Hey everyone, sorry about the lack of updates on this. I have been very ill for weeks now, and am not getting any better. It was a struggle to write this, and I don't know if I'll be able to do more. Consider this a semi-ending until I either get better or drop dead.

Dragon Age: Revengeance

ACT I

Chapter 10

"This is absurd!"

Divine Victoria's voice echoed throughout the courtyard of the Grand Cathedral, drawing startled looks from the passing clerics. Varric scratched his bandaged hand and nodded in agreement.

"You don't have to tell me. Hawke's clearly lost her damned mind."

Cassandra read the bloodstained document again, exasperated. "Why would the Champion do such a thing?"

"I just told you, she's insane."

Cassandra remained doubtful. "Perhaps she is possessed?" she suggested, her tone almost pleading. "Some Vengeance demon, mayhaps, driving her to these acts of depravity." She sighed heavily. "How I wish Trevelyan was here. I need my Right Hand..."

Startled shouts and cries of alarm drew the pair's attention, and it soon became evident what had caused such a commotion; a gigantic fortress dominated by a central tower was floating above Val Royeaux, blotting out the sun. Cassandra recognised it almost at once.

"That's … that's Aeonar!" she said. "But how...?"

The commotion only grew as a High Dragon spread its wings from the top of the tower, took flight, and swooped down upon the Grand Cathedral. To their credit the Templars present rushed to protect the Divine, but as Cassandra watched in astonishment, they were turned to stone in an instant. The dragon landed in the courtyard, its immense bulk shaking the ground beneath their feet and sending a powerful gust that almost made Cassandra stagger back.

"Maker's breath..." she said, completely at a loss without a weapon to hand.

The High Dragon was engulfed in a cloud of swirling black energy, which shrank down and coalesced into a humanoid form. That of a tall, sinister woman wearing robes that seemed to be woven from blackened sinew and tendon, and armour wrought from scorched bones. Her face was mostly obscured by her hood, but what was visible resembled a flawless ivory statue. She glided effortlessly towards the pair, floating a foot or so above the ground.

"You are Divine Victoria?" said the wraith-like figure, her voice both beautiful and terrible, like a song of mourning for the dead.

"I am," Cassandra replied. "To whom am I speaking?"

"You are speaking to a god, and you should kneel in reverence when you do so."

Cassandra stood her ground, her expression hardening. "The Maker is the only true god, and you most certainly are not Him."

The intruder tilted her head ever so slightly, whereupon the bones in Cassandra's shins shattered, causing her to cry out in pain and fall to her knees. The same happened to Varric.

"Blasphemy. I am Razikale, goddess of the Tevinter Dominion. I appear before you to offer you the chance to repent, renounce the heretic Andraste, and swear allegiance to me."

Cassandra answered through clenched teeth. "Andraste is the prophet of the Maker, and you are no god, demon." She spat.

"Why do you revere a dead woman as a divinity?" asked Razikale. "Does she answer your prayers? Will she save you from my wrath? Have you ever even seen her?"

"She is with me always!"

Razikale gestured around. "Yet you are her representative in this world. Why does she tolerate such an affront to her divinity? Either she is afraid to confront me, or she cannot because she is not truly divine, merely a long dead woman with no power to answer prayers."

Cassandra punched the ground, unable to refute the claim. She had always believed in Andraste and the Maker, yet where were they now?

"Worshipping beings that cannot or will not act to protect even the highest member of their faith is folly," said Razikale with perfect calmness. "I ask not blind faith of my followers. I have returned to restore my empire to its former glory. Serve us and be spared. Defy us, and I shall smite you down."

Varric snarled through the pain of his shattered legs. "Go hump a nug."

Razikale looked at him, and he burst into flames so intense that Cassandra had to raise her hand to shield her face from the heat. He screamed and screamed, until finally the flames consumed him. They continued until there was nothing left but ashes.

"He chose … poorly," said Razikale.

Cassandra wept and shook her head. "I will not abandon my faith! Kill me if you must. I shall go to the Maker's side, safe in the knowledge that He will stop you."

"Your faith is misplaced. Everything your Chantry preaches is a lie. The Maker did not create the Veil, Fen'Harel did. The Maker did not imprison me, Fen'Harel did. The Golden City was never his throne. It was the throne of the Evanuris. Imprisoned, once again, by Fen'Harel. The Dread Wolf is real. You met him. Your faith is a lie." She extended a hand and materialised an object out of thin air – a decorative urn. "Here is your precious prophet, Andraste." Razikale tossed the urn of sacred ashes onto the ground in front of Cassandra, shattering it. "The Maker did not save her, and she is not at his side. She is simply dead." The Old God lowered herself to the ground and proceeded to grind the heel of her boot into the scattered ashes of Andraste, inches away from Cassandra's face. "Repent, or suffer the same fate."

Cassandra Pentaghast pulled herself upright as best she could, her face stained with tears and the ashes of Andraste, mingled with the ashes of Varric. Taking a deep, steadying breath, she spoke.

"Eyes sorrow-blinded, in darkness unbroken
There 'pon the mountain, a voice answered my call.
"Heart that is broken, beats still unceasing,
An ocean of sorrow does nobody drown.
You have forgotten, spear-maid of Alamarr.
Within My creation, none are alone."

"So be it," said Razikale. She shot up into the air and exploded into a cloud of dark energy, transforming back into a High Dragon. Then she hovered above the Grand Cathedral and let out a noise unlike anything heard before. As Cassandra continued to recite the Chant of Light, the ground erupted beneath her, buildings toppled, people screamed, and chaos ensued.

High above the carnage, Hawke watched as the entire city of Val Royeaux was swallowed by a devastating earthquake conjured by the Old God Razikale. Within minutes it was all over. Val Royeaux, the Grand Cathedral, the White Spire, and everything else within the city was gone, along with every living person there. The very heart of the Chantry and the Orlesian Empire had been wiped from the face of Thedas.

The great city of Val Royeaux had gone the way of Arlathan.