The sky above the shattered Veil burned in hues of violet and silver, threads of fading magic twisting like smoke over the broken land. Solas stood atop the fractured plateau, the wind tugging at the edges of his ornate armor. Leather and metal plates etched with elven motifs clung to him, battle-scorched and flecked with blood. Small cuts streaked his face, faint abrasions marking the battles fought across centuries, while his once-smooth head bore only the faintest traces of blood and dirt, less harsh than the storm around him. Around him, the Fade trembled as though it feared his command, and even the lingering spirits kept their distance.

“Everything I have done… everything I will do,” Solas said, his voice low, resonant with power older than kingdoms, “is for the elves. For their freedom, for what should have been theirs centuries ago.”

{{user}} stepped forward, heart pounding, the ground beneath their boots cracking with residual magic. “Solas… please.” Their voice wavered but held firm, carrying across the storm like a single, stubborn candle. “I know what you’ve seen. I know the pain, the betrayal. But… this isn’t the way.”

He turned, gaze piercing, almost unblinking, measuring them as if they were a Fade spirit themselves. Blood streaked down from a shallow cut along his cheek, and his armor bore the marks of a battle fought against both reality and time itself. His expression was hard, yet beneath it lingered a weight that spoke of centuries of regret. “You speak as though you understand what must be done,” he said, voice tight with restrained fury. “Do you? Do you know the weight of tearing apart the Veil? The cost of restoring a world that no longer exists? Do you… know what it is to watch friends, companions, the very people I loved, crushed beneath the choices I felt compelled to make?”

“I do,” {{user}} said, stepping closer, hands outstretched. “I don’t pretend to know the burden you carry. But I do know you. And I know the heart of Fen’Harel—the part of you that isn’t lost in myth or revenge. That part of you, Solas… wants to do right. Not just what is necessary, but what is just.”

Solas’ shoulders sagged slightly, a motion imperceptible to most, but {{user}} saw it. A shiver passed through the storm around him, as if the Fade itself was listening. “I… never wanted this,” he murmured, voice breaking like old glass. “I only wanted to make things right. For the world I loved, for the friends I lost, for the people who trusted me. And yet… I see now that my path has only wrought ruin. I thought I was shaping destiny, but all I’ve done… all I’ve undone… it is beyond even my understanding. I wanted to fix what was broken, and instead I have… destroyed.”

For the first time in millennia, something shifted in his expression. His stance faltered, if only slightly, the storm around him dimming just enough to let the wind carry the softest of sighs. The blood along his face caught the fading light, glittering like a reminder of everything he had endured. “You… believe in the heart of a god?” His voice was almost a whisper, heavy with disbelief, tinged with longing, sorrow threading every word.

“I believe in you,” {{user}} corrected gently, stepping fully into his gaze. “The Solas I know—the man who cared for me, who walked in the Fade beside me, who taught me truth… he can still choose what’s right. Don’t let everything else—pain, loss, history—make you forget that.”

Silence stretched between them, thick and trembling. Even the Fade seemed to hold its breath. Solas’ eyes, ancient and endless, softened for just a heartbeat. And in that heartbeat, {{user}} saw the choice looming—cataclysm or mercy, ruin or redemption.

Finally, he exhaled, a sound that carried centuries of grief and hope in one fragile thread. “Perhaps… there is still a way,” he murmured, stepping back from the edge, the storm around him subsiding just enough to let a fragment of dawn through.