~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, and all rights for characters, plots and settings belong to G.R.R. Martin and FromSoftware. I have no ownership.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"If you intend to claim the Frenzied Flame, I ask that you cease. It is not to be meddled with.It is chaos, devouring life and thought unending.
However ruined this world has become, however mired in torment and despair, life endures. Births continue.There is beauty in that, is there not?
If you would become Lord, do not deny this notion. Please, leave the Frenzied Flame alone.The Lord of Frenzied Flame is no lord at all. When the land they preside over is lifeless."
Melina
"Thank... thank you... I have touched them. The words of the Three Fingers. As your maiden, allow me to divine them.All that there is came from the One Great. Then came fractures, and births, and souls.
But the Greater Will made a mistake. Torment, despair, affliction... every sin, every curse. Every one, born of the mistake.
And so, what was borrowed must be returned. Melt it all away, with the yellow chaos flame. Until all is One again.
Those who gave me grapes howled without words. Saying they wished they were never born.
Become their lord. Take their torment, despair. Their affliction. Every sin, every curse. And melt it all away. As the Lord of Chaos. No more fractures...no more birth.."
Hyetta
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
North, Winterfell
301 AC
Aerion
The Godswood was engulfed in flames, which slowly began to consume the walls surrounding it. The sickly yellow fire, like a wild beast, emitted sounds as if tormented souls were trapped within. Overlapping cries of absolute and infinite suffering.
The shadows on the walls and surrounding buildings also began to warp and writhe in unnatural ways, as if the cursed flames were affecting the very world around them.
Suddenly, a piercing scream echoed before him, shocking even him. Then another, and another. His closest men fell to their knees or threw themselves completely to the ground.
Some clawed at their faces as if to gouge out their eyes. Others slammed their heads against the ground or the nearest buildings, as if to shatter their skulls to forget what they had seen in the flames.
Many fell to their knees, hands outstretched as if in prayer, and in their eyes glowed the same flame that burned in the Godswood and that he had seen in the eyes of the villagers on Weeping Peninsula.
He himself heard the maddened whispers pressing into his mind, and if he felt them, how much must they have affected his men?
"GET AS FAR AWAY FROM THE FLAMES AS POSSIBLE!" he shouted desperately, but it was unnecessary, for the soldiers, seeing what had happened to their comrades, began to back away in panic and flee.
"LEAVE THE FORTRESS THROUGH THE SOUTH AND EAST GATES!" his voice echoed once more across the courtyard, partially lost in the cries of terrified soldiers and the tormented groans and screams of those stricken by madness.
A moment later, Stannis and the others joined him, frozen at the sight before them.
"By the gods... what... what madness!?" cried a terrified Wyman Mandarly, who was the last to run outside, panting.
Aerion shook his head. "There's no time for explanations now. Evacuate everyone outside, or we'll all die here," he ordered, and they immediately began to obey, seeing the gravity of the situation.
He, on the other hand, moved toward the Godswood, passing by fleeing soldiers and servants, some of whom fell to the ground, consumed by the madness that was taking them.
Something must have been the source of those flames, for from what Frenzy Flame understood, being an Outer God, it needed something to serve as a conduit, an avatar of its power. From his own relationship with Greater Will, he could deduce that much.
Though he couldn't be entirely sure, for he didn't know what had changed his own summoning of those flames in Hardhome. He felt, however, that what had happened had an indirect source within himself.
His thoughts automatically returned to Roose Bolton's corpse hanging from the heart tree. But what if he had been dying until now, and because of Aerion's presence in Winterfell, marked by the Frenzied Flame, that cursed god had somehow managed to reach the dying Bolton?
He knew too little about that Flame, and if he survived after returning to the Lands Between, he had to learn as much as possible.
As he approached the burning part of Winterfell, he began to feel the heat of the flames, something he hadn't experienced recently, thanks to his high resistance to fire. It seemed, however, that the Frenzied Flame didn't quite fall into that category.
His resistance still helped, as an ordinary human would have ignited long ago, but it was still difficult for him to get closer. For while the flames were bearable, the voices filling his head seemed unbearable.
Whispers, shouts, howls, screeches, and a whole range of other sounds assaulted his mind, trying to drive him mad.
Without a choice, he stopped, even retreating a few steps, watching in desperation as the fire began to spread beyond the Godswood. It was then that he heard a scream so piercing and filled with pain that it nearly brought him to his knees, but at the last moment he managed to stay on his feet.
He didn't have to wonder what could have produced such a piercing scream, as if torn from the very heart of the seven hells, for the gate to the Godswood shuddered as if something massive had struck the stone structure standing for eight millennia.
Then came another crash, and the gate shook again, and then again. There was no next time, however, for with another blow, the stones forming the gate shattered, and amidst the dust and small pebbles emerged a terrifying creature, the likes of which he had never seen even in the Lands Between.
Taller even than the trolls, it stood a good 40 feet tall and looked like a twisted, humanoid tree, burning with yellowish flames. Thick, massive legs covered in flames and its body as long as a trunk.
The monster, however, had no head or arms, but branches curling around it, lashing the air like fiery whips. Adding to the horror of the sight was the face, if he could call it that, growing from the trunk that formed the creature's torso.
It was the stretched and caricatured face of Roose Bolton, though he recognized it only because he had gazed upon it for a long time.
The massive beast, seeing him, or perhaps sensing him, couldn't tell. It howled, perhaps in anger or perhaps agony at the sight of him. Its face contorted even further, taking on a completely monstrous appearance.
Then it lunged toward him, its heavy footsteps shaking the courtyard. One of its legs, as thick as a tree trunk, easily crushed a kneeling soldier, consumed by rage.
Its flaming branches, like tentacles, shot out toward Aerion, who immediately jumped back, but the tentacles immediately followed. Sensing that brute force would be useless against the power of one of the Outer Gods, instead of summoning the Grafted Blade Greatsword, the Ornamental Straight Sword appeared in his hand and the Academy Glintstone Staff in his other.
He considered using his newest incantations, which seemed incredibly powerful, but he hadn't tested them yet, so he wasn't sure if he had enough time to do so during the fight.
Instead, he activated his sword's special ability, and the blade was enveloped in a golden aura of holy power.
Although the monster's main body couldn't keep up, its tentacle-like branches stretched dozens of feet, following him at every step, forcing him to remain in constant motion.
It also didn't help that various rodents and insects, their eyes glowing yellow and filled with Frenzy Flame, were heading his way from all sides of the fortress. They attacked him in a frenzy without hesitation, even though most of them were trampled by the tree monster or burned in its flames.
Even among them were a few mutts and cats, as well as various local birds, likely hiding from the cold in the Godswood or older buildings.
He tried to avoid their attacks, zigzagging, then jumping away, bouncing off the walls. He was nearly hit several times by flaming tentacles but managed to block them with his sword.
His newly acquired strength and speed proved indispensable in this case. He could tell that the monster wasn't even as dangerous as Margit, simply acting in a frenzy. The problem, however, was the cursed fire itself. It pressed against his mind, disrupting his concentration and constantly distracting him.
He also managed to cut off several branches with his sword, but not only were there dozens of them, but they seemed to be growing back to their original length. Worse still, spells didn't work against it.
Glintstone Arc barely cut the tree tentacles themselves, leaving not a single mark on the body, and Crystal Barrage left a mark on the bark that served as the monster's skin.
Knowing he had to get the monster out into the open, as far away from the blazing fire as possible to regain his composure, he began heading towards the north gate, as far away as possible from his men, who were evacuating in the opposite direction.
He began to flee in that direction, seeing that his enemy was completely focused on him and was pursuing him relentlessly, destroying the North Gate itself in the process.
Once again, however, the empty expanses beyond Winterfell's walls proved to present a different problem. The plain was covered with a two- to three-foot-thick layer of snow, making it difficult for him to move, while on the monster, it was no problem. Not only was he much larger than Aerion, but the snow around him was melting instantly.
Seeing the ineffectiveness of magic, not having a suitable weapon to fight this opponent, and suspecting that his most powerful weapon so far, the Agheel Flame Incantation, would not work against this monster, he decided that he had no choice but to test his new Incantations in battle.
He dismissed the staff, transferring his sword to his left hand, and the Dragon Communion Seal, the only focus he possessed for casting the incantation, appeared in his right. He headed slightly northeast, where snow-covered plains stretched for several dozen miles, dotted only with trees here and there.
After gaining a distance of about 300 feet, he stopped and, using the knowledge he gained from receiving the incantation, began casting a simpler version: Lightning Spear.
First, he felt an energy gathering in his hand, completely different from any he had known before. For it was not the ordered "holy" power of Greater Will, nor the chaotic fire of the Frenzied Flame. It was also unlike Glintstone sorcery, which seemed like the rushing current of a cosmic river.
The closest resemblance he felt was when he cast the Agheel Flame, as if it came from the same source yet were still completely different.
When, a split second later, the golden discharges began to gather in greater numbers and slowly, at his will, form into the elongated shape of a spear or arrow, he felt the main difference. The simulated dragon's breath was powerful, but it was no match for the energy now gathered in his hand.
His blood not only boiled but actually sang, as if deeply connected to this power, a power he felt had divine origins. The fully formed golden lightning spear trembled in his hand, trying to break free.
The entire process of casting the incantation was also incredibly fast, taking perhaps two seconds. Two seconds, during which the frenzy monster had approached him so closely that its tentacle branches were already a dozen or so feet away.
At that moment, he thrust his left foot forward and stabilized his center of gravity. Then, with a swing, he threw the Lightning Spear straight at his opponent.
It covered the dozens of feet between them faster than the blink of an eye, tearing through the tentacles blocking its path and striking the monster squarely in the body, about two feet above its face, contorted in agony.
The force of the impact was so great that it not only threw the monster onto its back but also created a charred hole a foot across in its body. Compared to the glintstone sorcery, which couldn't penetrate the steel-hard bark, the effect was incomparably better.
However, his opponent seemed more enraged than seriously wounded, and Aerion reckoned that to defeat him, he would have to completely destroy him.
Seeing that the incantation hadn't drained much of his Focus, he began to cast it again, this time in a more powerful version. Golden discharges began to glow in his hand again.
He pulled his hand back to swing, and another lightning spear formed within it, this time larger and filled with more energy, which continued to grow. Following the knowledge he'd received with the incantation, he began to redirect some of the energy into six points gathering in a semicircle around him.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw these points glow with the accumulating golden lightning. Sensing the incantation was ready, he threw it with full force straight at the creature rising from the ground with the help of its branch tentacles.
Following the main spear, six more spears, though half as large, shot out from the six energy-gathering points around him.
The force of the impact and the energy discharge were so great that they lifted the monster off the ground and threw it back several feet. Furthermore, a large portion of the trunk that comprised its body was destroyed, separating it in two.
All this happened in a split second, but that wasn't the end of the incantation, for a moment later, as if summoned by the accumulated electrical discharges, a single golden bolt of lightning fell from the sky, striking the monster in a blinding flash. Aerion had to close his normal eye.
One Eye of the Grace, with the Great Rune of Life encased within it, watched as most of the beast's body was destroyed. But it was still alive, even after losing most of its tentacles; the rest was trying to yank its upper body upward.
So, even though this second incantation had left its mark on his mind and he felt exhaustion wash over him, he began to cast another Knight Lightning Spear and hurled it at the monster's upper body.
A moment later, he approached, practically nothing left of the upper body except for pieces of tentacle branches scattered around, and the remaining legs were motionless.
He paused over the remains of the monstrous corpse and gazed at them, catching his breath and lightly holding his head, feeling a slight dizziness. He summoned the Flask of Cerulean Tears and took a long drink, instantly feeling his mind clear and his focus return.
A thousand thoughts filled his mind, hundreds of questions to which he didn't know the answers and likely wouldn't anytime soon. He glanced toward Winterfell, where the Outer God's aura had completely vanished, and there was no trace of the sickly yellow flame.
The fire in his former home, however, had not stopped, for the flames of Frenzy might have vanished, but the normal fire they had ignited remained. Yet, at that moment, he couldn't bring himself to put out the blaze. He was frankly terrified by what had happened.
What if this happened again in the future, on an even larger scale? Suddenly, a golden inscription depicting question marks flashed before his eyes.
?????????????
A moment later, however, these began to transform into letters and legible words.
Great Enemy Felled
Amalgamation of Frenzy
When Tarnished returned home, marked by the Flame of Chaos, he was unaware that he had not returned alone, for there was no escape from the Frenzy.
When the Flayer sought solace in his dying breath, cursing his tormentor, he did not expect that anything would answer his call.
The Flame That Devours All responded, merging in its flame the Flayer's body with the sacred tree, nourished for eons by the blood of Winter's enemies.
You received Law of Regression Incantation
Law of Regression
Incantation of the Golden Order fundamentalists. One of the key fundamentals.
Heals all negative statuses, dispels special effects, and reveals mimicry in all its forms.
The fundamentalists describe the Golden Order through the powers of regression and causality. Regression is the pull of meaning; that all things yearn eternally to converge.
"Hmm. At least one good thing had come out of all this, for this incantation seemed incredibly powerful. However, that paled in comparison to the problem looming before him. As he feared, this situation could repeat itself in the future.
The Frenzied Flame is connected to them, and apparently, Aerion himself is the gateway through which the Outer God can touch this world. This meant a lot of problems.
No. There would be time for thinking later. He started back toward the North Gate, but before he took a few steps, he felt a familiar sensation, a certain pull, but in no particular direction.
A few seconds later, he dissolved into particles of golden light, returning to the Lands Between.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Reach, Old Town
301 AC, Fortnight later
Euron Greyjoy
He watched the events unfold in the harbor from the deck of his ship, the Silence, his hands clasped behind his back. His right hand gripped his left wrist in barely suppressed frustration and anger.
Another defeat. How he couldn't get over the incompetence of his subjects. After taking the Shield Islands, he could, of course, sail inland via the Mander and capture Highgarden, but it was useless to him.
For it was in Old Town, in the basement of Hightower, that the records he needed lay. Old secrets that would allow him to attain true godhood. Knowledge of the first empire, the Great Empire of the Dawn, and the mythical first God-Emperor.
From what he had learned in his many travels and from his new advisor, there was truth in these myths. And this knowledge was hidden in only three places. One had been destroyed during the Doom. The private library in the Emperor's palace in Yin, capital of the Golden Empire of Yi-Ti, was beyond his reach.
All that remained was Old Town and the Hightower within it, supposedly built on a stronghold made of an unknown black stone dating back to the Dawn Age, when the first empire existed, before the Long Night.
However, all these secrets, hidden deep underground, yet within his reach, were kept from him by the hands of his own incompetent subordinates.
The Hightower put up far greater resistance than he had expected, and he was slowly beginning to believe that old Lord Leyton himself dabbled in magic, as rumors had it, perhaps even possessing glass candles. Who could know what artifacts the oldest structure built in Westeros held?
Kemmet Pyke approached him. "My king, we've lost three more ships and haven't even reached the docks. Perhaps we should give up for now and head for Highgarden or Sunspear?"
Euron didn't react to these downright ridiculous words at first. Give up? Kemmet was lucky he was useful, because Euron was now tempted to feed him his own genitals. And maybe he would.
He slowly turned his head toward the man, glaring at him with his one exposed eye. Kemmet took a step back at the sight and bowed his head.
"My king. Forgive me. But perhaps it's time to use that weapon you mentioned earlier?"
Euron gritted his teeth. What good were ships and soldiers if he had to do everything himself? Besides, using his pets didn't come without a cost. The Drowned God didn't do anything for free. But well, he hadn't become a true god yet and had to play by their rules. But only for now.
His eye was once again fixed on the city ahead. "Order all longboats to retreat a few miles west, but let those useless idiots stand by," he ordered, falling into silence, waiting.
Slowly, all his ships began to recede, and only the Silence remained, floating lightly on the waves. He reached for the eyepatch that covered his eye and rolled it up over his forehead, revealing, instead of an empty socket, a pitch-black, perfectly slender spherical stone embedded in it.
A moment later, a greasy liquid began to collect on the stone's surface. He leaned his face over the railing, and two drops of liquid dripped from his eye and fell into the waters of the bay.
At first, nothing happened, but after a few seconds, the water, the drops that fell, began to boil, and then an impulse swept through the waters, like a powerful heartbeat, churning the waters and shaking his ship.
Then silence fell. Long minutes of waiting, which soon turned into an hour. Euron waited patiently, but the same couldn't be said for the part of his crew that wasn't permanently a part of it.
Suddenly, he felt it. He looked into the waters of the bay just in front of the quay, which were becoming unnaturally turbulent. Then a massive shape began to emerge, pushing the water away and creating waves that shook Silence again, this time even more violently, so that even he had to hold on to the railing to avoid falling. More waves crashed into the harbor itself.
The shape was barely visible in the darkness, but it was enormous, and it was only part of his "pet's" head. Then a tentacle emerged from the water, larger than a mast, larger than the tallest trees of Leng. It would take a dozen men to encompass one of them at its widest point.
One rose into the air, then another, and a dozen more after them, towering over the city, second only to Hightower itself.
A silence fell, and everything froze; even the city itself and its defenders fell silent.
And he. He, grinning like a madman, watched with a broad smile as the great tentacles began to descend like an executioner's axe. The execution was taking place. The spectacle had just begun.
The kraken's tentacles fell on the city below with a force and mass that reduced the buildings in the port area to dust. The soldiers defending the quay were utterly crushed, and the ships in the harbor were shattered.
He felt a searing pain in his skull, but he couldn't contain the excitement and arousal building within him. Hysterical, almost insane laughter burst from his chest, echoing across the bay's waters, yet drowning out the sounds of utter destruction coming from the city.
Huge, tree-like tentacles struck the city repeatedly, sweeping across the city, sweeping away buildings and people indiscriminately. People died by the hundreds, by the thousands, to the accompaniment of his laughter. Oh, what he would give to see their terrified faces now. To smell their terror, to feed on their desperation. But there would be time for that.
He looked at the two tentacles which wrapped itself around the Citadel itself, slowly crumbling it, and in a matter of minutes, destroying millennia's accumulated knowledge and killing those who hoarded it.