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(EM Vol. 2: A Wandering Melody) Chapter 99: A Fallen Queen
🕑 Added 2025-11-06 14:00:04 +0000 UTCChapter 99: A Fallen Queen
123 AC, Qarth
Moqorro had never thought that this day would ever come. He had risen far in his life, starting from a lowly slave to the Belaerys family of Old Valyria, born only as a curiosity as he was the result of the very rare union between a Valyrian noble, though not a Dragonlord family, and his Summer Islander bedwarmer.
He had been grateful at the time for his masters, for they were kind ones compared to what he had seen in Old Valyria. He had seen many slaves be asked to serve the Head of House Belaerys, only to never be seen again. The number of disappearing slaves had concerned many, but they were unwilling to face the wrath of House Belaerys, especially since it was the source of their priceless material, Valyrian Steel.
Of course, it was an open secret that the famed material required sacrifices to obtain its properties. After all, blood was a very common price for most sorceries, and no one wished for the production of Valyrian Steel to stop. Perhaps, it would have been more accurate to say that no one cared enough about the slaves to stop. After all, slaves were little more than cattle in Old Valyria, and their lives were only as good as the coin that was paid for them.
It hadn’t taken long to realise that it was those who did not prove their worth that were likely being used as sacrifices, and Moqorro’s exotic appearance had likely spared him, being of more value as he could. Perhaps it was also his stature, for he was larger than most men, and had trained himself endlessly in the hopes of rising as a guard, a far more secure position in the household.
Thankfully, his former master got bored with him, and Moqorro was passed around, mostly as an exotic guard, until he ended up being used as payment for some rare spices to a merchant in Volantis, whose name he had forgotten after so many centuries of life. The merchant had been a tolerable creature, at least compared to the Dragonlords he had served in Valyria, but that was not exactly a compliment.
People often loved to speak reverently of Valyria, as if it were a living paradise. Moqorro would admit that it was a beautiful city, but it hid the ugliness beneath it. Most Dragonlords were depraved creatures, often thinking very little of the rest of the people. They committed atrocities that even the most depraved slave master in Slaver’s Bay would flinch at, some of whom still scarred Moqorro to this day. A merchant in Volantis was nothing compared to the constant fear he had felt of being killed.
That hadn’t taken long either, as the merchant had a few failed investments and used Moqorro to pay for a loan from the Red Temple. In his mind, that was the day Moqorro had been born anew, as the servant of the Lord of Light. He had grown most of his earlier days in chains, and now he was free to serve his god.
He had been taught under the guidance of Benerro, who had seen potential in his blood, who had taught him how to control flames, how to perceive the future, the secrets to extending his natural lifespan, and much more than he could have ever dreamt of.
The Red Faith had been a humble one at the start, at least compared to what it became, what Benerro turned it into after his ascension as High Priest. Valyria’s fall had likely helped matters, even if it had caused a significant decline in their magic. Moqorro couldn’t help but be thankful to the Lord of Light for the destruction of this wretched place.
High Priest Benerro had proven in the century of chaos that followed was an opportunity unlike any other to spread the blessing of the Lord of Light, and with his cunning and influence, he had spread the influence of the Red Faith far beyond what many thought possible, until things settled into an uneasy peace.
At least it had, until the High Priest had just shown him the results of one of his greatest plans yet, for Qarth, the Queen of cities, the so-called greatest city that ever was or ever will be, was burning. Well, only the House of the Undying was burning, and chaos reigned in the city.
Moqorro followed the High Priest throughout the chaotic city. They were both wearing basic glamours in the chance that anyone would recognise them. Still, he couldn’t help but marvel at the sheer devastation of his latest scheme. After all, Qarth had been a thorn in their side during the expansion of the Red Faith in the century of blood. They might have also been weakened by the Doom of Valyria, but the protections protecting the city still remained formidable, and when they tried the diplomatic approach, the Warlocks of Qarth had massacred the envoys and priests they sent to the city.
He had rarely seen Benerro as angry as he was after this insult, yet he did not rage. Moqorro had once thought that he had calmed himself and decided that Qarth would not be worth the effort, but it seemed that he was mistaken.
Many had tried to pull Moqorro to their side in their quest to topple Benerro and become High Priests, and yet, he never entertained the idea. This was proof that he had made the correct decision. After all, while the High Priest might have waited centuries for his revenge on the Warlocks of Qarth, their destruction was total and utterly complete.
They approached the House of the Undying and found a burning rubble to have taken place in its stead. The surrounding grove of black-barked trees was all but gone, with the few trees remaining looking more akin to dried husks than plants.
All around, Moqorro could see the bodies of Warlocks of Qarth, their blue lips stained with their dark blood, and for the first time since they arrived in the city, Benerro spoke up, “I must say that I may have outdone myself with this one.”
Moqorro stared at the devastation surrounding the temple, and couldn’t help but agree, “You have, your eminence.”
The high priest chuckled, “We are alone, Moqorro. The formalities are unnecessary amongst friends.”
Moqorro had spent years learning under Benerro, enough to know that outside of the Red Faith’s perception of him, he did not particularly care about their titles. Then again, the man had confessed to him that he had also been once a slave, sold to the Red Temple, much like Moqorro’s circumstances, and thus had seen how powerless titles were compared to R’hllor’s favour.
Nevertheless, despite them being friends, Moqorro rarely ever acted familiar with the High Priest without his say-so, mostly out of respect and wariness that someone might have been observing them, which was sadly common in the Red Temple.
“Very well, Benerro. I assume that their destruction is complete.”
“It should,” the High Priest commented, ignoring the rows of corpses that litter the path into what remains of the House of the Undying, “But we cannot rely on guesses, not with this. Nor should we leave a chance for retaliation when we have such an upper hand.”
Moqorro couldn’t help but agree, especially given the state of the House of the Undying. The once-proud structure was nearly unrecognisable. The great walls of pale blue stone had been split clean down the centre, as though an invisible blade had cut through them. The roof had caved in entirely, leaving only shattered beams and broken tiles jutting out at odd angles. Thick, dark fluids leaked from the cracks in the foundation, staining the ground around it with their taint.
The two priests walked forward in silence, past the bodies that littered the path, until they entered the inside of the temple, which somehow looked worse. If the outside of the temple looked like a ruin, the inside was akin to a frozen wasteland.
Frost littered what little of the floor remained. Warlocks looked frozen solid, but cut in half, while the rest were skewered by spikes of ice. Snow even seemed to fall from the non-existent roof, as if the spell continued. Moqorro knew that without the warmth of R’hllor, he would have likely been freezing to death the moment he stepped inside.
He could not feel the warmth of a single living being, and he knew without a doubt that there had been no survivors of the massacre. Yet, Moqorro was not unfazed, for he had done much worse, crueller deeds for the Red Temple.
Benerro also didn’t seem too affected, releasing a brief chuckle of amusement, “He was certainly thorough.”
“Was it necessary to take such a risk, Benerro?” Moqorro asked hurriedly, “The plan might have worked, but if he ever realises that you had used him to destroy a rival group for you, it could turn his attention to you.”
They both, of course, knew who they spoke of.
The man, the creature, who had done this.
Moqorro was not sure what it was exactly, only that it looked like a man, that it walked the world completely unchecked and that it left devastation in its wake. He had seen glimpses of it in his dreams, a walking calamity that could swallow the world whole. If the display of power in Volantis hadn’t been enough, his dreams of the creature simply terrified him to no end.
And Benerro had somehow used it to wipe the Warlocks of Qarth from existence despite the resurgence of magic since the Second Doom of Valyria and the Red Comet lighting the skies. Many had thought it the announcement of Azor Ahai’s birth.
Moqorro did not know, his visions being quite vague on the matter, which was strange as the Second Doom of Valyria had all but increased every other form of magic. It wasn’t isolated to him either; many bemoaned the fact that their visions had gotten more obscure despite their strength increasing.
Only Kinvara was different. The Priestess had lost her sight when Valyria burned once more, but now could see in a much different way. It made her a prized asset of the Red Temple, and Benerro had even used her to spur the Warlocks of Qarth into motion and lure them to Chroyane, which had prompted the devastation of the Warlocks of Qarth.
Given that they were alone, Benerro did not bat an eyelash at Moqorro questioning his decisions, “I do understand your wariness. Did you know that even the Warlocks of Qarth had come to call him Destined Death? Ironic, don’t you think? That they all perished just as the Lord of Light commanded all those years ago, that they could only delay their destined death so much until they inevitably succumbed to its clutches.”
He did not comment on the High Priest’s words, knowing that the man liked to take his time to get to the point, “It is a far more fitting title than you would think. It took me many days of meditating on the matter before calling the meeting, and in it, R’hllor granted me the wisdom to see the true nature of the threat. It is not an agent of the Great Other; it is not a malevolent entity that seeks to destroy. It is Death, in its destined form. It only destroyed when it is either attacked, or if it is to clear a rot from forming. Think of it, it destroyed Valyria once more, and now, the rot that was slowly spreading outward of its boundaries has halted. From my dreams, the Sea God had challenged and succumbed to it. Even the destroyed fortress in the Sunset Lands was cursed in some manner.”
Moqorro was one of the few members of the Red Faith who knew of the existence of other gods. It was not something that many wished to speak of, but his rise in the temple meant that he was needed to handle delicate matters, some of which involved such creatures. Of course, R’hllor was, by far, the most powerful of them. It was vindicating to know that Moqorro’s servitude to the Lord of Light was justified.
That knowledge was also why he knew how much the Death of a god mattered, and also recognised the feeling of another of such a momentous event, “Yet another god perished.”
“It has, but by doing so, it also eradicated Greyscale.”
That was a good point, one that Moqorro could not argue against. On the same day that a god perished, the day that the Warlocks of Qarth were wiped out, every single person suffering from greyscale was either cured or died, depending on the severity of their condition. In a single day, the disease had been gone completely and utterly, which was something that, no doubt, many celebrated.
“Perhaps,” he agreed, “But that does not mean that it is a benevolent creature.”
“It is not, but it is a very useful one, as you can see now.”
Moqorro also could not deny that statement, given how well Benerro had used it to outplay the warlocks. He had summoned every single magical sect, hoping to unite them under the light of R’hllor through their fear of this Destined Death. He knew that Kinvara’s visions would get its attention, that the Warlocks of Qarth would jump at the chance at capturing such a creature and usurping its power, which would result in their destruction. Benerro had even pretended to use the Red Temple’s resources to chase down the creature as well, pushing the Warlocks into recklessly charging forward, despite the obvious foolishness of their actions.
And now, without so much as a single act of violence from the Red Temple, one of their main rivals, one of the most powerful magical groups in Essos, if not the world, was wiped out. With this act alone, most other groups will quickly seek safety by joining hands with the Red Faith, which would inevitably skyrocket the Faith’s power as the world’s magic grew, especially given Benerro’s long-term plans on expanding the Red Temple’s magical capabilities since the resurgence of magic occurred.
One of Benerro’s main pushes during his time as High Priest of the Red Temple was to incorporate many types of magic users into the Faith, as opposed to only relying on pyromancy and interpreting R’hllor’s visions. He had sent many of them to be taught outside the temple, including a few in Asshai, who trained as Shadowbinders. Alas, after the Doom of Valyria, the few remaining magic users were very secretive, but now, after this particular scheme, they would almost beg to join the Red Faith out of protection.
And with this, R’hllor’s light would quickly spread across Essos, just as Benerro hoped it would, something that was well worth the risk that he had taken. Very few would resist their expansion, likely Asshai and Braavos, but these were issues for another century at the very least.
He did not say anything, accepting the High Priest’s logic, and he followed him back down the stairs, and couldn’t help but freeze in shock, as he saw a gigantic, withered black tree rising from Black Stone as if it were a normal ground, its roots twisting and turning, making it somehow able to surround most of the room. On the ground were hundreds of decayed corpses entangled in its roots, and there was a similar number of faces seemingly growing in the tree’s trunk.
He had never seen the like and couldn’t help but let out a mutter, “What is that?”
“The so-called Undying Ones, whom the Warlocks of Qarth worship as all-powerful creatures. With the spells of the House of the Undying decaying and their illusions unravelling. Hundreds, if not thousands, of foolish warlocks who bound themselves to this tree in their fear of death, and thought that they might eventually ascend, only to become lesser in every way that mattered, bound to this temple until their dying day. It seemed like they did, in fact, meet their destined death.”
Benerro knelt down as he finished his speech, his fingertips touching one of the roots, only for the entire tree to turn to ash, taking with it the remains of the infamous Undying Ones; even the floor’s Black Stone began to melt despite the lack of heat. They prepared to walk back, only for, suddenly, Moqorro swore that he saw piercing green eyes staring at him, only for it to fade in a fraction of a second, and was instead replaced by a burst of Darkness, which shook the temple’s remains.
Moqorro moved immediately, using the spark of Wildfyre within his staff to start a fire that he controlled using his pyromancy to destroy anything that came closer to them, and they did their best to make their way out of the temple’s remains. They barely had to time to leave to see the House of the Undying crumbling down, finally destroyed.
Benerro huffed a laugh, “Loud, but quite the effective warning, if anything else, one that I will heed. Still, it is a shame that the temple was destroyed completely; I would have loved to uncover some of the Warlock’s secrets. Alas, it was but a hopeful dream.”
Moqorro immediately understood what Benerro meant: that Destined Death - he found the name fitting - had left them a warning, that it knew of their machinations, something that he couldn’t help but feel anxious about. He hesitated for a moment before speaking up, “Should we proceed as planned? It clearly knows. It chose not to retaliate here, but that may not be true next time.”
“Perhaps, but for now, we will not involve it. And should it choose to retaliate, it would learn R’hllor’s wrath as many have before it. For the Lord of Light’s fire does not falter, even before death itself. But I believe we should leave such topics for later. After all, I believe that it is finally time to make our presence known in this city, and to spread the Light of R’hllor to this heathen city.”
Satisfied with this answer, Moqorro chose to trust the High Priest’s decision. He had not led them astray for centuries, and it would see the children of R’hllor through this as well. And so, he nodded and escorted the High Priest out of the city once more, still wearing their glamours, where the envoy they sent with the relevant provisions waited.
They did not stop to rest. As soon as they returned to the outer streets, Benerro gave the signal for the procession to begin. The Red Priests gathered their banners and moved through the outskirts of the city, approaching the outer walls of Qarth. Benerro stood at the head of the group, his voice raised clearly as they reached the gates.
“Hear me, people of Qarth! We come here at the behest of the Lord of Light, for we have a glorious purpose. Your city suffers through calamity, its consequences are coming, and through R’hllor’s mercy, we came to offer our aid. For his fire will burn away the shadows. His flame will guard your gates. And his chosen will stand with the Queen of Cities, if she but opens her heart to the Light, for the night is dark and full of terrors.”
There was a long silence, one that Moqorro thought lasted for too long, until the loud sounds of groaning cut through it completely. The gates of Qarth were opening, inviting them into their city, and Moqorro couldn’t help but smile as the High Priest’s plan came together.
After all, it might have taken centuries, but R’hllor’s light finally made its way into Qarth.
AN: This chapter is a bit of an interlude after the excitement of the last few chapters. I’ve been setting up the Red Faith for a while, and I tried to show them as a pretty competent sect that mixes religion and magic and is aiming to rapidly spread across Essos. Don’t worry, we’ll get back to Harry, Daphne, and Helaena in the next chapter. As usual, I don’t mind rewriting this depending on your feedback, so please let me know what you think and if you have any suggestions.
Comments
Joshua
Interesting though I do admit I liked the different PoV. It was interesting that he said he would heed the warning but then had a mention of future plans that could affect Harry. Not much heeding there.
Monzter E
Hmmmm
