Chapter Text
Abelas knew he was on the verge of waking up, and he hated it. A sweet fragrance of blooming mythalwood turned into smell of dust, itching in his nostrils. The insistent feeling became stronger and his dreams more fragile, until the bubble broke and he opened his yellow eyes, staring at the ceiling. The fracture he remembered from last time had broken into two separate lines, now. Sighing, Abelas decided to look if they still had the plaster somewhere. After they would defeat the intruders to temple, of course.
He could hear his brothers and sisters stirring near him. There were too many empty beds, now. The ones born after the closing of temple doors never lived long, and at some point the temple guardians had lost heart to even think about having more children, even if it meant there would be no new sentinels to protect the Vir'Abelasan. Abelas understood them very well, although he had never given to temptation. He knew sorrow like his own name, and did not wish to add to his burden.
The fight did not go as usually. There were two groups of invaders instead of one, and Abelas felt the deaths of those he had sent to bridge. It was always the same, every time they woke up. Only question was how many died this time. He steeled his heart, reminding himself that this was their duty. The Vir'Abelasan had to be protected at all costs.
"Abelas.", one of his brothers came to him. "The first group of attackers broke the floor in pilgrim chamber and jumped in, trying to reach the well. I sent seven of us to wait for them. But the other group is very strange."
"What do you mean?", Abelas asked.
"Their leader, a silent woman with white hair, has features of elvhen and markings of Dirthamen. She is performing the rites of Mythal. And I think she is accompanied by Fen'Harel and two shemlens. They call him Solas, and argue about gods with him."
Abelas made up his mind.
"If they show respect to Mythal, we will open the doors to supplicants' chamber and hear their explanations. Mythal would not have wanted us to give offence to Fen'Harel, if he truly is here."
"Venavis.", Abelas said, gesturing his archers to wait.
"You..are unlike the other invaders.", he addressed the white-haired woman who was obviously the leader of their group. She carried a mage staff. "You have the features of those who call themselves elvhen. You bear a mark of magic which is.. familiar. How has this come to pass? What is your connection to those who first disturbed our slumber?"
The woman looked at him, but did not speak. A shemlen warrior, standing behind her, answered:
"We have come to stop Corypheus and his templars from finding whatever dark magic he wants from this place."
Abelas considered the group below him. He did not like the ambition which was clear on shemlen witch's face, and neither he cared about the female warrior who had spoken to him. Fen'Harel was passive, obviously hiding his true identity, but his very presence told Abelas all he needed to know. This Corypheus they spoke about had came for the Well, like every invader before him, and Fen'Harel's companions would try to take the well instead. But there was no reason to fight two enemies at one time, if it could be avoided.
"I am called Abelas.", he told them. "We are sentinels, tasked with standing against those who trespass the sacred ground. We wake only to fight, to preserve this place. Our numbers diminish with each invasion."
The white-haired woman looked at him, her lips parting as to say something, but Abelas continued:
"I know what you seek. Like all who have come before you, you wish to drink from Vir'Abelasan. It is not for you. For any of you."
Still she did not answer. Instead, she swept her fingers over a golden bracelet she wore, and Fen'Harel, who was wearing it's twin, said:
"Sulehn wishes to know if you truly are elves from ancient times, before the Tevinter imperium destroyed Arlathan."
Their three-way discussion went on for some time, and Abelas found his curiosity stirring. What kind of mage had a god as her interpreter? She obviously did not know a thing about her own history. But when he spoke about the deaths of his brothers and sisters, and the sleep from which they were called, there was compassion in her eyes. It made him angry, and he lashed out to her, when she claimed to be same people. He endured, and it was only thing which mattered. He had no need for sympathy from those who lived in forest like shadows, with vallaslin on their faces. Her words, spoken by Fen'Harel, were courageous and demanding, pointing out that they had respected the rites of Mythal best they could, and Abelas found himself agreeing on an alliance.
It was before the shemlen witch turned into a bird and flew, trying to reach Vir'Abelasan.
His shameful failure was bitter in his heart. The witch flew to the Well, and although he ran as fast as he could, the magic creating stairs on his footsteps, he was not fast enough. Sulehn followed him, and the invaders stood mere steps away from Well of Sorrows. All these years, all these sacrifices, and he had failed.
"So the sanctum is despoiled at last.", he spat, unable to control the sorrow which spread in his heart. They would take the well, and he would be freed to wander in this foreign, horrible world with no purpose at all.
Sulehn looked at him, opened her lips, and suddenly world was full of sound.
Abelas almost fell when the piercing bright sounds of instruments he had not heard since fall of Arlathan filled the temple. Sulehn was holding her arms wide, and the very stones of temple sang for her, magic flowing from everywhere. The darker sounds from dead invaders joined her, their souls rising to serve her song. The female shemlen warrior made a disgruntled noise, but Fen'Harel's lips were curved in smile as he looked at Abelas.
Sulehn's voice was like divine blessing poured into his soul. And like every divine blessing, it felt like the sharpest blade, cutting through his armor.
"This is me for forever
One of the lost ones
The one without a name
Without an honest heart as compass
This is me for forever
One without a name
These lines the last endeavor
To find the missing lifeline "
"What are you doing?", Abelas cried out, trying to retreat, but he could not. The song from her lips held him in place. There were tears in her purple eyes, and the sky above them darkened. Abelas felt the first drops of water falling on skin.
"Oh how I wish
For soothing rain
All I wish is to dream again
My loving heart
Lost in the dark
For hope I'd give my everything "
He dropped in his knees. His desperation, his sorrow, everything torn out from him like opening a festering wound. He tried to fight it, but her magic was too strong. Siren song.
Sulehn stepped closer, brushing the vallaslin on his forehead with her cold fingers. Abelas stared at her, unable to utter a single reasonable word. She sang:
"Walk the dark path
Sleep with angels
Call the past for help
Touch me with your love
And reveal to me my true name"
It was a promise. Abelas felt like choking, but she continued, pulling the years of sorrow and regret from his soul. The soothing rain fell on him, and the memories of death and loss lost their edge, dulling until they were merely old and faded scars.
Her spell strengthened, and her companions, the shemlen and Fen'Harel alike, lifted their voices to wordless, ethereal chorus. Her soprano sang of Abelas going home and letting go. He didn't want to, but he couldn't fight it, either. The music trembled deep in his bones, and even the Well of Sorrows wept for him.
Finally the music ended and she closed her mouth. Abelas' legs were shaking as he stood up. The rain had stopped, and the sky was clearing. He looked at her, and Sulehn smiled at him mischievously. Abelas opened his mouth, closed it again, and then wordlessly gestured towards the well before he turned away and almost ran down the stairs.
"Touch me with your love?", Morrigan asked as Abelas had escaped. "You are not a shy one, aren't you, Inquisitor?"
Sulehn giggled and swiped at her bracelet. Solas chuckled under his breath.
"She says that if she must be silent, she has to make up for it with actions. You may drink, Morrigan."