Compassion looks at her for a long, long time. Then a brilliant smile breaks across the spirit's face like a sunrise. "You sing with two voices now," he whispers, awed. "Perfect harmony, young and ancient, sweet and deep. You're bright, even when the song is sad, because you'll never be alone again." Then he hesitates, tilts his head at her like a little bird. "Why don't you let them see?"
"I'm me, but I'm more," Lavellan explains, and her voice rings with the Dread Wolf's timeless wisdom. "I don't know how to explain that to anyone else." She hesitates briefly, then adds, "Please keep this between us."
"Would they be frightened of you, the way they were of me at first?" he asks, guileless.
It's more complicated than that. It always is. She has a moment to appreciate the irony of the situation, concealing the actual divine spark within her from the faithful who revere Andraste's Herald. Someone who never existed except in their beliefs. But she smiles at the spirit who called himself Cole. There is no need to hide from him.
"Look after them, my friend." She takes one last look at Skyhold before turning her feet toward the west, her dark hood swallowing her features. "They will need you."