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123 AC, Volantis
Benerro, High Priest of the Lord of Light, stood atop the temples in Volantis and stared at the city. One would not be able to foresee the turmoil brewing within it, not with their eyes, but he had long since learned to see the heart of the world around him through R'hllor's flames.
It was the Lord of Light himself who had chosen Benerro to become the High Priest. Lesser servants did not understand it, but he did. R'hllor had seen something in him, ambition, or perhaps the power that thrummed in his veins as the bastard of a fallen house of Dragonlords, but the Lord spoke to him from the moment he entered the Red Temple as nothing more than a slave child, and Benerro had listened.
He listened to the secrets that the flames whispered to him, about his fellow mortals, about the world around them, great and terrible secrets that showed him the ugly truths of existence, yet it was all tainted by the knowledge that he could barely understand a fragment that had been said, for these secrets were not for mortals to grasp.
Most did not truly know how to hear the Lord's will, and Benerro never blamed them. Even he often misinterpreted certain intents, for the Lord of Light was a divine being, and they were but mortals blessed with his attention, small, foolish beings that could not comprehend the majesty of the divine.
Nevertheless, Benerro had used the secrets brought through R'hllor's favour to rise to the position of High Priest. And ever since the Doom of Valyria, they had used this opportunity to spread the Lord of Light's flames everywhere they could, from the defiant city of Braavos to the very heart of Slaver's Bay.
The old Magicks were forgotten with the Doom's rot, but Benerro ensured that the practices, though the results were nought but a fragment of what they once were, for it was what the Lord of Light commanded him to do. Of course, he had his ideas as well, as a sudden return of magic would make the Red Faith a true hub of magic, with the most powerful partitioners, providing further proof of R'hllor's power and blessing.
Qarth had been their greatest hurdle to their expansion, as it was an important hub of commerce across all of Essos. The wretched warlocks had resisted the Lord's flames, and yet, now the so-called greatest city that ever was and would ever be was now theirs, with the Warlocks having turned to nought but dust, their Undying Ones perishing like the vile creatures that they were.
In the last few centuries, Benerro had likely become one of the most powerful men in the Known World, and Qarth's fall was slowly spreading the faith to even Yi-Ti and beyond. He could make the Triarchy break apart with only a letter, sending the region into an endless war. He could oust half of the magisters of Pentos with nothing more than a thought and ruin many Braavosi merchants in seconds.
The only other continents which he could attempt to influence would be Sothoryos and the Sunset Kingdoms, with the former being too dangerous with very few advantages, and the latter being cautioned by the Lord of Light not to interfere. At least, it once had, before their so-called Seven Gods turned silent.
Kinvara had asked to go spread the faith there, taking with her Melisandre, another Priestess, though not an overly influential one, and he had agreed, if only to avoid her gaining any influence over the expansion of the Faith over Qarth, given its strategic location. The woman had been consumed by her ambition to take his position; at least, she had before her voyage to Valyria, which he noticed changed her in ways that he disliked, and Benerro was more than happy to let her go far away from Essos in this sensitive endeavour.
Of course, the fact that more than half his Priests' numbers had suddenly perished as Death was unleashed onto the world. The communion of souls was an art that their numbers adapted from Asshai, who themselves adapted from the city of Nefer. The secret to long life, all in the power of a selected few, treasured servants of the R'hllor, and many that Benerro himself had chosen to impart this secret to.
They had all suddenly found themselves losing their rightful lives, and Benerro had not been any different. It was his connection to the Lord of Light as well as the god's mercy that he had not perished. He was the Lord of Light's chosen, and thus, a spark of his true flames warmed his very soul, empowering him, for it was more than the blessing that the rest of the priests received.
At the command of the Lord of Light, he had moved away as well as he could, stroking the inner flames of most priests, allowing the Lord of Light to return to them what was stolen by Death, to grant them the lives to serve him as they should, all connected through the flames within Benerro himself. He had used this to gain more control over his followers, to stop any potential uprising from foolish, ambitious rebels, while the order was at its weakest. Alas, this tribulation had also been a reminder that he was but a man. He could not save them all, and so, a grand majority of the leadership of the Red Faith had perished.
Benerro had done his best to quell the infighting that followed such tragedy, and it seemed that the Stranger had been targeted for the outrage of the masses following the attack. When Benerro had chosen to use the Stranger, the creature of Death and Destruction, who brought ruins that ripped through Time and Space, as this great threat to unite the magical factions of Essos, he had never expected that things would go this way. He had thought himself clever, especially when he used it to destroy the Undying Ones, but he would not risk his life's work to end up the same way. After all, this had also been a test of the Stranger's reactions and power, one that showed him that any active confrontation with it was one to be avoided.
It was only the words of patience to wait for the return of Azor Ahai that stayed their hand, that and a few quite shows of force on his part and Moqorro's, his right hand.
And now, with a fragile semblance of order finally returning, the Lord of Light had asked him to set it all aside. It came at a similar time when the remnants of Asshai, who had killed themselves trying to drain every drop of life force in the city to survive, had attempted to attack the Targaryen dragons and failed miserably. Normally, Benerro would have been happy with a faction of magic users perishing, especially one as traitorous as the Shadowbinders, but it seemed like two of his Priestesses were implicated in the disaster.
Still, Benerro could handle dragons, but for some reason, this outcome had changed something in the Lord of Light, something that had been evident in his flames, fear. It was something to do with the Stranger, that he was sure of, but what could it possibly be?
But why Qohor of all places? Benerro could not fathom why he would ask for all his priests and priestesses to go to Qohor of all places. Sure, they had a temple there, but it was a small one, for most of the city worshipped another god, the Black Goat. His questions would remain unanswered for R'hllor's flames had gone silent since the command was issued, something that was unsettling on its own, leaving Benerro with his choice.
For the first time since his service of the Lord of Light, he did not immediately follow the god's orders, and instead tried to find a way that wouldn't end with the destruction of what he had spent centuries building, for that would be exactly what pulling away all of the Red Priests would cause, as well as a loss of influence that they may never regain again.
Perhaps the Stranger could be reasoned with. No, he remembered the ruins of the Temple of the Undying; the devastation was followed. He spent entire days staring from the top of the Red Temple, staring at the city of Volantis, trying to solve this problem, the final problem, only to come up with nothing.
There were too many unknowns, and Benerro had finally come to the conclusion that he must trust his Lord, for there was no other way. The Red Faith would mobilise to Qohor as soon as they could, no matter the consequences.
As he prepared to speak with Moqorro and give him his answer, he walked into the temple, having meditated at its top for quite some time, only to find himself stopped as he found the temple to be utterly silent.
From the corner of his eye, he felt a shadow move, and he raised his hand, stopping an unassuming man from plunging a dagger into his heart. He raised an eyebrow, staring at the false face, the soulless eyes staring back at him, "You made a grave mistake coming here, Soulless One."
Just as he finished speaking, a spread of fire appeared from thin air and stabbed him in the throat. Benerro walked forward, ignoring the gurgling creature behind him. Instead, he looked around and stared at the shifting shadows around him, "Am I to assume that the truce between the Red Faith and the House of Black and White is no more? Would you declare war against us? Against me?"
Despite the confidence in his tone, Benerro felt unnerved. It wasn't the attack itself, but the fact that he had not seen this attack in the flames. Even in the rare periods when the Lord's voice faded away, which had been common when magic had started to fade away from the world, he had been warned of coming attacks, either through his dreams, his own powers of prophecy that he had spent centuries honing, or through the small whispers of the Lord, pushing to help him, for Benerro was his greatest servant.
Surprise was something that he had not felt for some time, and he found himself disliking it more and more. As for the fight, it seemed that his question was answered, as he felt an attacker try to attack him from behind. He raised his hand, which elongated into a giant flaming claw, which grabbed the creature, crushing him to death.
He tilted his hand and uttered, "It seems that it is war, then."
Benerro did not wish for a war with the House of Black and White, but he felt that he had no other choice in the matter. It was a shame, for his truce with the Faceless Men was convenient, but it had never been necessary. He had avoided attacking them because of the potential damage that they could wreak on his empire, promoting infighting between his ranks, to topple him down. However, they knew that they could not kill him, for the Lord of Light had personally blessed him, and would bring him back should his work remain unfinished, and he, in turn, could cause irreparable damage to Braavos.
It seemed that he would have to burn Braavos to the ground now, which was a shame. It was such a beautiful city.
Benerro distractedly waved his hand, with three of his attackers bursting into flames. He needed to be careful not to cause too much damage to the Temple. It would be such a bother to rebuild it once more. Taking that into account, he snapped his fingers, conjuring a dagger of fire in each hand, blocking a slice of shadows that hoped to skewer him. In the meantime, dozens of Faceless Men finally stopped hiding and readied themselves to finally result in a confrontation.
They ran at him at once, and the daggers elongated, decapitating two members with a simple swipe. He dodged a slice of shadows to the right and conjured a lion of fire on his right, making them attempt not to fend off. He casually motioned to the right, creating a wave of fire that killed a few others, before his daggers merged into a staff that elongated, pushing himself up, and heating up the ground around him.
The Faceless Men protected themselves by jumping into their shadows, and Benerro frowned. He had hoped that the House of Black and White would not have regained this skill, but it was of no matter.
That was when Benerro felt a warning, and he turned to the right, stabbing an attacker in the eye, though he frowned as he felt a small twinge of pain in his arm. He raised his hand and saw a small cut, barely bleeding, closing quickly, with a spark of the inner fire granted to him by R'hllor.
He turned to the shadows, knowing that they would be listening and spoke with his smooth voice, "Do you think that circumventing my sight would change anything? It is an impressive feat, that I will grant you, but not against the likes of me. You cannot give me your precious, for the Lord of Light has need of me. However, the Lord is also merciful, and I shall grant you the same mercy he showed so long ago. Return to your temple, Soulless Ones, and perhaps I shall forgive this transgression. Stay, and I will personally go to Braavos and see it turned to ashes after I am done with you."
Oh, Benerro had no intention of forgiving this slight, but he remembered the Lord of Light's command that they sail to Qohor. He first needed to figure out the damage that these wretched creatures had done and if this would be feasible in the first place, given the Red Faith's vulnerable state. After this, he would ensure that nothing would remain of the House of Black and White, not even a single passage in the history books.
Unfortunately, the Faceless Men refused, as he saw them jumping out of their shadows, but this time, none of them were armed. Benerro conjured a ball of flames around him, but they jumped through it, ignoring the burns on their flesh. Instead of attacking him, they all grappled him, grabbing him. Benerro, unsettled, turned his skin to be hotter than even molten stone, and yet, they continued grabbing him even as their flesh seared and burned.
He barely had his eyes widen as he felt something that he had not perceived, something that was hidden from him, a Faceless Man appearing from his very own shadow. How could that be possible? How could he have remained hidden so closely?
It did not matter, as he wielded a dagger, one that was glowing red, one that stabbed him in the heart. He felt it, inside, Death's power leak into his body, into his very soul, smothering the Lord of Light's flames.
He felt Death continue spreading, ripping away through the connection he made with his followers, with the servants of the Lord of Light that he had saved with Death had been unleashed, and found them being ripped away.
As the fire inside him was snuffed out, he heard the man whisper in his ears these dreaded words, "Valar Morghulis."
Benerro's inner flame shuddered, fighting the cold invading his soul. For a heartbeat, it blazed brighter than it ever had, and then erupted in one last furious burst, and then the world lost its colour as everything turned black.
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The Fall of the Red Faith during the Year of Calamities
by Archmaester Lewin of Winterfell
In the many decades between the First and Second Centuries of Blood, 123 AC, also known as the year of Calamities, was often considered the bloodiest in the continent of Essos, and none could show it more than the fall of the Red Faith.
Most today do not know of it, apart from academics in the Citadels that studied the histories of Essosi cities, for the Red Faith never truly made its way to the Seven Kingdoms, not in any significant manner. It may come as a surprise that it was once considered the most popular faith in the East, which had spread very quickly following the Doom of Valyria. None knew where or when this faith began, only that it thrived without the Old Dragonlords' authority, centring in Volantis. It is a faith in a single deity of fire and life, which had somehow intertwined certain ancient legends, especially that of the Long Night, as well as certain reinterpretations of stories of the gods of Yi-Ti, specifically, the Lion of Night, and the Maiden of Light.
What was known was that the Faith rose in popularity mostly because it often educated its members with magical practices, focusing on Pyromancy and Shadowbinders. Though in 123 AC, the Faith had started a monumental gathering of foreign magic users, likely hoping to incorporate them into a single great magical faction in Essos. They likely used the destruction of the Warlocks of Qarth as a rallying point, a sect of illusion and glamour users based in Qarth, who had been killed during that very same year. The Warlocks of Qarth were said to have perished while fighting against a terrible creature that they needed to fight, though most historians and magical experts agree that it was likely a mass ritual that had been destabilised by the Second Doom of Valyria and the resurgence in magic that it caused.
The Red Faith's power was said to have peaked during the expansion to Qarth, for the city was a strategic landmark. That would not be, for the Year of Calamities would have its due, starting with the so-called Scourge of Death. Many still debate its details, but the facts remain that much of the high-ranking Red Priests had perished quickly after another, though a few connect it to the massacres of Asshai and Nefer.
However, it was only during the fall of the Red Temple of Volantis in a gigantic explosion of flames that the Red Faith truly splintered. This marked the Death of Benerro, the High Priest of the Red Faith, who was said to have lived for centuries. Of course, this was likely a falsehood, and some sort of title passed down in generations, as all who had tried to Asshai and Nefer's methods of immortality have perished a very quick and terrible death. To this day, most ritual experts conclude that it was likely a trick to kill magi, giving them a ritual that promised immortality and yet killed them, but that is up to the experts in the High Mysteries, of which this scholar is certainly not.
Benerro's death seemed to coincide with the death of many remaining high-ranking priests across Essos. A few believe that it was some elaborate magical event, though most think that a series of assassinations for a faction that had gained much power is more likely. There were many reports of political tensions in the Free Cities involving the rise in popularity and the influence of the Red Faith in their various forms of governments, all of which show that a planned coup would have been all but inevitable.
Alas, we can only argue about the plans of men who lived centuries prior, for the ink was dry and the past is written. Each Red Temple quickly grew into its independent entity, and the in-fighting began between members of the Faith, which quickly increased the number of casualties, and also led to a fall in the devoted magic-users that worship the Red God R'hllor. Eventually, the Faith had been weakened enough for each city-state to treat with factions of magic users, the very ones that the Red Faith had recruited, to wipe away what remained of it. Volantis' massacre on the part of the Old Blood was said to have turned the streets red with the blood of the believers in R'hllor. The Red Faith had been barred in Volantis until the fall of the city during the Second Century of Blood in 267 AC.
Nevertheless, this act was unprecedented, for the destruction of the Red Faith was the first sign of alliance between an official government and any magical faction, apart from the Warlocks of Qarth, of course, something that became the norm during the Second Century of Blood, and the Wars of Valyria. Nowadays, no military campaign could ever start without some well-trained mage soldiers, as it would be doomed to result in nought but ruins.
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AN: I had fun writing this chapter. The idea was to have R'hllor freaking out about how the mess in King's Landing ended, and working with reinforcements. In the meantime, Benerro's divination is being messed with by the Faceless Men, who studied the dagger and realised that it had a property of hiding from forms of detection. They sacrificed a few members so that Benerro would get his guard down, and killed him with the dagger that Harry gave them. Now, the Red Faith is pretty much toast. I thought that this was better than having Harry fight them, since it wouldn't really be a challenge. As usual, please let me know what you think and if you have any suggestions.
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If you want to support me, check out my patréon at https://www.patréon.com/athassprkr
I tend to upload drafts of early chapters on there to get people's opinions on them, so you can read up to 20 chapters ahead as a bonus.
Thank you guys for your support in these hard times.