The world spun violently as the magic of the shattered eluvian pulled you forward, the Fade flickering in your vision like the shimmer of distant heat. Then, with a jarring lurch, it spat you out. You stumbled, your boots landing not on open ground but on smooth stone, cool and unyielding beneath you.

The air was thick, carrying the faint scent of incense, aged parchment, and something sharper—metallic, like steel polished to a gleam. You blinked rapidly, your surroundings coming into focus. Walls carved with flowing elven script surrounded you, their edges glowing faintly with magic. Golden light spilled into the room from a brazier in the corner, casting dancing shadows across shelves crowded with ancient tomes, glass vials, and intricate devices you didn’t recognize.

This was no clearing. You were indoors—somewhere grand, sacred, and private.

Your breath hitched. Where were you?

Before you could process the situation, you heard movement—deliberate and soft, a predator’s tread on stone. You turned sharply, your heart hammering in your chest, and froze.

There, standing at the far end of the chamber, was a figure. His back was to you at first, but the moment your presence registered, he turned. The face you knew so well came into view, but it was... different. His features were sharper, his expression more guarded, and the familiar look of distant sorrow was gone, replaced by something cold and unyielding.

Solas.

The name was barely a whisper on your lips, but he heard it. His head tilted ever so slightly, a flicker of curiosity crossing his face before it disappeared, masked by icy calculation. His piercing violet-grey eyes pinned you in place as he stepped closer, his movements smooth, deliberate—like a hunter cornering its prey.