Chapter Text
“Atisha.”
Her mind whirled as consciousness came back to her slowly. Nausea settled in the back of her throat and made its home there. Who was speaking? It sounded…
“Mamae?” She croaked, throat aching with what felt like years of disuse. Which could very well be true, for she could barely remember anything.
She tried to gather her thoughts and remember what in the void had happened to her, yet nothing came to her. It was like she was forced to sift through a bog in order to reach her memories.
All around her was emptiness. A blackness so deep and vitriol that it caused her chest to ache with a longing for somethinganything please . It felt as if she was floating in the sky and drowning in the Waking Sea. It was horrifyingly beautiful.
“Ir abelas, davhalla. I wished we could meet again under better circumstances.”
No, it couldn’t be. It couldn’t be her mother. She’s been dead too many years for it to be her.
But…
What was her last memory?
Atisha, kneeling on the precipice of change. Gravel beneath her fingertips, digging into raw flesh. Her one remaining fist clenched in rage. Mana seemingly seeping out of her, unable to draw on anything to help her face the threat in front of her. That threat being a figure towering over her, clad in black. As if they were prepared for a funeral.
Obsidian metal armor traveled up their body to their shoulders, which had a black wolf pelt draped and tied across their left. A willow weave cloak flaring behind them. Staff in hand, the tip of it spitting out bits of frost.
Solas.
Suddenly, there was fire and blood, smoke filling her lungs as she gulped for air. But the burn in her chest had nothing to do with the smoke. He stood there, watching her die with that pained expression, like this was hurting him just as much as it was her. As if their turbulent past had never happened. Where he left her for the first time under the stars of Crestwood, and the second after the finality that was his orb crumbling to the ground and into pieces. It was him who brought this upon them. He was the one who tore them apart.
He was the one who ended the world.
And it was her (it was always her) who stood to stop him.
But she could not stand anymore.
He had no right to look like that when the choices he’d made led them here, to this very moment. She wanted to curse and damn him to the void for all that he’d done. And yet.
And yet.
He was Solas. The man who after she had fallen out of the Fade and onto the side of a levelled mountain top, with a mark that prophesied her death in one way or another, had nursed her back to health. Guilty and scared as he was. The man who had taught her how to wield the mark so she could close the tears in the sky, how to learn to adjust to the foriegn way it's magic pressed against her own. The one who told her stories of his journeys in the Fade, of his friendship with spirits and memories of battles and old ruins. He had fought alongside her at every battle . They had shared blood on the field, had discovered lost memories from ancient Elvhenan together. He called her vhenan. He was not just her lover, he was her confidant, her friend. She loved him in all the ways her heart could.
But now, as she stared up at him with tears blurring her vision, she realized something; In this moment, he was not the Solas she knew and loved. He was Fen’Harel, The Dread Wolf.
And he had caught her scent long ago.
Fen’Harel stalked towards her, his face set like stone. But his eyes were something that she could drown in, that is how deep his sorrow was. She had always been able to tell when he was lying, and right now he certainly was. He held a pain that she could never fully comprehend. And she knew, she knew that even though he was no longer her Solas, he would still mourn her death.
She remembered him telling her that he was sorry, just before plunging a knife into her heart.
“Ir abelas, ma vhenan.”
She died. She had died. Solas had killed her in the end. She failed . He had wrought death and carnage upon the world. She failed . He would tear the sky open, unleashing all his past mistakes unto his current ones She —
“Davhalla.” Her mother’s voice, as echoing as it was, was firm.
Atisha swallowed her panic and let it sequester itself back into her chest, making it rattle and rasp with her effort.
When she looked up, she saw her mothers’ celestial visage. And as they locked eyes, the scenery around them changed from that empty blackness to the grassy hills of the Emerald Graves. Towering and vast trees sprouting from the ground and reaching for the sky. The light passed through them in such a way that showered her mother in an even more — if possible — ethereal glow.
Looking at her, it was very easy to tell that this wasn’t her mother. Yes, it bore a striking resemblance to her, and used her nickname from when Atisha was a child, but it was obvious in all the ways that mattered. It stood stiff when her mother would be loose and languid. It had its hands placed perfectly at its sides when her mother would be fidgeting with her fingers in front of her. No, this thing was not her mamae.
“What are you. A spirit? A demon?” She hissed through blood at it.
What she didn’t expect was for it’s face to crumble, mouth opening and closing as if it was searching for an answer it didn’t have. If Atisha was not certain that she was dead, she would laugh, but then promptly burst into tears.
After a few moments of confusion from it, the illusion of her mother fell and glittered to the grass surrounding them. It’s new visage was just as ethereal as it’s last, however instead of her mothers face, it wore none. It’s skin shone a bright gold that encompassed the entirety of it. She had to look away as it lightened up the field, brighter than the sun.
Briefly, Atisha was reminded of the Spirit of Faith she met many years ago in the Fade after Adamant. She quickly scratched the idea that this was a demon — even though that could still be a real possibility, she didn't think so.
Atisha took a deep breath and slowly looked back to the Spirit in front of her, “What manner of Spirit are you?” She asked, as gentle and calm as she could in her state.
It smiled, or at least she thought it was a smile, “I am Love.”
For a second, everything was quiet. Atisha didn’t know if she wanted to laugh, cry, or scream at the irony of it all. She was killed because of Love. Why was a Spirit of that very emotion greeting her after her death?
“You were Loved by many, Atisha. And in turn, you Loved many. My embodiment has changed and guided the very paths of your life — some not great, I know — but just the same,” It looked down at her, a sadness surrounding it for a moment,”You lead with Love. So I am here, to offer you even more in the After.”
Atisha broke.
It started with a few silent tears, then a sob tore through her. And that feeling that she had been holding back since she got here freed itself from the cage that was her ribs.
Love surrounded her, warm hands on her back as she mourned. Mourned for her friends who were long dead, for a life that she never got to live because of her duty, for her family, and finally… herself.
“Shh, Davhalla. It will be alright. I will make sure of it. Shh.” It soothed.
She cried until she couldn’t anymore. Until her tears dried and the trembling in her body ceased. Only then did Love move away from her and sit on its knees in front of her.
The Spirit gently grabbed her face, it exuded promise and determination in that moment, “I will fix this, Atisha. If you will let me.”
Atisha chuckled dryly, “Fix? Fix what? I’m dead, there is no ‘fixing’ this.”
Love shook its head, white hair so akin to her own gracefully swaying to the side, “No. I have a way, all you have to do is agree. I will not do this if you do not wish for it.”
The air around them chilled as they looked at each other. Somehow, some way, she knew she didn’t have a lot of time to make a decision.
Steel forced its way into her golden-red eyes, “What is it.”
Not a question. For there is no question in whether she would do whatever it was Love wanted her to do or not. If it gave her a chance — even if it was a very miniscule one — to save everyone, to change the outcome, she would take it. Atisha would do anything.
This was her hubris, her pride . Atisha would sacrifice her life again and again, die a million deaths by the hand of her vhenan , in order to fix it all.
Love exhaled a relieved breath, “I see —” It was cut off from a rumbling in the distance, and screeches of what sounded very much like demons.
Atisha was on her feet in an instant, battle-honed and ready for a fight. However, before she could run towards the danger, Love pulled on her arm.
“No! You cannot! He has started it, and we cannot stop it.” It screeched and cried.
She felt as though a pail of cold water had landed on top of her. She knew that it was him, it was Fen’Harel. He was tearing down the Veil.
It was terrifying, and maddening. Thoughts of failure and betrayal stormed through her mind, but with a whimper from Love, she regained focus, a certain calm washing over her.
“What is your plan?”
Love stilled, and ever-so-slowly, it turned towards her.
“I send you back.”