with everyone else, but I wasn't sure if he was to count among my healers. He was very skilled in such magic.
"Did, um, Solas...?"
I could see Mother Gizelle hiding a small smile as she turned her head toward the tent's entrance. "No, he hasn't come yet. He has been helping the other mages tend to the wounded. However, Grand Enchanter Fiona saw to your injuries personally. He knew you were in good hands."
Though he hadn't come to see me yet, I smiled knowing he was helping others. I would expect no less of him. My mind began to broaden its focus to the rest of my traveling companions. My friends. I prayed they all made it out safely.
I felt my fingers grip the edge of the cot. While he was out there making a difference, I was lying there resting and getting my ear chewed off by an Andrastinian priestess. Maybe if it wasn't for all this talk of the heavens and the Maker and the afterlife and the search for power beyond our world... Just thinking of it made me grit my teeth.
"I don't know if you saw the Elder One -- Corypheus -- up close, Mother Gizelle, but when he spoke to me of the heavens... he said he looked upon the Seat of the Maker and it was empty. What do you think of his claims of the assault on the heavens?"
Her face grew somber. "Scripture says magisters, or Tevinter servants of the false Old Gods, entered the Fade to reach the Golden City, Seat of the Maker. For their crime, they were cast out as Darkspawn. Their hubris is why we suffer Blight, and why the Maker turned from us. If such is the claim of this 'Corypheus,' he is a monster beyond imagining. All mankind continues to suffer for that sin. If even a shred of it is true, all the more reason Andraste would choose someone to rise against him."
I shook my head. "Mother Gizelle, fanatical believe is what's to blame here. All of this happened because of fanatics and arguments about the next world. It's time we start believing in this one."
She simply smirked and stood from her seat. "It's all one world, Herald. I'll let you get dressed. You seem eager to get up. Just don't overdo it, you still need rest."
She exited the tent flap and left me alone. I shoved my boots back onto my feet first, a little hatefully. If it was all really one world, then we wouldn't have these problems.
I heard her begin to sing:
"Shadows fall, and hope has fled. Steel your heart, the dawn will come. The night is long and the path is dark. Look to the sky, for one day soon, the dawn will come."
I shrugged on my coat and peeked out the tent to see the gathering crowd of people around the large fire where Mother Gizelle had began to sing. Leliana joined her choir.
"The Shepard's lost and his home is far. Keep to the stars, the dawn will come."
Josephine and Cassandra joined.
"The night is long and the path is dark."
Cullen mustered his courage to join in.
"Look to the sky, for one day soon, the dawn will come."
Soon, all of Haven's refugees began to sing.
"Bare your blade, and raise it high. Stand your ground, the dawn will come. The night is long, and the path is dark. Look to the sky, for one day soon, the dawn will come."
I searched the crowd and was able to spot only a few familiar faces so far. Varric stood by the fire with his arms crossed, smiling from ear to ear at the touching display of unified hearts. Bull and his Chargers sat by a tent further away with a smaller fire lit, drink in hand, a few of them singing along. I spotted Blackwall singing as well with the crowd. Then to the right, far away from the crowd, stood Solas. He was smirking, staff in hand. He made eye contact with me and waved me over.
My heart skipped a beat as I walked past the crowd to meet him on the outskirts of camp.
I met his side, and we walked leisurely further from the camp. "A word?" he asked.
"Of course."
An iron brazier was set up just as the hill began to slope downard. He placed a hand just over the brazier and lit it with a blue flame.
"You must be rather cold. Come."
I put my hands up to the brazier and rubbed them together. "Thank you."
Solas looked out at the sky's vast darkness. After a moment of silence, he finally spoke. "A wise woman. Worth heeding."
"Mother Giselle?" I asked.
"Yes. Her kind understsand the moments that unify a cause. Or fracture it."
"I suppose you're right. She seemed like she knew just what to do and when to do it. In fact, it got Cullen and the others to stop arguing, if only for a moment."
He smiled, but it soon faded as he changed subjects. "The Orb that Corypheus carried and the power he used against you is Elven. Corypheus used the Orb to open the Breach. Unlocking it must have caused the explosion that destroyed the Conclave. I do not yet know how Corypheus survived... nor am I certain how people will react when they learn of the Orb's origin."
"What is it? And how do you know so much about it?"
"They were Foci used to channel power from our gods. Some were dedicated to certain members of our pantheon. All that remains are references in ruins, and faint visions of memory in the Fade, echoes of a dead empire. However Corypheus came to it, the Orb is Elven, and with it, he threatens the heart of human faith."
I could see now why he was so afraid of people learning the Orb's origin. Solas and I are both elves. It was paramount that I didn't garner more hate towards our kind -- it would only complicate things politically. We had enough enemies.
"Their blame won't matter if we can't get out of this wilderness," I stated, looking around at the towering pine trees and snowy mountains. The snowfall had finally stopped, leaving an even blanket of snow on every surface shimmering in the moonlight.
"That is the immediate problem... and it offers a solution that may secure your place in their hearts. You saved them at Haven. Perhaps you could save them again." He gave me a sideways glance.
I squinted at him. "How?"
"By attacking the Inquisition, Corypheus changed it. Changed you. Scout to the north. Be their guide. There is a place that waits for a force to hold it."
"A... place? What place is that?"
"It is a place where the Inquisition can build. Grow. A fortress called 'Skyhold.' Lead the people there, and they will follow you anywhere."
My eyes must have gave away my intimidation at such a task.
"Don't worry. I will guide you. But it is important for the people to see that you are the one guiding them. Give them hope."