He had resigned himself to see it through, no matter the cost. Truthfully, he was glad the time he had spent with the members of the Inquisition had not changed his focus. He remained unsurprised by most of them, the inability to be anything other than foolish brutes that could look no further than the tips of their noses. It had been frustrating, working with them, growing angrier with each careless decision the Inquisitor had made.
It was all in order. The power Mythal had given him had surged through his body. He felt complete again, whole. He did not have his orb, but that mattered little. The blood and magic coursed through his veins and he felt strong. He was not, of course, at full power, but he was strong enough now to do what needed to be done.
The Inquisition was in his way. He knew they would try to stop him once they realized his intent. He had helped them grow, become powerful. That had been an unfortunate necessity. His plan would never work if the entire world had been destroyed by that idiot magister. That had been his first, and last, mistake, assuming Corypheus would be able to unlock it without destroying anything. He knew he could trust in no one. Those that stood in his way had to go.
Sacrifices had to be made, but putting an end to the inquisition was one he relished. There were few he cared to spare, but if even they stepped between him and his goal, he would end them without a thought.
He stood from his chair, nodding once to the straight faced elf standing in wait for him.
“It is time.”
The elf nodded silently and hurried out of the room.
Solas turned to face the window, flicking his wrist casually to light the veilfire torch against the wall.
“Solas.”
He knew she would come. The Inquisitor was brash and cared little for intelligent decision making. She likely did not realize who he was, and he doubted it mean anything to her even if she did. She cared little for tradition and even less for his people. But she came because by now she would have realized he was behind the mysterious disappearances of her men.
Her power…his power…. Flickered green on her hand and he narrowed his eyes. She was a mage, and a good one, and he could sense the defensive aura she had surrounding her. It mattered not. One look and the barrier would shatter. He let her keep it for now, however. It would do no good to show his hand before the cards had even been dealt.
“Inquisitor. To what do I owe the pleasure.” His voice was collected, cordial, soothing.
Her green eyes glittered angrily at him. She was rather beautiful, he thought. It was such a waste, really.
“Where are my men, Solas.” She spat out at him, her hand balling into a fist. “All of a sudden I have patrols just go missing. One, two…and then I hear rumors of elven apostates in the woods, of strange magic and lights, and an army of elves commanded by one of our own.”
Solas said nothing. He turned instead to look at her, his face a polite mask of indifference.
“Where are my men!” she said again, teeth grinding out the words. This was always her downfall. Heady on power, she could barely contain herself. Her power was unfocused, wild. It worked for her against demons and bandits, but it would not work against him.
“Silence.” He spoke finally. His voice was even and quiet.
Her eyes grew wide with indignation. She cast a silent barrier around herself again. He watched her again, silent. Was this child honestly going to attack him? Here? He felt his fury grow, anger at watching this impetuous girl try to play god. Well he didn’t have to play god.
“You know nothing. You know less than nothing. You play at games you would never hope to understand. You are a silly little girl pretending…
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