The Parallel and Paradox of "In Hushed Whispers"

In an unimaginable awakening to a hellish future, sometimes the best solution is simply to end it all and start over. This approach may ennoble the Inquisitor, but it villainizes Solas—and asks us to consider some interesting questions.

SOLAS: This world is an abomination. It must never come to pass.

It's a daunting scenario for a hero.

You're the leader of your people. You're courageous and willing to risk your own life, to walk into a trap, to confront a tyrant that you know wants to kill you and everyone you care about. Who's willing to end the world if they can't rule it.

You show up, everything goes wrong, and the next thing you know, you're in a nightmare world. Everything you tried to do is destroyed. Reality is unimaginably grim, a hellscape. 

You're faced with only one potential solution: End this reality. Kill this nightmare so this world never comes to pass. You're saddened at the idea of ending this world, watching your companions die... but accept that it must be done.

It's an interesting situation. Especially since I'm not describing the Inquisitor's situation.

I'm talking about Solas.

The Inquisitor's situation is treated from beginning to end as a regrettable, straightforwardly tragic situation in which there is only one workable outcome: annihilation of this world and future.

The Deliberate Parallels

I've talked about this before in my post on "Solas and the Waking Nightmare," but I've always felt that "In Hushed Whispers," one of the most pivotal questlines in Dragon Age: Inquisition, offered deliberate parallels between the scenario facing the Inquisitor and the one facing Solas upon his awakening before the game story began.

What's interesting here is that the Inquisitor's situation is treated from beginning to end as a regrettable, straightforwardly tragic situation in which there is only one workable outcome: This corrupted world in which she finds herself must be destroyed (note: as always, I'm referring to my Inky by the gender of my canon character). There's no judgment for this decision the Inquisitor makes. Her companions immediately back her up on it without hesitation. They are, all of them, instantly willing to sacrifice their lives. There is no apparent moral conundrum regarding the Inquisitor's decision at all.

"In Hushed Whispers" is one of my favorite quests across Dragon Age, but I would have loved it even more if there had been more of a grey area to the choice our Inquisitor must make there. What if she had met someone wonderful, whose life would not exist in the other timeline, for instance? (Or maybe that would've been too on the nose?)

Regardless, in light of the new #TheDreadWolfRises Dragon Age 4 teaser with its red lyrium elements and with that sad, exhausted-sounding Solas at the end, there's never been a better time to go back and reexamine "In Hushed Whispers" to see what other secrets may lie hidden there.

There are many parallels between Solas's stories of the Evanuris and the Chantry's creation myth, and those parallels are genuinely shiver-inducing. Especially if you actually read them in a whisper-voice. 

The Canticle of Threnodies

"In Hushed Whispers" was written by Mary Kirby, and I loved finding out that she listened to Gershwin while writing it (Rhapsody in Blue? Porgy and Bess? Or the timeless song standards?). Kirby's writing meshes with the deft talents of the other character writers—in this playthrough for me, those would have included two of my favorite regular callouts—Patrick Weekes (Solas and Iron Bull) and David Gaider (Dorian). Kirby is also credited with writing the majority of the Chant of Light (a superb and daunting work on its own within the Dragon Age universe I'll be exploring further), and I think there's a lot of hidden meaning to the fact that this quest's title comes from the key events of the Canticle of Threnodies within.

The Canticle of Threnodies is the portion of the Chant of Light that describes the past beyond the Fade, and which outlines the very creation of the world itself, and in which we, post-"Trespasser," can certainly see tantalizing parallels between the Chantry's version of events and those described by Solas:

And so we burned. We raised nations, we waged wars,
We dreamed up false gods, great demons
Who could cross the Veil into the waking world,
Turned our devotion upon them, and forgot you.

I'll be examining the Chant in detail in a future series of blog posts, but this certainly sounds like the Evanuris to me. (I'm so fascinated with the Chant, mostly to find the little moments they got right, not wrong!)

The Canticle of Threnodies goes on to outline the Maker's creation of the world, his children his 'people' who appeared to be spirits (and, perhaps, elves?), the Golden City, and his growing dissatisfaction with his firstborns, despite the fact that they basically just stood around and sang his praises. The Maker, unhappy with the 'formlessness' of the Fade and the world of the spirits, erects the Veil in one vast and metaphysical shake-up.

And the Voice of the Maker shook the Fade
Saying: In My image I have wrought
My firstborn. You have been given dominion
Over all that exists. By your will
All things are done.
Yet you do nothing. 
The realm I have given you
Is formless, ever-changing.

What's notable here is that there is no great and mythical moment of sin and retribution—no fall of Lucifer, no Eve and the apple, no murder of Mythal. He's just... dissatisfied ("And He knew He had wrought amiss"). And He therefore divides the Fade from the tangible world, shutting the spirits away and ushering in a habitable space for His favorite shiny new kids, the humans:

Here, I decree
Opposition in all things:
For earth, sky
For winter, summer
For darkness, Light.
By My Will alone is Balance sundered
And the world given new life

It's fun to imagine Solas's face when he heard these words for the first time. I have to think he would have smiled, even if there was probably little humor in it.

Meanwhile, at this point in the Canticle, the Maker seals himself off in the Golden City, waiting to see what his fabulous new kids will create. And it's only here that the Maker's firstborn children, understandably a bit peevish over current events, take action, deciding to take power over the world from which they were unceremoniously removed—and the Maker casts them down, imprisoning them "in tombs of immutable rock" for all time.

Now, beyond the twisted parallels we can see between Solas's stories of the Evanuris and the Chantry's creation myth, there's also the fascinating final stanza that describes the insidious revenge of those cast-down demons and spirits, the would-be gods, who gave their worshippers, "in hushed whispers, the secrets of darkest magic."

I mean, that's genuinely shiver-inducing. Not to mention a perfect echo of what our Inquisitor encounters when Alexius catapults them into an unthinkable future.

But let's get back to the Quest...

Travels with Dorian

For me, one of the best things about "In Hushed Whispers" (or IHW for short) is how seamlessly it structures our introduction to new companion Dorian, so that he instantly feels like a friend and supporter. When we find ourselves in the gloomy nightmare future of Redcliffe Castle, the first thing Dorian does is reassure us that he will protect us if danger looms, and I'm sure I was one of many thousands who instantly melted a little at the gallantry.

It's a terrific introduction to Dorian, who is instantly a lot of fun—arrogant and slightly pompous, but also charming, funny, and kind. The storyline of the quest provides a scenario that gives us a tremendous amount of information on Dorian and his relationships with Alexius and Felix in a very natural and unforced way. It's also a situation that spotlights Dorian's keen intelligence and curiosity -- yes, he's famously, ridiculously, handsome, but Dorian's also a really smart guy, and his intense curiosity and joy in puzzle-solving are on full display.

Dorian is an interesting companion choice here, because he's both involved emotionally, and also detached on some levels too. He's not in this for our friends, he's there because he cares about our antagonist (Alexius) even if he's now his greatest foe. Throughout the quest, Dorian repeatedly talks about his concern for Alexius even as we're facing the hellish aftermath of this reality and the devastating outcomes for much-loved companions and advisors. 

Dorian can be tone-deaf about the situation, to say the least. For instance, perhaps his worst moment is (later on) when he attempts to quiz Leliana about the fate of his beloved friend Felix only moments after we rescue Leliana from a full year of pain, torture, abuse and loss. You get the sense that her pain, or the pain of the situation doesn't quite touch him the way it touches the Inquisitor,  and that it does so differently—he's grieving Alexius and Felix even while we're grieving our companions and friends. He's going, "I can't believe he'd do this," while we're going, "Oh my God, everything I loved is gone and my friends are dying."

Dorian is a fascinating companion for this quest, and it manages to spotlight his intelligence, dedication, charm—as well as his pragmatism.

Corrupted Companions

One of the most effective and moving moments in the quest occurs when we go into the dungeons and discover our long-lost companions. The introductions to these alternate-future companions are both darkly funny (Bull's resignedly singing the folk song "99 Bottles of Beer" to himself, and it feels like maybe he's lost count more than a few times...) and terribly sad (poor Sera, reciting "Where Willows Wail" brokenly to herself (yes, I think this is a HUGE detail), is terrified to see us, then poignantly talks about running out of arrows the day she was captured). Blackwall, like Sera, is terrified at our return from death, while Cassandra (reciting the "Chant of Light" alone to herself) sees it as a source of comfort, as divine resurrection. 

I found it interesting that Varric, like Bull, is singing (or humming) to comfort himself—Varric is the only companion who doesn't ask how we returned from death, but who simply asks "How did you escape?" I love this sly implication that Varric's faith runs this deep; that he doesn't question whether we live (like almost everyone else), he just wants to know, like any good writer, "What's the twist? How did you get away?")

Meanwhile Vivienne, true to form, doesn't trust for a moment. She is all too aware of the deviousness of men and demons, and so she properly does not believe in us at first, and simply assumes we're yet another attempt by her jailers to trick or tempt her. Watching Vivienne in this scene, I instantly felt like I was getting a glimpse of her Harrowing, where surely she just as easily waved away any incipient demons with an elegant dismissal (as Solas once noted, surely any Pride Demon she met would have given up instantly upon meeting her). Vivienne joins the Inquisitor and Dorian with her usual hint of steel—she doubts they'll succeed, "But I would like to hurt something very badly right now," she says quietly, and surely somewhere even Corypants shivered just a little. It's probably my favorite moment for Viv ever: she knows she's dying, she's a lady, but dammit... she will have her due. 

And then there's the discovery of Solas...

This quest is unquestionably one of the grimmest to occur in Dragon Age: Inquisition, but it holds many riches if we're willing to look past the darkness.

Secrets from Solas

Given what we later discover about his own goals and secrets, Solas's reaction is perhaps most interesting of all.

We hear his voice as we enter the prison: "Is someone there?" The Inquisitor approaches with Dorian (and potentially the other party member), finding Solas, who is emanating red lyrium like the other corrupted companions, his eyes glowing red, and with that oddly deep, doubled "red lyrium voice," as if we are hearing a deeper resonance or echo beneath it. 

And yes, it certainly sounds familiar—an awful lot like the choked, exhausted voice of Solas at the end of the new "The Dread Wolf Rises" trailer.

Solas is visibly stunned as we enter. He actually reels backward. 

SOLAS: You're alive? We saw you die!
DORIAN: The spell Alexius cast displaced us in time. We just got here, so to speak.
SOLAS: Can you reverse the process? You could return and obviate the events of the last year. It may not be too late.

Out of all the companions we encounter in this future, it's Solas who instantly grasps what's happening, and who instantly posits the solution. 

Of course he does. He's been here before, after all, when he awakened the year before the Conclave exploded. And he came to the very same conclusion then.

Going forward in the dialogue with Solas provides some additional clues depending on our choices:

OPTION 1: 

INQUISITOR: You look... bad. Is there anything I can do to help?
SOLAS: I am dying, but no matter. If you can undo this, they can all be saved.

But you know nothing of this world. It is far worse than you understand. Alexius served a master: The Elder One. He reigns now, unchallenged. His minions assassinated Empress Celene, and used the chaos to invade the South. This Elder One commands an army of demons. After you stop Alexius, you must be prepared. 

INQUISITOR: We can't do this without you.
SOLAS: If there is any hope, any way to save them... my life is yours.

The fact that Solas doesn't hesitate to offer his life is, for me, surprisingly emotional. Solas may be hiding his own secrets, but he puts his money where his mouth is—he's just as willing to die for a better world as he is to (potentially) kill for one.

OPTION 2:

INQUISITOR: I’m glad you understood what he just said because I’m not sure I did.
SOLAS: You would think such understanding would stop me from making such terrible mistakes. You would be wrong. But you know nothing of this world. It is far worse than you understand.

INQUISITOR: You are just brimming with good news, aren't you?
SOLAS: If you can return to your present, you might find it helpful to know what the Elder One plans.

What's notable here is that Solas admits to his "terrible" mistakes. The third option, meanwhile, isn't really much different (he simply reminds us to "remember this future. It may help you prevent it").

In the end, no matter which dialogue option we choose here, Solas ends with words that are both prophetic and ironic:

This world is an abomination. It must never come to pass.

I... think Solas may have spoken those words before.

Out of all the companions we encounter in this future, it's Solas who instantly grasps what's happening, and who instantly posits the solution. Of course he does. He's been here before, after all.

Finishing the Quest

As we run through the quest, encountering tragic echoes of other characters from our time in Redcliffe, from an imprisoned, apparently mad Lysas, to a dying Fiona (now grotesquely half-lyrium, who tells us about Leliana and gives us the year as 9:42 Dragon), to a Connor who, if present, self-immolates as we enter the room to avoid abomination. We may also encounter the arrogant mage from the tavern, Linnea, sacrificing a fellow mage despite his pleas to spare his life.

The most notable reference by Solas as we wrap up our quest for red lyrium shards to access Alexius's private quarters is when he notes, as we traverse a courtyard, "The Veil is shattered. There is no boundary now between the world and the Fade."

Now, I have questions, here: Is a "shattered" Veil different from a Veil that has been removed, torn down? 

Because that's a key, crucial detail. Is this, then, a glimpse of a world without a Veil? 

I'd argue that the answer is no. What Solas wants to do in "Trespasser" is to enter the Fade (using the Mark), tear down the Veil, and in the raw chaos, restore the world of the ancient elves using his magic. As you know, I do not think he'll do this, but... is this a glimpse of that raw chaos?

I'm divided on that. Solas seems so horrified at the state of the world, there are rifts spawning everywhere; he's never even once remotely or secretly empowered or exhilarated by what he witnesses. So to me that seems to imply that a "shattered" Veil isn't the same world state as an absent one (I'm guessing, for one thing, that the shattered aspect would cause even more rifts and demonic upheavals, which certainly looks like what faces us here).

Also, it has to be said, but Red Lyrium Solas is even hotter than regular Solas (the corruption gives his character this sort of wan, vampiric look), so it's just further confirmation that I am obviously evil and going to hell, because, yes, I would absolutely still Hit That. Seriously. (Call me, Red Lyrium Solas!)

The True Believer

Then we find Leliana, and she is absolutely magnificent here. She's come a long way from the sweet young bard we met in Origins, who was inspired by a flowering rose to serve the Maker's will. Here, in this hellish future, despite a year of constant torture, she is a woman made of steel, her belief in the Maker and in a better afterlife sustaining her through unthinkable torment.

When we find her, a Venatori captor runs his hand along a tray of torture instruments, telling a Leliana hanging in chains, "You will break," to which she quietly responds, "I will die first." Then the Inquisitor enters, and Leliana instantly uses the distraction to break the torturer's neck with her legs.

Then she gets right down to brass tacks, brushing away any attempts by the Inquisitor to assuage or comfort her. "You need to end this," she says, then begins to gather weapons.

Dorian's thrown by her immediate acceptance of the situation:

DORIAN: You... aren't curious how we got here?

LELIANA: No.

Dorian begins to explain anyway, with the Inquisitor chiming in with several potential responses on how they'll save her, or this isn't real, et cetera.

LELIANA: Enough. This is all pretend to you. Some future you hope will never exist. I suffered. The whole world suffered. It was real.

I think this is so important, and Leliana really gives us the gravitas that this entire interlude requires—the knowledge that people really did suffer unimaginably. People we cared about. Where's Josie? Where's Cullen? Where are our other companions? It's pretty obvious they didn't survive.

It's worth pointing out that during this quest, we find several important notes or diaries, most notably Alexius's Journal, which notes that despite "countless" time resets (remember what I said about Fiona having no choice in what she did?), he cannot skip back to any time before the Breach. We also find a horrifying "Studies on the Blight," which dryly and dispassionately outlines Leliana's terrible torture over the past year, as well as her mystifying immunity to the Blight itself.

Dorian, meanwhile, pauses now and then to admit to the Inquisitor that this situation is painful for him from a different perspective. He once idolized and loved Alexius like a mentor, a second father, and (I believe) with a hint perhaps of romantic love. His respect for Alexius and love for Felix don't exactly cause him to excuse Alexius's behavior, but he continues to express disbelief that he would go this far ("Once he was a man to whom I compared all others"), and to hope that the Inquisition will be merciful.

Leliana has no room for mercy. When Dorian asks her if she knows what happened to Felix, there is a quiet yet utterly understandable cruelty in her response: "Yes." She will elaborate no further. She won't give him solace. She has no kindness left within her.

Then we confront Alexius, and Leliana confronts him on his monstrosity over the past year, coolly cutting the throat of Felix (now a zombie from the progression of the Blight, and foreshadowing a later, similar situation) without even the pretense that there will be a bargain here with her. All she wants now is vengeance. We take out Alexius (and it's a pretty fun boss battle, with lots of magic and rift-closing), then it's time to use the amulet. 

Dorian, predictably, is confident and almost casual. "Give me an hour to work out the spell he used, and I should be able to reopen the rift."

Leliana is openly contemptuous. "An hour! That's impossible! You must go now!"

The earth shakes, and she and Solas both echo the same thought—the Elder One approaches, and we cannot stay.

Then there's a quiet look between the two remaining companions, whoever we bring, and then a nod, as they wordlessly agree to die for us. Right in this moment, and it always kills me. It's just beautifully rendered by the artists and animators here (as is this entire quest; the sparking red lyrium is beautiful and grotesque all at once).

SOLAS: We'll hold the outer door. When they get past us, it will be your turn.
INQUISITOR: No. I won't let you commit suicide. (alternate: We'll make this count.)
LELIANA: Look at us. We're already dead. The only way we live is if this day never comes.

They go through the door, resolute and ready to die, and we watch as it closes behind them.

LELIANA: Cast your spell. You have as much time as I have arrows.

Dorian begins the cast as Leliana readies her bow. The doors crash open as she smoothly shoots the darkspawn and demons that enter. As she fights, she recites the Chant, and we see, once and for all, how deeply Leliana's belief sustains her.

It is a tragic but deeply triumphant moment. Leliana, ravaged, hollow-eyed, and prematurely aged by her tortures, is nevertheless luminous here, glowing against the darkness, and the framing and direction by director Mike Laidlaw and Cinematic Director Pierre Michel-Estival is just stunning, as is the vocal performance by voice actress Corrine Kempa. Trevor Morris's driving score soars, and the moment is rich, cinematic, and absolutely devastating. For me, it remains a hallmark moment across DAI (and all the games) for emotion and terrible beauty.

LELIANA: Though darkness closes, I am shielded by flame.

The next moment, you'll see one of your companions die, as their dead body is thrown casually through the door (for me it was Bull this time, but in other playthroughs it was Solas, Varric, Cassandra, etc.).

LELIANA: Andraste guide me. Maker, take me to your side.

She is out of arrows. She begins to fight hand to hand, clearly doomed, yet still she takes out, one, two, three, four antagonists. She keeps fighting. More keep coming. She begins to use her bow as a blunt instrument, leaping over her attackers. She is clearly doomed.

The Inquisitor may try to approach her, but Dorian stops her, as they must go now, to prevent this future from taking place.

The last thing we see, as the Inquisitor unwillingly leaps with Dorian into the window to the corrected past, is Leliana's face as she is captured and a darkspawn holds her by the throat. She is calm. Her eyes widen as death approaches. Then we are, thankfully, spared the image of her actual death, then Dorian and the Inquisitor take the leap and we fade to black.

And then everything's fixed.

But... not quite. Because we were there. We saw it all.

Never test Leliana on the depths of her belief. Even in this horrific future, ravaged, hollow-eyed, and prematurely aged by her tortures, she is steadfast and luminous, willing to die for a better world.

The Aftermath

The conversations after this interlude, with present-day Leliana and whoever we brought on the mission, are fascinating. I love Leliana's reaction, because when we tell her "I saw you die, you sacrificed yourself for me," she simply shrugs and answers, "Of course." It's an echo back to the badass we just watched—we're reminded with zero doubt that if Leliana needs to give her life for the Inquisition, she will do so, and without hesitation.

And if we talk to Solas, it's interesting for an entirely different set of reasons, knowing why he's really here and what he wants to do. And if you know who he is and what he wants, there's so much to explore and consider there. I have to think the parallels are deliberate, right? How can they not be?

When we talk to Solas directly after, at first he's typically excited on a scientific level (it reminded me very much of Dorian here), wondering how sure we are that we visited an actual alternative future. Then he is visibly exhilarated, almost inspired, when we reaffirm that it was a trip to an alternate future. 

"What an amazing gift," he says. "It is vital the Inquisition succeed, to avoid the future you witnessed." Then he doubles down on this, telling the Inquisitor to remember this moment, if they ever feel hesitant about the necessity of the Inquisition’s actions. 

We don't know it, but we just reinforced his agenda, the righteousness of his belief. Depending on how "elfy" you are, and whether you think his plans will ever come to pass, this will either comfort you or terrify you. Or both.

Either way, the alternate future is done. Taken care of.

Done.

That world was an abomination. And now it will never come to pass.

NOTE: Apologies on the un-edited screenshots. I just don't have time right now to crop them all, so I appreciate your patience. I do plan on fixing them all, here and throughout the blog, at some point soon.

The Wounded Veil (May 2018 Map and Lore Update)

As you may remember, I wrote back in January about the status of the Veil as of the end of "Trespasser," and about my theory that for Solas's plan to eradicate the Veil to succeed, in actuality, all he really has to do is... wait.

In the latest version here, I have updated my original map to reflect additional key locations in Tevinter, the Anderfels, the Storm Coast, the Hissing Wastes, the Blackmarsh, the Lost Temple of Dirthamen, Seheron, and a few others that I missed the first time, and which some fantastic folks on Twitter were nice enough to point out. I also clearly marked every mage circle location specified across Thedas (note: with the exception of the one in Antiva that's never specified as far as city).

Mending the Veil

Beyond Solas's ancient elven artifacts (which I do believe will genuinely help to strengthen and ward the Veil), I did a bit more research and reading, and there is, however real evidence that it's possible to further heal at least some of the Veil tears we encounter across the story.

For instance, in Dragon Age: Origins, a demonically possessed Sophia Dryden can openly heal a major Veil tear right in front of our Warden at Soldier's Peak, in a bargain with the Warden for her freedom. In the "Awakening" DLC, meanwhile, several spirits and demons are presented as actively keeping or holding Veil tears open. The Warden-Commander can then repair those by killing the demons or spirits responsible.

In the Dragon Age II "Mark of the Assassin" DLC movie spinoff Dragon Age: Redemption (about the further adventures of an elven Ben-Hassrath named Tallis, played by Felicia Day), a Qunari Saarebas is able to tear the Veil by using an artifact of the Dalish known as the Mask of Fen'Harel. By destroying the mask, Tallis is able to close the impending rip in the Veil.

These instances seem to be rare, however. In one of the Codices for Dragon Age: Origins, First Enchanter Wenselus is quoted as saying "Once the Veil is torn, it is extremely difficult to mend, some say impossible."

Damage to the Veil

Still, I continue to believe the Veil is doomed... I even continue to wonder if that's why Solas hasn't acted at the end of Trespasser. As I've noted in my Character analyses on Solas and his romance, I do think he's conflicted, and I don't think he is truly prepared to tear down the Veil and doom the world, flawed as it is, that he's grown to care for (much less the people he loves within it).

And let's face it... if I'm right, he won't have to anyway. The Veil is shredded. And I suspect it's actually in far worse shape across Tevinter than I'm showing here, simply because I feel like we have so little information about it as a location in general. But their use of blood magic is rampant and goes back ages, and it's a triple-whammy in terms of thinning the Veil because of the (1) magic use, (2) blood magic, and (3) death and bloodshed.

One of the other things I want to add in this update is that I realized upon further research that the Mage Circles across both Orlais, Ferelden and Tevinter weren't just locations where the Veil went thin through magic use (and in many cases, bloodshed). They were in fact chosen, in almost every case, because they were places where the Veil was already thin. Which is interesting because that's certainly more dangerous for mages and increases the potential for Abomination.

In other words, it's evident that the need for power supercedes the risk of Abomination, and I suppose I can see that when a Blight comes calling—that it's thought to be worth that risk to increase magic potency and strength even if the danger to the lives of mages went up. But then again, that's the tragedy, isn't it? Historically, nobody really values the lives of mages. They're simply tools, weapons to be kept locked away until it's time to use them.

The important thing is, this means that we started with a thin spot for each and every Circle. For each of the most important cultural Tevinter locations where magic use was involved. For each key ancient elven location.

And then it just proceeded to get thinner. 

In other words, it's not looking good for our friends in Thedas—I'm guessing from what we're looking at here that the Veil has less than a millennia of life left to it. Maybe even just centuries. 

Or maybe it's already poised to go up in flames, a potential bonfire just a single match away from conflagration. 

Will Tevinter light that match? Or the Qunari? I still don't think it will be Solas.

Meanwhile, what do you think? And did I miss anything else here? Are there any other factors I should include here? I'd look forward to your input, as always!

The Paradox of the Wounded Veil

Solas: Great battles thin the Veil. This region will be home to demons for ages to come.

NOTE: For an updated and expanded map of Veil weakness (and additional analysis), please visit my later follow-up piece here.

At the current pause in our story of Thedas after both Dragon Age: Inquisition (DAI) and "Trespasser," as of 944 Dragon, the Veil is the object at the very center of some of the biggest and most urgent questions now connected to the fate of its world and peoples. 

So in this post, let's take a closer look at the Veil—at what it is, how it works, and at what its state appears to be as our story stands now.

The State of the Veil

As most Dragon Agers know, the Veil is the artificial, metaphysical barrier that separates the physical world of Thedas from the magical dream world of the Fade. 

While it's mostly referred to in metaphor as if it was a fabric separating the worlds, it's actually more of a magical vibration that covers Thedas. On the real-world side are physical beings, like elves, humans, dwarves, Qunari and others. On the other side, in the Fade, are metaphysical, spiritual beings like spirits and demons, and dream-consciousnesses.

According to various sources (Vivienne, the Chantry, and implications from Solas himself), the Veil was created before humans ever touched Thedas. And, perhaps somewhat ironically, it's what enables the current world of Thedas to continue to function in a logical way several ages later. It's also, presumably, at least one part of the magical construct that has imprisoned both the arrogant, tyrannical Evanuris and The Forgotten Ones in separate, millennia-long, time-outs.

But most importantly, the Veil allows each side of that barrier to exist in relative peace, keeping the physical world on one side and the dangers of the Fade precariously upon the other. 

The Allure and Danger of the Fade

Infinitely close (just a dream away) yet eternally distant, the Fade is a complex landscape—dangerous, alien and hostile, yet it's also beautiful and seductive. It's the home of all the purely spiritual beings, including demons, ghosts and maybe even the souls of Thedas (and perhaps of worlds beyond). It's also where the selves of mages and dreamers go each night when they sleep (only dwarves do not visit the Fade, except in the case of a dwarven Inquisitor, whose Anchor connecting them to Fade energies allows them to do so on a limited basis).

Most crucially, perhaps, the Fade is also the essence and source of all magic. So mortal beings with magical abilities are all slightly connected to it (or near to it) at all times, and must learn to consciously manage and finesse those connections to manifest their spells and powers. Yet they must also do so without opening a wide enough channel to allow the entrance of demons—when this happens, in an event known as "Abomination," the mage is immediately possessed and transformed by a powerful demon, and must then be killed before further catastrophe or bloodshed can take place (Abominations have been known to be powerful enough to decimate entire villages). The possibility and fear of Abomination is the single biggest reason for the existence of the Mage Circles (and wary Templars) across Thedas.

Despite its dangers, I've loved the idea of the Fade since the moment I heard it, and to me it's the metaphorical home of artists, thinkers, writers, and dreamers... in Thedas, and everywhere else. I love the idea of a communal, creative, and infinitely accessible dream world and wellspring—it's quite Jungian.

Of course, it's worth noting that the Fade is also the place where Solas just happens to spend most of his time as its magical king and ruler; the place where Solas's power is at its height. Solas doesn't just walk the Fade, after all—he can work with its substance, craft and warp its very air like clay, and create whole new environments for those he interacts with there—settings that can be both seductive, or, perhaps... terrifying? 

There's still so much to learn.

The World Before the Veil

And this is how it's been for ages of men... at least, since the world before (-3100 Ancient, or around 4,000 years before the Dragon Age setting of 941 Dragon as Inquisition begins). 

Many thousands of years or no, the Veil is still a relative and recent anomaly, a magical framework the world has battled to kill ever since. Since the time when magic was a part of life, when magic was as unconscious as breathing, as Solas notes to the Inquisitor early on at Haven:

“Imagine... spires of crystal twining through the branches, palaces floating among the clouds. Imagine beings who lived forever, for whom magic was as natural as breathing. That is what was lost.”

The Fade is a nightmare to some. But almost never, I suspect, to Solas.

I always love this moment because it's one of the times Solas shows the greatest emotion—he actually speaks quickly and loudly, almost shouting. It's fun to revisit the scene (especially after "Trespasser") and realize that he totally gives himself away here on a number of levels. 

Yet his desperation is both tragic and understandable. Solas is, after all, half-drowning and barely out of panic mode. What happens when you lose the air... yet you're somehow still alive and breathing? This is the tormented reality Solas is living during DAI, and it's implied that his only relief is found in his romance or friendship with Lavellan, in his brief period of friendship with his adventuring companions (especially Cole), or most of all when he can revisit those past glories in his journeys in The Fade. 

Walking in "a World of Tranquil"

The people of Thedas are, of course, used to the protective muffler of The Veil. But to Solas it feels oppressive and suffocating—I actually wonder if a physical side effect of this disconnection is why it takes him such a long time to regain his powers upon awakening. After all, he no longer has access to the magic that he could once have pulled from the very air. Now he's got to access tiny tendrils of magic through the barrier of the Veil into the Fade, stuck high and dry like everyone else. 

This is why it makes so much sense that Solas is not a remarkable mage at this point—not just because he's still weak from his long sleep even a year after his awakening, but because he's also literally having to relearn magic in a world in which the magic has been locked away. The progression as he reattains that power is especially notable (and subtly perfect) when he attains Rift Mage status at Skyhold. (I further headcanon that he continues to grow in power and capability from there, but that he hides his abilities, successfully, for the most part.) It also explains his prodigious abilities in the Fade even weakened and still awakening, as in the Fade there would be little to no recovery needed. He can and does kill there (with regret, and with impunity) as the god he is.

In other words, when we first meet Solas, in fact, in the Frostbacks, he's still arguably in the throes of PTSD, and walking in a muted, horrified silence, passing through, as he describes it, "a world of Tranquil."

It's a pretty grim idea when you think about it, and it definitely gives me some empathy for the somewhat proud, prickly and distant Solas we meet at the beginning of DAI. But if you explore it further, Solas's words also give us an idea of how fiery, emotional and passionate the elven people must have been in the ancient days of Solas's youth. No wonder he tells the Inquisitor he loves her after just two kisses (albeit there's a year of potential interaction to precede that, including subtle implications of many other interactions and conversations, as well)... Solas comes from a time in which passions and tempers both burned hot and fierce.

Of course, the down side of all that emotion was that, in Elvhenan, you not only had access to wonders untold, you also had arguments that lasted centuries, lovers who frolicked openly in the skies for years, and would-be gods who slaughtered and enslaved their own people out of their need for conquest and adulation. But it would still have been extraordinary to witness. (Note: my family has notoriously had arguments that lasted for years too, but that's just because we're Scottish... no magic required...)

Meanwhile, this is what Solas has taken away... from his people, and from himself. But for Solas to fix his mistake, for him to redeem his past actions and rescue his people... for them to breathe that heady mixture of magic and air again? No matter how much he abhors the idea... this world must burn. 

But I'm betting it won't.

The Separate Worlds of Magic and Muscle

For the most part, living beings and spiritual beings cannot pass through the Veil very easily, so each is mostly stuck to living on one side. Every rare while, spirits are called or push through benignly, like Cole (or... Solas? But more on that another time...) to gain physical form. And once in a rare while, living beings survive actual, physical time in the Fade—like the Inquisitor, after the Temple explosion. And again (with their companions), after Adamant.

Ultimately, more or less, as far as the Veil's functionality is concerned—it works as designed. It's nearly impossible for spirits nor mortal beings, for the most part, to pass physically through the Veil, so each side is protected from the other. 

The consciousnesses of most mortal dreamers and all mages are a different matter (though the average dreamer is unlikely to ever be more than vaguely aware of such 'travels').  Elven Dreamers or Tevinter somniari can come and go at will, while elves in uthenera exist there in a constant wave of color, knowledge and impression. Mages visit more warily, most of the time in their tests of magical skill (for Circle Mages, the test known as the Harrowing). 

The Wounded Veil

As the main storyline of Dragon Age: Inquisition progresses, the health of the Veil is a constant source of discussion—logically, of course, since we're walking around healing Rifts with our Inquisitorial superpowers.

However, let's take another look at the subtext of DAI. At first, all the talk of the Veil seems to be focused on the Rifts. But that's not actually the case. Instead, as we journey across Thedas and the story moves forward, we're constantly made aware that the Veil itself is thin and fragile in hundreds of spots, and furthermore, actually torn everywhere, in a thousand places—places of battle, of Blight, of great death or dying. And every time, spirits cluster at these places, hungering to enter our world.

The skies above Thedas in DAI are as torn and frayed as the Veil itself.

These thin or weakened places in the Veil can evidently be sensed with a greenish tint to the air—something poor Tamlen references in Dragon Age: Origins, in the Dalish Elf origin, also explaining that the Dalish call such thin places in the Veil setheneran (which roughly translates to, "land of waking dreams"). Sera also hesitantly echoes this idea in multiple ways when she describes what she sees to Solas later on, in DAI, when he encourages her to describe what she sees when she looks up into the Breach. Elves who visit areas where the Veil is thin may feel energized and strengthened, and Solas implies this as well, in his scene with a romanced Inquisitor in the ancient elven shrine in Crestwood.

Speaking of which: It's somewhat ironic, but I can't help but wonder if that lovely and subtly thrilling presence of the thin Veil may not have been the very thing that ultimately doomed the Inquisitor's relationship with Solas, right there and then. Solas comments on the wonderful, charged quality to the air, like "a prickling on your skin," and I can't help but wonder if this tantalizing glimpse of his former world (in which he felt more awake and alive) didn't subtly remind him of his real quest... and strengthen him enough to end his relationship with the Inquisitor he deeply cared for.

Veil Damage at a Glance

As Solas notes repeatedly throughout Dragon Age: Inquisition, the Veil is thinner, weaker or downright torn in places that have encountered extensive battle, magic, or death (especially blood magic). The Veil is evidently thinner at night than by day, and the thin spots are further weakened by spirits and demons who press against those places, attracted by the violence and death that took place.

If you take a look at the rather clumsy infographics I've created here in the image at top (using the map of Thedas courtesy of Bioware and the Dragon Age Wiki as my base), I've attempted to give a snapshot of the Veil's health as it stands now (944 Dragon) at the end of the events of "Trespasser." (Update: Again, please be sure to check out my updated version of this map here.)

That snapshot attempts to provide a look at just how damaged the Veil actually is—in not just dozens but potentially hundreds of locations across Thedas. 

Note: I want to thank the following Dragon Age community members on social media for their generous insights and suggestions on identifying and notating Veil tears and thin spots across Thedas, including, on Twitter: @LadyIolanthe, @JoGirlieGirl, @ImaSithDuh and @Idunasappl, as well as, from the Dragon Age Universe, Steve Cornelius, Vernon Swain-Nisbet, Sarah Chung, Michael Sawyer, and more. 

Notable Instances of (Heavily Implied) or Confirmed Veil Damage:

Rift locations across all of Southern Thedas
Locations Across Tevinter (wherever blood magic was used in large amounts)
Darkspawn entrances or exits
Major Blight locations
Arlathan
Kirkwall
Dairsmuid
Minrathous
Marnas Pell
Vyrantium
Weisshaupt
Ostagar
Brecilian Forest
Fereldan Circle Tower
Starkhaven
Redcliffe
Denerim
Soldier's Peak
Blackmarsh
The Breach (Frostback Mountains)
Giant spider locations (Storm Coast, Kirkwall, The Western Approach, The Forbidden Oasis, The Hinterlands, The Hissing Wastes, Crestwood, The Emerald Graves)
Felandaris areas (Emprise du Lion—especially Suledin Keep and Pools of the Sun—the Arbor Wilds, the Frostback Basin)

And many more

Additional Mage Circle Locations

Hossberg

Jainen

Lake Calenhad

Ansburg

Hasmal

Markham

Ostwick

Starkhaven

Cumberland

Perendale

Ghislain

Montsimmard

Val Royeaux

Carastes

Vyrantium

And let's not forget Dalish encampments (hard to track due to their secretive and wandering ways), plus all those little bloody spots on my infographic... which detail every single place I could document across Thedas as offering battles or bloodshed at catastrophic levels. When we factor those into our portrait of the Veil, it's almost impossible to find a place that would be conceivably strong. 

The creation of the Veil was an act of almost unthinkable strength, accomplished by a mage at the height of his powers. But it was nevertheless the act of just one man, no matter how extraordinary, and it has permanently changed and warped a world in which it was never meant to exist at all.

Meanwhile,  beyond all of the damage I've detailed here, that Veil has also deteriorated, year after year, in several other implied and subtle ways since its creation. 

Take a look at this pure contrast graphic version I did of the Veil chart above, now reversed below. It details major damage only, not including the potential thousands of additional weak spots that presumably exist, as well.

If this was a roof, you couldn't sleep under it. If it was a blanket, you'd throw it away.

The point I'm getting to here is a simple one: The Veil wasn't meant to last forever. And currently, it's doomed. It's not just wounded, it's on life support (support provided, rather ironically and repeatedly, by Solas himself, along with those mystifying "ancient elven artifacts." When I first played DAI, I thought Solas was trolling us with those... but what if they were, in fact, placed across Thedas because he realized the Veil was fragile? Because he knew it was something that would need to be strengthened and maintained in order to function? If this is the case, then his relief at knowing "the wards are working" isn't hypocrisy anymore, it's genuine.

Based on the information I've presented here, with or without a scattering of artifacts—and with or without Solas eventually yanking the whole thing down like a magician pulling a tablecloth—I think the Veil is doomed. 

So what happens next? Well, now that you mention it... let's examine those possibilities. Because I think they're less obvious than they seem... but that's my next blog post. And you can read it here!

Meanwhile, did I miss anything? Please share your thoughts on the state of the Veil in the comments, and let me know if there are locations I didn't cover in my chart here, as I'll be continuing to update it periodically!