The world was wreathed in flame, bright flashes of light mingling with the spill of dark blood splashing onto the ground. The air was heavy with smoke, the smell of rust and decay distinct. The loud sounds of metal against metal rang into the night, the screams of the dying and the shrieks of otherworldly creatures blending together in painful cacophony. All these greeted her when she tore through the stinging, gray mist in a desperate attempt to reach the Chantry doors. It can't be too late to retrieve them. They were too important.
"Dee!" She heard Sister Justine's voice somewhere in the distance, terrified. "No! It's too dangerous!"
The yards between them only served to drown out the rest of her words as the world continued to burn.
"I have to get them."
Deidre wasn't all too aware that she said the words out loud, her small body rushing past familiar avenues that led to Denerim's Market District. What used to be a center of commerce was now in ruins, gone were the sounds of merchants hawking their wares, the scent of flowers and perfumes from the stand of the Orlesian woman whose name she could never remember. To an eight year old's mind, all adults were the same after all. She didn't have to worry about their names until she got older... if she lived that long. If she lived through this.
The Chantry dominated her vision, and the sight of it encouraged her child's legs to run faster. She practically threw herself through the remains of the shattered door -- what used to be a sanctuary was little more than an empty shell of its former self. She hurdled over the debris, skittered through nooks and crannies that were too small for an adult to pass. She crawled under the archway several shattered and fallen bookcases have made, and all the while she was coughing. Tears streamed down her face as dust and the dreary fog of war burned at her eyes.
She nearly cried when she saw the archives, and the room that used to house the Chantry's relics collection. She stumbled through the doorway, shaking fingers rooting through the detritus of their hasty evacuation and carelessly discarded chests. When she found them at last, she grabbed them and hugged them to her chest as she huddled under a table; three scrollcases, sealed to protect the delicate and antiquated sheets of parchment housed inside. The ground shook. Bits of masonry fell from the ceiling at the shockwave that suddenly rocked the building's foundations, crashing into wrecked furniture and obliterating them. It was then that she prayed, whispering words she had been taught in her first year under the care of Andraste's faithful... exultations to an absent god that she had memorized, but did not believe in.
But she had to move. It was too dangerous to linger. She crawled out from under the table and ran. Light and heat beckoned at her from the ruined double-doors as she rocketed herself forward, and hoped she could find the people she needed to amidst all the chaos. She didn't know what she would do if she came across one of the invading Darkspawn, she wasn't confident in her ability to outrun them, but she didn't think about it and concentrated on her current situation.
A strange sound enveloped the battle-torn world outside. Deidre stopped in her tracks despite all intentions to keep running, and looked up. A large, all-encompassing shadow swooped over the heart of the city. Its abyssal reflection splashed on the decimated ground underneath it.
The shriek was loud, and deafening. The little girl couldn't help but stare, and watch light reflect off black and violet scales. Urthemiel twisted upwards, rallying its forces with that loud, keening cry. Everything about it embodied the destruction it promised to unleash upon Ferelden, the large wings merciless in their abuse of surrounding gale winds. Its tail lashed, its mouth opened to reveal rows of teeth, baring them down to horrified onlookers on the ground. Thankfully, it didn't choose to land. Instead, it turned its body and continued flying past.
It was her first glimpse of a tainted god face to face without the veil of childhood nightmares. Beautiful, and terrible.