[Chapter Size: 3300 Words.]

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Thrid Person POV

Essos, 296 AC.

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Arya was exploring the city again. She had invited Daenerys, but the girl was hesitant after what had happened in Myr and didn’t want to go. Rhaenys was pregnant, Ygritte had no desire to leave the ship, and Wind was the least likely to go with her since Jon had told her not to even appear in front of the port, always keeping her on the ship. He would leave her on another ship, as he had done in Braavos, but ended up accepting that she would stay with them as long as she remained hidden.

Arya couldn’t help but agree with Jon, after all, she had heard how the red priests performed their rituals, burning mostly slaves in the city. It was a cowardly act, and Arya had even seen the place where they used to carry out such practices, with several corpses on burning crosses.

‘Now I understand why Jon doesn’t like them…’ she murmured internally.

Everything seemed normal as she walked with her guards around her, alert to anything.

“Arya, look at this!” someone called beside her, pointing to the fabric shop, seeing something that caught their attention.

“What is it, Mearin?” Arya looked curiously at the Artican.

Mearin was an Artican with fire-kissed hair, just like Hilla beside her, who was also a redhead. Both were Arya’s friends, sharing almost the same age, having built a friendship over the last few years. Although Mearin and Hilla were not part of the king’s study group, they spent their time with Arya in the arena, training and trying to become decent Artican warriors, although Arya might be much better than them due to what she had received in recent years. They had ended up coming on the trip, and Arya spent some time with them, besides her family or training.

The royal guards were simply keeping watch as Mearin showed Arya what had caught her attention. But something soon caught the attention of the three girls, turning their heads to two of the six royal guards stopping a red woman, who was staring directly at Arya.

“Step away! You do not have permission to approach the princess,” the royal guard spoke in a serious tone, while the woman, despite not getting closer, kept her gaze fixed on Arya the entire time, without caring to look at the guards.

“Arya Stark,” she said, while Arya’s friends watched cautiously, their hands pressing on the weapons at their waists. The same could be said of Arya, touching Dark Sister.

“What do you want…?” Arya asked in a dark tone.

“I only want to warn you of something, cousin of Azor Ahai,” she said calmly.

“…” Arya remained silent. Of course, others had approached her before, speaking about Jon and asking the Artican king to bless them or even for Arya to arrange a meeting with him. But Arya knew how to handle this, and this was the only one who referred to the royal connection she had with Jon, which she should not have known.

“There will come a time when Azor Ahai will nearly lose himself in the destruction he will bring to the western kingdoms… That is why he will need you at that moment…” she said, looking Arya in the eyes.

“What is she talking about?” Hilla murmured with an unsatisfied and confused tone.

Arya remained silent as the red woman simply smiled at her and began to leave, but not before stopping.

“Also… beware of the Harpy and her children; they act in the shadows…” she said before walking away, leaving everyone confused by what they had just heard, not fully understanding what had just happened.

“She’s gone; it doesn’t matter what she said anymore,” Arya simply stated.

They all nodded and returned to their activities while the city seemed the same as the previous days, with crowds at the port, and Jon never leaving his ship, leaving the ministers to handle the negotiations. After all, he had even requested a list of things they could buy in Volantis, but nothing they couldn’t manage, having the king’s approval to spend his money on the negotiation of books, metal, and some products directly made in Volantis.

The high nobles were somewhat dissatisfied, casting cautious glances at the Articans. After all, a member of the tiger faction had been killed, and no one knew if it had been the people of the faith, the rival faction, or even people from within his own faction. It could have even been the Articans, with the king himself, for being challenged during the negotiation.

However, they could do nothing but continue negotiating with the Articans. Even while expressing some dissatisfaction with the king’s absence, which could be seen among them as a sign of disrespect, they didn’t say much, since they were also afraid of ending up like their companion.

The sighting of Daenerys had also drawn many eyes and rumors, with the Valyrian girl often standing on the edge of the ship, gazing at the port city. Seeing a young and beautiful girl, given Daenerys’ Targaryen beauty, everyone there was intrigued. However, no one really wanted to try anything aggressive like buying her, only subtly inquiring with the priests. But as soon as the ministers refused, they remained silent, not pressing the matter further.

In the red temple, the priests continued praying to the Lord of Light, seeking clear instructions for their next steps to aid Azor Ahai. Spending hours and hours in front of the flames, even without receiving a response, they wanted to be ready for anything their god might ask of them.

Jon no longer cared about what was happening in the city, while even the free citizens and some slaves were gathering in front of the flames, praying for Jon to bless them. He was sick of it, avoiding paying attention to the growing group of people talking about him, and even considering burning others. These ideas calmed down after Jon’s threat that he would kill anyone who burned another in his name.

“You’ve been staring at that stone for hours…” Daenerys approached him at that moment, while Jon sat behind his desk with the key he had received from the Red God lying atop it.

“It’s true…” Jon remarked, still staring, trying to figure out what the symbol meant and what it opened, wondering why the Red God was so confident he would need this so-called sword of his.

Daenerys couldn’t deny she was also intrigued by the stone, her curiosity piqued as she looked at the rock while Jon analyzed it.

They stayed there for a moment before Jon sighed and opened a book. “I don’t think this is going to help much…” Jon said finally.

“Can I stay with you?” she asked, and Jon smiled at her.

“Of course.” Jon replied, staying there calmly reading, until one of the eagles above the city called to him mentally, and his eyes began to see through it, witnessing something that quickly enraged him.

“We were attacked!” he exclaimed, jumping out of his chair, surprising Daenerys beside him, with Rhaenys sitting nearby and Ygritte painting in a corner.

“Jon?” Ygritte asked, sensing the urgency.

“Slavers attacked Arya and the others,” he said with a furious tone as he headed out of the ship.

“Men, prepare to head to the city. Arya and the others were attacked by people wearing golden masks…” Jon commanded, and the Artican men immediately began to move. His gaze fell upon the city, and he started to move all the animals there, quickly surprising the people as all the birds in the city began to flock to a single area. There were at least 5,000 of them in such a large city, and they began descending all at once.

Arya was returning to the ship with everyone still remembering the words of the woman dressed in red. She hadn’t given her name, so Arya had no way of knowing who she was, thinking her words were just that—words.

However, as they walked, a group of people on a street seemed to be part of some kind of festival. They were wearing masks, and handkerchiefs were thrown into the air as they danced.

“Should we pass through there…?” Mearin murmured.

“Better not, I don’t like this street…” a royal Artican guard said, narrowing his eyes at the people who appeared to be having fun. It was strange, considering the whole city was focused on Jon.

“Why the fear… it’s just a festival of people…” Hilla commented.

In the end, they decided to go through, not wanting to take the longer route around that side of the city to reach the port, which would take much more time. However, as they continued walking through the crowd, entering the midst of people with scarves and cloths being thrown into the air, Arya noticed something. She saw men wearing golden masks, not symbolizing an eagle, but immediately, the words of that red priestess echoed in her mind at that moment.

‘Also… beware of the Harpy and her children, they act in the shadows…’ the voice resonated in her mind as she noticed not just one, but four of them staring directly at them amidst the dancing crowd, standing still. Her Stark eyes quickly darted to her waist as they began drawing their blades.

Everything seemed to be in slow motion for Arya in the following moments as they unsheathed their blades and more people within the crowd began to move simultaneously.

The royal guards, always alert, already sensed something was wrong, but it was Arya’s shout that confirmed it.

“We’re surrounded by assassins!!” she yelled, drawing Dark Sister as the men did the same. In the next moment, people screamed in fear at the sight of drawn swords, while the golden-masked men moved through them, advancing on the group, weapons pointed at them.

In the following instant, while the two redheads were the least prepared, a bloodbath ensued in the middle of those streets. The golden-masked men began to scream, being the first to be cut down before even getting close, as the six royal guards formed a wall to protect Arya and the others, trying to prevent anyone from approaching. More and more of them appeared, seemingly having been hidden for some time, waiting for this moment to strike, rapidly advancing like dogs after food. Meanwhile, the Artican men continued cutting them down, their screams of pain creating a line of blood down the middle of the street.

Arya couldn’t think amidst the chaos as she swung her sword, cutting down a man here and there. Some managed to get past the royal guards, their numbers overwhelming, forcing her to protect not only herself but also her friends, who had no weapons beyond a few daggers they had taken from the corpses.

She wasn’t even thinking, only relying on everything she had learned over the past years in Artica, simulating countless scenarios both in the field and during Jon’s personal training. Her blade moved as if it were an extension of her arm, for the first time being in a fight where her life was at real risk, but she remained calmly focused, cutting down those who got too close.

“Watch out, they’re on the rooftops!!” a royal Artican guard pointed to the tops of the buildings on both sides of the street as figures appeared, launching arrows at the royal guards, though they were protected by their armor made of Eden metal.

Amid the screams, the sound of blades, arrows, and flesh being pierced, a distant echo of wings flapping began to rise. The entire area where they were was soon covered by the shadows of thousands of birds flying above them. The masked men looked up in fear, but Arya paid them no mind, continuing to cut down another man who came at her with a dagger. A scream came from behind her, a sound she immediately recognized as feminine.

Turning abruptly, Arya saw the horrific sight of her friend being stabbed in the stomach by a man wearing a mask behind Hilla. He continued stabbing her as she screamed in pain, while Mearin was also being surrounded by two attackers, with the royal guards too occupied to prevent anyone else from approaching.

“NO!!!!” Arya screamed with more fury than she had ever felt before, watching the bloody scene. She rushed towards them, her vision darkened as thousands of birds descended, attacking all the masked men, their beaks and claws ripping them apart instantly.

The screams of terror intensified from all sides as the attackers were massacred in the streets and atop the buildings, torn apart in the worst possible way—slowly and painfully.

Arya, despite hearing the flapping of wings, the screams of birds and men, continued moving forward, trying to reach Hilla in the midst of that cloud of birds that had not harmed her at any point—on the contrary, they were protecting her.

Finally, she found the girl lying on the ground, with a man screaming as his skin was being eaten alive by furious birds, one even plucking out his eye. Arya didn’t care, her gaze fixed on the redhead; she just reached her friend, touching her bloodied stomach in an attempt to stop the bleeding, while the girl looked up in fear, tears filling her eyes.

“Hilla, don’t worry, you’ll be fine!” Arya tried to convince herself, feeling the blood slipping through her fingers. Hilla had taken at least four stabs to the abdomen. ‘Her intestines must be ruptured, but Jon can save her. He has to… I’m sure of it!’ Arya thought in desperation.

“Mearin!” Arya tried to shout amidst the chaos, but all she could hear were the birds drowning out her cry.

Even so, Mearin appeared after the two men who had surrounded her fell to the birds. She stopped a few meters away, staring at Arya and Hilla’s condition, horrified.

“Please, help me get her out of here. We need to take her to Jon. Jon can help her!” Arya exclaimed, and Mearin nodded, still nervous and trembling as she crouched down.

The royal guards finally arrived to check on them. Arya sheathed her sword, now drenched in the blood of at least six people she had killed, and tried to lift Hilla, who was bleeding alongside Mearin. But the royal guards quickly stepped in and began to help, taking over the task themselves.

“Leave her to us. We’ll get her to the ship quickly!” they exclaimed.

“Please, we need to be fast!” Arya begged as the birds began to leave the area, revealing a pile of corpses with destroyed faces. Most had died from the birds, even those on top of the buildings and the ones who had been hiding, waiting for the best moment to strike—they were all dead. Jon had killed at least a hundred of them, hidden in the streets, leaving only one alive with his birds, but the guards didn’t bother to search for any survivors. Their priority was to get the princess and Hilla, still alive, back to the ship with Mearin.

By that time, the Artican soldiers had already stormed the city, with over a thousand men and 20 giants marching through the streets. Jon was heading to the site, and no one dared stop him. If anyone tried, he simply ignored them, advancing with his group, fully armed, riding Ghost, the enormous direwolf, which terrified anyone who saw the giant wolf with the Artican king on its back.

They finally found Arya and the others, covered in blood. Jon quickly dismounted from the wolf and went to the group, while Arya looked at him with tears in her eyes.

“Please, save her, Jon. You have to save her!” she pleaded.

Jon only nodded and approached Hilla, who was already unresponsive. He quickly placed his hand on her stomach, emitting a glow in an attempt to heal her, but it was already too late. Though he could heal her abdomen, she was already gone.

Mearin immediately realized what was happening beside Jon. She covered her mouth with her hand, tears streaming down her face.

“She’s dead, Arya,” Jon said in a tone more sorrowful than he ever thought he could muster, wondering how this could have happened to a girl from Artica.

Arya was in shock, the ground beneath her feet gone, as she stared at her friend—the one who had shared her first years since arriving in Artica, who had played and laughed with her through the city—now dead before her, on a journey Arya had asked Jon to take them on, eager to see lands beyond Artica.

Arya wondered if she could have protected Hilla. That thought shook her more than anything else in her life up to that moment, as tears began to stream down her face, questioning how she could have saved her.

The only thing she felt was Jon, who hugged her tightly.

“It wasn’t your fault, Arya. This is not your fault…” Jon spoke softly, knowing his cousin was filled with guilt.

His men stood waiting, preventing anyone from approaching, while both soldiers and even red priests wanted to get closer to see what was happening, but the king didn’t seem to be in the mood for it, as he consoled his cousin.

Jon gave Arya a look filled with pity before turning back to his men.

“I want you to escort her back to the ship. There’s one I left alive. We need to capture him and find out who they are and why they attacked us…” Jon exclaimed, with a fury he hadn’t felt since the event in Oldtown.

His men nodded, forming a group to escort the royal guards who had fought, Arya and Mearin, along with Hilla’s lifeless body, back to the ship, while Jon headed to the location where the fight had taken place.

In a hidden spot nearby, birds were surrounding a cupboard inside a house, where a man trembled inside.

He wondered if the birds had already left, with the silence lasting for a moment. He didn’t want to die like the others. Though he expected to die there, he didn’t want to face that kind of death, as his companions had been mutilated alive, with their eyes and skin being torn off by the birds. They screamed and tried to fight the birds off, but it was no use—there were too many. He had a small chance to escape by locking himself inside the cupboard, though his body and face were covered in cuts.

He couldn’t hear the birds anymore, but he was sure they were waiting for him to step outside. He was terrified and trembling, considering using his dagger to cut his own throat and end it all.

Then, suddenly, he heard footsteps approaching the cupboard. The door was flung open with such force, as if a monster had arrived, and he found himself staring into the green eyes of a man who looked at him like he was already dead.

The man grabbed him with such strength that he lifted him off the ground and hurled him against the wall, causing a crack in the wood with a loud thud. The man collapsed to the ground unconscious, with several bones broken from the force Jon had used. Jon had no mercy for him and would do whatever was necessary to extract the information he needed.

He picked the man up and returned to his men, while his birds began to disperse at his command.

“Let’s go. We’ve captured the man we were looking for. Now, let’s head back to the ship and find out what really happened here,” Jon spoke in a neutral tone, but so cold it could have come from the most freezing parts of the lands north of Artica.

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