Authors Note: This is just a one-shot about Dragon Age, and a kinda prediction about Dragon Age Inquisition. I do not own Dragon Age :( but I love it and BioWare to death!

I watched with saddened eyes as the sun begun to fall, setting the sky on fire. I chest rose and feel with even, calm breaths, much to relaxed for someone awaiting their execution. But I felt no fear for me. I had seen my death months ago.

It had come in the middle of the night, starting out as a dream. I had been standing in the middle of a dying field and was suddenly to hot. Fire licked my body, melting my flesh and scorching my bones. The unrelenting flames rose higher until I was consumed.

Upon waking I knew it was not a dream, some things you just know. Like the Maker himself had whispered dark secrets with in my ear, telling of ominous times that were ahead for this world. Times I would not be present for. I wasn't sure if this was a blessing or a cruelty. Not that it mattered now.

I counted each color in the sky: Orange, yellow, red. The Maker may have had plans for me, but I still wasn't pleased with it. The thought of death had once sent waves of fear crumbling my body, but it no longer did. I had no fear for myself, only for that of my child, but I couldn't think about her now.

The only thing that kept me on my feet was the hope of a new day, that a new sun would rise and things will be alright. I took a deep breath, closing my eyes and readying myself for what was to come. I tried to clear my thoughts of all things but still she crept in like an unwanted itch in the middle of my back.

I could feel the mighty poundings of the hooves of the horses deep in my bones as they raced past me. I crouched low among the greenery until I was sure the Templar's could not see me. I watched through a narrow gap in the leaves as the men in shinning armor sailed past in a thunderous blur.

I gritted my teeth as the familiar hate I harbored toward those men flamed within me, calling for me to leave my hiding place and wipe them from the face of the world. Heat tingled in my fingertips and spreads like rain drops, prickling up my arms. I shifted, and begun picking at my outfit.

"No, mama," The child beside me whimpered.

I turned to her with wide eyes. She clutched at me, folding her arms around me and hugging me so tight her little bones dug into my skin. Her lips where pressed into a thin, hard line and her wide eyes begging me to stay, to not leave her. I slid my arm around her shoulders and held her close.

The child's black long wavy black hair was pulled back from her face in a high bun, and her green eyes bore into me with more wisdom then a six year old should have. The thought saddened me. My daughter, Adriana, who looked so much like me and nothing like her father, was to grown up. She always had been, not even crying when she was born.

She would be my future.

"Are you ready, witch?" A deep grumble voice said from beside me, pulling me out of my revere. It was followed by a sharp laugh, "Not that you have a choice."

I opened my eyes, and turned my head to the soldier beside me. He was dressed in heavy plate armor that shined in the fire light, the eye of the Chantry clear on his chest. He had a burly beard that he rubbed, almost absentmindedly, and his dull brown eyes stared at me with hate and just a hint of fear.

Despite my own fear, I smiled at him. I twisted against the wooden stake I was tied to so I could get a better look at him. The ropes that bound me burned as the rubbed against my skin. I raised my bound hands to pull it as far from me as I can, and said, "I am far more ready to meet the Maker then you, ser."

The man smirked. His hand shot forward and he grabbed my chin, squeezing so tightly I had to clench my jaw to keep from whimpering, "The Maker would never welcome a mage to stand beside Him."

I ripped my chin from his grasp, "We will see."

The man turned from me, walking away as the last of the wood was put into place at my feet. He even had a little hop in his step, as if the burning of mages was something to rejoice. Mother Sarah came forward then, as the man took position behind her. She looked at me with cold eyes, her mouth set in a thin line. When she spoke, her voice was flat, "Any last words, mage?"

I laughed, or maybe half sobbed, as I focused my gaze on the Mother. It hurt that she treated me with such hatred and fear. I had attended the Chantry dignity for all my twenty-five years. She had been present for my daughter's birth, and yet she looked at me like she didn't even know me. It was only until she found out I was an Apostate that she turned on me. Since I was no longer 'one of the Maker's children,' I was no longer worthy of her blessing.

"Just a few," I said, resting my head against the post behind me, "I've seen the future, your future. There will be a mage who became a Grey Warden and later queen, and an Apostate who will become champion, and brings about actions that will change this world. Both will be heroes, both will be my descendants. Ready yourself for the Amell's, for they will bring the inquisition and the Chantry will fall!"

Fire blazed around me, and the night air was filled with my laughter echoing of a warning that would soon be forgotten like so many others.