After the long summer comes the bleeding stars.
Cold darkness will swallow the world.
In that hour of terror, a warrior will draw a burning sword from the flames.
That sword is Lightbringer, the Red Sword of Heroes.
The man who wields it is Azor Ahai reborn, and he will drive back the darkness and save mankind.
Melisandre knelt over the map table on Dragonstone and felt the red sword slide slowly out of her body.
Burning.
Scorching.
Tearing pain.
And holy ecstasy.
The seed of Azor Ahai remained inside her.
She would bear a child.
Not an ordinary child. A weapon promised by the Lord of Light.
A shadow forged in king's blood, a blade that would slit the throats of heretics.
Melisandre closed her eyes, fingers gripping the table edge, letting the final wave of pleasure roll through her.
That boy in King's Landing.
The false king.
The servant of false gods, wrapped in shadow.
He had to die.
…
When Melisandre first arrived on Dragonstone, Stannis Baratheon did not believe her.
The stern, hard-faced lord sat on his stone throne and studied her with eyes the deep blue of a black ocean, the way a man studies a liar.
But servants of the Lord of Light have endless patience.
Since the lord refused to listen, she went first to his wife, Selyse Florent.
"You are troubled, my lady."
The tall, thin woman—every bit as severe as her husband—lifted her eyes cautiously.
Melisandre had already seen it clearly in the flames.
The anxiety of barrenness, the unhappiness of a cold marriage, coiled in her heart like snakes.
Stannis had spent years in King's Landing, leaving her alone on this rock. He performed his marital duty once or twice a year and then complained that she had given him only a daughter.
Selyse believed the Seven had cursed her.
Because on their wedding night, King Robert had taken her marriage bed and fathered a bastard on her cousin.
A vacuum of faith begs to be filled.
And Melisandre's voice was warm as fire.
"The Lord of Light is the only true god, my lady."
"He does not abandon the faithful. He will give you a son. He will give you authority. He will give you a holy purpose."
Selyse converted.
She used her position as lady of the castle to win converts and became Melisandre's most loyal follower.
And through her tireless work,
the prince from the prophecy finally came.
Perhaps his wife had worn him down.
Or perhaps the second son who had lived forever in his brother's shadow finally snapped under the pressure.
Whatever the reason, he came.
"What do you see in the flames?"
Melisandre spread her hands toward the crackling hearth.
"What would you know, my lord?"
"Anything," Stannis said.
So she looked.
Golden and crimson visions flickered and shifted before her, merging, breaking apart, swirling together again.
She saw a towering mountain piercing the clouds, a white-stone castle with seven towers stabbing the sky.
A woman stood weeping on the edge, clutching a child.
Then the towers collapsed.
Woman and child fell.
Fell.
Until they vanished into the rolling mist.
Melisandre pulled her gaze from the fire.
"A woman and a child will die. They are pushed from a castle built among the clouds."
Stannis gave a dismissive snort and walked away.
But he did not send her away.
Soon afterward ravens arrived confirming the fall of the Eyrie.
…
The days passed to the crackle of flames.
Melisandre knelt before the holy fire countless times, searching for signs that would guide the king who would rule the realm and lead the righteous against the night that would follow the long summer.
Then one night the flames changed.
She saw a stag step out of the fire.
It was pure white, antlers like ancient tree branches, so clean it looked like a gift from the Lord of Light himself.
If she could help Stannis claim it, it would cement everyone's faith in her.
But a golden-haired boy stepped forward.
He stretched out his hand. Countless evil shadows poured from his palm and wrapped around the white stag.
They forced it to its knees.
Forced it to bow its head.
Forced it to submit at his feet.
Sunlight poured over them, igniting golden flames.
Yet darker shadows rose from the boy's feet, coiled around his legs, climbed his chest, and finally formed a crown woven of weirwood.
Seven faces in one shadow swirled upward and placed the crown on his head.
Then.
A thousand faces appeared behind him.
A thousand eyes opened.
Melisandre's heart clenched. She staggered back from the fire.
Cold sweat beaded in her palms.
That same night she went to Stannis.
"False gods?" the lord frowned.
"The old gods, the Seven—every false deity," Melisandre said, voice low. "The Lord of Light is the one true god. All others are thieves in the dark, servants of the Great Other, enemies of R'hllor."
"That boy has been chosen by them."
Stannis was silent a moment.
"The king's son?"
"Whether he is truly Robert's son is still in question."
Melisandre waited.
"I have seen Robert's bastards," Stannis said flatly. "At Storm's End, in the Vale, and several in King's Landing."
"All of them black-haired."
"I told Jon Arryn. I asked him to investigate."
"Then he died."
Melisandre understood.
The boy's blood was false. The gods who chose him were false.
His throne had been stolen.
"There is more in the flames," she said. "Robert."
Stannis's eyes flickered.
She looked again.
A boar the size of a mountain charged a man with a spear.
It snapped the spear and drove its tusk into the man's belly.
The vision tore apart.
She saw a red castle draped in mourning. A ship carrying a king sailed out and vanished into the mist.
"Robert is dead," she told her king.
Stannis was quiet for a long time.
"Impossible," he said, voice flat. "My brother was invincible. He could not die."
He stood and walked to the window.
He stared toward Blackwater Bay.
"That boy," Melisandre said, "Joffrey. If Robert is dead, he is king."
"But he should not be king," Stannis muttered.
"He is the lion's cub, not the stag's."
"By law the throne is yours, my lord."
"What use is law?" Stannis turned. "He has the North and the West behind him. My idiot brother is dancing attendance on him. All of King's Landing cheers his name."
"I have a few thousand men on Dragonstone and a pack of pirates."
"But you have the Lord of Light."
"You have king's blood."
Stannis narrowed his eyes.
"How many soldiers will your Lord of Light give me?"
"No." Melisandre reached out and pressed her palm to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart.
"He will not give you soldiers."
"He will help you kill the boy yourself."