Walking Through Fire

At first, there was only a faint little flame.

Lonzell watched as the young red priest was enveloped by the pale fire. His body gradually blackened, yet he seemed unable to feel any pain. Instead, he stared at Lonzell with feverish devotion in his eyes.

As though urging him to hurry.

These two red priests were not orthodox followers of the Red God. In truth, they were notorious heretics from the Great Temple.

The Red God R'hllor—also known as the Lord of Light, the Heart of the Sacred Flame, the god of shadow and fire, of heat and life—was widely worshipped across Essos, where the Free Cities lay. His followers firmly believed that the eternal struggle between the great Red God and the evil god of cold determined the fate of the world. They revered the Lord of Light as the one true god and denounced all other deities as evil gods and false gods.

But Benerro and his young apprentice, Malah, held somewhat different views. Before becoming priests, both red-robed men had come from ancient Valyrian families. Though they worshipped the Lord of Light and acknowledged His greatness, they believed even more deeply in the might of dragons and the greatness of the gods and Dragonlords of Old Valyria. When the Valyrian Freehold ruled the lands west of the Bone Mountains, R'hllor's faith had remained hidden among slaves and commoners. Valyrian Dragonlords regarded themselves as gods; even the Valyrian gods were, in their eyes, mere clay idols and wooden puppets. Needless to say, they held the beliefs of slaves and commoners in even less regard.

The more radical young Malah even believed that R'hllor was merely a lie invented by the Dragonlords to placate the masses. He had not even realized that his own name was connected to R'hllor.

Yet his faith was truly pure. It was even purer and more devout than that of the priests in the Great Temple who constantly spoke of the one true god.

Perhaps because of their Valyrian blood, the two of them were far stronger in fire magic than other priests of their generation. Thus, although the Great Temple's priests disliked their heretical words, they could only turn a blind eye because they still needed their magic to maintain appearances.

That was until the two accepted Cleorius's recruitment and studied the secrets of magic and dragons alongside him.

"Master Benerro, you promised me." Lonzell raised his dagger. "Malah won't die, will he?"

Benerro shook his head. "My lord, before coming here, I saw the Lord of Light's oracle in the flames. He is pleased to see your attempt today. Therefore, all He asks for is a little flesh and blood, not a life."

The old red priest lowered his head. "The blood of a Dragonlord's descendant, the flesh of a devout believer, and pure fire can pierce through the mists of history and reveal the true path to a lost boy."

Malah nodded again, as if offering encouragement. He dug into his chest with the dagger in his hand, carved out a large chunk of flesh, and tossed it into the fire.

The flames surged with a whoosh. The originally faint, colorless fire gradually solidified. It circled around Lonzell without burning him, as though craving something.

"Father. I hope this can help strengthen my resolve to keep moving forward."

Lonzell cut open his palm.

Blood streaked with a hint of silver ran across the Valyrian steel dagger, taking on a strange black gleam.

The drop of blood slowly fell.

The instant it dripped into the flames.

The fire seemed to let out a satisfied breath before surging upward in an instant.

The sea of fire spread, swallowing the entire laboratory almost in the blink of an eye.

Benerro watched the roaring flames with an intoxicated expression. He stood atop the fire, allowing it to scorch his body.

A drowning sensation washed over him like a tide, then receded like a tide. Lonzell warily looked into the pitch-black surroundings.

Without warning, the darkness around him filled with a sudden burst of light, and Lonzell involuntarily shut his eyes.

Then came music of incomparable grandeur.

It was as though countless hands reached out from every direction, plucking at chords that likewise filled every corner of the world.

First came an immensely solemn movement.

Lonzell felt his way forward through the vast brightness that had reclaimed his vision, until the movement began to play.

The grass sea grew, and forests sprang forth.

Small green shadows wandered through boundless woodland as towering mountains rose from the earth.

Then the movement gradually faded.

The omnipresent melody became gentle and soothing, like a quietly flowing river. Giant turtles sang in the river. The forest split apart, and a great river surged forth.

Human-like figures with ram horns built cities along the riverbanks and planted seeds.

Lonzell frowned.

This... was history?

The boy slowly approached one of the ram-headed figures. The faceless shadow raised a hammer and smashed it down hard.

Sparks flew.

The music swelled.

The music that filled every direction was at times impassioned, at times shrill.

Half the world burned, while the other half seemed frozen, plunged into endless deathly silence.

Lonzell could not help quickening his pace. He could feel boundless terror chasing after him.

Crowned figures swept past him one after another. Some had pearl-like eyes, some had eyes the color of tourmaline, and some bore topaz eyes.

Only the final two figures remained: one had amethyst eyes and lowered its head to look at the running boy, while the other had blood-ruby eyes and raised its head toward the endless sky.

The stars struggled to tear through the infinite light. Flesh and blood proliferated wildly, and those stars hung in the heavens like eyes staring fixedly at the boundless earth.

A man raised a flaming sword. A faint strain of music began at that moment, only to be drowned out by the melody's alternating passion and shrillness.

The figure with amethyst eyes suddenly exploded. Countless blurry dragonspawn beat their wings into the sky. Some rushed toward the stars above, while others pounced toward the half covered in frost.

Boom!

Lonzell heard an earth-shattering explosion erupt behind him. Then the dragonspawn fell, and all he could see were ruins. Two silver dragons danced gracefully atop the wreckage. The boy stared blankly at the silver dragons' dance until the larger one suddenly spread its wings and reached Lonzell's side in the blink of an eye.

I'm flying.

Lonzell reflexively flattened himself and clutched tightly at the protrusion before him.

West.

Lonzell immediately identified the direction.

I'm flying west.

He saw endless plains and hills.

Iron swords stood like a forest. The corpses of six great dragons lay buried among them. A young dragon with its head severed lay outside the forest of iron swords, while another dragon, half-decayed, drifted beside it.

A hunter drew his bow, and a tall tower caught fire. A rose bloomed quietly behind the curtain.

A direwolf howled in the north. One trout sank while another rose. Upon a towering weirwood, ravens pecked at a stag's eyes.

The blazing sun sank westward. A long star passed through the sun. Iron gates shut tight, blocking the lingering light of sunset.

A green dragon bled within the flames.

A falcon was struck down from the clouds by lightning.

Dragons rose into the sky, then fell one after another.

Dragon blood spilled, and countless living things and plants grew in its wake.

A mottled dragon wearing a crown drifted across the sea.

The silver dragon continued to fly.

Lonzell saw a great wall.

And a pair of blue eyes.

His consciousness blurred.

When he came back to himself, only the gradually dying flames remained before him.

And a voice that only he could hear.

"Go east. If you wish to conquer the east, you must first go west."

"Go west, and wait for the final movement of the song of ice and fire."

"Silver dragons and stars, blazing fire and cold ice, smoke and salt. Go, and await destiny's final movement."

"What a load of mystical nonsense." Lonzell did not actually hold much reverence for oracles or prophecies, but at the very least, this proved that he had not made the wrong choice.

The flames died out. Without even bothering to dress, Lonzell threw himself beside the charred Malah and helped Benerro support the red priest who had willingly made the sacrifice.

Benerro did not hesitate. He brought his lips close to the part of Malah that could no longer be identified as face, nose, or mouth, and a stream of fire flowed across Malah's entire body.

Malah suddenly opened eyes whose eyeballs could no longer be seen. "Did it work?" His blackened lips split apart, revealing only charcoal beneath. His vocal cords had been burned away, and he could only make indistinct sounds.

Seeing Lonzell and Benerro nod, Malah finally relaxed.

Lonzell placed his hand by Malah's mouth, and a drop of blood slid down.

Flames visibly reignited within Malah's body, followed by flesh and blood beginning to grow anew from the charcoal.

"Malah will need some time to recover." Benerro closed his disciple's eyes. "The Lord of Light's resurrection spell merely stuffs his soul back into his body. Fire is the source of life, but it is also the source of destruction. Without your blood, what I would have revived would have been nothing more than a corpse."

"So you still hid it from me, didn't you, Master Benerro?"

"It was a necessary sacrifice." Benerro looked at his disciple. "Malah was more than willing to return to the Lord of Light's side in order to guide your path. But you have given him a chance at new life. Therefore, I ask that you keep him. Let this child replace my aged self and provide you with counsel in matters of magic."

Lonzell nodded. "Rest assured, I won't mistreat my own people. So I have one more question."

"Please ask."

"What did you see in the flames?" Lonzell asked.

As a servant of the Lord of Light, interpreting the prophecies within fire was an essential skill. Though he had not seen as much as Lonzell, the center of the ritual, he had certainly seen something.

"I saw you aboard a ship bound for distant lands, drawing a sword from fire and shadow."

"I saw you standing beside crimson mountains, with silver piled around you like a sea."

"I saw you don a bronze crown and stand beside a throne forged from melted iron swords."

That was what Benerro said.

Daily check-in, second update. This is a new novel, so please offer your criticism and guidance.