[Chapter Size: 3200 Words.]

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Thrid Person POV

Essos, 296 AC.

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Jon looked at the flames for a while, as they continued burning, with Kinvara and Benerro with his assistant beside him and their guards behind.

“This is the great flame, the closest point to the great R’hllor in this world,” Kinvara spoke with admiration to her own shadow.

“…” Jon remained silent, his gaze falling towards the fire.

“Azor Ahai…” Benerro began to speak beside him.

“Yes…?” Jon replied, unable to do anything about this new title given to him.

“R’hllor has given me instructions that you must approach the flames. There is something there that may lead you to your destiny. Azor Ahai needs his sword to fight against the dead!” He spoke in a cautious tone, after all, what he was saying was absurd, but it was what his god had shown him in the vision.

“You can’t be serious!?” One of Jon’s royal guards glared at the man furiously, threatening to draw his sword.

“The high priest lost his sight to bring this message to Azor Ahai, do not forget that!” Kinvara spoke, defending her companion from Azor Ahai’s men.

Jon remained silent, making no comment about the madness of throwing himself into the flames, which were scorching even from a hundred meters away. “I already have my swords…” Jon commented.

“But it is Azor Ahai’s destiny to possess a sword like Lightbringer…” Kinvara insisted. “After all, it is the sword to drive away the dead,” she added.

“I won’t pierce the heart of any of my wives.” Jon mocked the legend.

“…” Kinvara didn’t reply, simply staring at Jon, and Benerro seemed lost, as Azor Ahai was resisting.

Jon just looked ahead as he analyzed the flames, his eyes starting to focus inside them, seeing only pure light.

[I need you to enter here… Chosen one…]

Jon raised an eyebrow at the distorted, ancient voice he heard, coming from within the flames.

“Isn’t this a trick?” Jon asked arrogantly, while the others looked at him curiously, unaware of the voice. Benerro even held his breath, thinking Jon was talking to him.

Jon ignored him, continuing to look at the flames.

[I do not intend harm, you are my hope for this world’s survival, but you need my sword…] The voice spoke again. It was in a strange language, but Jon could respond in Valyrian and understood everything it pronounced.

“…” Jon considered whether he should truly approach the flames, but ended up taking his first steps toward them.

“My king?!” The guards were startled.

“It’s alright… I will do this. But I’m wearing some clothes Seryna made… it would be a waste to burn them…” Jon glanced down and began removing his clothes right there.

“I’ll enter the flames, so I’ll do it like a bath.” Jon simply said as he started undressing, with everyone watching as the king removed the last piece and began walking completely naked.

Everyone watched as he approached the flames that had burned for thousands of years, closer than anyone had ever managed before.

The royal guards were somewhat nervous as Jon began touching the flames from a distance, but Jon didn’t seem affected at all, not even his body hair burned as he stood facing the fire, moving his hands toward the flames, pushing his hand further into the first line of fire.

“It doesn’t hurt… I still usually bathe in lava… so this isn’t a big surprise…” Jon commented as he pushed his hand without burning.

[As I knew, you are the son of fire, no one in this world can do what you are doing.] The voice seemed to praise Jon as he began taking his first steps fully into the fire, unharmed.

Everyone at a distance could only watch him disappear among the flames. “He is immune, as the great lord of light foresaw.” Benerro said with some excitement.

The guards continued to wear puzzled expressions but could do nothing against their king’s command, while he left only his clothes behind, not even taking his swords.

The flames and bright flashes were the only things that filled Jon’s vision as he moved forward in a flaming world that enveloped him like a warm cloak, yet without the real heat to burn him; it was like a touch bathing him in tenderness.

With no direction in that sight, he just kept moving forward, wondering what he would find there. This was his first contact with a true god—not the Old Gods of the North, raising questions about how many gods existed. There were the old ones, the god of death, R’hllor; the Seven Gods of the Seven Kingdoms were merely a farce to Jon, but perhaps there were others in this world.

A wall of flames ahead stood out, brighter than all the others before him. His steps continued in that direction, stepping on everything that the flames burned to sustain themselves until he finally began stepping on purely smooth stones, almost like a road.

Jon moved toward the brighter wall of flames, advancing until the light took over his entire vision, shining so brightly that it blurred his sight and forced him to close his eyes. When everything began to stop glowing, he looked around—he was no longer amidst the flames; he was in a different place, no longer in Volantis.

The first thing he noticed was that he was no longer naked, as an Artican silk garment covered his body, a tunic adorned with symbols of Artica.

Jon seemed to be standing before a vast valley stretching as far as the eye could see, filled with lush forests and winding rivers glimmering under the soft sunlight, indicating it was mid-afternoon. It was a majestic and harmonious sight, and he observed it from an elevated position, atop a steep cliff. The wind blew gently, bringing the fresh scent of trees and the distant murmur of waterfalls as water flowed through the rivers.

For a moment, Jon allowed himself to appreciate the beauty of the place until his gaze was drawn to something unusual. Further ahead, near the edge of the cliff, there was someone sitting in a chair. The man appeared motionless as Jon looked at him from behind, but he sat there as if contemplating the valley in front of him, just as Jon was.

Beside him, another chair stood empty, as if waiting for Jon. He frowned, intrigued, without moving.

“Come on, are you just going to stand there watching, or will you sit with me and enjoy this view?” The elderly voice said with a serene tone.

Jon said nothing, before taking his first steps, approaching the chair cautiously, his eyes focused on the man, and sat down beside him.

It was a man who appeared to be around sixty years old, perhaps even older, though his appearance belied his age. He had an upright and composed posture, carrying the natural elegance of some noble sitting in that carefully crafted chair, contrasting sharply with the wild scenery. His beard was meticulously trimmed, and his hair tied back, all completely white. His eyes, however, stood out the most: deep and attentive, fixed on the valley ahead, as if absorbing every detail of that vastness.

Jon watched the man for a moment, suspicious, before asking, “Are you the Lord of Light?”

The man let out a light smile, still not diverting his gaze from the valley. “You could call me that, but I’ve had many names over the millennia. Of course, ‘Lord of Light’ is the most popular nowadays.” He answered with an unwavering calm, as if the title was just one among many, without real importance.

His voice was no longer ethereal as Jon had heard from the flames; he sounded as human as Jon, but the atmosphere around him immediately made Jon know that this was no mortal.

“What is this place where we are?” Jon asked, also looking out at the valley, finding the view incredibly beautiful once again.

“You are no longer in the mortal world,” he spoke in a serene tone.

Jon frowned and asked immediately, “Will I lose my sight as well for being here?” His tone was dangerous; it was clear he didn’t like that possibility at all.

“Of course not. You are far too important to lose your sight. You are immune, after all, the old gods have already touched you before.” He spoke without being offended by Jon’s tone, answering casually.

“And why am I here? Why, knowing that I have already been touched by other gods, do you still insist on declaring me your champion against the White Walkers?” Jon asked, looking at him.

“You must defeat them, it is your destiny. What else can I declare? But first, let me ask you this: would you abandon your gods to follow me? Think carefully, I would grant you powers that could place the entire world at your feet,” he spoke without even looking at Jon once.

“No.” Jon replied quickly. He had already thought about it and would never betray the old gods. Whatever happened, his heart would still beat for them until the end of his life.

“I figured… It’s a shame, but it’s alright nonetheless.” He said, finally looking at Jon without studying him for a single second, as if he had already done so and didn’t need to repeat it.

“You, with your gods, and I, with my followers, have a common enemy.” He began, raising his hand and snapping his fingers.

Jon looked forward as suddenly the entire scene changed, the warm and welcoming valley transforming into a frozen land with a blizzard surrounding them as they sat there in the middle of it.

“This…” Jon murmured, opening his eyes slightly. In front of them, the vision unfolded into rows upon rows of the dead with blue eyes staring at them, stretching to the horizon.

“You know, we can’t let these creatures take over this world. Neither I nor other gods,” he commented.

“Certainly, the same can be said for us. We don’t want humanity to be destroyed,” Jon said, as if it were obvious.

“Yes, you are right. Both gods and humanity want this world to prosper. But you still need more power,” he continued.

“I have dragons, armies, weapons that can devastate thousands of the dead at once,” Jon said, thinking he was already strong enough, though it seemed like the number of dead before him was much greater than he had anticipated.

“Perhaps in the first battle, you will do well against them, but the Night King, their leader, is not something you can destroy as easily as you think, Jon Artica.” He said, looking at Jon for the second time. “Only one blade can destroy him, and that will only happen when the entire world rallies behind you.”

Jon narrowed his eyes, not fully understanding the meaning of those words. The old man then began to speak again as the snow continued to advance upon them, faced by the army of the dead.

“I’m saying that the path is much longer than you imagine. Your journey has only just begun, and your true challenges will start from now. You will face a war in the East, your banishment in Vaes Dothrak, the first battle against the dead in the North, then the struggle between the southern kingdoms, the integration of the Northern Kingdom with Artica, and later, the battle against the false Dragon King in the south with the conquest of the Seven Kingdoms. These battles will occupy your attention in the coming years. All of this will draw the entire world’s eyes upon you, Jon Artica, but it still won’t be the final battle.” He said.

“That is why you need to strengthen all your relationships before the entire world, so that one day, when humanity needs it most, you can use it to your advantage. Unite all the kingdoms of men, lead the final battle, and destroy, once and for all, the great evil of this world.” He spoke with a serious look.

“You speak as if I could rally the entire world behind me,” Jon commented, finding those words hard to believe.

“No, it’s not that you can… it’s that you must do it,” the god said.

“Will I need a Lightbringer?” Jon asked, still refusing to accept the conditions of possessing that sword.

“Lightbringer was a sword created by the ancient Azor Ahai, but it was a replica of my sword that I showed him at that time. The true one was never touched, and that’s why he could never destroy the dead. Although his forces weren’t as strong as yours, the Night King will also be much stronger here.” He reflected before continuing.

“But this is a journey you must undertake alone. I have already helped too much and cannot interfere further in the mortal world. After all, we always have prices to pay for everything we do. The name of my true sword is Dawnbreaker,” he replied.

“Dawnbreaker?” Jon murmured, somewhat surprised by a name he had never heard before, his gaze falling upon the dead in front of him, who continued to stare at him, wondering if he would not destroy them in the North as he always imagined.

The man simply raised his hand and snapped his fingers, and the vision changed, returning them to the valley.

“So, where is this sword?” Jon asked, staring at the god.

“It lies in the hottest place in the world, but I cannot tell you how to reach it. When the time comes, one of my priestesses will bring the answer,” he said.

“And now?” Jon asked as they returned to the valley, the man giving a small smile.

“Now, you keep this.” He replied, and Jon felt a weight in his hand, looking at it a moment later. It was a stone cut into the shape of a four-pointed star, with a grip in the center like a key. There was a design that wasn’t the traditional symbol of the Lord of Light used by the red priests; it was two squares placed atop one another in equal fashion, forming an eight-pointed star.

“When you seek the sword, you will need to use this,” he said, and Jon merely stared at the object, wondering what kind of door it would open, also pondering all the Red God had said in person.

“Anyway, it’s time for you to return. You can’t stay here too long either, otherwise, there will be consequences. It was good to meet you, my champion, and triumph as the true Azor Ahai against the enemy that wants to destroy your world,” he said.

Jon wanted to mock the god’s insistence on calling him champion, but he kept silent. However, the man’s eyes returned to him one last time.

“I know what you’re thinking, but remember: your gods asked you to save your people, and you will keep the North protected, but to destroy the evil, that alone will not be enough. Either way, I hope you find your path and that your legend is known by all in the coming ages until the end of this world, Jon Artica. So, goodbye,” he said, as everything began to change.

Everything turned white. “I’ll give you a gift before you return,” the god’s voice returned as Jon wondered again where he was, surrounded by all this whiteness, until two people appeared in front of him.

“You… Mother…” Jon’s voice had a slight tremor as he saw Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark before him, both smiling at him but saying nothing.

Jon stood there silently, looking with a hint of nervousness, observing the features of his parents, his gaze especially on Lyanna, seeing a complete Stark like Arya, while Rhaegar looked similar to Daenerys and Viserys. This lasted ten seconds, with Jon seeing his parents for the first time in his life, something he had never seen even in the green sight. He knew it wasn’t real, but he was truly grateful to have seen what they really looked like, especially his mother.

The vision darkened before clearing again, and Jon found himself without clothes once more as the scenery transformed into blazing flames covering him without harming him, indicating he was back within the temple’s fire.

With a sigh, as even there, with the flames consuming all the oxygen, he could still breathe. He simply turned around, retracing the path he remembered taking, finally emerging from the flames moments later and heading towards the group of people waiting for him, a group that had grown with others looking on and kneeling immediately.

Everyone was staring at him, wondering if anything had changed, all eyes following him without any shame, focusing on the key-shaped stone in his hand. His guards watched closely, searching for any injuries, concerned for their king’s safety.

Kinvara approached Jon, holding a robe and carefully covering his body with it. Jon accepted it, not wanting to remain naked in front of so many people. “Are you alright, Azor Ahai? I’ve never seen anyone do such a thing,” she said with a tone of admiration.

“What is this?” Jon asked, looking at more than thirty people kneeling before him, looking at him as if he were R’hllor himself.

“You were in there for six hours… Azor Ahai, and the world manifested your contact with our lord… There’s a comet in the sky.” She spoke, looking at him as if it was extraordinary.

“A comet?!” Jon looked with a puzzled expression as he glanced towards the opening where the flames rose above the temple, seeing part of its red tail fixed in the sky, which genuinely surprised him, though he brushed it aside as he went to dress in the clothes he had left behind.

“My lord… you were in there for so long… our men have all been restless these past hours after learning what happened…” The Artican royal guard said with concern.

“I’m fine, I just had some things to resolve.” He said, still holding the stone, which everyone was curious about, but no one dared to ask, although the curiosity was evident among the red priests present.

Jon finished dressing and returned to Benerro, who was being briefed by his assistant. “Well, I came here to talk and see what you wanted, and I’ve done that. There’s nothing more for me here. I’ll be returning to my ship and negotiating with Volantis over the next few days,” Jon said.

Benerro nodded. He felt that his mission with Azor Ahai had been fulfilled at that moment. Whatever Jon had found in the flames, it was now a path he had to walk alone—Benerro had simply done his part and was content with that, even with the loss of his eyes.

Kinvara said nothing, merely following silently, as Jon’s guards moved towards the exit, with all the priests staring at Jon.

Jon tried to ignore it all, only wanting to return to his ship to lie in his bed, in the company of his family. There were many things he needed to think about from that moment on.

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