Literature
By My Hands: Chapter 11
“Emmrich, are you almost there?” Neve asked, stepping judiciously around the magical components strewn across the floor of Emmrich’s room. “I’m worried about her. It’s been six days since that argument and no word.”
“You know, Neve, patience is a virtue,” Dorian Pavus responded, with more than a little aggravation in his voice. “And as I have been so kind as to drop my little job as Archon of Tevinter while I work on this project, you could give Emmrich and I the grace to complete this small task of breaching the Fade—”
“We’re already in the Fade,” Maran interjected. “And we’ve been at this for nearly a week non-stop, with me and Neve schlepping back and forth from Minrathous, Nevarra, and parts all over Thedas for these damned components. Tell me, Archon, we’re getting close.”
“We’re almost there,” Emmrich stated. “And to be clear, we are in a pocket dimension of the Fade, as is Solas’s prison. We needed to triangulate its position, which is what has taken us so long. After all,
