Previously…
Harry, battling a massive chimera, defeated it and absorbed its lifeforce, healing himself back to full. Making his way to the Final Bastion, he noted the open gates. After some deliberation with Balthazar and Erebus, he decided to enter the tower, and was subsequently subjected to a creature’s illusions. He broke through, noting that the others had been under its thrall nearly the entire time he’d been battling.
Now recovered, the group stormed the tower. Their goal— the very top where Hestia and her captor awaited…
Final Bastion Of Valyria
Harry Potter
I led our group up the winding stairs of the blackstone tower, fists clenching and unclenching as I prepared myself. Joqo, my loyal ko, followed close behind, his hand resting on the hilt of his arakh. I could hear the soft clink of Ser Barristan’s armor and the near-silent footsteps of the Unsullied bringing up the rear.
As we climbed higher, the stairs seemed to stretch endlessly before us. The only light came from the occasional flicker of torches carried by our party. Suddenly, we passed through what appeared to be an invisible barrier. A sharp ‘pop’ echoed in my ears, and I felt the familiar sensation of my Bubble-Head Charm dissipating.
Panic surged through me.
“The charms!” I shouted, my voice echoing off the stone walls. “They’re gone!”
Frantic, I raised my wand, attempting to recast the charm that had been protecting us from Valyria’s toxic fumes.
“Bulla Capitis!” I incanted, but nothing happened. My heart raced as I tried again and again, each attempt more desperate than the last.
Around me, I could hear the alarmed voices of our companions. Perros let out a strangled gasp. One of the treasure-seekers muttered quick prayers to their gods. Even Daenerys, usually so composed, had a look of fear in her violet eyes.
We stood there, frozen in terror, waiting for the poisonous air to fill our lungs. Seconds stretched into what felt like hours. Then, gradually, a realization began to dawn on us.
We weren’t choking.
I took a cautious breath, then another. The air was cool and clean, devoid of the sulfurous stench we’d become accustomed to. I looked around at our group, seeing my own bewilderment reflected in their faces.
“It’s… it’s safe to breathe.” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. The words seemed to break the spell of silence that had fallen over us.
Ser Barristan cleared his throat.
“What sorcery is this, Lord Potter?” He asked, his weathered face a mix of relief and suspicion.
I shook my head, at a loss for words.
“I’m not sure, Ser.” I admitted. “But whatever magic is at work here, it seems to be protecting us… for now.”
“Mayhap it is protecting the caster, as well?” A suggestion came from the men, though I could not discern from which. Still, it seemed to rally the men.
Whatever it is, if this caster needs the air to be clear, perhaps they are as vulnerable to the corrosive air as we are. I reasoned in my mind, nodding.
As the initial shock wore off, I could see the varying reactions among our group. Some, like Joqo and the Unsullied, remained stoic and alert. Others, like Perros, seemed almost giddy with relief. Daenerys stepped forward, her expression thoughtful.
“We should still proceed with caution.” She said, her voice steady despite the lingering tension. “This tower holds many secrets, and we’ve only just begun to uncover them.”
I nodded in agreement, tightening my grip on my wand.
“Stay close.” I instructed the group. “We don’t know what other surprises this place might have in store for us.”
With a deep breath, I turned back to the stairs. As we continued our ascent, I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were being watched, that the very walls of this ancient tower were alive with long-forgotten magic.
What other wonders— or horrors— awaited us in the heart of old Valyria? Only time would tell.
The ancient doors groaned open beneath my touch, releasing a wave of warm, perfumed air that carried the rich aroma of roasted meats and sweet wines. The contrast between the dark, debris-strewn corridor we’d been climbing and the scene before me was stark enough to make me stumble back a step.
My senses were overwhelmed by the feast hall of the blackstone tower. It blazed with the light of a thousand candles, their flames reflected in polished obsidian walls that seemed to pulse with an inner radiance.
Long tables of dark wood stretched the length of the vast chamber, groaning under the weight of countless dishes. Whole roasted aurochs dripped with golden juices, mountains of strange fruits glistened like jewels, and crystalline decanters of wine caught the light like liquid rubies.
But it was the people that drew my attention. Dozens of them, perhaps hundreds, filled the chamber with sound and motion. Men and women in elaborate robes of cloth-of-gold and silver silk lounged on cushioned benches, their silver-gold hair marking them unmistakably as Valyrians.
They laughed and ate with abandon, some feeding each other choice morsels while others danced between the tables to the music that filled the air. After everything we’d seen in this cursed land, the sight of such revelry felt obscene.
“This can’t be real.” Arianne whispered beside me, her hand instinctively reaching for her weapon. “We’re in the ruins of Valyria. This tower was empty just moments ago.”
I exchanged glances with Daenerys, noting how her violet eyes had widened at the sight of so many who shared her distinctive features. None of the revelers seemed to notice our entrance, continuing their celebrations as if our small group of armed and travel-worn warriors weren’t worth their attention.
It reminded me uncomfortably of the ghosts at Nearly Headless Nick’s deathday party, though these spirits— if that’s what they were— seemed far more substantial.
“Another illusion?” Ser Barristan suggested, his hand never leaving his sword hilt. “Like the spider creature below?”
“Only one way to find out.” I said, stepping forward and reaching toward the nearest table. My hand met solid wood, the surface smooth and warm beneath my fingers. I could feel the vibrations of nearby dancers through the floor, smell the distinct aroma of unfamiliar spices, hear the clear notes of the musicians in the corner playing what seemed to be a traditional Valyrian melody.
Everything felt disturbingly real.
One of our companions, a young mercenary whose name I couldn’t recall, moved past me toward a platter of glistening fruits. “If it’s solid, maybe it’s real. And all we’ve had since we got here has been bread. I haven’t eaten anything proper since—”
“Stop!” Daenerys’s command cracked like a whip. The mercenary froze, his hand inches from a cluster of deep purple grapes. “We don’t know what this is. After what we faced below, we can’t trust anything we see. Or smell. Or touch.”
I nodded in agreement, though my own stomach clenched at the sight of so much food. Our provisions were fine, to be sure, but we’d been out at sea, and now in this inhospitable hell for quite some time. The feast before us was nothing more than a test— a cruel temptation meant to get us killed, should we fail in our resolve.
“The spider showed us visions too.” I reminded them. “They felt real enough until we broke free of them.”
“But this…” Arianne moved closer to one of the revelers, waving her hand in front of a woman’s face. The Valyrian continued her conversation without pause, as if Arianne were invisible. “This is different. More elaborate. Perhaps that’s the point— to make us question what’s real and what isn’t until we lose our minds.”
The music swelled around us, the sounds of laughter and conversation rising with it. I felt a subtle pressure building in my head, a sort of pleasant haziness that made me want to sit down, to take just a small sip of wine, to join in the eternal celebration. It reminded me of the Imperius Curse, though more subtle, more seductive.
I shook my head sharply, forcing myself to focus. This was no time to give in to whatever enchantment filled this hall.
“We need to understand what this is. Let’s split up and get to the bottom of this thing.” I said, my voice cutting through the musical haze. “But do it carefully. Very carefully. Eat nothing. Drink nothing.”
The others nodded, their expressions a mix of wonder and wariness as they gazed at the impossible feast before them. Above our heads, the candles continued to burn without melting, casting their unwavering light on a celebration that, I suspected, had been going on far longer than any natural party should.
Something about that detail nagged at me, but the thought slipped away before I could grasp it, lost in the swirl of music and laughter.
We split up to investigate the hall, though I made sure none of us strayed too far from the others. We’d all learned the hard way in Valyria that separation usually meant death. Daenerys moved among the revelers like a ghost among reflections, her own silver-gold hair making her almost indistinguishable from the party-goers except for her travel-worn attire.
I found myself drawn to the musicians in the corner.
Three of them— a woman with a strange, harp-like instrument, a man with what looked like a flute made of glass, and another whose drum seemed to be made from some kind of scaled hide. The melody they played was haunting, yet somehow familiar, as if I’d heard it in a dream. When it ended, they began again with the exact same notes, the exact same flourishes.
“Harry.” Arianne’s voice carried across the hall, pitched low but urgent. I made my way to where she stood beside one of the long tables, her eyes fixed on a platter of roasted fowl.
“Watch this.” She pointed at a man who was tearing into the bird with gusto. As I watched, he reached for the same piece he’d just eaten— which had somehow reappeared on his plate.
“The food never runs out.” I muttered, scanning the other tables with renewed attention. Now that I was looking for it, I could see it everywhere. Wine glasses refilled themselves; platters remained eternally full despite the guests’ endless consumption. It was like the enchanted plates at Hogwarts, except this magic felt… wrong. Stagnant.
Ser Barristan joined us, his weathered face grim.
“The conversations.” He said. “They’re repeating too. That group over there has told the same joke three times now.”
He nodded toward a cluster of Valyrians who burst into synchronized laughter right on cue.
A chill ran down my spine despite the hall’s warmth. I’d seen something like this before, in a Pensieve— memories playing out in an endless loop. But this was different. These weren’t just memories; we could interact with everything here. The tables were solid, the food was real enough to tempt us, and the air itself seemed to pulse with life.
“Three songs.” Daenerys said, appearing suddenly at my side. Her violet eyes were troubled.
“That’s all they play. Over and over. One about conquest, one about glory, and one about…” She frowned. “I can’t quite make out the words of the third, but it feels important.”
I was about to respond when I noticed something odd about one of the revelers— a woman who kept checking a timepiece hanging from her neck, her movements growing more agitated with each glance. Unlike the others who seemed lost in their endless celebration, there was a desperation to her actions that set her apart.
“Look there.” I murmured to the others, careful not to point directly. “She seems different. More… aware, somehow.”
As we watched, the woman drained her wine cup and immediately refilled it, her hands shaking. She muttered something that was lost in the general din, but her eyes kept darting to the windows— windows that I suddenly realized showed neither day nor night, just a strange, unchanging twilight.
“There’s another one.” Arianne whispered, gesturing subtly toward a man who kept raising his glass in endless toasts to “eternal dominion.” Unlike the other party-goers who moved with fluid grace, his movements had a mechanical quality, as if he was forcing himself through the motions.
The third we spotted near the musicians— younger than most of the others, moving between them with increasing frustration, trying to get them to change their songs. But like everything else in this strange feast, the musicians played on, trapped in their endless cycle.
“Three songs, three…” Daenerys paused, her eyes widening. “Three people who seem different from the rest. That can’t be a coincidence.”
I nodded slowly, pieces of a puzzle I couldn’t quite see beginning to take shape in my mind.
“No.” I agreed. “In a place like this, there’s no such thing as coincidence.”
A woman with eyes like molten amethyst seized my arm as we moved through the crowd, her grip surprisingly solid for someone I half-suspected was a ghost.
“Dance with me, young lord.” She purred, her voice carrying an echo I felt in my bones. “The night is eternal, and you look so very tense.”
“They can see us!?”
I extracted myself as politely as I could, but her touch left a lingering warmth that made my head swim. All around us, the revelry was intensifying. A man in a dragon-emblazoned robe thrust a jeweled goblet toward Daenerys, insisting she drink to honor her ancestors. Another reveler practically draped himself across Arianne, offering her exotic fruits with names I couldn’t pronounce.
Ser Barristan declined any advances, herding Arianne and Daenerys away from the group while I followed.
“This place’s defenses starting?” I said as much to myself as to the others before shaking my head. “No. Focus. We need to understand what’s happening with those three. The room might turn against us, so stay alert.”
I turned my head to the rest of the group, who had extricated themselves from the party, looking disheveled one way or the other. “That goes for all of you.”
“Of course, Khal Harry.” Joqo said, nodding seriously as he sent a glare towards a scantily dressed Valyrian girl. Any other day, he would have thrown himself at the woman.
“Hm. Let’s go.”
The woman with the timepiece had begun what seemed to be another cycle of her routine, but this time I moved closer, weaving through the crowd of increasingly aggressive party-goers. A young girl tried to place a garland of never-wilting flowers around my neck; I ducked away, keeping my eyes fixed on my target.
“Time enough.” The woman was muttering, checking her timepiece again. “There’s still time enough. There must be.”
“Excuse me.” I said, but like the others had initially, she seemed to look right through me. Yet there was something different in her gaze— a consciousness, a desperation that the other revelers lacked.
Meanwhile, Daenerys had approached the toasting man, who was raising his glass yet again.
“To eternal dominion!” He declared, his voice carrying a hint of hysteria. “To power that shall never fade!”
A cluster of party-goers surrounded Daenerys, trying to press drinks into her hands, but she kept her focus on him.
“Eternal dominion over what?” She asked sharply, though he didn’t seem to hear her.
Arianne was having an even harder time reaching the young person by the musicians. The dancers had formed an almost impenetrable wall of spinning bodies and flowing robes. They caught her up in their movements, and for a moment I saw her eyes glaze over, her body starting to sway with the music.
“Arianne!” I called out. She shook her head sharply and pushed free of the dancers, though I noticed her steps weren’t quite as steady as before.
The music was growing louder, more insistent. The third song began again— the one whose words Daenerys couldn’t quite catch— and I noticed the young person by the musicians becoming more agitated. They were practically clawing at the musicians now, their movements desperate but ineffective.
“We need to…” I started to say, but a new wave of revelers descended on us. A man with rings on every finger grabbed my shoulders, spinning me toward a table laden with sweet-smelling delicacies. A woman’s laugh tickled my ear as she tried to slip a morsel of something between my lips. The air felt thick with perfume and wine-sweet breath.
“My lord must try this vintage.” Someone insisted. “Pressed from grapes grown in the very shadow of the fourteen flames!”
“Just one dance.” Another voice whispered. “One dance before the music ends…”
But the music never ends, does it? My mind shot back defiantly, breaking through the haze stubbornly attempting to settle over my mind. Just like the food never runs out, and the wine cups never empty, and these three people never escape their private torments.
I knocked aside another offered goblet, fighting to keep my thoughts clear as the celebration swirled around us with increasing frenzy.
The woman checked her timepiece again. The man raised his glass in another empty toast. The youth fought uselessly against the unchanging melody. And through it all, the other revelers danced and laughed and feasted, trying harder and harder to draw us into their eternal celebration.
“Look at their faces.” Daenerys called out suddenly. She was right— beneath the seemingly perfect features of our three subjects, something was cracking. The mask of celebration slipped occasionally, revealing expressions of such profound horror that it made my stomach turn.
“They know.” I realized, fighting off another attempt to crown me with flowers. “They know what this really is. What this celebration really means.”
The next time the third song began, I caught a few words through the growing chaos: something about flames and time and choices made too late.
“Enough of this.” Balthazar said, the scales on my right arm glowing with orange power. “Let’s just sweep through them and—”
“No.” I said, shaking my head. “Not yet. Let me try to figure this out without expending energy.”
I pulled my group into a relatively quiet corner of the feast hall, as far from the increasingly aggressive revelers as we could manage. The constant press of bodies trying to draw us into their celebration was becoming harder to resist. Even Ser Barristan, usually stoic and composed, had a slight glazed look in his eyes when a particularly beautiful Valyrian woman offered him a jeweled goblet.
“Everyone’s noticed the patterns.” I said, keeping my voice low. “The repeating songs, the food that never runs out, the three people who seem… different. But there’s something else here. Something we’re missing.”
Daenerys nodded, her violet eyes troubled.
“The third song. I can almost understand it, but the words keep slipping away. It’s like…” She frowned, searching for the right description. “Like trying to remember a dream upon waking.”
“And those three.” Arianne added, gesturing subtly toward our subjects of interest. “The woman with the strange contraption— she keeps checking it as if she’s waiting for something. Or dreading something.”
I watched as the woman in question performed her ritual again, her fingers trembling as she consulted the device hanging from her neck. There was something familiar about her desperate movements, something that reminded me of another time, another place.
It hit me suddenly— it was a desperate hope against mounting reality.
“They know.” I said slowly, the pieces starting to click together in my mind. “Or at least, a part of them knows. The woman with the timepiece, the man making his endless toasts, the child by the musicians— they’re not just different from the others. They’re the ones who realized what was coming.”
“The Doom.” Daenerys breathed, her face paling slightly. “This isn’t just any feast. This is the last feast.”
A burst of laughter from nearby made us all jump. The revelry was growing more frenzied, more desperate. I noticed how the partygoers’ movements seemed to speed up and slow down at random intervals, like a poorly wound music box.
“Look at the windows.” Ser Barristan pointed out. “That twilight hasn’t changed since we arrived. It’s like time itself is stuck.”
“Not stuck.” I corrected, remembering something I’d learned about temporal magic. “Looping. They’re trapped in the last moments before the Doom, forever celebrating because they can’t— or won’t— face what comes next.”
Arianne’s eyes widened. “The three songs— they’re not just music, are they? The conquest, the glory…”
“And the third song.” Daenerys finished. “The one we can barely hear. It must be about the end. About the Doom itself. They refuse to hear it.”
I ran a hand through my hair, frustrated. The magic here felt different from anything I’d encountered before, more primal somehow. It wasn’t just an illusion like the spider had created— this was something else entirely. A moment preserved in amber, powered by denial and desperation.
“The three aware ones.” I said, watching as the young person by the musicians began another futile attempt to change the music. “They’re the key. They’re fighting against it, even now. The woman knows time is running out, the man keeps toasting to power that’s already gone, and that youth…”
I paused, something tickling at the edge of my consciousness. “They’re trying to change the song. Not just the music— the story itself.”
“But they’re trapped in their own loops.” Daenerys observed. “Just like everyone else here, but their loops are born of awareness rather than ignorance. They know what’s coming, but they can’t break free of their patterns any more than the others can.”
The music swelled around us again, the third song beginning its mysterious refrain. This time, I noticed how the other revelers seemed to shy away from it unconsciously, turning their attention more firmly to their drinks and merriment whenever those particular notes filled the air.
“We need to help them face it.” I said finally, the solution starting to take shape. “Not just know it’s coming, but truly accept it. And I think…”
I glanced at Daenerys, seeing my own understanding reflected in her eyes.
“I think that’s why we’re here. You understand what was lost better than anyone, and I…” I thought of all the losses I’d faced, all the hard truths I’d had to accept. “I know something about facing the unthinkable.”
The feast whirled around us, but now we could see it for what it was— not just an illusion or a haunting, but a moment frozen in time, preserved by the desperate denial of those who couldn’t face their approaching Doom. The question was: how could we help them finally let go?
A jarring note from the musicians made me wince, and I realized the youth had tried once again to change the melody. Time wasn’t just running out in the timepiece around that woman’s neck— it was running out for us too. Whatever we were going to do, we needed to do it soon.
“We’ll need to split up again.” I said, eyeing each of the three trapped figures. “But stay within sight of each other. Whatever’s holding this place together, I don’t think we want to be alone when it breaks.”
Daenerys nodded, her eyes fixed on the man making his endless toasts. “I’ll take him. Perhaps a daughter of Valyria can reach him where others cannot.”
“I’ll approach the woman with the timepiece.” I decided. Something about her desperate denial reminded me too much of myself after Sirius’s death, that refusal to accept what had happened. “Arianne, can you handle the youth by the musicians? The rest of you can keep an eye on us, call us perhaps if we stray.”
She and the remainder of the group gave a sharp nod, already moving in that direction. The rest of our group formed a loose perimeter around us, keeping the increasingly insistent revelers at bay.
I made my way toward the woman, dodging attempts to pull me into dances or stuff sweetmeats into my mouth. Up close, I could see the fine trembling in her hands as she checked the timepiece again. Her face was beautiful, but there was a tightness around her eyes that spoke of barely contained panic.
“It’s already happened, hasn’t it?” I said softly, though I wasn’t sure she could hear me. “Whatever you’re waiting for, whatever you’re trying to prevent— it’s already done.”
She continued her movements as if I hadn’t spoken, but something flickered in her eyes. I pressed on, remembering Dumbledore’s gentle but firm insistence that I face hard truths.
“The time won’t change.” I said. “You can check that timepiece a thousand times, but you can’t turn it back. Trust me, I know how much you want to.”
Across the hall, I could hear Daenerys speaking to the toasting man in High Valyrian, her voice carrying even over the music.
“Look at your cup.” She was saying. “Look at what you’re really drinking to. Not eternal dominion— but eternal denial, my kinsman.”
The man faltered mid-toast, wine sloshing over the rim of his goblet. For just a moment, his mask of revelry cracked, showing the terror beneath.
Near the musicians, Arianne had managed to catch the youth’s attention by humming along with the third song— the one about the Doom. The youth whirled on her, eyes wide with recognition.
I turned back to my own charge, seeing her fingers whiten around the timepiece.
“You knew.” I said gently. “You knew it was coming. That’s why you keep checking the time, isn’t it? Hoping that this time, there will be enough of it left to warn them, to save them.”
Her movements slowed, though she didn’t look at me. The timepiece trembled in her grip.
“But you can’t save them.” I continued, feeling the weight of my own past losses in every word. “Not anymore. The only thing you can do now is let them rest. Let yourself rest.”
The third song began again, but this time something was different. Daenerys had joined in with Arianne, her clear voice carrying the words that had been so hard to hear before. They spoke of fire and fate, of pride before the fall, of fourteen flames that would not be contained.
The toasting man’s goblet slipped from his fingers, shattering on the floor. The sound seemed to echo unnaturally in the suddenly quiet hall.
“The signs were there.” He whispered, his voice rusty as if from disuse. “We saw them, but we didn’t want to believe.”
The youth by the musicians had stopped trying to change the melody, instead standing perfectly still as Arianne continued to sing the Doom-song. Tears streaked down their faces.
My woman with the timepiece finally looked up at me, her ancient eyes deep with sorrow.
“We knew.” She said softly. “We all knew. But knowledge without action is worse than ignorance.”
“That’s right.” I whispered. “It is indolence.”
The music was changing now, all three songs weaving together into something new— a lament, a confession, a final acceptance. The other revelers began to slow in their celebrations, their eternal smiles faltering as reality crept in at the edges of their consciousness.
“Then let it end.” I said, reaching out to gently take the timepiece from her unresisting fingers. “Let the truth be told. Let the song be heard.”
Daenerys’ voice rose in the final verses of the Doom-song, joined now by the youth and several other voices throughout the hall. Even the musicians seemed to be playing differently, their endless loop finally breaking into something real and raw.
The woman looked down at her empty hands, then back up at me. A single tear traced down her cheek.
“We were so proud.” She whispered. “So certain of our power. Even when the earth shook and the flames rose, we thought we could control it. We chose to feast instead of flee, to celebrate instead of save ourselves.”
“And now?” I asked, feeling the magic of the place shifting around us, no longer holding but ready to release.
She closed her eyes. “Now we choose to remember. To witness. To finally speak the truth of our ending.”
The toasting man had fallen to his knees, his former bravado replaced by quiet acceptance. The youth moved away from the musicians, their desperate energy transformed into peaceful resignation.
The air itself seemed to hold its breath as the final notes of the Doom-song rang out. The three who had been trapped in their loops of denial moved toward each other, drawn by some invisible force. When they spoke, they spoke as one:
“Let the feast end. Let the truth be known.”
The change began slowly, like ice melting in spring. The endless twilight in the windows darkened to true night, then lightened to the harsh reality of day. The perfumed air grew stale, centuries of decay rushing in to claim what had been unnaturally preserved.
I watched as the woman with the timepiece closed her eyes one final time, acceptance written in every line of her face. The device in my hands crumbled to rust, sifting through my fingers like dark sand. Around us, the other revelers began to fade, their eternal celebration finally coming to an end.
“Let Valyria’s children finally rest.” Daenerys’ voice rose in acknowledgment. “Rest easy, my kin. You live on— through me, and others in this world.”
“…Thank you.” The woman whispered, her voice barely audible over the dying music. “For helping us remember. For letting us…”
Her form wavered, like heat rising from summer stones. Where perfect features had been, I caught a glimpse of bone and hollow eyes, but there was peace in them now. “For letting us choose our ending this time.”
The youth by the musicians smiled as the final notes faded away.
“The song needed to be heard.” They said, their voice eerily clear in the deteriorating chamber. “All of it. Even the end.”
The toasting man raised his empty hand one last time, but not in denial now.
“To Valyria.” He said softly, his flesh already turning to ash. “Not as it never fell, but as it was. As we were.”
He turned his gaze towards Daenerys, hollow sockets where his eyes should have been. “Make us proud, child of Valyria.”
The grand feast hall transformed around us. The endless bounty on the tables rotted in moments, centuries of decay catching up in the space of heartbeats. Wine turned to dust in jeweled goblets that cracked and shattered. The polished obsidian walls lost their luster, revealing age-old scorch marks and deep cracks.
Where the revelers had danced, only bones remained, settling gently to the floor in final repose. Their rich robes became grave-shrouds, disintegrating at the slightest touch of air. The musicians’ instruments lay silent, strings snapped and wood warped by the weight of years.
Daenerys moved to stand beside me, her face solemn but composed.
“They couldn’t move on until they acknowledged the truth.” She said quietly. “Like so many ghosts, they were bound by their own denial.”
“Not just denial.” I replied, watching as the last traces of the feast faded away. “They were trapped by pride, by the belief that they could celebrate even as their world burned. That somehow if they just kept the party going, the Doom wouldn’t find them.”
Arianne joined us, brushing ancient dust from her sleeves. “And now they rest…”
“Now they rest.” I repeated, feeling the last remnants of magic dissipate from the air. “Along with their secrets and their shame.”
The hall was silent now, truly silent for perhaps the first time in centuries. I lit my wand with a thought, illuminating the truth of what remained: a tomb, a testament, a warning. The bones of Valyria’s last feast lay scattered before us, no longer beautiful, no longer terrible— just honest at last.
“We should go.” Ser Barristan suggested, his hand still on his sword hilt despite the clear end of any threat. “There’s nothing more for us here.”
But Daenerys lingered, looking at the scattered remains with an expression I couldn’t quite read. After a moment, she began to sing softly— not the Doom-song this time, but something else.
“Hush, my star, the night is near,
The skies of Valyria hold you dear.
Mountains of fire, rivers that gleam,
Rest now, my dragon, and dream.
The flames may dance, the winds may call,
But peace in your heart will conquer all.
The song of dragons, fierce yet sweet,
Guides your soul, where worlds may meet.
Close your eyes, let worries cease,
In ancient tongues, I sing of peace.
The heart of the dragon will always soar,
But here, in my arms, you’re home once more.
Hush, my love, let dreams take flight,
Valyria guards you through the night.
Though glories call and kingdoms gleam,
Tonight, my child, it’s time to dream.”
The rest of us listened to her silently. We had no feast, no eternal celebration, no denial of hard truths. We had only this: a moment of respect for those who had finally chosen to face their ending with dignity, who had traded endless revelry for the peace of acceptance.
Daenerys finished her song, looking down for a moment before turning to me. Seeing my quizzical expression, she explained. “A lullaby Viserys sang to me, sometimes, when I was sad.”
“I’ve heard your mother sing the selfsame one to your brother, the Prince Rhaegar.” Ser Barristan supplied. “A beautiful song, indeed. Queen Rhaella would have been proud.”
Eyes shining, Daenerys nodded, unable to put words to the gratitude she felt in her heart. A moment later, she spoke. “It is time to go.”
“Yes.” I agreed.
As we finally turned to leave, I stopped, catching a glimpse of movement ahead.
For just a moment, I thought I saw three figures— a woman free of her timepiece, a man with empty hands raised in honest tribute, and a youth finally at peace with the music of truth. Then they were gone.
“I— did you..?”
“I did.” Daenerys confirmed.
“We all saw.” Perros added in. “May they rest.”
A sound cut through our peace— laughter, cold and mocking, emanating from the shadows at the far end of the chamber. The sound raised the hair on the back of my neck, reminding me uncomfortably of Tom Riddle’s cruel amusement.
“How touching…” The voice drawled, each word dripping with contempt. “Such respect for these fools who chose revelry over survival. I kept them as a curiosity, you know. A perfect example of our arrogance— dancing while our world burned.”
My fists clenched as I drew Erebus, the black blade exuding menace.
“Who are you?”
“In time, young pretender to my people’s birthright.” The voice said before turning its attention to Daenerys. “Did you enjoy my show, kinswoman?”
Beside me, I felt rather than saw Daenerys stiffen, her composure cracking for the second time since we’d entered the tower.
“They didn’t deserve this!” She said, her voice tight with anger. “To be trapped here, forced to relive their final moments over and over for your amusement.”
“Deserve?” The voice seemed to move, though I couldn’t pin down its location. “Who are you to speak of what they deserved, little dragon? A few of your own direct ancestors were among them, you know. Just as blind, just as proud.”
“Where is Hestia?” I demanded, cutting through his mockery. The thought of my dragon, somewhere in this cursed tower, gave me focus. “Release her.”
The laughter came again, echoing off the dark stone walls until it seemed to come from everywhere at once.
“The outsider makes demands now? How delightful. But you’ve only begun to climb, little wizard. Your precious pet lies above, and between you and her…” The voice gained an edge of cruel anticipation. “Well, let’s just say these revelers were the most pleasant company you’ll find in my tower.”
“We’re not here to play your games.” I spat, fury building in my chest. The people we’d just helped find peace had suffered centuries of torment for this creature’s entertainment.
“But you are.” The voice purred. “You have been since the moment you entered. And you’ll continue to play, unless you’d prefer to leave your precious Hestia to me? I do so enjoy breaking dragons.”
Daenerys took a step forward, and in that moment she didn’t look like a young Queen— she looked like the blood of Old Valyria itself, terrible in her rage.
“You speak of breaking dragons to me?” The temperature in the room seemed to rise as flecks of fire seemed to erupt from Daenerys’ skin. “To me?”
The voice merely laughed again, unimpressed by the display. “Keep climbing, children. The feast was but a taste of what awaits. Blood and misery, little ones. Blood and misery all the way up.”
The presence withdrew, leaving behind only the hollow echo of its mirth and the smell of something burnt and rotting. I exchanged looks with Daenerys, seeing my own determination mirrored in her violet eyes.
“He’s trying to shake us.” I said quietly.
“He’s succeeding.” Arianne observed, though her hand was steady on her weapon. “But we’re not turning back, are we?”
“No.” Daenerys and I said in unison as we both forced ourselves to calm down. Whatever horrors awaited us above, whatever twisted games this entity had planned, we would face them. We had to. Hestia was waiting.
I cast one last look at the now-peaceful bones of the feast hall’s occupants. At least they were free now, beyond this creature’s power to torment. We would make sure their torturer paid for every moment of suffering he’d caused.
Ahead, the stairs beckoned, leading up into darkness. Blood and misery, he’d promised. I’d faced worse odds before.
“Let’s go.” I said, raising my wand to cast light into the shadows.
I’m going to save Hestia, and I’m going to kill you. I vowed silently.
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