Solas and Cassandra met again in the early hours of the morning. When she broke the silence, they were already descending the stairs that led to the cells in the Chantry's lower level.
Solas cast her a sidelong glance. For a second, he forgot that the others needed sleep. Only somniari were free of that biological necessity (if they wished), but if he meant to maintain the façade of a simple apostate, he had to act accordingly. So he offered a faint smile and forced a gesture of fatigue as he said:
- Truthfully, Seeker, I'm too concerned about the situation we're facing. - His voice softened, convincing. - I suppose my mind has been too occupied. I'm glad you haven't rested either. It speaks well of your commitment.
He had only been reading his book.
- If I sleep now, I might not wake tomorrow. - Cassandra replied. Her tone was dry—no sarcasm, only realism.
She moved a couple of steps ahead and opened the cell door with the key, as she had that morning. Solas noticed the shadows under her eyes and had no time to inspect further, since darkness swallowed much of the space. That, and the fact that she added:
- And I'm glad you're so willing to offer your services at this hour, Solas.
Then she entered the cell and leaned against the cold wall, arms crossed. She still wore her full armor, sword at her hip and shield on her back. He had not brought his staff, and that said enough. She did not trust him… and yet, she had granted him access a second time.
Without another word, Solas knelt beside the prisoner. The reason he had come, after all, wasn't it? Then his fingers brushed the young woman's palm, and a subtle vibration ran through him. It was as though, for an instant, he had touched a spark of himself—lost in a time that no longer existed. And he recognized it immediately… of course he did.
His power. His magic.
The Heart of the Beast.
And Solas's expression soured at once. Because the prisoner should not have been alive after touching his Evanuri essence. That power should have destroyed her. Consumed her. Reduced her to ash. Yet there she was—breathing—holding that energy as though it belonged to her. Contempt coiled inside him… along with something harder to name.
Curiosity? Fascination?
Damn it… This is a direct reaction to contact with my Orb. Is it permanent? Is there a way to remove it?
He kept his hand there a moment longer, watching the Dalish woman's breathing, the faint glow in her skin—marked by contained power.
And why did you side with Corypheus?
Frustration tightened his features. At last, he let the prisoner's hand fall gently onto her thigh. Cassandra watched him from the wall when she spoke again.
- Have you found any answers, Solas?
- The glow on her palm is powerful, Seeker. If you gave me the chance to approach a rift, I believe I could tell you whether it is the same arcane energy. Perhaps… perhaps the prisoner could help us interact with the Breach in the Veil, if she wakes. Of course, that depends on it being the same… and on whether she is willing.
- What do you mean, "if she is willing"?
Solas looked at her with feigned surprise.
- Is she not your prisoner? - he replied calmly. - Do you not suspect she is tied to the Breach? If she was part of a larger plan, if she had anything to do with all of this… then there is a possibility she will not cooperate. Had you not considered it?
He let the question hang in the air, planting the seed. He knew exactly what he was doing. The more they doubted her, the farther they would be from doubting him.
No one could discover the Orb was his. Nor that he had been the one to let Corypheus locate it through his own agents. The explosion had been a mistake—an unexpected one… but not irreversible. To him, it only meant time was tightening now, and that he would have to be more careful from here on out.
But his plans had not changed.
He was going to give his people back what he had taken from them by mistake.
Cassandra sighed.
- Of course I believe it, Solas. And it worries me that she is responsible for all of this.
Then the warrior shifted subtly, allowing him a clearer view of her shield. And for the first time, he understood: she was not armed for him, but for the Dalish woman.
He almost smiled with grim pleasure as he realized she was beginning to trust his contributions.
The power of narrative was something Solas had always admired. And now, here it was—his carefully spun story weaving its nets inside her mind, exactly as he had intended. Because of course… how could one distrust a wandering elf—wise, concerned for the fate of the world?
She wanted to believe him.
She needed to believe him.
And he did not blame her. Desperation worked wonders on credulous hearts.
- The woman must be a very powerful mage if she bears that mark, don't you think, Solas? Perhaps the prisoner is the one who caused the Breach in the sky—but where does this magic come from?
- The origin of the Mark is unknown to me, Seeker. - he lied. - As for your other questions, I can't answer now. I would need to approach the rifts and compare the melodies of both currents.
- Melodies?
- Mages hear magic in a way those without our gift cannot. The sound of the same spell remains the same. I could speak with considerable certainty if I am able to compare both sources of power.
- Then she is a powerful mage. - Cassandra said, moving to stand beside him. She did not even look at him; her gaze stayed on the prisoner. Good. That meant she did not consider him a threat. - I have never seen a mage capable of controlling the sky. - She corrected herself quickly. - The Veil. - And then, yes, she gave him a stern look. - If the prisoner was spat out from the Fade... do you think this power comes from the… Maker?
- With an elf? - His tone suggested the flaw in the reasoning. - I do not know your god's preferences, Seeker. But I suspect your prisoner venerates her own gods.
And with a delicate motion he indicated the blood-tattoo that ran across the sleeping woman's face. Cassandra made a small gesture of discomfort and only nodded, and Solas watched her look away.
The warrior was a believer. She had faith… she needed to believe this chaos meant something.
- You're right. - she murmured quietly, then walked back to her corner and fell into silence.
After that, the hours passed inside the cell, and Solas devoted himself to every experiment he could attempt on the prisoner—who did not wake for any of them.
He was frustrated. He needed to enter the Fade, and here he had little left to do…
…but then he noticed Cassandra's breathing finally grow slower, heavier. Solas allowed himself something he rarely did in the presence of others:
He smiled.
Time was his now that his watch had been defeated by exhaustion.
At last.
He released a protective glyph that wrapped around both elves. From his pocket he took a small bundle of crushed herbs and poured it into his palm. Then he set it alight with arcane flame, and the scent flooded his senses.
Solas inhaled deeply.
Soon, his mind slipped free of tangible reality, and he induced himself into a state of profound meditation.
He wanted to find the prisoner's spirit.