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Meredith smashed the red sword into the ground, blade first. A real fighter would never have done that to their weapon, red lyrium or otherwise, Hawke thought. Meredith had never been anything but a loudmouth, making claims she couldn't back up, accusing people of things she had no proof of.
"Blessed are those who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter!" Meredith shrieked.
"Which one are you?" Isabela asked.
A red glow was enveloping the Knight-Commander, and she was slowly but surely absorbing it into her body. "Maker, your servant begs you for the strength to defeat this evil!"
The Templars were backing slowly away, until Cullen, without tearing his eyes off the scene happening in front of him, snapped at them over his shoulder. "Templars! Stand at attention!"
They all immediately straightened, trained over their years of service to respond to the voice of command.
"Spare the mages!" Meredith cried, her voice shrill and cracking. "Give them freedom? And they would use it to destroy everything we hold dear! No! No! It cannot be allowed. I will stop it!"
Hawke wanted to reason with her, to explain all the ways in which she was wrong, and had always been wrong, but that time was long past. If anyone could ever have talked sense into the Knight-Commander, Hawke had never met them. Maybe Elthina, once, but Elthina had only wanted the illusion of peace. She had never actually wanted to solve the problem.
"Knight-Commander." Cullen was trying to use the voice of authority on her, but she was long past responding. "Stand down. You are relieved of duty." When he stepped forward, the Templars followed him, but Meredith paid no attention to them.
"Hawke. What do we do?" Varric looked troubled, the glare of the red lyrium causing his eyes to look like they were glowing.
Immediately remembering what that shard had done to him, Hawke's heart leaped into her throat. "Isabela. Get him out of here. Right now."
Without hesitating a moment or giving him a chance to protest, Isabela knocked Varric over the head and dragged him out of range of the red lyrium, into a dark corner of the Gallows courtyard.
And then there was no more time to worry about Varric, or anyone else, because Meredith had yanked her sword out of the ground and advanced on Hawke, howling in her face, "Do you hear me, Champion? I will defeat you!"
Hawke drew her own sword. "Not this time. Or ever."
But Cullen stopped her. "Champion. This is for us to do. Templars, to arms!"
The clang of metal as all the remaining Templars simultaneously drew their swords was deafening. They advanced slowly on the former Knight-Commander, backing her up until she was pinned between them and the wall. "I will not be defeated!" she shouted at them. Her voice no longer sounded like hers. It was cracked and broken, her eyes glowing red, her face contorted with rage. "Maker! Aid your humble servant!"
She raised the sword to the sky. A finger of lightning came out of nowhere, striking the sword, the red lyrium crackling loudly. Meredith's body jerked with the impact, shuddering as the lightning flowed through her.
When it was over, a red statue was the only thing left of the former Knight-Commander.
In the stunned silence that followed, Hawke approached the statue.
"Hawke. Don't—don't touch it." Varric's voice was hoarse, but it carried from the far corner of the courtyard.
She reached out with the tip of her sword and poked gingerly at the statue, which didn't move. Meredith was gone, once and for all. Consumed by her own madness, just as Bartrand had been.
Cullen moved to stand next to her, and he, too, reached out with a sword tip to poke at the statue. "How is this possible?"
Hawke shook her head. "I don't know. When we first found the red lyrium in the Deep Roads, Bartrand locked us in so he could take it. And then later it drove him mad. As it appears to have done her. But this—this is …"
"The end," Cullen finished for her.
"It does seem to be."
"Templars! The Knight-Commander is dead. As Knight-Captain, I am taking command of Kirkwall's garrison, effective immediately. Stand down."
They did so, sheathing their weapons and taking a step back, standing at attention.
Cullen turned to Hawke. "Champion."
"No. Don't call me that. She gave me that title. I never wanted it, or any of what came with it."
"Fair enough. Serah Hawke, then. What happened here today …" He shook his head. "Well, my report will take some time to write. And some more time to reach the Templar leadership. And then they will have to respond."
"And the mages?"
"What mages? Kirkwall's Circle has rebelled. Any mages we see … well, we have little choice. Our orders as to what to do in a situation like this are clear. Do you understand?"
Hawke nodded. "I do. Would I be able to return to the Gallows to gather my sister's effects?"
She assumed Cullen knew she meant the mages who had survived the battle. "Yes. You may do so. But quickly. And … quietly."
"Understood. Thank you, Cullen."
"I have done nothing." He looked down at the red statue. "To my eternal shame."
"You have to get rid of that thing," Varric told him, staring at it with revulsion. "Melt it down, break it up, turn it to dust, whatever you can do, but make sure nothing is left of it. You have no idea what it does to people."
"I believe I have seen enough to be convinced of its evil," Cullen said.
"I wish you luck, Cullen."
"And I you, Serah Hawke. Perhaps one day our paths will cross again."
"Perhaps." She rather doubted it. But it was nice of him not to strike her down where she stood or imprison her and all her people. He could have, had he wished to.