The doors to the Grand Cathedral fly open as the Inquisitor's magic splinters the ancient wood. Val Royeaux burns below as her people lay siege against a new foe. The sounds of battle and death follow in her wake and settle on her shoulders, a cloak choking with all the choices that brought her here.

The Hero of Ferelden follows close behind. She doesn't wear the blue and steel of the Wardens any longer, but like so many things, it is a past she cannot truly escape. She slices her daggers through the air to rid them of the blood, red as the Chantry soldier's armor they tore through to get here.

The hall is silent as they walk up the plush carpet, but they are not alone. Sentries lurk in shadows like statues ready to come alive at one word from their leader. The Inquisitor and Warden ignore them and focus on the figure lounging across her throne built on bones and blood.

Divine Victoria wears the sunburst crown and a smile as sharp as any weapon. "I knew this moment would come," she says. "The brave heroes of Thedas come to slay another monster."

"Surrender. End this madness," the Inquisitor replies. "Too many have already perished in your senseless cleansing."

"Only those clinging to the past and unwilling to accept change. How can you disagree with my methods when it is you who put me on this path?"

"I was wrong, this is wrong. You've gone too far. I should've…I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" Victoria stands, her robes shifting to show the mail beneath. "No, you don't get to be sorry. I am what the world needs, what youneeded, what no one else could become. This is what I was meant to do all along and-"

"Leliana, please." The Warden approaches, claiming two of the steps towards the Divine. There is no fight in her gaze, only sorrow and affection for a lost companion. Victoria's steeled eyes soften slightly even as her hold around a twisting bow tightens. "We have already lost so much. Please let us help you."

"Will you strike me down if I refuse? Will you kill another friend to keep your pretentious peace?"

"If you force me to make that choice, you are no longer the friend I knew."

"What will it be, Leliana?" asks the Inquisitor.

The long scratch of an arrow from its holdings heralds her reply. Eyes that once looked upon the world with wonder harden with all the things she's done. Lips that sang of the Maker's light curl back with darkness. The ringing sound of metal replaces revered chants as dozens of soldiers pull their swords free.

"There is no one by that name here," Divine Victoria answers as the arrow flies.