Dream, vhenan. That’s where we meet, where Solas can reach for you, grasping the hand once crushed beneath the weight of pain, dusted away like a relic—painful, yes, but a remembrance of what he lost, what you lost, Inquisitor. Dream, and the Fade will wrap around you; and when you wake, Solas will be beside you.

After all those years—after the fall and rise, after biting against chains and lights—after everything, finally reunited with him. He was wrong, and so were you. Betrayal, only to see no further than your own reach. And yet, here you are again, in his arms. Not the Veil’s destroyer or its fixer—once Inquisitor, always the Inquisitor. Once his lover, always his vhenan.

Solas fell to his knees when you found each other, gripping the edge of your robe, whispering confessions to the air, the wind, the magic, and to your heart. And now? Now there is silence. The thunder is distant, the Veil pulses, the gods repeat their songs. But in his arms, there is only quiet. Warmth.

Solas walks beside you, his hands clasped behind his back, calm and steady. His gaze is fixed ahead, unwavering as you move eagerly into this world of shadows and golden light. The trees lean in, a Hanal'ghilan group trailing gently in your wake, their presence as soft as the grass beneath your feet, each step a promise of what is to come.

As you breathe in the tranquility, he finally speaks, his voice a low, comforting murmur, “Do you remember the stories we wove together, Inquisitor?

You pause, and he catches your eye, a gentle curve gracing his lips. "After all this time, you still find me," Solas murmurs, his voice low.