Up and down. Up and down.
Baelon and Helaena watched with a mix of confusion and rapture at the oscillating pool of lava.
They stood at the heart of a volcano, a vast cathedral-like abyss that seemed to have been carved by spite and time alone.
The ceiling loomed far above, lost behind clouds of smoke and ash, while veins of magma flowed through the cavern, glowing duller with every passing moment.
"What in the Gods is this…?" Baelon mumbled. "It's alive?"
"And growing." Helaena nodded, her gaze fixed, unblinking, as more and more droplets of molten rock leapt from the surrounding flows and were drawn into the mass.
Tssk! Hiss! Crack!
Then, silence fell between them once more as the sound of an angry pool of lava was all that remained.
Only…the pool breathed deeper now.
Each rise swelled higher than before, each fall sinking further.
Then—
It grew.
Slowly at first, then with a wild abandon.
Molten tendrils crept outward, slithering across the cracked stone before plunging into the glowing veins that lined the cavern. They sank into them, burrowed deep, and then—
It drank. Greedily at that.
The entire volcano seemed to shudder.
A low, pained groan reverberated through the chamber as the rivers of magma dimmed, their light siphoned away into that ever-growing mass.
The mountain was being hollowed out, its lifeblood devoured without a semblance of resistance.
The pool churned violently now, its surface writhing like living flesh. It swelled larger and larger, more viscous, more defined, until it no longer resembled molten rock at all, but something else.
By this point, it looked like something was about to...burst>
Thruuuum!
The entire mass trembled, thrumming with a vitality that could only be likened to a newborn's first cry.
Then—
SHLORRK-KRAAAASH!
A hand tore free as it ripped itself into existence, splitting the molten surface apart as though it were nothing more than thin silk.
The hand was colossal, each finger the size of a mountain peak, dripping with searing lava that cascaded down like burning waterfalls.
Baelon staggered back, breath caught in his throat. He half-believed that should Vermithor stand against this thing, it would get swatted out of the sky like some petulant fly.
A deep, anguished roar echoed from the depths as the cavern walls cracked and split, entire sections collapsing inward as another hand followed.
Then a shoulder.
Then the rest.
Before long, a titan rose from the raging lava pool.
It dragged itself upward, its immense body grinding against the walls of the volcano, tearing through stone as though it were brittle glass. When it stood, it shattered the mountain around it.
The crown of the volcano exploded outward in a deafening BOOOOOM, sending plumes of ash and fire screaming into the sky above.
Daylight spilt into the chamber, illuminating the full horror of what stood before them.
A giant of living magma. Molten rock flowed endlessly over itself, held together by some unseen force. Its head, if it could even be called that, was a jagged, ever-changing mass, yet within it burned two abyssal points of light that fixed upon the world with terrible awareness.
And, as it stood tall, it bellowed a brutal roar.
KRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAA!
"Seven be damned, this thing is loud…" Baelon whispered, clamping his hands over his ears.
No response.
"Hmm?"
Before he could turn, a sudden tug yanked him forward.
The world lurched.
When he came to, he understood that Helaena was running, dragging him along without a word.
But…why?
Baelon did not resist, but as he fled, he could not help himself and looked back.
Then…he felt his blood run cold.
The titan was staring directly at him.
Right. At. Him.
Its gaze struck like a hammer against his very soul, ancient, knowing and utterly indifferent.
It held neither rage nor fury.
Only the quiet, crushing weight of some higher being that had no reason to care whether he lived or died.
Even knowing this was but a vision, Baelon felt his chest tighten. An unrelenting terror gripped him, dragging him back to a fear he had not known since boyhood.
The last thing Baelon witnessed was the titan slowly raising its hand as the world broke apart, as an ocean of furious orange-red surged forward.
***
Baelon doubled over slightly, hands braced against his knees as he dragged in a sharp breath, then another, and another.
He swallowed, throat dry, and then let out a shaky exhale.
Slowly, painfully, he tried to wrestle himself back under control.
All Baelon could feel in the moment was the rapid heaving of his chest as he tried to quell the fear that had risen in him moments prior.
The moment he had locked gazes with that thing, Baelon felt small. As small and pathetic as a mouse before a dragon.
Looking around, Baelon locked eyes with the similarly panting Helaena.
"That…" Helaena spoke between breaths. "What was that?"
"I do not know." Baelon shook his head, forcing himself upright as he managed to steady his breathing, though his eyes still flitted about with lingering caution.
He truly did not know what was going on. They should have been within a mere vision. And yet… he could feel the strain in his chest, the ache in his limbs, the lingering terror coiled tightly within him.
They had run, and they had felt every second of it.
That alone planted doubts he did not wish to entertain.
Worse still, he did not even know why he had chosen to open the book, especially with Helaena nearby. He had dismissed it as a moment's curiosity, a fleeting lapse.
But the more he turned it over in his mind, the more it unsettled him.
It did not feel like a choice.
Nevertheless, as his surroundings settled into clarity, Baelon found his unease momentarily eclipsed by awe.
They were no longer within the suffocating confines of the volcano.
They floated.
High above.
Suspended in the air as though the world itself had forgotten them.
Below stretched a vast, barren expanse of jagged rock and ash, an endless landscape scarred by fire and time.
The ground was uneven, fractured and dotted with mountains that rose like broken teeth from the earth as smoke curled lazily from their peaks.
Baelon narrowed his eyes.
'These seem familiar…'
Too familiar.
If not for their smaller stature and their greater number, he would have sworn he was looking upon the Fourteen Flames themselves.
Yet there were more here.
And something about them felt… younger.
His thoughts were soon torn away.
"God-king! God-king! God-king!"
The chant rose from below, a discordant symphony of shrieks, howls, and guttural cries.
Baelon's gaze snapped downward.
There, at the base of a colossal, jagged mountain, figures gathered.
Thirteen of them, by what Baelon could count.
They lay prostrate upon the blackened stone, their forms bent in absolute submission before a towering figure seated upon a throne carved into the mountain itself.
The creatures defied everything Baelon knew.
Some bore a mockery of human shape, with their elongated limbs, twisted bodies, heads crowned with horns or split into too many angles.
Others were far removed from anything human. One appeared almost skeletal, its frame wreathed in flickering flashes of lightning, while another oozed slowly across the ground, its surface rippling like water given life.
And yet, for all their terrible forms—
They bowed, trembled and worshipped all the same.
"Oh, Eternal Sun."
"Bringer of the deep, dark night."
"God-king!"
Their voices rose again in fevered devotion as Baelon's eyes shifted.
To the throne and to the all too familiar figure seated upon it.
Red, burning and unmoving.
God-king?
Baelon pondered the term, a flicker of understanding stirring within him.
Did that mean the giant they had seen…
Was no mere creature?
Well, as Baelon thought of its ridiculous size, perhaps that much was obvious. However, from what he could see, this titan clearly held some form of divinity.
Still, at least that, Baelon could soothe his shattered confidence. It was not unfair; he was scared prior, that was a God.
Nodding slowly to himself, noting the vast distance between them and the scene below, he leaned slightly toward Helaena.
"I think we should be fine speaking over here…?"
He cast a wary glance downward.
Seeing no reaction, he exhaled quietly, relief slipping through him.
"We ought to be." Helaena nodded. "But what are these visions trying to tell us? What is this?" She asked with furrowed brows.
"Perhaps…" Baelon hesitated. "This is the Valyrian Pantheon."
The Valyrian Pantheon.
The Freehold did not impose religious restrictions on its conquered people, allowing a myriad of faiths to take root across its vast dominion. Gods of river and sky, of stone and storm, all were tolerated.
Yet none held the same dominance as the Pantheon.
A collection of deities worshipped by the indigenous Valyrians themselves.
Or so it was said.
Time had not been kind to them. Their names had eroded into obscurity, fragments surviving only in whispers, echoed faintly through the names of dragons, carried on out of reverence or tradition.
And yet…
Standing here, watching them…witnessing them—
Baelon felt something stir within him.
He had never cared much for gods. The Seven were…expected. A matter of upbringing. His mother's influence moreso than his own conviction.
Whether they existed or not had never troubled him.
But this?
This was not faith.
This was not belief.
This was certainty. Complete and utter certainty.
And Helaena's question pressed against his mind once more.
Why were they here?
What was this vision trying to show them?
And more pressing still—
How had that so-called God-king noticed them during their first encounter? Was this not some vision?
"Ah, the Valyrian Gods."
The voice came from behind them.
It was warm, jovial and entirely out of place.
Baelon tensed instantly, his body going rigid as he turned.
A man stood there.
Old, yet not frail. Draped in flowing purple robes that seemed untouched by ash or wind.
His expression was genial, almost amused, eyes glinting with a knowing light that set Baelon's nerves on edge.
"Daunting things they are," the man continued lightly. "Opposed to other divinities born of faith, they were products of nature. Miracles, if one could say."
Unfortunately for the elderly gentleman, Baelon was not in the mood to play these games any longer.
With little hesitation, Baelon willed a tide of roaring flames into existence as they pressed on the man. Helaena moved in tandem, her own flames joining his without a word.
At this point, neither paid attention to the situation below, as they were pressed with a more immediate problem.
Soon, an ocean of fire swallowed the space where the old man stood, searing heat folding in on itself as flames devoured everything in their path.
There was no scream.
No resistance.
That aged figure was simply…gone.
Reduced to nothing within the inferno. The flames lingered a moment longer before receding, leaving only shimmering heat in their wake.
Baelon did not relax.
Neither did Helaena.
They stood back-to-back, eyes sharp, scanning their surroundings with silent urgency. The vast expanse below continued as it had, as though nothing had happened.
Alas, Baelon understood something was wrong. Horribly so.
It was too quiet. Too still.
Baelon's gaze drifted downward as he froze.
The God-king was looking at him.
And, again, that same crushing gaze met his, pressing against him with that same unbearable weight—
The titan began to rise from its throne.
Stone cracked beneath it. The throne fractured as its immense form shifted, the very land trembling in response—
The world tore.
In an instant, everything vanished.
The mountains.
The creatures.
The God-king.
All of it swallowed by a sudden, absolute darkness.
Baelon staggered slightly as his footing shifted beneath him—
No.
There was no ground.
No sky.
No sense of direction at all.
Only a vast, pitch-black void stretching endlessly in every direction.
And beside them?
"Now, now." A familiar voice returned, unchanged.
The old man stood there once more. Unburned. Unharmed.
As though the rage of their flames did not kiss his skin.
Baelon's fingers twitched at his side. Oh, he wanted nothing more than to strike again to reduce this thing to ash until nothing remained.
But…
He hesitated.
Because it had not worked before and he doubted it would work again.
Slowly, reluctantly, his hand stilled.
The old man watched this with clear amusement.
Then—
Clap. Clap.
The sound echoed strangely in the void, far louder than it had any right to be.
"Very decisive," he said, a satisfied smile tugging at his lips. "You two did not disappoint."
His gaze lingered on them, sharp despite his genial demeanour.
"As expected of such a potent dragonlord bloodline. My wait has not been in vain."
And so, Baelon and Helaena stood wary as they faced a strange old man…
In an even stranger place.