Pride, Wolf and Rebellion

Prayer

"We need a plan," came Cassandra's voice across desperate wind.

Fen'Asha blinked. Awake. Fen'Harel was...

"We know this," came Cullen's voice. "But we need a consensus or we have nothing."

"We can't get a consensus out of nowhere," volleyed Cassandra.

Josephine was pleading. "We must use reason. Without the infrastructure..."

"Infrastructure?" Cullen was livid, pacing. "We have nothing."

"We're aware," said Leliana.

"This is getting us nowhere," Cassandra said.

"Well, we're agreed on that much," said Cullen.

Fen'Asha nearly rose when she felt a hand on her shoulder. It was Mother Giselle, calm and kind.

"They're arguing," Fen'Asha grumbled, rubbing her temple.

"They have that luxury thanks to you," said Mother Giselle. "The enemy could not follow and with time to doubt we turned to blame."

Fen'Asha huffed.

"Rest," said Mother Giselle.

"Do we know where Corypheus is?" Fen'Asha asked, fidgeting.

"We are not sure where we are," said Mother Giselle. "Which may be why, despite the number he still commands, there is no sign of him. That, or you are believed dead. I cannot claim to know the mind of that creature, only his effect on us."

"I see..."

"There are no easy answers," continued Mother Giselle. "We struggle because of what we saw. We saw our defender stand and fall and now we have seen her return. Your actions seem miraculous and our trials seem fated."

"Well, shit," said Fen'Asha. She sat up.

"That is certainly one way to look at it," said Mother Giselle. "But the path ahead will require action, leadership."

"I escaped the avalanche," said Fen'Asha. "Barely. I'm not fit for anything apart from a long rest."

"Of course," said Mother Giselle. "The people know what they saw. Or what they needed to see. The Maker works in the moment and in how the moment is remembered."

Solas said something similar about the Fade. There were memories and emotions. Nothing else. Facts were useless, reality was fragile. A waste. And the gods? The Maker? Andraste? Even the elven gods? They'd been quiet for centuries, if not longer. What good were they if they had nothing to say now with the whole damn world ablaze?

"I felt no Divine aid at the Conclave or Haven," said Fen'Asha.

That was enough. She was the First, she was the Herald. But she was just an elf, just a mage. Her body ached to prove it. Her heart hurt. She was mortal, alone. She wore Mythal's vallaslin but the goddess was not guiding her. No god was guiding her.

The others looked at her. Cullen, Cassandra, Leliana, Josephine. They expected answers and she had nothing to offer but dreams of loss.

She exhaled supplication. A hushed voice in the dark, a pale call for help. Maybe the Dread Wolf...

And then, there was Mother Giselle. She was singing.

Shadows fall
And hope has fled
Steel your heart
The dawn will come
The night is long
And the path is dark
Look to the sky
For one day soon
The dawn will come