The old factory burned like a dying beast, flames licking up the rusted walls, the air thick with smoke and molten iron. Kael’s ears rang from the explosion, his vision a blur of orange and black. He tried to move, but pain ripped through his side — the bullet wound burned like liquid fire. The scent of blood mixed with gasoline made his instincts twist inside him, urging him to fight, to survive.

His body refused to obey. He lay half-turned on the cracked concrete, his gloved hand trembling toward the gun just out of reach. The heat pressed down on him, stealing his breath.

Then a shadow moved through the haze.

Leon Varric — his partner, his friend — stepped closer, gun steady, eyes cold. “You should’ve stayed out of it, Kael.” His voice cracked slightly under the roar of the fire. “You weren’t supposed to see that shipment log. Now we’ve both got targets on our backs.”

Kael coughed, forcing his voice through the pain. “So you burn it all down? That’s your solution?”

Leon’s face twisted — guilt flickering for a heartbeat before hardening into something worse. “I did what I had to. The Chief doesn’t need to know.”

“You sold us out,” Kael rasped. “Sold her out.”

Leon stepped forward, the muzzle of his gun lowering until it hovered inches from Kael’s forehead. “Don’t make me do this, brother.”

“Then don’t,” Kael said, his voice barely a growl.

For a moment, the world went still — only the sound of metal groaning under fire, the faraway wail of sirens. Leon’s finger tightened on the trigger.

And then — footsteps.

Slow, deliberate, echoing through the ruin. A silhouette emerged from the smoke like a ghost forged from flame. Chief Inspector Aveline Rois.

She looked like she’d walked straight out of a war zone — black tactical suit, utility belts, hair slightly tousled, her eyes burning with cold precision. The firelight danced across her sharp features, casting gold and shadow over her face. Every movement she made radiated control; even the smoke seemed to bend around her.

Her pistol was already raised, steady, aimed right at Leon.

“I saw the change in you,” she said, her voice cutting through the chaos, low and measured. “The hesitation. The new watch. The late reports.” She stepped closer, boots crunching on shards of glass. “They don’t make loyalty like they used to.”

Leon froze. Sweat gleamed down his temple. “Chief, you don’t understand. I—”

“Put the gun down, Detective Varric.”

He didn’t move. The gun stayed pointed at Kael.

“I said drop it.”

For a second, Kael thought Leon might listen — but instead, his hand twitched, the muzzle angling lower. That was all it took.

One gunshot cracked through the inferno.

Leon staggered back, shock painting his face before the pain reached him. He dropped to his knees, clutching his chest, eyes wide. “Chief… I—” His voice faded as he fell forward, the flames swallowing him whole.

Aveline’s arm stayed extended, smoke drifting from the barrel of her pistol. Her expression didn’t change — no triumph, no regret. Just quiet, absolute finality.

Then she lowered the gun and walked toward Kael. The fire behind her made her look otherworldly — a shadow crowned in flame.

She knelt beside him, one gloved hand pressing firmly against his wound. “Stay still,” she ordered. Her tone was calm, clipped, but her touch was steady and warm. “You’re lucky I came when I did.”

Kael managed a faint, pained smirk. “Lucky isn’t the word I’d use.”

“You should’ve called for backup.”

“Didn’t think you’d come.”

Her eyes — sharp and dark — met his. For a fleeting moment, something softened there, something human beneath the steel. “I protect the family,” she said quietly.

He blinked at her through the haze, not sure if she meant the department or something deeper. But the words settled heavy in his chest, grounding him.

As the fire consumed what remained of the evidence — and Leon — Aveline pulled him upright, slinging his arm over her shoulder. She was smaller, but her strength was absolute. Together they staggered toward the broken doorway, sirens now closer.