Chapter 8: Into the Fire
Ritual Preparations – Qarth outskirts, dawn The sun was a searing, white-hot coin in a vast, blue sky. It beat down upon the ivory walls of Qarth, a city built on trade and secrets, on deceit and splendor. The air, once cool and crisp, was now thick with the scent of saltwater, exotic spices, and the perfume of a thousand hidden lies. Adam, Daenerys, and their small entourage, a blend of loyal Dothraki, the quiet, watchful Lyra, and a collection of weary but hopeful freedmen, stood before the city gates. The gates themselves were a monumental feat of architecture, two massive, bronze figures, intertwined and locked in a silent, eternal embrace. Guards in ornate, silk tunics and jeweled swords stood at attention, their faces blank masks of indifference. They were judging them. They were judging the queen who had arrived with no army, no crown, and no wealth, only a trio of strange, fossilized eggs and a quiet, watchful man with a face like chiseled granite.
"Inner monologue: This city is a viper's nest. Every smile is a knife. Every gift is a trap. They see a girl with no army. They see a target. They see a prize. They don't see me. Not yet. They don't see the wolf in the shadows. I'll make them see. I'll show them what happens when you underestimate a Witcher. I'll make them remember me."
One of the guards, a man with a thin, predatory smile, stepped forward. "You seek entry, princess?" he asked, his voice a mocking, honeyed coo. "Qarth is a city of magic and wealth. We have no place for beggars."
Adam's lips curled into a small, grim smile. He took a step forward, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. He didn't need to draw it. He just needed to show them he was a man who knew how to use one. He used Quen, a shimmering, ethereal shield of pure magic, a faint blue glow that pulsed around his body. The guards' eyes went wide, their blank masks of indifference replaced by a mixture of shock and fear.
QUEN SIGN USED. STAMINA: 10/100. QUEST: PROVE STRENGTH, 50 XP.
Adam's voice was a low, gravelly hum, a melody of steel and shadows. "I'm not a beggar," he said, his voice a cold, lethal whisper. "I'm the guy who keeps queens safe. And she's not a princess. She's a queen. The Mother of Dragons. And she has come to claim what is hers." He looked at the guards, his eyes burning with a cold, predatory light. "Now, are you going to let us in, or are you going to die?"
The guards scrambled back, their bravado gone, their fear a palpable thing. The man with the thin, predatory smile was now a trembling, whimpering mess. He pointed a trembling finger at the gates. "Enter," he stammered, his voice a high-pitched shriek. "Enter and be welcome."
Adam grinned. He had won. He had won with a single glance. A single display of power. He turned to Daenerys, his face a mask of quiet confidence. "See?" he said. "It's all about the show."
A sudden, high-pitched wail of pain, of surprise, of utter humiliation, came from behind them. Viserys had stumbled, his foot caught in a pile of rocks, and he had faceplanted, his face a grotesque mask of mud and pain. The guards, their fear gone, their faces a mixture of confusion and disbelief, were staring at the whimpering king. Adam had used Axii. A subtle, mental compulsion. He had made him confess to the guards, to the world, what he truly was.
AXII SIGN USED. STAMINA: 10/100. QUEST: HUMILIATE VISERYS, 50 XP.
"Qarth is… generous!" Viserys shrieked, his voice a frantic, forced confession. "So… so generous!" Adam gave him a small, mocking smile. "Snakes belong in the dirt," he muttered under his breath.
The Pyre – Qarth, noon The pyre was a monumental structure, a towering mountain of wood and dry leaves. The air, once cool and crisp, was now thick with the scent of saltwater, exotic spices, and the perfume of a thousand hidden lies. Adam, Daenerys, and their small entourage, a blend of loyal Dothraki, the quiet, watchful Lyra, and a collection of weary but hopeful freedmen, stood before the city gates. The gates themselves were a monumental feat of architecture, two massive, bronze figures, intertwined and locked in a silent, eternal embrace. Guards in ornate, silk tunics and jeweled swords stood at attention, their faces blank masks of indifference. They were judging them. They were judging the queen who had arrived with no army, no crown, and no wealth, only a trio of strange, fossilized eggs and a quiet, watchful man with a face like chiseled granite.
"Inner monologue: This city is a viper's nest. Every smile is a knife. Every gift is a trap. They see a girl with no army. They see a target. They see a prize. They don't see me. Not yet. They don't see the wolf in the shadows. I'll make them see. I'll show them what happens when you underestimate a Witcher. I'll make them remember me."
One of the guards, a man with a thin, predatory smile, stepped forward. "You seek entry, princess?" he asked, his voice a mocking, honeyed coo. "Qarth is a city of magic and wealth. We have no place for beggars."
Adam's lips curled into a small, grim smile. He took a step forward, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. He didn't need to draw it. He just needed to show them he was a man who knew how to use one. He used Quen, a shimmering, ethereal shield of pure magic, a faint blue glow that pulsed around his body. The guards' eyes went wide, their blank masks of indifference replaced by a mixture of shock and fear.
QUEN SIGN USED. STAMINA: 10/100. QUEST: PROVE STRENGTH, 50 XP.
Adam's voice was a low, gravelly hum, a melody of steel and shadows. "I'm not a beggar," he said, his voice a cold, lethal whisper. "I'm the guy who keeps queens safe. And she's not a princess. She's a queen. The Mother of Dragons. And she has come to claim what is hers." He looked at the guards, his eyes burning with a cold, predatory light. "Now, are you going to let us in, or are you going to die?"
The guards scrambled back, their bravado gone, their fear a palpable thing. The man with the thin, predatory smile was now a trembling, whimpering mess. He pointed a trembling finger at the gates. "Enter," he stammered, his voice a high-pitched shriek. "Enter and be welcome."
Adam grinned. He had won. He had won with a single glance. A single display of power. He turned to Daenerys, his face a mask of quiet confidence. "See?" he said. "It's all about the show."
A sudden, high-pitched wail of pain, of surprise, of utter humiliation, came from behind them. Viserys had stumbled, his foot caught in a pile of rocks, and he had faceplanted, his face a grotesque mask of mud and pain. The guards, their fear gone, their faces a mixture of confusion and disbelief, were staring at the whimpering king. Adam had used Axii. A subtle, mental compulsion. He had made him confess to the guards, to the world, what he truly was.
AXII SIGN USED. STAMINA: 10/100. QUEST: HUMILIATE VISERYS, 50 XP.
"Qarth is… generous!" Viserys shrieked, his voice a frantic, forced confession. "So… so generous!" Adam gave him a small, mocking smile. "Snakes belong in the dirt," he muttered under his breath.
Dragon's Bond – Qarth outskirts, evening The night sky was a vast, inky expanse, dotted with a million pinpricks of light. The air was cool, the wind a gentle caress. Adam and Daenerys were sitting in a small, private tent, a map of the world spread between them. They were discussing the journey to Qarth. The defenses. The strategy. The future. Adam was the one who had a plan. A strategy. A purpose. He was the one who had a Witcher's instincts. He felt it on the back of his neck. The prickle of danger. The scent of blood. The sound of a whispered ambush. Assassins. Of course. Viserys's doing. The fool.
"Inner monologue: They're getting desperate. They're getting stupid. They're a pathetic, whimpering mess. I'll show them. I'll make them regret the day they were born. For threatening her. For trying to hurt her. For trying to take what isn't theirs. I'll show them what happens when you cross a queen and her Witcher. I'll make them an example. A lesson in pain. A lesson in fear."
They came out of the shadows, a group of two, their faces hidden behind masks, their eyes a predatory gleam. They were armed with daggers and rusty swords. They were looking for a prize. They were looking for a queen. They had found death.
"Warlocks don't scare me," Adam said, his voice a low, gravelly hum, a promise of violence. He didn't even draw his sword. He used Yrden, a subtle, lethal spell, to trap them in an intricate web of shimmering blue light. They were immobilized, frozen in place. They were at his mercy.
YRDEN SIGN USED. STAMINA: 15/100. 100 XP GAINED.
Adam didn't hesitate. He used his sword, a cold, lethal blur, to cut them down. Their bodies crumpled to the floor, blood blooming on the stone floor. The scent of death, the scent of fear, filled the air. Daenerys stared, her eyes wide with a mixture of terror and awe. "You're a beast!" Lyra said, her voice a breathless whisper. "I'm just a guy who knows how to fight monsters," Adam said.
A sudden, high-pitched wail of pain, of surprise, of utter humiliation, came from behind them. Viserys had stumbled, his foot caught in a small puddle, and he had faceplanted, his face a grotesque mask of mud and pain. The guards around them erupted into laughter. Adam grinned. He had used Aard. A simple, telekinetic push.
AARD SIGN USED. STAMINA: 10/100. QUEST: HUMILIATE VISERYS, 50 XP.
"This is outrageous!" Viserys shrieked, his voice a muffled cry. Adam gave him a small, mocking smile. "Snakes belong in the dirt," he muttered under his breath.
Qartheen Alliance – Qarth palace, night The palace of the Thirteen was a monument to opulence and excess. The walls were made of polished lapis lazuli, the floors were a shimmering mosaic of mother-of-pearl, and the air was thick with the scent of jasmine and the perfume of a thousand hidden lies. Adam, Daenerys, and their small entourage, a blend of loyal Dothraki, the quiet, watchful Lyra, and a collection of weary but hopeful freedmen, stood before the city gates. The gates themselves were a monumental feat of architecture, two massive, bronze figures, intertwined and locked in a silent, eternal embrace. Guards in ornate, silk tunics and jeweled swords stood at attention, their faces blank masks of indifference. They were judging them. They were judging the queen who had arrived with no army, no crown, and no wealth, only a trio of strange, fossilized eggs and a quiet, watchful man with a face like chiseled granite.
"Inner monologue: This city is a viper's nest. Every smile is a knife. Every gift is a trap. They see a girl with no army. They see a target. They see a prize. They don't see me. Not yet. They don't see the wolf in the shadows. I'll make them see. I'll show them what happens when you underestimate a Witcher. I'll make them remember me."
One of the guards, a man with a thin, predatory smile, stepped forward. "You seek entry, princess?" he asked, his voice a mocking, honeyed coo. "Qarth is a city of magic and wealth. We have no place for beggars."
Adam's lips curled into a small, grim smile. He took a step forward, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. He didn't need to draw it. He just needed to show them he was a man who knew how to use one. He used Quen, a shimmering, ethereal shield of pure magic, a faint blue glow that pulsed around his body. The guards' eyes went wide, their blank masks of indifference replaced by a mixture of shock and fear.
QUEN SIGN USED. STAMINA: 10/100. QUEST: PROVE STRENGTH, 50 XP.
Adam's voice was a low, gravelly hum, a melody of steel and shadows. "I'm not a beggar," he said, his voice a cold, lethal whisper. "I'm the guy who keeps queens safe. And she's not a princess. She's a queen. The Mother of Dragons. And she has come to claim what is hers." He looked at the guards, his eyes burning with a cold, predatory light. "Now, are you going to let us in, or are you going to die?"
The guards scrambled back, their bravado gone, their fear a palpable thing. The man with the thin, predatory smile was now a trembling, whimpering mess. He pointed a trembling finger at the gates. "Enter," he stammered, his voice a high-pitched shriek. "Enter and be welcome."
Adam grinned. He had won. He had won with a single glance. A single display of power. He turned to Daenerys, his face a mask of quiet confidence. "See?" he said. "It's all about the show."
A sudden, high-pitched wail of pain, of surprise, of utter humiliation, came from behind them. Viserys had stumbled, his foot caught in a pile of rocks, and he had faceplanted, his face a grotesque mask of mud and pain. The guards, their fear gone, their faces a mixture of confusion and disbelief, were staring at the whimpering king. Adam had used Axii. A subtle, mental compulsion. He had made him confess to the guards, to the world, what he truly was.
AXII SIGN USED. STAMINA: 10/100. QUEST: HUMILIATE VISERYS, 50 XP.
"Qarth is… generous!" Viserys shrieked, his voice a frantic, forced confession. "So… so generous!" Adam gave him a small, mocking smile. "Snakes belong in the dirt," he muttered under his breath.
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