When Solas and Cassandra met again, many hours had passed, so many that he wasn't even sure dawn had come by the time the Seeker had requested his presence. Now, the two of them were sunk in an uncomfortable silence as they descended the stairs that led to the lowest level of the prison. As they walked, it was she who broke the silence.
- Did you sleep at all last night?
Solas glanced sideways at her. For a moment, he forgot that others needed to sleep. Only somniari were free of that biological need, and if he wished to maintain the illusion of being a mere apostate, he would have to act accordingly.
He offered a faint smile and forced a subtle expression of fatigue.
- In truth, Seeker, I'm deeply troubled by our situation - he said in a softened, convincing voice. - I suppose my mind has been far too preoccupied. I'm glad to see you're awake as well. It speaks well of your dedication.
- If I sleep now, - Cassandra replied, dry and matter of fact - I may not wake tomorrow.
She stepped ahead and unlocked the cell door with her key. The shadows under her eyes spoke for themselves.
- And I'm glad you're so willing to offer your services, Solas.
She entered the cell and leaned against the cold wall, arms crossed. Still clad in full armor, sword at her side, shield on her back. She hadn't brought a mage's staff with her. That said plenty. She didn't trust him… Yet she had granted him access.
Without another word, Solas knelt beside the prisoner.
The moment his fingers brushed the elven girl's palm, a subtle vibration ran through him as if, for a heartbeat, he had touched a shard of himself long lost in a time that no longer existed.
He recognized the power. His magic.
She shouldn't be alive.
That power should have consumed her. Burned her. Reduced her to ashes.
And yet, here she was. Breathing. Holding that energy as if it belonged to her.
Disdain swirled in him… along with something harder to name.
Curiosity. Fascination.
This is a direct reaction to contact with my Orb. Is it permanent? Can it be removed?
He held her hand a moment longer, watching the rhythm of her breath, the faint glow on her skin, marked by contained power.
And why did she ally with Corypheus?
Frustration tightened his jaw. At last, he let her hand fall gently onto her lap.
Cassandra was still watching him from the wall when she spoke again.
- Have you learned anything, Solas?
- The mark on her hand is powerful, Seeker. If I could examine one of the rifts up close, I might be able to tell whether it's the same arcane energy. Perhaps… - He hesitated, pretending to weigh the thought. - …perhaps the prisoner might help us interact with the Breach... if she wakes. Of course, that depends on whether it's the same energy… and whether she's willing.
- What do you mean, 'if she's willing'?
Solas looked at her, feigning surprise.
- Isn't she your prisoner? - he said calmly. - Don't you suspect she's tied to the Breach? If she was part of a larger plan, if she had anything to do with all this, then there's a chance she won't cooperate. Hadn't you considered that?
He let the question hang, planting the seed.
The more they doubted her, the less likely they were to doubt him.
No one could discover the Orb was his. Or that it was he who had allowed Corypheus to find it through his agents.
The explosion had been a mistake. An unforeseen one… but not unfixable.
It simply meant that time was now pressing.
And he would have to be more careful.
Cassandra sighed.
- Of course I believe it, Solas. And I worry she is responsible for all this.
Then, the warrior shifted slightly, letting him glimpse the shield on her back. And he understood, for the first time: She wasn't armed because of him, but because of the Dalish girl.
He almost smiled.
There was a grim pleasure in seeing her begin to trust his insights.
The power of storytelling was something Solas had always admired. And here it was, his carefully woven tale threading itself through the minds of these women. A wandering elf. Wise. Concerned for the fate of the world. They wanted to believe in him. They needed to. And he didn't blame them. Desperation worked wonders on the hopeful.
- The girl must be a powerful mage to carry that mark, don't you think, Solas? - Cassandra continued. - Perhaps she was the one who caused the Breach. But where does that magic come from?
- The origin of the mark is unknown to me, Seeker. - Solas lied smoothly. - As for your other questions, I can't answer yet. I'd need to examine the rifts and compare the melody of both sources.
- Melody?
- Mages hear magic in a way others can't. The sound of a spell is distinct. If I can compare the two, I could speak with more certainty.
- She must be powerful, then - Cassandra muttered, stepping beside him. - I've never seen a mage who could control the sky. - She corrected herself quickly. - The Veil.
Then she looked at him, severe.
- She was spat out of the Fade. Do you think this power comes from the Maker?
- With an elf? - His tone suggested how flawed the reasoning was. - I don't know your god's preferences, Seeker. But I suspect your prisoner worships different ones.
He gestured delicately to the blood-tattoo that marked the sleeping girl's face. Cassandra's expression tightened; she nodded but looked away.
She was a believer. She needed to believe this chaos had meaning.
- You're right - she murmured, almost to herself. Then walked back to her corner and said nothing more.
Hours passed inside the cell. Solas devoted himself to various tests on the prisoner, none of which woke her. He was growing frustrated. He needed to reach the Fade... And here, he could do no more.
When Cassandra's breathing turned slow and heavy, Solas allowed himself something he rarely did in the presence of others:
He smiled.
Time was his now. His keeper had been claimed by exhaustion... at last.
He conjured a protective glyph that wrapped around them both. From his pocket, he took a handful of crushed herbs, placed them in his palm, and lit them with arcane fire. The scent filled his lungs.
Soon, his mind slipped beyond the tangible world, and Solas let himself fall into deep meditation.
He was going to find the prisoner's spirit.