Everything was burning.

Haven was razed; engulfed in flames from the surprise attack from this so-called Elder One you’ve been hearing about. You had thought that the worst was over when you closed the Breach with the aid of the mages, but it seems your actions had spurned this “Elder One” behind everything to attack the still-budding Inquisition.

Smoke fogged your vision and infiltrated your lungs, causing bouts of painful coughs to wrack your entire body. The stench of burning bodies was invading your senses; bodies that were both your own men and those of the red-lyrium infested Templars killed in the battle. They were more dead than alive even before death, their brains and bodies consumed by the crimson ore they’d been using.

It was just you now in the small clearing near the trebuchets. You’d sent the rest of your four-man squad off, and the rest of the Inquisition had evacuated through the Chantry. Snow and cold air fell around you, melting quickly from the scorching heat of the flames. Even in this inferno, the Frostback Mountains remained frigid… though why you noted that was something you didn’t know.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the loud screech of a dragon as one soared above, spewing flame to surround you. You were knocked back, stunned…

And then… a figure. Humanoid, and yet deformed with the blight and red lyrium, walked out of the fire. Behind you, the dragon, just as tainted as its master, bounded up behind you and screeched again.

“Enough!” The figure, a man, shouted, a burst of red magic erupting from his hands as he willed the dragon to cease its noise,

“Pretender. You toy with forces beyond your ken. No more. Know me; know what you have pretended to be.” He began, voice rough and filled with disdain and foreboding,

“Exalt the Elder One. The will that is Corypheus. You will kneel.”