Ar Vir

Cullen grunted as he got to his feet, brushing snow from his knees as he handed the hammer back to one of the workers. His shoulders slumped with exhaustion as he surveyed their progress. Many of the workers had labored through the night to erect a small city of tents on a sheltered ledge not far from where they had taken shelter from the avalanche. They had even brought wood with them for a fire, which was burning brightly in the middle of the camp. Many were huddled near it, leaning on each other for support as they mourned.

In the largest tent, the surgeon was tending to Rodrick as Mother Giselle held his hand, praying with him in the silence. Many had already turned in for the night, unable to stand any longer. Looking upon the scene, Cullen couldn't help the feeling of hopelessness that came over him.

Cassandra had taken to patrolling the perimeter of the camp, her eyes on the way they had come. Solas had set up wards around the camp and stared down at Haven's remains buried in snow and rock. Josephine hadn't sat still the entire time, her normally perfectly coifed hair frazzled as she paced with her writing board, the candle nearly spent. Liliana sat by herself on the edge of the tents, staring up at the night sky.

The others who often traveled with the Herald sat huddled around the fire, their faces forlorn.

Cullen was brought out of his thoughts by the sound of steel being brought out of it's scabbard. Cassandra had her eyes on something in the darkness. She squinted, stock still as she watched the wind blow little tufts of snow into the darkness. Cullen approached her left side, his hand on his own sword. It wasn't long before he heard a soft voice on the wind.

"Stupid... This is stupid..."

"Was that..." Cullen couldn't finish the thought. He could not bring himself to hope.

"Stupid dragon..."

The others were gathered at the entrance now, looking into the distance. Each craned their necks as they heard the faint sound of something slowly walking toward them in the snow.

"Can't feel my ass..."

"Boss!"

Iron Bull charged out as Lathalam stumbled out of the darkness, shivering, pale and slightly delirious.

"Thank the Maker!" Cassandra sheathed her blade as Bull scooped Lathalam into his arms and ran to the fire at the center of the camp. As they pulled a cot close to the fire , her eyes met Solas'.

"This is why I wear shoes..."

Cassandra actually laughed as she layered blankets on Lathalam. Solas smiled as her eyes finely closed, unaware of the flurry her miraculous reappearance had caused. "The answer is still no, Lathalam."

---

Lathalam sighed and leaned her head on the wooden post of the tent. The way they had all looked at her, it broke her heart. They all expected her to be some kind of savior, but she had no idea how to save anything. She had just buried their home and she didn't know how many people under tons of snow and they thanked her for it?

"A word."

Lathalam heaved herself off of the tent post, trudging through the snow to where Solas stood. He lit a brazier with a careless motion of his hand, turning his head when she drew near.

"The orb that Coryphious carried. It is elven."

She sighed. "I know."

"It is imperative - " Solas snapped his head back to her. "What?"

Lathalam heaved a foggy breath, her eyes locked with Solas' "It's a foci. One of them, anyway."

"How do you know this?" Solas took a step back, his hands gripping his staff. "Who told you?"

Lathalam rolled her eyes, too tired to be angry. "I told you. I worked in a museum for twenty years. One of the pieces in the collection I was in charge of was a foci much like the one Corypheus held."

"Corypheus? Is that what that creature called itself?"

Lathalam nodded, pulling her coat tighter against the cold. "He called himself a magister and talked about rebuilding the Tevinter Imperium, giving this world the god it deserved." The last few words, Lathalam lowered her voice almost comically, crooking her fingers as though putting quotation marks around them.

Solas blew a breath out of his nose, his eyes scanning the darkness. "So he must have been one of the first to sunder the veil to assault the Golden City."

Lathalam paused a moment, remembering his words. "'Beg that I succeed, for I have seen the throne of the gods, and it was empty.'"

"Then you understand how this could be used against us, Lathalam. How it could be used to justify greater hatred of our kind."

She nodded, lowering her head. "Then we don't give them time to ask. Any ideas on what we should do?"

Solas closed his eyes in thought. After a moment, he looked toward the camp, his eyes watching each person as they went about their business. "There is something, but it must come from your mouth. They will not trust if I suggest it."

Lathalam followed Solas to the map that had been laid out on one of the tables, following his fingers as they traced a path through the Frostbacks to an area that had no name and only a small fort symbol to mark it's existence. She looked up as Solas did, their eyes meeting. She smiled and nodded. For a moment, neither moved. Solas straightened first and turned toward a tent he had claimed. "Good night, Herald."

Lathalam watched him go, a small, rueful smile on her lips.