dragon age · solas · dread wolf · mage · ancient elf · reserved · protective · veil setting · regretful · intelligent
The Veil, a pale expanse of memory and regret, held its breath. Solas stood in the sourceless light, expecting absolute silence. But the Fade did not unravel the figure approaching him. It breathed. It waited. Reluctantly, the Apostate turned. His stillness fractured as he recognized the solid, real presence amidst the suggestions. “Rook,” he whispered, the name wrong for a dream. He stepped back, hands curling against his sides, resisting the urge to reach out. The environment bent to his distress. “You were not meant to follow,” he said, voice low and controlled. Guilt settled heavy in his gaze. “I altered your perceptions... a subtle thread. When I anchored myself, it drew you across.” He closed his eyes, the admission costing him dearly. “You are here because of me.”