Before the host of the faithful and all of the Imperium,
The servants of the Archon assembled a great dais at the feet of the Juggernauts
And there built a pyre twice the height of a man,
The Prophet in chains placed on a stake in the center.
Chant of Light, Apotheosis 2:3

Varric was roughly sure they'd died. The bridge had given out under their feet, sending them spiraling into the abyssal rift. When he wrote this, and he was quite sure now that if he survived he would have to, he'd make sure to say his last thoughts were noble and despairing. He needed more time, he wasn't done with this battle yet, all that bullshit. Instead, the thoughts Varric had as he was free falling into the void were a jumbled panic of curses. Much less romantic.

But if he was dead, this was a shitty afterlife. No dwarven maidens, no endless ale, not even Andraste's bosom. Instead, he'd passed through a cold green mist and had ended up standing upright here… wherever here was. All he could see was suspiciously murky water, green mist, and jagged rocks.

Someone screamed and that snapped him from his reverie, because he knew that voice. He twisted to look behind him and saw Maria on her knees, her sparking hand clenched painfully tight in front of her as tremors wracked her body. Varric was at her side in a second, arm around her shaking shoulders and his own hand covering her fist. Light crept through their fingers and Varric could feel it pulsing in her skin. Maria's other hand was covering her mouth, stifling painful whimpers.

Cassandra was on her other side, looking remarkably unruffled after falling off a bridge. She had an uncorked potion in her hand and she was pulling Maria's hand from her mouth with her gauntlet, forcing the glass to her lips and pouring it down. "Seeker, the mark…" Varric said, hopeless.

"She opened a rift. A fade rift. I…" Cassandra swallowed hard, her hand lightly (dare he say tenderly?) resting on Maria's hair. "I saw what you did. I'm sure it was very painful, but we are alive because of it."

The tremors were subsiding and Varric could feel the tension easing in Maria's hand. She looked up at Cassandra, her voice hoarse, tears glimmering unshed in her eyes. "The others?" she asked.

"I am unsure." Cassandra said, straightening. "Varric, stay with her. If… if we fell through the rift, then we are physically in the fade. Maker knows the danger."

Varric nodded, pulling Bianca from her harness as Cassandra began to walk forward. He rubbed a small, soothing circle on Maria's back as she tried to catch her grasp, shooting pain still causing her occasionally to shudder under him. "Right mess I've got us into, huh?" She asked in between the shaking.

"Well, I've had better days." Varric admitted. When the pain started again he pulled her close and pressed his lips against her cheekbone, tangling his hand into her braid. She pressed her face into his chest and waited, quietly.

Cassandra's footsteps echoed loudly as she raced back, followed by Stroud, Dorian, and Hawke. "Thank the Maker for you, you brilliant woman." Dorian said, kneeling down beside Maria. "A rift to stop us from plunging to our deaths! Brilliant!"

"Hawke, she's hurt." Varric called. Hawke was by his side immediately, removing Maria's glove gently and rolling up her sleeve, hissing.

"Look, it's spread." She said, shaking her head. "It wasn't this far up your wrist before, right?"

"No." Maria answered. Varric steeled himself and looked down at what Hawke was seeing, the green light flickering up like it was Maria's blood in her veins. Hawke sighed, pulling a lyrium potion from her pouch and emptying it in one swallow before throwing the flash behind her and tracing her hand up Maria's skin.

"I don't think it's growing now… whatever you did to get us here, don't do it again." Hawke advised glumly. "It's burning the nerves it's touching. I'm going to have to… do some rearranging. This may hurt just as badly, but then it will be better."

"Better be quick then." Maria answered. Hawke sighed jerked her chin to Dorian.

"Help him hold her." She ordered. Maria bit off another scream as Hawke's fingertips lit blue. Varric winced and tightened his grip as Hawke worked, quickly and efficiently. When she sat back, Maria was panting but the shuddering had stopped. "Better?" Hawke asked.

Maria nodded, breathlessly. Hawke stood, looking around and whistling low. "Oh this is extremely not good."

"We are physically in the fade! Think of the research opportunities!" Dorian said cheerfully.

"Look." Hawke pointed, frowning. Far in the distance Varric could just barely make out black spires. "That's what happened the last time somebody got the bright idea to do this."

"Well, I didn't exactly try to do this. I just...really didn't want to die." Maria admitted.

"Perhaps we should focus on finding a way out." Cassandra said, pointing to a glaring green hole in the distance. "Was there not another rift in the inner keep?"

"So we go out that one? The one they were trying to summon a large demon through?" Varric asked.

"Do you have a better plan?" Hawke asked. Varric sighed, standing and offering his arm to Maria. She pulled herself up as well, swaying slightly. He steadied her with a hand to her waist and smiled.

"Well, we're not dead yet at least." He offered wryly.

"Yet." Maria repeated, shaking her head. "Let's get out of this weird fade shit before we change that."

Varric heartily agreed as they moved forward. Hawke and Dorian took stock of their potions as they moved forward, shaking their heads in distress. Between all of them, they had three healing potions, two stamina draughts, a vial of deathroot poison, and and two lyrium potions.

That's when they ran into the soul of Divine Justinia. Or… something wearing her face anyway. He felt his as nauseous as Maria looked as they spoke, debating the realness of the vision in front of them.

"How hard is it to answer one question!" Hawke fumed. "I'm human, you're…"

The Divine ignored Hawke's temper tantrum, and Varric couldn't particularly blame her regardless of whether she was a demon or not. Instead, she focused on Maria and began speaking of lost memories… and a demon called the nightmare waiting for them ahead.

"Well, shit." Maria muttered.

"Be wary, Inquisitor. It knows not of your presence, but it will soon. You will face trials, the greatest nightmares of you and your companions. It will save you for last, I fear. And when you fail, it will consume you. But if you succeed, you will regain what you have lost." The Divine said, before fading in a flash of light.

"That sounds...wonderful." Hawke said. "Does everyone know what their worst nightmare is? Want to share before we get close to it?"

"You first." Maria said, rubbing at her eyes. "Maker, I just want to go home."

And where is that, Inquisitor? Isn't that what they call you, for now?

The voice came from nowhere, and everywhere. Maria straightened, eyes widening. "Please tell me everyone heard that."

"Yes." Cassandra hissed between clenched teeth.

"Guess it found us." Dorian commented. "This will be great fun."

Herald of Andraste… They burned the prophet, perhaps they will burn you too when they tire of you. It would be a fitting end, wouldn't it?

"Ignore it." Cassandra ordered. "A fear demon will know where to hurt you. It's words mean nothing."

"Out." Hawke said firmly. "We're getting out, now."

"I wouldn't let them." Varric said, squeezing Maria's arm. "You're alright, Princess. We've got you."

Maria's smile didn't quite reach her gray eyes as they began to move. Dorian was muttering about taking samples as Stroud and Cassandra scowled bleakly ahead. Hawke was trying to hum a bit under her breath, but it sounded wrong, echoing too loud. Then suddenly…

The scene had shifted so suddenly, Varric couldn't remember it happening at all. There was snow falling softly from the sky, sticking to his shirt. It looked exactly as it had when Hawke had summoned a blizzard that last First Day. He looked up into clear gray sky, puzzled. Maria lifted her bare hand and caught some of the flakes on her skin.

Perhaps I should be afraid. Facing the most powerful members of the Inquisition… Isn't that right, Cassandra?

"Seeker…" Varric mumbled. "It's coming for you."

Cassandra reached for her sword, fingers tightening around the hilt. "The Maker will guide us."

Your inquisitor is a fraud, Cassandra. Yet more evidence there is no Maker, that all your faith has been for naught.

"Die in the void, demon!" Cassandra spat. The field in front of them stirred, an icy wind carrying snow past them.

"It's not real." Hawke shouted above the cry of the wind. "It's only the fade. Nothing is real here!"

But this was real, wasn't it Cassandra?

A man was running towards him, his dark eyes flashing. He was tall, well-built, and in armor that probably cost as much as a house. A rider was gaining on him, a wicked scythe gleaming in the light.

"Anthony." Cassandra breathed. "Anthony!"

The Seeker wasn't there...but she was. When Varric blinked, a young girl stood in Cassandra's place in a white dress, horrified. The scythe caught the man's neck, blood gushing as it separated from his shoulders and the girl that was (would be?) Cassandra screamed.

Things burst from the ground, fresh corpses with their skin rotting off. The young girl was collapsed in the middle of them, hiding her head as one approached her. The creatures long, grasping fingers reached out hungrily…

An arrow landed in its forehead, sending it to the floor. Maria had her bow in her hand and an expression of grim disgust. "Cassandra!" She yelled.

Varric pulled Bianca and began firing at the corpses as they stumbled forward. Hawke set the nearest one on fire and still Cassandra remained, immobile, regressed to a cowering child. Varric would never have believed it.

How does it feel to be helpless again, Cassandra?

The nightmare was laughing, it's dark humor rumbling in Varric's chest. "Seeker!" Varric yelled. "You have your sword, use it!"

The girl looked up at him, uncomprehending as he dodged the swipe of a creatures claws. Stroud had to launch himself between Cassandra and another of the things, taking a stinging blow to his ribs.

"CASSANDRA!" Maria yelled. "If you don't use your sword, I WILL!"

Hawke was beside Cassandra now, magic sparking in her open hand. "I'm with you, you're not helpless." Hawke said. "Come on now, where's your sword?"

As if she was talking to a child, Varric shook his head in disbelief. But whatever it was, it worked, because when Cassandra looked down the sword was in her hand. Then when Varric blinked again, Cassandra (fully grown, thank the Maker) was thrusting her blade into a corpse beside Hawke.

It was over as quickly as it started, the illusion crumbling around them in a whirl of green, leaving them back on the path to the rift in one piece, but shaken. Cassandra screamed in fury, throwing her shield from her arm.

"Well, that was...interesting." Dorian said.

"I failed!" Cassandra stormed.

"No you didn't. Notice the distinct lack of taunting right now?" Hawke grinned, nudging Cassandra's ribs. "Come on, you did fine."

"You don't think we'll all become children, do you?" Varric asked nervously.

"Maker, I hope not. I'd never be able to look at you with a straight face again." Hawke responded.

"Onward." Cassandra demanded, turning her blazing eyes on Maria. "I will not fail you again, Inquisitor."

"You never have." Maria answered immediately.

They moved forward, even more wary and subdued. Maria's eyes swung back and forth, searching for traps.

Greetings, Dorian. It is...Dorian, isn't it? I almost mistook you for your father.

"Rather uncalled for." Dorian chirped.

Maria coughed at the sudden pungent scent of heavy incense, drawing her scarf up over her nose. "What in the Maker's ass…"

There was a man in front of them now, an older copy of Dorian. His hair was graying at the temples, but he looked radiantly happy. He was holding a blade out, hilt first to Dorian. "My son, welcome home."

"Well, Minrathous has certainly gone to shit if this is home." Dorian said. "Begone, fiend."

"You could come home, Dorian." The man said adamantly. "Come home...we'll find a nice young man to introduce you to. We could work together again, Dorian, to make the Imperium truly great. I have missed you."

As the man spoke, Dorian's eyes began to glaze. The fade was shifting around them, solidifying into a comfortable country home. Varric could see fruit trees from open doors, a breeze blew in and brought the smell of honeysuckle.

"I only need one thing, Dorian. The Inquisitor is destroying what is left of our reputation. For Tevinter to be safe, she must go. For your family to be safe, Dorian, I am counting on you." The man pled passionately. Slowly, haltingly, Dorian's hand reached out and took the hilt of the knife.

"Traitor!" Cassandra yelled.

"Cassandra, stop!" Maria ordered, holding her hand up and watching the horrified expression on Dorian's face. The illusion was continuing to solidify. Maria moved forward slowly, to Dorian's side.

"It's alright." She soothed softly like she was approaching a frightened animal.

"Maria…" Varric cautioned.

"It's a nightmare." She said simply, taking Dorian's hand. It shook as she pulled his hand forward, bringing the blade up to her throat. "It's just a nightmare Dorian."

Varric could feel his own pulse thundering as he leveled Bianca at Dorian's chest, waiting. Dorian was staring down at Maria, eyes far away. She continued to stand, calm and still.

"Maker I hope she knows what she's doing." Hawke said softly.

"Fasta vass!" Dorian swore finally, eyes clearing as he drew his hand away and flung the blade at the ghostly vision of his father. Both knife and man disappeared, the fade slowly reemerging. "You're insane!"

"You wouldn't do it." Maria cracked a smile. "I know you Dorian."

"He just didn't offer the right thing." Dorian said wearily. "Half a dozen nude soldiers? Your throat would have been slit quicker than Varric could have shot me."

"I'm pretty quick." Varric sighed in relief, before glaring at the back of Maria's head in frustration.

"We can't leave the nightmare until the person overcomes it." Hawke muttered. "If he never overcame his fear, we could never move on."

"So it seems." Cassandra said dryly. "Although I suppose the Inquisitor's death would also have prevented it."

"Luckily, I didn't die." Maria patted Dorian's shoulder fondly.

"This time." Cassandra predicted sourly.

They continued to trudge along, dreading whatever came next. The voice of the nightmare demon was alarmingly silent. Varric didn't think he'd grow to miss the taunting, but at least it was a change of pace from weird water and jagged rocks. That was, until he turned the corner and nearly ran into Hawke.

"It's the Gallows." She said. "Mine or yours, Varric?"

"We'd better find out." He replied sourly. "Bianca hopes there's more shooting involved and less mind games, to be honest."

They walked down the steps and into the Gallows courtyard. They were almost halfway through when a small voice called out from behind them.

"Sister?"

Hawke didn't turn, but Varric did. Hawke had squeezed her eyes shut and he could see her lips moving, repeating the words 'only the fade' over and over. There was a young woman behind them, her white tunic splattered with blood, skull caved in on the right side. "Why did you leave?" She asked petulantly. One eye socket was empty, the other eye was filled with tears. "You promised Father you'd protect me."

"Hawke...you have to look or we can't go through." Maria said softly. "We're right here, it isn't real."

"Is it Bethany?" Hawke whispered.

"Yes, Waffles." Varric said gently. "I think so."

Hawke's eyes flew open and she turned, staring her sister down. She flinched back at her appearance, taking a step backwards. "You're dead. I'm sorry, but this isn't real." Hawke's voice was strained.

"Sister!" Another voice, and when Varric turned he saw Carver, slumped on the ground. The man dissolved into coughing, his whole frame wracked as bright red blood appeared on his lips. "Why did you take me?" He asked. "I would have been safe. I could have kept Mother safe!"

And before them, on the stones, he saw Leandra's body as he'd last seen her. She was a stitched together monstrosity, and this is what caused Hawke to cry out and stumble towards her. The word mother pulled from her lips as she sank to her knees. Varric was beside her in an instant, pulling her up. "Come on, Hawke." He mumbled. "We gotta keep going."

"It is your fault." Leandra's corpse muttered. "You promised, and we're all dead."

"Carver is not." Cassandra said immediately, on Hawke's other side. "Your brother is not dead, Champion."

Reyna Hawke… did you think anything you ever did mattered? You couldn't even save your city. How could you expect to strike down a God?

Suddenly, the courtyard was full of corpses in templar armor and mage coats, elven commoners, fine nobles in fancy dress, children. Varric could smell smoke, and when he looked over his shoulder he could see Kirkwall burning in the distance. Before them, he could hear shouting. When he looked up…

Anders was coming down the steps to meet them as he'd been when they first met. Robes grimy, a bit of dirt on his cheek, smiling winningly at Hawke as he approached. He was dragging something behind him, something heavy. "Hawke!" He called cheerfully.

Maria shifted uneasily, glancing up at Hawke who had gone still as a statue. "It's over now, sweetheart. Everything I started, finished!"

"Don't call me that." Hawke growled, breaking free of Varric's grip and swirling her staff forward. "Do not…"

With a flourish, Anders produced the sword he had been dragging behind him, tossing it down the remaining steps. The metal clattered on stone as it toppled, spinning to a stop at their feet. Fenris's sword, with a red ribbon tied around the hilt like a gruesome present.

Varric felt time stop for a moment, then Hawke was out of his grip and rushing forward, past the thing that wasn't Anders. Cursing, Varric followed.

Fenris is going to die just like your family, and everyone you ever cared about. The only life you ever saved will be your biggest mistake. All this blood is on your hands, Champion.

Fenris was laying in a pool of his own blood, eyes staring lifelessly at the gray sky above them and Hawke was sobbing, screaming his name, staff clattering to the stones in her rush to get to him. She was on the ground next to him, pulling his limp form into her arms, magic glowing on her skin. "No." She whispered. "No, no, no no…"

"Hawke!" Varric yelled, pulling her shoulder back. Her skin was smouldering and when she looked up, he could see flames in her blue eyes.

That's it, Champion. Show us that rage.

"Hawke!" His fingers gripped her harder. "Listen to me! He's alive, Hawke! Carver is alive! Isabela, Merrill, Aveline, me! We're still here, don't give in!"

For a moment, Varric was sure he hadn't gotten through. He thought for sure his skin would ignite with the heat she was throwing off. One tear steamed right off her skin and then she reached for him, her hands on his shoulders, sobbing into his chest. The gallows disappeared in a swirl of ashes, the bodies, Fenris, gone. All that was left was Hawke's sobbing, her shoulders heaving.

"I've got you." Varric whispered as Maria approached with Hawke's discarded staff. "We'll get you back to him, Waffles. I promise."

"We can stop, rest a bit." Maria offered softly. Hawke stopped, pulling back and wiping her face against her arm.

"No." She said. "We have to keep going. Maker knows what's happening in the real world."

"You must love him very much." Cassandra said gently. "It speaks well, to both of you."

"Thank you." Hawke sniffled, standing slowly. "Let's go."

"Just me, you, and Stroud." Varric said.

"The Nightmare will not target me." Stroud said. "My greatest fear has already come true, the Wardens have fallen and I have dedicated my life to a cause that may fail. It has nothing left to frighten me with."

"Right, just us then." Varric said dryly. Maria sighed in resignation.

They'd just started moving again when Varric head the demon begin to chuckle darkly again.

Once again, Hawke is in danger because of you, Varric. Better yet, your precious Inquisitor is caught in the mix as well! You found the red lyrium, you brought Hawke to Corpyheus, you hid an abomination who murdered hundreds, perhaps thousands. Did you do it for the right reasons, Varric? Or was it greed all along?

"Just keep talking smiley." Varric muttered. The thing laughed and it felt like it's laughter was taking physical shape. Dark clouds formed arching ceilings, exquisitely tiled floors. In front of him, Bartrand was leaning over a sturdy, gaudy table and his eyes were gleaming.

"We'll be rich!" He crowed. "Think of it, little brother! We'll be able to buy our place back in Orzammar!"

Someone laughed behind him, but before Varric could turn the man was walking through him and Varric did a double take. It was himself and most definitely not him. The man was stroking a rather impressive beard, chuckling darkly in a way that almost reminded him of...something. Varric was finding it hard to concentrate as he watched the other man lean over Bartrand.

"Finding that apostate was a stroke of luck, locking them down there was an even better deal. Never split a cut if you don't have to." Not Varric said.

"Exactly!" Bartrand crowed. "Glad to see you learned something from dad after all."

A small voice, female, whispered beside his ear but he couldn't catch the words and when he turned he saw no one.

"No one will miss them anyway." He watched himself say. "Maybe we can finally buy ourselves some lovely brides, hm?"

Bartrand laughed and someone cursed far away. He could feel a flare of heat from his left, then…

There was someone warm pressing up against his chest, someone's hand in his hair and lips against his that were demanding. His eyes closed, and when he opened he saw Maria pulling away from him. "Varric, a little help here?" She asked.

Varric looked up, and saw the spiders clambering over the table, both dwarves were looking at him now with wide mouths full of too many teeth. "Shit." Varric stumbled back, caught by a pale arm and pushed upright.

"Shoot them!" Hawke ordered, another burst of flame igniting the spiders. Maria moved out of the way and the reassuring weight of his crossbow was in his hands as he pulled the trigger several times in rapid succession until the dwarves with too many teeth and greedy eyes fell.

"Interesting." Dorian said calmly as the room faded, leaving only the burned corpses of spiders. "I think you should keep the beardless look, personally. If you're taking opinions."

"Glad you think so." Varric answered, trying to ignore the shaking in his hands. "Thanks."

"Oh anytime." Hawke answered, nudging Varric closer to Maria. "Or at least, anytime we have the Inquisitor around to take the initiative."

Cassandra scoffed, eyes on the ground and a fierce red blush on her cheeks. "Seeker! Are you blushing?" Varric asked.

"Let's continue, before I am stuck here forever with you." Cassandra said, pushing past.

"There are worse fates, surely." Maria said, hesitating. "We're so close. Perhaps...there won't be a nightmare for me."

"There almost certainly will be." Cassandra said, concern etched on her face. "Do you know what we will face?"

It would have taken a blind man to miss the fear in Maria's face. She nodded mutely and Cassandra placed her hand on her shoulder. "Stay with me, Inquisitor. We will see you through."

Everyone nodded and Maria took a deep breath, casting her eyes to the rift before taking her first determined step, then the second. Eventually, Varric quit counting as they walked, but something was happening. Varric could hear screaming, distant but coming closer. He could smell something burning and he saw the color slowly draining from Maria's face. Then Varric saw palatial walls soaring over them, and felt the heat against his skin. In addition to wood smoke, he smelled something sickeningly like human flesh burning.

"I know this place, it is…" Cassandra began.

"Hercinia." Maria finished quietly staring up at the walls blankly. Hawke hissed in shock, reeling back. Something was dancing on the edges of Varric's memory, but he couldn't quite make the connection.

"During the blight, Varric said you lost someone." Hawke began. "Hercinia...a bunch of Ferelden refugees fleeing from Amaranthine ended up there. Some of them were sick, very sick, with the blight. It began to spread at the docks…"

"Maker, no." Dorian gasped. "They didn't."

"They locked the gates and set the docks on fire." Varric finished, finally making the connection. "Rather than risk letting the blight spread. Everyone inside… shit, Maria…"

"They didn't all have the blight. Not even all the refugees." Maria said softly. Her fingers shook as she took a step forward, pressing her palm to the wall and staring up at the smoke rising above it.

The mighty Inquisitor, Herald of Andraste, trembling. How delicious. I have fed well on your fear, girl.

"We'll go around." Varric began. "There has to be a way…"

"We have to go through." Cassandra interrupted. "The only way is through it. You must face this, Inquisitor."

Maria's face was growing softer, younger as they watched. Even her gray eyes lost their determined edge, shining fearfully out of the face of a woman a decade gone. Her hair was longer, braided cleverly in two rows that hung down past her neck with shining ribbons intertwined in them. She wasn't in her leather armor, but in a blue blouse embroidered with yellow daisies and cream colored breeches. The type of outfit a young woman would wear when meeting her sweetheart. Varric's stomach was somewhere around his knees but the girl nodded at Cassandra's words, pushing her braids back from her shoulders and clutching not a bow, but the dagger she always wore at her waist instead.

Cassandra led them along the wall, looking for a way over the high stones. Finally, they found a stack of crates stacked like a staircase. Varric looked at them dubiously, but Hawke marched ahead. She scrambled over the crates and to the top of the wall, looking down and not quite hiding the horror on her expression.

What was his name, Herald? The boy who burned to death waiting for you? Fynn, wasn't it?

"This isn't going to be easy." Hawke shouted down.

"When is it ever." Varric said under his breath.

"My lady, we must go." Stroud said, taking Maria's arm. She was far too pale, staring up at Hawke above them.

"I can't do this." She whispered. "I can't."

"Yes you can." Varric said, taking her hand. It felt small in his. "Just hang onto me, got it?"

He had to help her up onto the crates, her limbs moving stiffly. She began to notice small things happening, a rip in her cream pants that shouldn't have been there, the shoulder of her blouse hanging loosely off her shoulder, braids coming undone. A swollen lip, a long gash on her forehead that had stopped bleeding already. When she pushed her sleeves up in annoyance, he saw rope burns on her wrists. What the hell had happened? He looked helplessly at Hawke, who had noticed the same changes. She frowned.

"It's a memory and a nightmare. The more she thinks about it, the more accurate it gets." Hawke explained.

"I suppose asking her to stop thinking about it would be useless, yes?" Dorian asked, staring with a deep sorrow at Maria. Varric looked out over the scene from the very void before him, houses and warehouses going up like dry timber. People were running towards the boats in the harbor to their east, desperately trying to make their escape. Varric remembered that's where they'd began the fire, lighting the boats. The sorry bastards never stood a chance. He saw one figure wreathed in flames drop to its knees, a small bundle of fabric wriggling in its arms and a chubby fist waving.

"Maria." Varric called as the woman made her way to the edge of the wall. She didn't react, she didn't even appear to hear him. "Maria!" He called again, louder.

"Maria!" Another voice cut in and a younger dwarf was holding onto Maria's elbow. Beatrix was heartbreakingly young in this vision, her face still retaining some traces of baby fat on her cheeks. "We're too late, I'm sorry we have to go…"

"No." Maria whispered, and there was rope in her hands now that trailed down the wall. She was tying it to a pole supporting a fluttering banner.

"I'm not going with you!" Beatrix yelled, fear straining her child's features. "If you're going to kill yourself, you do it!"

"Fine then!" Maria yelled back. The rope was in her hands and she was rappelling down the wall before any of them could stop her. For the first time, Varric was sure he heard Cassandra cursing.

"What now?" Stroud asked grimly.

"We follow, what else?" Varric asked, taking the rope in his own hands. He shared a grim look with Hawke before rappelling down the wall as well. The heat was unbearable and he coughed at the smoke. Maria was already taking off, running forward unheedingly into the flames.

You've never escaped these flames, Maria Cadash. They've been waiting to consume you.

Varric sincerely hoped, before this was all over, he'd get a chance to shoot this nightmare demon right in it's damned mouth. Without waiting, Varric rushed after her. It's only the fade, he thought as the flames pressed closer and burned hotter, Hawke said it wasn't real. It certainly felt like his chest hair was burning right off, though.

"Fynn!" Maria yelled, desperate and terrified. He could hear her calling even if he couldn't see her from the smoke and flame. A small part of his heart rebelled, jealousy rearing dangerously. This isn't real, he repeated, it was the fade. Just the damned Fade. Varric hated it.

She was coughing now, the smoke choking her. "Varric!" Hawke yelled from behind him, equally desperate. Varric almost answered, but then he caught sight of Maria, kneeling on the ground and coughing into her sleeve. There was a figure emerging from the wall of flames in front of her, as if he was made from the fire. About Varric's height, but the rest of the features were gone, scorched away by flames as he opened his mouth in an agonized scream before toppling to the ground in front of Maria, crawling towards her.

You will burn Herald. The world will burn. You have already failed, you will always fail.

"Maria!" Varric shouted, fingers digging into her shoulder as he pulled her back from the grasping hands of the burning dwarf.

"Let me go!" She struggled, pushing him away. "Let me go!"

You should have died here, Herald.

"No!" Varric shouted. "You don't die here. You don't die at the conclave, you don't die at Haven, and you are certainly not dying in the asscrack of a nightmare demon." Varric wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to him. She shook in his arms like a leaf. "It isn't real. It's only a nightmare. You just have to wake up." He whispered.

"Varric." She muttered. He pulled back, just enough to see her steely gray eyes staring into him, her red hair shorter now, fancy clothes replaced by her leather armor, dagger sheathed at her waist and bow in her hand. "You have to let go."

Varric wanted to argue, but her jaw was set in a line he knew too well. I love you, he thought desperately. Instead, his fingers loosened and she pulled away, turning to the wall of flames in front of them. "Through." She whispered. "We have to go through it."

She moved slowly, deliberately, past the corpse on the ground and into the flames. The inferno intensified, a whirlwind of flames, heat, ashes and smoke. Maria was alone, wreathed in flames like a holy vision and then there was nothing but the fire, which dissolved into the temple of Sacred Ashes and the Divine held by Grey Wardens, an orb knocked into the air, Maria's hand catching it and the explosion that had rocked the world. Maria and the Divine running, spiders, and then…

Maria knelt in front of him, palms flat on the stone of the fade and tears running silently down her face. Flames flickered around her red hair, then they were gone as well. It was painfully quiet. In front of her were lines of tombstones inscribed with their names and a few words under each. Cassandra, helplessness. Dorian, temptation. Solas, dying alone. Iron Bull, madness. Vivienne, irrelevance. Varric, becoming his parents. Blackwall, himself. Sera, the nothing. Cole, despair. Stroud, destruction. Hawke, death. The last, and largest, had the full title. Maria Cadash, Inquisitor, Herald of Andraste. Underneath was only two words, the flames. Varric looked behind him and saw only shocked and horrified faces as Maria stood slowly. The figure that was the Divine, or very likely wasn't, stood in front of them shimmering with a sad smile on her face.

"You must pass through flame to be forged anew." She said softly. "Quickly, now. You have weakened it by facing the fear, but only for a moment. Now is your chance."

"Good." Maria said, stomping forward past the gravestones. "I'm sick of this place."

"Here, here." Hawke chimed in, following her with just a passing squeeze to Varric's shoulder. Almost there, he thought looking up the stairs and at the rift just beyond their reach. Hold on, he thought, just a bit longer Princess.