[Chapter Size: 3200 Words.]

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Thrid Person POV

Essos, 296 AC.

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It was night in the great city of Volantis, as the hour of the wolf was announced with the moon reaching its highest point in the sky.

Everything seemed peaceful in one of the oldest cities of the known world, which had been created as an extension of Valyria a long time ago, implementing its culture, which has been preserved to this day with the exception of the dragons and their magic.

The city functioned with the high nobility composed of direct descendants of the ancient dragon lord families, and they prided themselves on this more than anything else.

The city had an ancient but sturdy structure, extremely beautiful this night as all the houses were lit with candles, while a large temple in the center of the city illuminated with a central flame that reached upwards through an opening. The red priests ensured that it was never extinguished—rain or shine, the flame of the Lord of Light, R’hllor, was never put out.

Power in Volantis was dominated by military strength and commerce, controlled by two major factions: the Tigers, who relied on military power, and the Elephants, who relied on trade, both controlling all of Volantis.

Religion also held significant influence over the population, from nobles to citizens and slaves. The red priests dominated public opinion, with the largest temple in the world, the Red Temple, located in the city, housing its high priests and its eternal flame.

In that same temple tonight, without any worshippers at the moment, the priests were carrying out their usual activities in the temple, and everything seemed normal until the High Priest of the Red Temple walked through one of the corridors with no one in sight within the temple. After all, he was in one of the most inaccessible areas deep underground, walking towards the end of the corridor where there was a strong light in front of him.

“High Priest Benerro? What troubles you at such an hour of the night?” A voice beside him called out, sounding slightly hesitant.

They were heading directly towards the central flame, or eternal flame as they called it, which burned brightly. However, they were in the lowest part, where it began—a place only accessible to the most important individuals.

Accompanying him was his assistant, known as the Herald of Benerro, due to acting as his representative and messenger for the High Priest.

Dessun was a man of 27 namedays, who came from a common family—not a slave one—and studied at the Red Temple since the age of 10 namedays, eventually becoming Benerro’s assistant once he was noticed by him. He had spent his recent years assisting the High Priest in whatever he needed.

“A calling brought me here, Dessun. R’hllor wants to convey a message, I am certain!” he spoke with a firm and excited tone. While in his chamber, he had felt something calling him to this place and came after summoning his assistant, who was confused.

Dessun only nodded, not knowing what to say, and he did not want to risk being whipped for contradicting the High Priest, or worse, being burned alive. They continued in silence until they finally entered the room of the great flame, burning this night just like any other night.

“Let us pray to our God, as the flames call me tonight, young Dessun,” Benerro said, while Dessun nodded his head.

Benerro, already accustomed to the flames, advanced to a point very close to it and knelt down. He was used to the heat but did not approach further, as he too was made of flesh and could be burned.

“I feel your calling. If you have anything to tell me, please, this servant will give you his full attention, my lord…” Benerro spoke in a submissive tone, very different from the one he used with anyone else.

Even Dessun could understand this, but his gaze, a little distant from the High Priest, was filled with distrust. Dessun had seen this same scene dozens of times, as Benerro claimed about four times a year that the god R’hllor wanted to convey a message to him, and he had never seen anything come of it.

Thinking this was just another night of the High Priest speaking nonsense, something happened. The flames, which burned continuously at the same rhythm, suddenly exploded with force, causing Benerro and Dessun to open their eyes, surprised and stunned, while the assistant fell backward, frightened, terrified.

The flames exploded with impressive force, and the priest put his hand in front of his face due to the intense light they were generating at that moment. However, he did not burn. The heat, which should have increased, was not felt.

The flames, which burned calmly in the center of the temple, drew the attention not only of the priests and other members of the Red Temple, but the entire city saw the sky suddenly light up with this explosion, causing everyone to gasp in shock, looking towards the great temple with even the flames being visible slightly above it.

“What is that?!”

“It’s a sign from R’hllor!!”

“All hail R’hllor!!!”

From the outskirts of the city to the wealthiest and highest parts, everyone looked on in astonishment, and most of the city seemed to bow before what appeared to be a manifestation of R’hllor.

Even the less devout became submissive as all eyes turned towards the temple at that moment, but none were more affected than Benerro himself, standing at the heart of it all as the flames continued illuminating the entire area, until he opened his eyes even amidst that blinding light.

In the High Priest’s vision, he began to see something within the flames until the light no longer bothered him, and in the middle of it all, he saw a world covered in snow and ice, blanketing all the mountains, forests, and rivers, as his vision traveled across that land. Then, something different from the frozen wasteland appeared—a miracle.

Green lands with a large tree with red leaves, the symbol of a nation, while small birds flew around it. However, as the image drew closer, it became apparent that the tree was far from small, standing hundreds of meters tall, and what Benerro had thought were birds were, in fact, dragons flying in circles around that realm.

They continued slicing through the air, passing above a massive city beneath the tree, as if they were dancing in the air above it. Benerro could hardly believe he was seeing dragons, especially in such numbers.

His vision was as if he were flying above this kingdom, passing by the dragons and moving toward a castle before the giant tree, even with the sun above the castle obscured by the branches.

Then Benerro found himself entering the central part of the castle, finding a throne facing a massive entrance that offered a view of the city from that very spot, and upon the throne sat a man. His eyes were gray, but around them was a green hue unlike anything the priest had ever seen.

Suddenly, the man’s serious expression changed to a more narrowed gaze, and Benerro could tell he was being seen.

“Are you spying on me again?” the man suddenly spoke in a fierce and authoritative tone, making even Benerro swallow hard.

“I’ve told you before, you are not welcome here. I have other gods besides my own, and I will not accept you, R’hllor.”

Benerro finally realized that the man was not speaking to him but to his own god?!

“What is this, how can he speak like this to the great R’hllor?!” Benerro couldn’t understand how a mortal could speak to a god in such a manner. But Benerro simply stood there, now silent, while the image of the man remained still, seated in his chair with a calm posture, though his gaze was sharp. He stared at the man who seemed to be in his forties for some time until an ancient voice echoed.

“The salvation of humanity already lies in the North. The chosen one was born in the West and touched by other gods. He does not submit to me but helps me survive. After all, there are no gods in a world covered in ice and death. That is why he must be aided in his path. Even though he is not my follower, the flames burn within him more than in any other living being in this world. A song of ice and fire in a single man. His life is worth more than anything in this world, and my sword must be given to him.”

Benerro was paralyzed as he heard the distorted voice, clearly not that of a human.

When the ancient voice finally stopped, Benerro trembled, unable to believe that for the first time in his life, his god had spoken to him beyond images—perhaps R’hllor had never spoken to anyone before him.

Then, before he could think much more about it, the image began to change. The man remained in the vision, but the scene changed along with his clothing and posture, exchanging his silken robes of a monarch for Valyrian steel armor with glowing symbols upon it. The world was different—it was frozen, cold, and ominous. There was no sunlight, but it could still be said that it was day.

Around him were hundreds of thousands of soldiers covering the horizon, with dragons flying above the army. The same man that his god had declared to be the chosen one wielded a sword that glowed at its center, like the sword from the old tales, and Benerro could even understand the symbols inscribed upon it—Dawnbreaker.

Benerro took his eyes off the man standing at the front of the army, with his sword planted in the ground while he looked ahead, letting his gaze fall to the side, to the men in armor surrounding him.

Benerro could see that there was a crowd in well-made armor with the same symbol the leader bore on his chest, symbolizing warriors from his country, but they were not the only ones.

The red priest could see beyond the giants, dwarves, and Artican soldiers—soldiers with symbols of famous houses of Westeros. Not only that, there were symbols of Braavos, Pentos, even Volantis, the Dothraki, the Unsullied, and red priests. Even the people from the East, whom he knew as samurai and others, were gathered there, with what seemed to be their shogun. It was as if the entire world had gathered there, behind that man.

Besides the dragons, there were also wolves as tall as men, bears, and many other animals that Benerro did not recognize.

His gaze shifted to the opposite side where all the men were facing. The field was open, almost like the Dothraki Sea, but covered in snow.

And there, it was filled with an opposing side of enemies—he couldn’t even call them men, with thousands and thousands of beings with blue eyes, even more numerous than the entire army behind the man.

“My greatest enemy… The Night King.” R’hllor’s voice returned.

In their midst stood the one R’hllor had pointed out—the Night King, a figure that sent shivers down the priest’s spine, making him tremble. It seemed even the flames froze just by showing him. He looked at the opposing army as if dealing with flies.

Suddenly, his gaze shifted to the side, and he stared at Benerro, making him freeze. But he looked at him as if he were nothing, before looking forward again, while the white flames burned where he sat.

He was mounted on a winged creature that seemed to be a dragon, but it emitted a cold smoke all over its body, concealing its true form. Only its outline with the white flames was visible, as diabolical as its master.

“My servant… you have had a vision of the battle at the end of the world,” the voice spoke again. “But you cannot take this vision to the world, only parts of it… and you will suffer for it. I want you to help him…”

“My god… I am willing to do anything for you,” Benerro said immediately.

Benerro then saw the vision begin to move, as the leader of humanity became covered in something while one of the dragons descended, landing beside him with its enormous body cracking the frozen ground.

Then he mounted the giant dragon—white as snow, with green patches. He soared into the sky, raising his sword, which glowed amidst the near-total darkness.

“For humanity!!” he shouted, pointing his sword forward before his dragon flapped its wings and advanced as well.

“Let’s go!!” Thousands of voices exclaimed, preparing for battle with giant shields and arrows. In the sky, black, red, blue, purple, yellow, gray dragons—all possible colors. There was a surreal number of these creatures, advancing towards the army of the dead, along with all of humanity, following their leader.

The dead did not remain idle, as their leader flapped his wings with the terrifying dragon, advancing into the sky, while the dead ran towards the army.

It was at this moment that Benerro’s vision began to break. His last sight was of the first contact between that man, mounted on his dragon, raising his sword in the air and charging against his enemy, while the dragon turned upside down, approaching the Night King, who was also mounted on his winged creature, wielding an ice weapon.

Both rushed fearlessly towards one another until the clash between the two blades, striking like a symphony amidst chaos, generating a sonic impact that reverberated throughout the battlefield, heard by millions.

Suddenly, the vision stopped, while the flames began to calm down at that moment, losing all their brightness and vision, and everything returned to normal after a few dozen seconds, as Benerro remained paralyzed until his sight returned, with the flames burning as they usually did.

“What was that…” he murmured as his memories began to blur. Then suddenly, an immense pain invaded his eyes and ears, while his stomach turned.

“AHHHHHHHH!!!!” Benerro began to scream as his eyes glowed before burning with intense pain, making his assistant see blood dripping onto the ground as he rushed closer.

“High Priest Benerro!!” Even feeling the heat, he grabbed the High Priest, who groaned in pain, and dragged him away from the center of the flames, noticing even Benerro’s ears starting to bleed.

“Benerro…” Dessun was trembling, unable to believe what he was witnessing, as the man went blind, his eyes catching fire while he began to vomit beside him.

“What was that?” he murmured, looking at the flames in fear, until all the candles on the walls suddenly exploded, forming a line like an invisible wave that extinguished the flames for a second before they returned to normal.

This spread throughout the temple, as they saw the flames behaving strangely, flowing like a wave to the temple’s limits. It didn’t stop there, as the entire city experienced its own invisible wave, with every fire in the city exploding for a moment, though without burning anything—only startling the people wherever they were, with the last occurrences in the city’s farthest parts.

Jon was with Rhaenys and Ygritte in bed when the flames in the room exploded, causing him to sit up.

“What was that?!” Rhaenys murmured as the flames returned to normal in the candles.

“Jon?” Ygritte murmured with a dazed look.

“I don’t know, but I’ll find out…” Jon said as he put on his clothes and went outside, while his men reported that this happened with all the flames on all the ships, like a wave coming from the place they were heading to.

This spread beyond that region, and a few hours later, Westeros felt the explosion in the flames of their castles and houses, but it caused no harm beyond a scare, leaving them wondering what had happened.

At that moment, almost all the red priests in the world knew what this meant—a divine sign. While Dessun dragged his High Priest, who wept in pain without his eyes, keeping a terrified expression as he tried to bring him to the surface, many people woke up, dazed, seeking their flames to see if there was any sign from their god.

A woman in the Shadow Lands, wearing a mask with her eyes exposed through the holes—each a different color—was stunned as she looked west after seeing the explosion in her flames.

Even in Westeros, at Dragonstone, Melisandre was looking at the flames once again before they began to explode, causing her to widen her eyes. When everything returned to normal, she nearly put her face into the fire, seeking any sign, any clue, while she heard other fire priests scattered around the place she had converted, exclaiming for R’hllor.

To the south of Westeros, while another red priest was with his company, Thoros of Myr felt something and immediately sought his flames. However, like everyone else at that moment, nothing came in response.

But everyone understood what it meant—it was a sign, as if their god had made contact with the mortal world, affecting all the flames of the world, even if some other gods did not appreciate it.

“Listen, Dessun!” Benerro’s voice called out amidst his cries.

“Stop talking… High Priest… We’re almost there, I’ll call for help!” the young man pleaded, nearly crying in fear.

“Please… listen to me…” Benerro insisted before continuing. “The great R’hllor gave me a vision… He showed me the chosen one. Azor Ahai, his return.” He began, while his assistant looked on in turmoil, hearing this.

Even with blood flowing down his face from his eyes and ears, he continued.

“He is coming here and will arrive in the coming days. We must welcome him. He is the savior chosen by R’hllor, and we must help him prepare for the final war!!” Benerro said immediately.

Dessun was conflicted, unsure whether it was real or if Benerro was hallucinating… but with everything that had happened, he had to believe… Somehow, their god had indeed manifested to the High Priest this night. He continued dragging him out with great effort to seek help.

Quickly, a large-scale meeting began at the Red Temple. After all, it wasn’t hard to identify that whatever had happened came from the temple’s central flame.

Meanwhile, the Arctic ships were getting closer to Volantis in the darkness of the night, as the Articans tried to decipher what had happened with their flames.

Raccoon here:

I found myself in a bit of conflict at several points in this chapter… after all, I made Jon forty years old in the future. The final war will not be easy to conclude, and it won’t be in the North.

Besides, R’hllor acts differently from the Old Gods. I thought the price to pay with one’s eyes seemed reasonable for a religion that burns people as offerings to their god.

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