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Chapter 483
🕑 Added 2025-01-29 16:57:26 +0000 UTC"You’re wrong. Quite the opposite, in fact." A mocking smirk curved R’hllor’s lips, carrying an innate allure that needed no deliberate charm. "The original design of the magic array did indeed have flaws, but the decades-long construction process gave me ample opportunities to discover and resolve those issues, minimizing the chances of an accident. By the time of activation, the array was nearly perfect. It worked exactly as intended. The planet’s very atmosphere rippled under the waves of magical energy, channeling apocalyptic power toward the fissure created when my mother first arrived in this world. The array ignited the rift, tearing through space like puncturing a sheet of brittle paper. The passage it created was far larger than I had anticipated—large enough, in fact, for my descendants to ride their dragons through.”
“Then… where did it go wrong?”
“The array itself wasn’t the issue, and it did connect to another world. But the other side wasn’t the world I expected… Instead, it was a void—a desolate, hellish realm where the sky and earth were indistinguishable. Though brimming with energy, it was a place I would never want to set foot in.”
“Huh?” Aegor, caught off guard by this series of twists, abandoned any pretense of composure. “You mean… you rushed to open the rift but forgot to add a mechanism to choose or anchor the destination?”
“Do I look like an idiot?” R’hllor’s face hardened in displeasure. “Not only did I anchor the array to the very fissure my mother created upon entering this world, but I also used a part of her remains as a key component for precise targeting. I even took a dual approach, ensuring the destination couldn’t stray too far from its intended point. Yet, whether due to the inherently stronger barriers of high-magic worlds or countermeasures my aunt placed on the other side to block spatial magic, the array’s energy successfully pierced this world’s veil but was deflected and diverted on the other side.”
“And if that had been the extent of it—if the portal simply connected to a random, unrelated world—it wouldn’t have been so disastrous. I could have shut the array down, identified the problem, and waited for the next opportunity to try again. The real trouble came from something I never anticipated: a species that treats invading other worlds as routine.”
“A species that invades worlds… as a lifestyle? Demons?” Aegor stared, dumbfounded. “Wait, Ancestor, don’t tell me you accidentally provoked the Burning Legion or something?”
“When the first wave of demons came through the portal, I didn’t grasp the gravity of the situation. With the help of my descendants—dragonlords from Valyria’s most powerful bloodlines—we easily destroyed the intruders. But when I attempted to shut down the array, I discovered a terrible truth: while the array itself had ceased operating, the portal it created remained open, stable… and was even showing signs of expanding.”
An unclosable door? Even in the dream, a chill crept down Aegor’s spine. The woman before him wasn’t recounting just any catastrophe; she was describing an accident that had reshaped the very world he now inhabited.
“It turns out, the first wave of demons I fought were merely scouts—fodder sent to test the waters. These beings, practiced in the art of interdimensional conquest, made no amateur mistakes. After confirming this world’s potential for plunder and its ability to resist, they stabilized the portal on their end and summoned their true invasion force. For a time, I engaged in a battle of spatial magic against their experts, trying every means to seal the portal, but to no avail. When the second wave came, it was a vast demon army, their numbers and strength far surpassing the first.
“What followed was an unimaginable war. With the greatest strength this world could offer, I and my descendants—seasoned warriors who had conquered much of Essos—fought tooth and nail against the invaders. Yet, for every demon we killed, two more emerged from the portal. The rift grew increasingly stable and expansive. When a colossal demon, its size rivaling mountains, began to push through, radiating an aura so terrifying it even made me tremble, I knew that if I didn’t act decisively, this world would be destroyed by my own hands.”
Aegor’s breath hitched. Compared to her tale, his fanciful stories about the Night’s Watch’s adventures seemed like children’s bedtime fairy tales. Whether this was truth or fiction, he couldn’t help but listen with bated breath.
“And then?” he asked.
“And then I resorted to the method I mentioned before—the one I originally intended to use against my aunt,” R’hllor replied, her expression turning cold and matter-of-fact. “Mortals call it blood magic, but that’s a shallow and narrow interpretation. Blood magic isn’t an independent school of magic; it’s simply magic that uses blood as a material for spellcasting. Blood itself isn’t inherently powerful—it’s the magic contained within it that matters. Any substance imbued with power—be it blood, flesh, hair, or even excrement—can serve as a component. As for the ‘blood magic’ you fear, it’s rarely something a competent caster would use on mortals. Only a desperate novice would stoop to such inefficiency. But true dragon blood—now that contains extraordinary power.”
Using her own bloodline as spell components? Aegor swallowed hard, but then froze as a chilling realization dawned: she wasn’t the only one with dragon blood.
“I sacrificed every descendant and dragon within my reach—any being carrying the power of true dragon blood—using them as materials to fuel a spell of unprecedented strength. Well… perhaps not unprecedented, since the original rift-opening spell was even greater in scale. But understand this: the effect of magic applied to material destruction is far more tangible than that of spatial manipulation. The result exceeded my expectations. The spell obliterated nearly every demon within its range, destabilized and collapsed the expanding rift, and utterly annihilated the Valyrian Peninsula, submerging it beneath the sea. The cataclysm shattered the Fourteen Flames, unleashing eruptions that turned the region into a Smoking Sea, its ash clouds still lingering to this day.”
Aegor’s jaw dropped. He’d always known the Doom of Valyria as a catastrophic volcanic eruption. Now he realized that historians had misunderstood the cause and effect entirely. The eruptions weren’t the cause of the Doom—they were the aftermath of her apocalyptic spell. And since every surviving witness had been sacrificed, no one was left to tell the tale.
Everything suddenly made sense. How could the Freehold, ruling half the known world, collapse overnight without any opportunistic foes? The answer stood before him—a millennia-old goddess in a youthful guise, who had wiped out her own people without remorse.
Faced with her chilling calm as she recounted these events, Aegor shuddered. Melisandre, with her petty curses and occasional burnings, seemed like an innocent child by comparison. And to think he’d once considered forcing himself on her when they first met…
Cold sweat dripped down his back. After a long silence, Aegor finally refocused. “But what does the truth behind the Doom have to do with your warning about the Cold God?”
“You didn’t listen closely enough,” R’hllor replied, shaking her head. “The blood magic destroyed most of the demons—but not all of them. The ordinary demons that survived the spell could eventually be defeated by mortals, no matter the cost. The real problem… was the colossal demon. Although the portal’s collapse severed part of its body and the spell grievously wounded it, leaving it weakened and vulnerable, it remains the most terrifying foe I have ever faced.”
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