Second Bonus Chapter!
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The first few days were spent in observation, and it was nothing short of a revelation. Jon followed the Black Flame's right-hand man through the compound, absorbing its rhythm and intricate order. The man, a sharp-eyed Red Priest wearing peculiar Braavosi spectacles, moved with quiet authority through the halls, noting Jon's questions and guiding his attention toward the marvels around them. Every corner of the compound seemed alive with purpose, each room dedicated to a particular facet of flame mastery that Jon had never imagined.
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As the director of the Red Faith's premier research center, Moqorro presided over a place that was part ancient Valyrian stronghold, part arcane laboratory, and part forge of the future. This is where the fire itself was studied, dissected, and reinvented in ways that defied all Jon's previous understanding.
From the moment he stepped through the black basalt gates, Jon was swept into a world of ceaseless innovation. The compound was a sprawling maze of workshops, libraries, greenhouses, and flame-lit forges, each buzzing with activity and the crackling energy of magic.
One wing of the compound was devoted to advanced observation. Flames were dissected as one might dissect a living organism: their patterns, colors, and motions analyzed for hidden meaning. The researchers developed new techniques for seeing the invisible layers of flame on how fire interacted with energy, life, and even consciousness. Flame became a lens for understanding the world, revealing secrets hidden from ordinary perception.
Other wings of the compound were devoted to studying the interaction of fire with other elemental forces. There were many experiments of flames being intertwined with air to form firestorms, or where water and fire combined in paradoxical dance to birth steam and living mist. These elemental hybrids were wild and unpredictable, yet held secrets of balance and control that might revolutionize elemental magic.
Jon walked past laboratories filled with devices of bewildering complexity. Some resembled giant lenses or prisms, designed to bend flame in ways that could reveal hidden properties or do interesting things. They were also using the crystalline lenses, enchanted mirrors, and prisms to allow practitioners to perceive the hidden layers of fire around them.
Jon also encountered experimental devices that sought to capture and store flame, like magical batteries that could hold bursts of fire magic for instant release in battle or ritual. These tools promised to transform how fire was wielded, allowing mages to unleash devastating power at the tap of their finger.
On a grander scale, there were ambitious projects to channel volcanic energy beneath the island itself tapping into the molten heart of the world to fuel massive flame altars and fire forges capable of crafting weapons and artifacts infused with primal fire. These endeavors required delicate balance, as even the smallest miscalculation could awaken destructive fury.
Jon saw researchers exploring the mysterious bond between blood and flame, experimenting with how lineage and magic intertwined to awaken dormant powers within chosen individuals. The goal was to unlock deeper flame mastery through genetic and spiritual resonance, potentially producing champions of unprecedented might.
Perhaps most remarkable were the efforts to augment life, blending magic and biology to forge a new generation of flame-augmented beings. Jon glimpsed cages of small, winged salamanders whose bodies glowed with their own inner fire. Priests carefully adjusted the intensity and pattern of the flames, watching as the creatures adapted, grew faster, or evolved new, unexpected traits.
He witnessed experiments on flora and fauna, studying how exposure to elemental fire could accelerate growth, induce adaptation, or awaken latent magical traits.
Some experiments were far bolder: human volunteers, cloaked in ritualistic garb and bound by chains, subjected themselves to controlled fire augmentation. Flames danced along their skin without harming them as greater works were being done to them.
There were also the ongoing investigations into endless flames, fires that could burn endlessly without consuming fuel. Such flames could light entire cities or sanctify sacred grounds indefinitely, but the secret to sustaining them remained elusive and fiercely hard to crack.
He watched as the researchers manipulated flame not as a weapon but as a tool, bending it to illuminate, to purify, to create, to dissect. He watched the acolytes and priests experiment with different things under the watchful eye of Moqorro.
Beyond the practical, the compound explored arcane theory and the esoteric nature of flame. Some Scholars studied fire as a conscious, semi-sentient force. Scholars theorized that flames could carry memory, intention, or even the essence of living beings.
Others spoke of how fire could be a conduit between worlds. Flames might bridge the living and the dead, the material and the spiritual, or even distant corners of the cosmos. A flame could already carry messages, essence, or influence across great distances if shaped correctly. So why not bridge reality.
Other, more speculative theories explored the possibility that fire itself could evolve. Just as living creatures adapted to survive, some scholars argued, fire might change according to environment, exposure, and magical stimulus. A flame that witnessed constant ritual might grow more intelligent, more responsive, or more attuned to divine will. In this sense, flame could be considered a nascent lifeform, and the act of magic itself a form of education or symbiosis.
Throughout the compound, Jon glimpsed new spells and arcane theories being forged. Ancient Valyrian texts were poured over alongside cutting-edge magical treatises, blending old lore with fresh insight. Moqorro's scholars debated and experimented endlessly, seeking breakthroughs that could reshape the Red Faith's power forever.
Everywhere, fire burned not just in braziers or pyres, but as a living force woven into the very fabric of the compound. It flickered in lanterns, pulsed through enchanted tools, and shimmered faintly beneath the floors, a constant reminder of the elemental heart beating at the center of everything.
For Jon, the Flame Hall's rigid discipline and basic training had been a world away from this. Here, fire was not just a tool or symbol, it was a mystery to unravel, a force to master in all its forms, and a gateway to something greater than he had ever imagined. Under Moqorro's watchful eye, Jon knew his journey had only just begun.
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"So how did you find my labs?" Moqorro asked. He sat in his throne-like chair, carved of black basalt and streaked with veins of ruby-hued crystal, the seat itself radiating faint heat. Jon felt it before he saw it, a subtle pulse that hinted at power far beyond the ordinary.
They were in his office in the highest tower. The office was circular, enclosed by walls that shimmered faintly with embedded glyphs that pulsed like living embers. Light danced across the surfaces, both from braziers and from small motes of flame that hovered in midair, drifting lazily like glowing insects.
Yet nothing drew Jon's attention so completely as the creature perched near the corner of the room, a fire bird, its feathers blackened, yet gleaming as if burned in some perpetual inferno. It tilted its head, regarding Jon with orange eyes, as though measuring the depth of his potential.
This was a very rare creature which Jon did not know how Moqorro got his hands on as they were very prized. Fire Birds were excellent familiars to have especially if you were a fire mage. They not only were near living flames, they also consumed flame as sustenance. The blackened feathers marked it as a being shaped and hardened by Moqorro's flames themselves.
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Jon's eyes flicked to the corner of the room where his direwolf, Ghost, lay. The animal's pale fur glimmered faintly in the lamplight, a stark contrast to the vibrant heat of the tower. Jon couldn't help but feel a pang of envy. Ghost had powers tied to the cold, the ice, the biting winter that flowed through his veins but it never unlocked the full potential of his blood.
He knew the answer lay somewhere in the balance of blood, nature, and innate gift, but the thought gnawed at him nonetheless. Why, he wondered, did he not possess magic as well?
Finally, he spoke. "What… exactly is this place?" His voice was cautious. He didn't want to offend, but he couldn't mask the awe that threaded through his tone.
Moqorro's eyes flickered with amusement, and for a moment, he didn't answer. "Think, use your mind. What did you see and observe?"
Jon observed the walls, the floors, the ceilings all meticulously maintained, yet older than anything the Red Faith could have constructed. The style was alien, the structure impossible to recreate with conventional magic or labor. He realized with a shock that this place could not have been made by men of the present era. "It is… older than the Red Faith?" Jon ventured, hesitating. "Could it be Valyrian? Some old sorcerer's lab?"
Moqorro smiled, a faint curl of amusement tugging at his lips. "Yes," he said simply, "long ago, I stumbled upon it, hidden and protected, obscured even from the eyes of the most meticulous old blood. It has endured, untouched, a relic of power and purpose from a bygone age."
Jon's mind raced as he remembered all the strange devices humming faintly with power. Every surface pulsing with history, every tool and instrument a whisper from the past. He could almost imagine the old Valyrian sorcerer, long dead, walking these halls, conducting experiments in flame that reached into realms of magic Jon could barely conceive. The idea that he was standing in the actual abode of such a mind filled him with both awe and terror.
Moqorro's eyes gleamed, and his voice carried an edge of reverence as he spoke. "Nothing you see here, apprentice, compares to what we try to uncover from the Valyrian ruins. This sorcerer great as he was does not compare to the Dragonlords. The 14 flames!"
The old man turned to look out his window to where the ruins laid beyond the sea, "The true secrets, the patterns that shape flame, the living essence of fire itself… they lie beyond, waiting to be understood. But one cannot leap to the deep truths without first understanding the medium. And that is why you are here."
Jon swallowed, uncertain how to respond. The weight of expectation pressed on him, mingling with awe and excitement. He realized that he was not merely being shown wonders, he was being invited into them, being trusted to engage with forces far greater than himself.
Moqorro leaned forward, resting his hands on the arms of his chair, his gaze fixed on Jon. "I have found that the best way to learn," he said, "is step right in the deep in, not some simple incantations or rote practice. True mastery comes from immersion, from grappling with the unknown. You, Jon, will not simply practice fire. You will become a part of it, you will test it, challenge it, and help us shape its future."
Jon's pulse quickened. "Help… shape it?" he asked, voice catching.
"Yes," Moqorro said, leaning back with a faint chuckle. "The experiments we conduct here push the boundaries of what fire can be. You will assist in all of them; creation, augmentation, observation, and more. You will see how fire interacts with life, with matter, with energy, and with thought. You will explore phenomena so subtle that a single misstep could… well, let us say, you will learn quickly how precious control truly is."
Jon did not know what to say, it was a great honor as most folk here were deeply immersed in the higher mysteries. He for all he was talented was just a sproutling who scratched the surface of understanding.
Moqorro leaned back, a quiet intensity settling over him as if sensed his unease. "Do not fear the unknown. Fear only inaction. You will fail, apprentice. You will scorch yourself, misstep, and see things collapse around you. But if you survive and you will, your understanding of fire will exceed that of nearly any living soul. You will become something more than a mere Red Apostle. You will become a student of the flame itself."
Jon's heart beat rapidly. For the first time, the Flame Hall, the structured lessons, and simple rituals felt insignificant. Here, at the heart of this ancient, semi-living Valyrian lab, under the tutelage of a master who danced on the edge of genius and madness, Jon was no longer an observer. He was about to step into the deep end of fire, to learn its secrets, challenge its boundaries, and perhaps, to find himself reflected in its living heat.
"I would be honored, master," he bowed his head.
The fire bird shifted, a faint curl of smoke spiraling from its beak as it let out a soft, warbling cry. "Good, let's begin then," the man smiled. This was his new home. There was no turning back. He was here, and the fire awaited.
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His training started soon. Jon Snow stood barefoot upon the basalt tiles of the eastern terrace, the wind from the harbor tugging at his crimson robes. He had shed the white of the initiate and the black of the Night's Watch long ago. Now he wore red stitched with threads of gold flame, the iron branded sigil of the Lord of Light over his heart. The heat from the braziers did not make him sweat.
It had taken months to reach this point with months of fasting, chanting, staring into flame until his eyes watered and his mind split open. "You are not an initiate, a little spark," Moqorro said, his voice like distant thunder rolling through a cavern. "You are a Red Acolyte. A true flame. The fire listens to you now. It is time you learn to command it."
Jon inclined his head as he listened. "Fire is not a trick," Moqorro continued. "It is not a candle you coax to life. Fire is hunger. It consumes. It reveals. It judges. To wield it, you must be willing to burn."
"Yes, master," Jon intoned.
"Now show me what you got," the old man smiled.
The first few days were meant to be simple, a review of flame forms, but Jon turned them into a display of unintentional mastery. Fire leapt at his command as if it were alive, wrapping around his hands and then flowing like liquid down his arms. Where others struggled to maintain form and focus, Jon moved with the ease of one who had never known struggle. Sparks clung to him without burning, and the air seemed to shimmer with the heat he radiated, subtle but undeniable. He would have given the fire dancers in the city a run for their money with how artfully he handled the flame.
Moqorro's mind whispered a dangerous truth: this was not mere talent. This boy's blood sang with fire.
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Training shifted quickly from external forms to internal mastery. Jon learned to draw the flame into himself, to let it wind through his limbs and chest like a living river. Pain, which usually accompanied such exercises, barely touched him. Heat that would leave others scorched barely raised the temperature on his skin.
Moqorro guided him, cautioning him to respect the fire's will, yet he could only watch as Jon absorbed every lesson in days that would take ordinary students months. There was an intensity to Jon that was frightening in its simplicity, he did not yet understand why fire bent so willingly to him, but it did.
He began to exhibit not only the ability to manipulate fire externally, but to sense its presence, its tendencies, and its latent potential. He became attuned to the subtle currents of heat in the air, the hidden sparks in dry wood, and the faint warmth of life in a living creature.
The Black Flame emphasized control under pressure. Jon had to wield multiple flames simultaneously, maintain them in shifting conditions, and sustain their intensity over prolonged periods. The lessons were grueling, but Jon's progress was remarkable.
As weeks turned into months, Moqorro introduced destruction and creation on a grand scale. Jon no longer merely shaped fire; he learned to craft vast walls of flame, controlled blasts that could topple structures, and complex, interwoven patterns of heat that could ensnare, defend, or obliterate with precision. These exercises were less about spectacle than about mastery. Jon was trained to anticipate the behavior of fire, to account for wind, moisture, and combustible material, and to integrate these factors seamlessly into his control.
Moqorro also taught him a very dangerous art which he swore him to only use when his life was at risk. He showed him how to weave his very lifeforce into his flames. Jon began to learn how to draw on his own vitality to fuel the flame, extending power far beyond ordinary limits but at great risk. Too much connection could leave one drained or worse; Jon, however, adapted quickly. He learned to pace himself, to let the fire ebb and flow in tandem with his pulse, to feed it only what was necessary.
Parallel to these he moved to the labs. The Red Priests' laboratories were cathedrals of flame and experimentation, filled with bubbling cauldrons, volatile powders, and instruments designed to bend fire in ways most priests only dreamed of. Here, Jon saw the many experiments meant to test the limits of the flame.
He watched, absorbed, then stepped forward to make adjustments others would never have dared. A spark too large would shrink under his careful guidance; a flame that sputtered back to life under others' touch obeyed him instantly.
He tried his hand out in the many experiment, getting a better understanding of the flame with each one and his work in the labs was not mere mimicry; he began designing small experiments of his own. He merged flame with subtle enchantments, tested new reactions between materials, and sought ways to make fire think, to give it the precision of a living, obedient entity.
Over time, the labs became a place where fire and Jon moved as one. Sparks hovered around him, embers danced at his fingertips, and heat radiated from him in a controlled, almost musical rhythm. The Red Priests could only watch in quiet astonishment as he seemed to explore the very essence of fire itself, pushing boundaries while remaining perfectly safe, precise, and unshakably confident.
Through this work, Jon was learning the cutting edge of fire magic, blending theory with practice, experimentation with instinct. Each day in the lab left him stronger, faster, more attuned to the elemental forces that surged within him, though he remained unaware that it was his dragonblood that made him such a natural prodigy. The laboratories were not just a place of learning, they were a proving ground, and Jon was thriving beyond what even the most seasoned researcher had thought possible.