A Divine Last Act
The snowy air of the Frostback Mountains blew ominously past Damian Amell, sending his graying black hair floating in a cloud around him as he stood in the entrance of the Temple of the Sacred Ashes. Standing here, in the presence of one of the most sacred items the Maker allowed to remain on Thedas, he felt humbled. I know I am merely a mage, beloved Andraste, but I pray that if I spend this time when darkspawn howl for my blood in one last act of service to you, that you will forgive the sins of my people.
When last he'd come to the steps of this ancient temple, he and his companions had feared the presence of the High Dragon which lingered there atop the mountain's peak. Feared it too much to take any action against it. But now, after many, many years of training and honing his craft, Damian feared the beast no longer.
He was blessed by a Spirit of the Fade, just as Wynne had once been. He hoped this would mean that the Maker watched over him, and would prevent him from falling before he defeated this dreaded dragon. He could feel the healing energies of the spirit surrounding him, and he knew he would not fall. The very earth on which he walked, greatest of the Maker's gifts to man, would not allow him to perish.
Surrounded by energy from the mortal plane and the Fade, Damian opened his black-brown eyes, a surge of blue sparking within them. It was time, for the sake of all those who sought the Sacred Ashes as part of their hope, to bring an end to this dragon. Just as he laid down the Archdemon with the dead King Alistair, he would bring down this creature.
He placed the former cultist's horn to his lips, and sounded a call for the beast to come to him. He knew he could not wait for the sound of beating wings to come to prepare himself. He drew the staff from his back, and with a brief incantation, felt the magical energies around him increase tenfold. Letting the snow and ice focus his mind, he let the next spell come to his lips as the harsh cry of the dragon echoed right over his head.
Not a moment too soon, the dragon was being slowed and pelted by ice, snow, and hail beyond that which normally lingered in these mountains. Damian ran swiftly outside the heaviest area of the blizzard, and began chanting his next spell, paying no heed to his level of exhaustion. The ozone in the air grew thick and heavy, thunder rumbling through the clouds above. It was as if the Maker himself was lending Damian his fury towards this beast desecrating the burial grounds of his beloved bride.
Lightning struck the ground, forcing Damian to open his eyes. What he saw was the High Dragon being buffeted about and contained by a cyclone too strong for it to break. Unwilling to leave anything to chance, he forcefully injected a corrosive and explosive poison in the dragon's system which would kill her before she could reach him. As one final measure, he allowed the forces of the earth to come to his aid, and summoned gigantic roots from the barren, icy ground to pierce and cage the dragon.
Exhausted, the last of his mana expired and no lyrium with him, Damian fell to his knees, eyes turned towards heaven and the glorious arcane spectacle before him. Maker, I thank you for allowing me this gift. And I beg of you, let this be enough to finish this beast, for I can do no more.
All the blessings he'd felt upon him before the battle began were gone, for he lacked the mana to maintain them. He watched, helpless to do anything further as the storm subsided, and the dragon, roaring in fury, burst forth from her wooden cage. Suddenly, the song split Damian's mind, and he was no longer kneeling before a mere High Dragon, but before the Sixth Archdemon himself.
No... No! I cannot allow myself to succumb to this! he thought furiously, reaching to his hip for the one last chance he had to slay this foe. Drawing the short sword, he forced himself to stand, and stare fearlessly into the eyes of the High Dragon. The beast reared, screeching in his face, but Damian did not falter.
Instead, he waited until the beast's feet collided with the ground again, and leapt into the air, sword before him, with a mighty cry. "For Thedas!"
The stab wound into the dragon's head was all it took to energize the virulent poison within it. Both mage and dragon were consumed in the explosion of bones, blood, and organs which rained upon the walkways before Andraste's burial place.
In mere hours, the snow had covered up the last of the blood, rendering the place once again pure. No one would ever know that Grey Warden Damian Amell's last act had been to clear the temple of the menace of the High Dragon.