99 AC / 54 HA
Daemon Targaryen
"In Nomine Patris Mei et Patris Eius Coram eo, Aeternus, Filium Domini, Voco. Sanctificetur Nomen Tuum."
In the name of my Father and His Father before him, I call you Aeternus, Son of GOD. Hallowed be thy name.
Ana's eyes glowed a piercing, electric green. Then, the light flickered and died, plunging the altar chamber into a suffocating, breathless silence. The zealots ceased their Bastard Valyrian chanting. Trahar stood unmoving.
A low, tectonic rumble birthed from the stone beneath Ana's boots, vibrating violently upward until it rattled the very marrow of my bones. A massive, golden circle of light tore through the fabric of the air before her. As the emerald light in Ana's eyes finally faded to exhaustion, the blinding luminosity of the golden portal magnified.
Suddenly, the deafening rumble ceased as the portal reached its apex. The unnatural light vanished just as swiftly as it had appeared, and in its wake stood a man.
He wore a black, long-tailed coat with a high collar that rose just enough to mask a sharp jawline. He had piercing green eyes and black untamed hair. His face aged with some grey yet he stood tall and strong. Emerald trim and a dark velvet inner lining flared in the oppressive air of the chamber. Beneath the coat, his form was protected by reinforced leather armour—interlocking charcoal plates layered over a darkened mesh, emitting faint, rhythmic thrums of light.
He moved instantly, catching Ana before her unconscious form could strike the stone. Gazing down at her, he registered the heavy iron chains binding her wrists. The man merely brushed his gloved fingers against the metal; the thick iron instantly unravelled and clattered uselessly to the floor.
"Destroyer," came a dull, scraping voice from the base of the altar.
My eyes snapped toward the sound. Trahar was completely consumed. The writhing shadow magic had swallowed his form entirely, thick, pitch-black tendrils burrowing directly into his eye sockets.
The man who had been called Destroyer gently laid Ana onto the altar floor, safely behind him, before turning slowly to face the High Priest.
"You finally managed to enter the mortal realm, Akua," the strange man spoke, his voice carrying a resonant, terrifying foreboding.
"You will serve me, Destroyer. Or I will end you," Trahar hissed, the voice distorted and magnified by the dark god wearing his flesh.
"That is not really a choice, is it?" the man replied casually, entirely unafraid of the violent shadows now erupting from Trahar.
"It was foolish of you to leave your fortress Destroyer" Trahar uttered.
"And it was foolish of you to leave yours" the man fired back.
The dark tendrils lashed outward, creeping toward the kneeling zealots and consuming them just as they had the High Priest. The shadows then surged upward, infecting the ancient stone walls of the cavernous chamber. Trahar extended his bony hand, and the abyss coalesced within his grip, solidifying into a pitch-black staff. The fresh blood that had been sprayed across the sacrificial altar reversed its flow, defying gravity to snake up the length of the staff and merge into a pulsing, crimson bloodstone at its peak.
The strange man began to walk toward me, keeping his glowing, electric gaze locked upon Trahar. Before he could close the distance, the possessed priest whipped a massive shadow tendril directly at his chest.
The man barely broke his stride. He adjusted his posture by a fraction of an inch, letting the lethal shadow hiss harmlessly past his coat, before a gleaming broadsword materialised out of thin air into his right hand. With a lazy flick of his wrist, he sheared the tendril in half.
"You, Valyrian. Are you the Targaryen Prince?" the man asked, his tone almost conversational as he continued to dodge and slice the rapidly multiplying shadow-whips with increasing, blinding pace.
"I am. My name is Daemon," I grunted, fighting the dizziness of my blood loss. I had a hundred burning questions, but the only one that mattered was survival. I shot a desperate glance toward Ana. Trahar, noticing that none of his attacks were landing on the man, sent a vicious spike of shadow directly at her prone form. Yet, a fraction of a second before it could pierce her chest, the shadow violently deflected off an invisible, shimmering barrier.
"I am here to help. You need to take her and run from this place. Do you understand?" the man stated plainly. He stepped to my side and tapped my chains. They dissolved into dust.
I gave a sharp nod, my muscles screaming in protest as I scrambled forward and hauled Ana's limp weight over my shoulder. But before I could even pivot toward the altar steps, Trahar and a dozen of his shadow-possessed zealots blocked our path.
"There will be no escape, Dragonlord. I am in need of your blood," Trahar boomed, his dual-toned voice shaking the pillars.
A deafening CRACK shattered the air. The strange man vanished, appearing instantly out of thin air directly between us and the possessed horde.
"You would take your eyes off me for a mortal, Akua? That wounds my pride," the man mocked softly.
A polished wooden stick suddenly slid into his left hand. He levelled it directly at Trahar. A terrifying, roaring torrent of unnaturally hot flame erupted from the tip of the wood. The sheer heat of it singed the hairs on my arms as the cursed fire surged forward, devouring the zealots and swallowing Trahar whole.
"Fiendfyre," the man commanded.
The zealots shrieked as they burned, but the shadow tendrils fought back, violently regrowing and enveloping the burning men, mutating them into hulking demons of ash and shadow. I watched the abominable clash with mounting horror. The cursed flame and the abominable shadows danced in a brutal war for dominance, while the man and the possessed priest stood at the epicentre, duelling with magics I could barely comprehend.
The man threw a hard glance over his shoulder. "I will carve a path through the flames. It will not hold for long. When I give the word, you run. Flee this chamber and make for the surface. Expect to encounter more of these possessed husks in the streets. Find Valyrian steel—it will cut them—but run if you are outnumbered."
Sweat poured profusely down my face, the catastrophic heat making my vision swim, but I adjusted my grip on Ana's legs and nodded firmly.
"Make for the Roman legions. They will protect her, and they will protect you," the man ordered.
I had no time to question how an invading army would offer me sanctuary. The roaring wall of cursed fire suddenly parted, creating a narrow, blistering corridor to the exit.
"Now!" he roared.
I plunged into the gap with Ana secured upon my back, forcing my battered legs into a desperate sprint.
"Expecto Patronum!" I heard the man chant from behind me.
A blinding, pure white light flared in the periphery of my vision, washing away the oppressive shadows. I grimaced, feeling the stitches in my side tear open as I breached the chamber doors, charging blindly toward the stone staircase that led back to the surface.
…