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(EM Vol. 2: A Wandering Melody) Chapter 82: A Black Path
🕑 Added 2025-10-07 14:00:10 +0000 UTCChapter 82: A Black Path
123 AC, Oldtown
He didn’t notice himself walking forward or even moving. He didn’t even notice raising his blade, and yet, his eyes widened as he found himself, seconds later, leaping at Harry with his dagger drawn, ready to stab him in his heart.
Daeron expected his dagger to meet some form of resistance as it stabbed through the sorcerer’s heart, and yet as he kept pushing, he found none of it. Confusion warred in his mind as his dagger failed to do so. Nothing was stopping it. He didn’t feel any sort of barrier, visible or invisible, and yet for some reason, the dagger didn’t seem to come any closer to Harry’s chest, no matter how much he pushed.
He kept doing so, despite knowing that it was likely futile, before Harry casually grabbed the dagger from his hands, his eyes just as kind, and his smile just as gentle, as if Daeron hadn’t just tried to kill him, “None of that now.”
Daeron froze as he found himself powerless in front of a sorcerer, “How?”
“Oh, that? A little trick I figured out in my younger years when I expanded my understanding of space. I’ve gotten quite a lot better at it now, but the concept remains the same. Now, Daeron Targaryen, I can’t help but wonder what your plan was here?”
The young prince froze as the sorcerer’s knowledge of who he was, “You know who I am?”
This posed a great problem but also an opportunity. If Harry knew Daeron’s station, he could use it to take him hostage. His family, both Targaryen and Hightower, would pay much to see his safety, and they would respond in kind with fire and blood.
And yet, he did hear rumours of magic users using human sacrifices to channel their foul abilities. Would that be his fate, a prince dead alone in the hidden tunnels of the Hightower?
Still, the sorcerer tilted his head in confusion, “You introduced yourself as Daeron, and all you did to hide your Valyrian colouring is wear a hood. No offence, kiddo, but only an idiot wouldn’t connect the dots.”
Daeron blushed slightly but still tried to think of a way to escape. He knew without a doubt that he would need to stop the being before him. If he couldn’t kill him by himself, then perhaps leaving the secret city beneath the Hightower and finding help could be possible.
He could just delay things as much as possible so that people would notice his disappearance or the secret passage that led to this cursed land in the first place. It seemed like the most rational plan after all.
However, instead of doing just that, he glared at his two former companions who had betrayed him so, “Is that why you lured me to this place? I was likely bewitched by the whore you call a wife. I should have known that there was something magical about her beauty.”
The young prince expected the two of them to get angry at the insult and cringed at his impulsive actions. However, both of them seemed to chuckle at his response, despite Daeron having called Daphne a whore.
The woman in question raised an eyebrow as she chuckled, “Why, thank you, young man.”
If anything, the confusion in his expression made them laugh even louder, before finally, Harry spoke up, “There’s nothing magical about Daphne’s looks, so she appreciates your compliment on her beauty. She is also, in fact, my wife. And we didn’t lure you here or bewitch you in any way. We truly were looking to go to Oldtown. Of course, we would have snuck in probably, but given how earnest you were in trying to help them, we just accepted, especially since I thought that a trip to the Hightower might have been interesting. It turns out that I’m right, but even I didn’t expect this. Not at all…”
Daeron froze completely, trying to piece together what he’d just heard. His mind felt like it was running ahead of itself, racing to catch up with the words. If they weren’t lying, which he still wasn’t sure about, then was all of this just a coincidence?
Nevertheless, the older man seemed completely unconcerned at the consequences of his words, and instead twirled Daeron’s dagger in his hand, “So, what was the plan here? I’m curious, I have to say. Were you planning on killing me, then Daphne, and then fighting a horde of shadow monsters, who would be completely impervious to your little blade? Even if I were some evil sorcerer who lured you here, the shadows would have still attacked you.”
He also found himself wondering in his mind about this, and a simple answer came to his mouth, “I needed to stop you.”
“Stop me from doing what?”
Daeron opened his mouth, and yet no answer came. There weren’t any answers because he didn’t have any. It was all a blur; from the moment he had seen that brilliant white light banishing away the shadow. He felt like he was filled with purpose, with fear at the man before him. He looked at the man, and he saw pure and utter danger, one that he needed to stop above all else. But that was all there was to it, and now that the world had slowed down once more, he couldn’t help but see the hole in his impulsive actions.
The sorcerer hummed at his lack of reaction, “You must have had a reason. No matter how much anyone would fear magic, they would think twice about killing someone who had saved their life at least twice in the previous minute, doubly so given that the magic had banished away a very real threat. Self-preservation is a biological instinct, one that would overwhelm any religious… zeal… Oh!”
He shared a look with his wife, one that likely held an entire conversation inside, before turning towards Daeron, “Alright, that’s not important. The shadow sphinx, on the other hand, is very interesting. It reminded me of Shadowbinders, without the soul projections, of course. I swear, if the only thing they did was project their souls into something like this shadow, my opinion of them would plummet even more. Seriously, the shadow manipulation was the only thing that I found impressive about their hack of a spell.”
The young prince felt his confusion increase as the man casually ignored Daeron’s attempt at killing him and moved on to another topic entirely. Daeron opened his mouth to protest or ask anything, only for his wife to continue for him, “But you don’t think that the shadows are what’s being imprisoned here.”
“No, not really. A long time ago, someone frightened an entire people enough to build a maze that could bind extra-dimensional beings, be it gods or demons, creating a realm of shadows over which the Hightower was built. A shadow monster doesn’t exactly need anything this drastic to contain, so it has to be something else. Of course, there’s also the fact that gods and demons haven’t been able to interfere directly in the material world, likely as a consequence of the last war, which makes this much stranger.”
Once more, Daeron found himself as a spectator in the middle of a conversation between Harry and Daphne, only they spoke of divinity and demons as if they were facts of life and not objects of fear or adulation.
Still, whenever he tried to return the conversation to what Harry realised about him, the couple spoke over him and pretended it never happened in the first place. It was maddening, how they carried on as if nothing had happened, as if Daeron hadn’t killed a man who owed his life.
Harry was right. Sorcerer, he might be, but he had saved Daeron from that shadow, and he was not mad enough to kill his greatest chance at escaping the maze that he found himself in. This reaction, especially the way that he couldn’t explain his motivations, made Daeron feel uneasy, and he couldn’t stop himself: “Enough! Tell me what’s wrong with me!”
The sorcerer turned towards him, finally giving him his full attention, before tilting his head and calmly stating, “No.” before turning back to his wife.
Daeron shook with anger at the disrespect, and he couldn’t blame their lack of knowledge of his station, because he knew for certain that they knew but seemingly didn’t care at all. Daeron all but suppressed the urge to growl and turned towards Daphne.
The woman shook her head, making him frown at the response, or lack thereof. He prepared to argue, and Harry spoke up loudly, “Look, kiddo, you just tried to kill me. Now, I know that you feel uncomfortable with what you almost did and that you want answers, and I will give them to you once we’re out of this place. For now, let’s just put this whole thing behind us and focus on the literal demonic maze that we’re in. Do we have a deal, Daeron?”
Daeron took a deep breath, obviously not happy with how things had unfolded, but found himself nodding all the same. What other choice did he have?
His grip tightened around the dagger as he took it back, though it might as well have been made of wood for all the good it had done. He could still feel the weight of Harry’s hand as he’d plucked it from him, almost like a parent scolding a child for playing with something too sharp.
“Good,” Harry said, turning away as if the matter had been settled. “Then let’s not waste more time.”
Daeron knew that he should have likely stayed silent, but he couldn’t help but ask, “And where are we going exactly?”
“To the centre of the maze, of course. That would be the best place for a prison, don’t you think?”
“I thought that the aim was to escape this hellish land and go back to the Hightower,” the young prince couldn’t help but comment.
“Sure, but I have a feeling that whatever is here should be interesting at the very least,” Harry casually corrected, “It would be a shame to go down here and not find out this place’s secrets, don’t you think?”
Even if a very small part of him was curious about what he had just witnessed, Daeron largely wished to return home. And yet, he knew that the man held all of the power there. After all, it was unlikely that Daeron would survive for long without the man’s protection. “What of the shadows?”
As if they had been waiting for his question, he could feel an even greater shadow gather up all around them, morphing into a monster far larger than the sphinx who almost killed him at once. Harry rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers.
A gigantic burst of light started from his fingers and enveloped everything around them. Daeron could hear the shadow creature writing in pain and saw them fleeing in the distance. The sorcerer then turned towards him, “What about them?”
Daeron gulped in fear, but Daphne quickly reassured him, “The shadows here are barely more than symptoms of what’s truly kept here.”
He turned towards Harry, who was somehow holding a fragment of a shadow between his palms, which released a soft light. He then took out a small stone and put the shadow inside, “Interesting. It’s not a living organism, not really. Not even as some kind of sentient shadow elemental. It acts more like a Boggart than anything.”
“What’s a Boggart?” Daeron asked.
“A creature which turns to one’s greatest fear. The shadows didn’t decide to morph themselves into a sphinx; they don’t even know what a sphinx is. But you do, Daeron. You probably found them intimidating once, and they built over that fear to strike fear in your heart. They didn’t make that decision, you did, even if you didn’t know it.”
Daphne hummed in agreement, “A defensive measure, not an offensive one.”
“Exactly. They’re protecting what’s inside. And it also means that this little fragment should have a protocol to be summoned back to its origin in case of attack.”
Without elaborating, Harry waved his hand on the stone, which turned into dust, as if it was ground to nothing, and the black shadow flew forward but leaving a small blue trail behind, one that they could follow. The golden-haired woman smirked, “That’s one way to solve a maze.”
Harry rolled his eyes, “Well, it’s either that or wander blindly until one of us stubs our toe on some ancient horror. I thought I’d save us some time.”
Daeron wasn’t as amused as the couple at their predicament. This was not what he imagined when he thought about becoming an adventurous knight, honouring and spreading the words of the Seven to everyone in his father’s realm. Nevertheless, as they followed that trail of light, he did the same, having no choice in the matter.
Strangely enough, the trip wasn’t as terrifying as he thought it would be. Harry had created some kind of barrier of light which stopped the shadows from approaching, and they were not as frightening when they kept hissing in pain with every step that he, Harry and Daphne took.
In the meantime, the blue trail ahead curved gently, guiding them ever deeper into the maze. Every so often, he’d glance at the couple, who both looked with the same ease they would have if they were having a morning stroll.
Over time, the concentration of the shadows increased, even if they didn’t breach Harry’s protections. They simply kept following the trail until they made their way to what seemed to be the first true structure in the maze.
It was a giant pyramid that looked like a temple. It was far larger than anything else in the maze, which was odd because he hadn’t seen it before, and also because it would have been impossible to fit beneath the Hightower, not without it being exceedingly obvious, at the very least.
It was also the only thing in the maze that wasn’t made entirely from Black Stone. Specifically, the entire thing seemed overtaken with black trees and branches which had broken through the surface of the structure itself, growing out of the stone and wrapping around it like a barrier.
The wood itself looked dead, almost as Black as the stone around it, but not quite. Daeron realised that this was the first time he had seen a plant in this cursed maze, and there were also symbols carved all over the giant black pyramid, whose size still made Daeron boggle, “How is this possible?”
Harry replied with an appreciative tone in his voice. “A classic example of non-Euclidean space. They probably didn’t know exactly what they were doing, but they had to know that it was an effect of the Black Stone. They created a maze that was powerful enough to induce a warping in space. Very impressive.”
Daeron didn’t understand a word that the older man stated, and yet he couldn’t help but ask, “What do you mean by ‘they’? Who are ‘they’?”
“Whoever built this place. Someone must have figured out how the Black Stone worked. It was likely before any type of recorded history, before the Hightowers, before Brandon the Builder. I have no idea who they are, but I have to say that I’m interested in finding out. Now, let’s go see that horror that they built an entire city around.”
Daeron had to admit that he was starting to become curious as well, as the fear of the shadows had long started to fade away.
Finally, they walked forward, and the moment they went through the entrance, and the moment they did, Daeron was assaulted with a headache as he tried to comprehend what he had looked at. It was as if his mind refused to accept what he was seeing.
At first, it looked like a head, one large enough to fit the gigantic temple, which sprouted from the ground, with a pool of what seemed to be blood around it. But the longer he looked, the less human it seemed. Its features were wrong. The eyes were too large, the mouth too wide, and none of it stayed still. The face shifted every few seconds, as if the flesh couldn’t decide what shape it should take.
Then there were the roots of the gigantic tree, which seemed to grow from within the head itself, impaling it from every angle. Thick, black roots pierced through the skull, breaking through the skin and bone as if the tree had grown out from inside it.
Some were wrapped around the jaw and skull like chains, others pushed out from the eyes and mouth, rotting it from the inside out. The smaller branches gathered into seven great ones, rising up to meet seven pillars of Black Stone that supported the roof of the temple. There was also the fact that everything looked odd around it. Light acted oddly, and things constantly seemed to shift into vision before leaving.
Daeron couldn’t move. His stomach tightened as he stared at the grotesque and impossible sight, and yet, Harry looked at the head and for the first time, he looked completely serious. No, it was better to say that his gaze was filled with a fascinated madness, “How is this possible…”
“What is it?” the prince couldn’t help but ask.
“A god. A corpse of one, at the very least. But that’s not supposed to be possible. Gods are beings of energy, concepts given form through faith or power. To kill a god, you’d need to remove every single ounce of energy. They should be gone, erased, really, and yet he’s not. What can you tell me about the tree, Daph?”
Daphne replied, while still staring at the tree in question, “A variation of Weirwood, maybe one that is affected by the close proximity to a divinity over shadows or the Black Stone, maybe. It can barely be called a tree anymore.”
Part of the tree dropped some sap, which quickly turned into the familiar form of shadows the moment it touched the ground. Seeing that, Daeron exclaimed, “It’s what created the shadows.”
Harry walked over to it and stared at the small growing shadow, weaving glowing circles of light in the air, before finally turning grim. For some reason, that terrified Daeron the most, “It’s not a shadow. It’s a leakage from the god’s realm. Which means that I was wrong. I was very, very wrong. I thought that this was a prison or a vault, but it isn’t either of those.”
His wife gave him a worried look, “What is it, then?”
“It’s a plug. A god died without fading, and its realm was spilling into this place. Whoever built this place couldn’t close the hole, and so, they grew this tree to slow it down. It’s a parasite, really, one that would suck every single drop of power from a dead god, and then they built a maze around it, so that no one, not even gods or demons, would be tempted to undo it. Unfortunately, as you probably noticed, it’s been spilling. It’s been gathering power for thousands of years, at the very least, with the remnants of the power, wishing to protect it. The maze builders were absolutely brilliant to do this, and it likely saved this continent at the very least, but a tree can only live for so long.”
Daeron paled at the weight of Harry’s words, sinking in slowly. And Daphne spoke out, sounding oddly calm, “What do you plan on doing?”
“I suppose I could drain the god’s realm into the void. It would make him fade, and we’d be able to close the rift that exists through the head. What do you think?”
For some reason, Daeron found himself extremely opposed to that idea. He wasn’t sure why, but it felt unacceptable and completely and utterly blasphemous. Daeron’s breath caught, and before he even registered the decision, he was walking toward Harry.
It was just like before.
Some part of him, buried deep, screamed at him to stop. But he couldn’t. A fire burned in his chest, and it whispered that this time he would succeed. This time, he wouldn’t be stopped. The Warrior would guide his hand. The Seven would give him strength.
His heart pounded, and he prepared to move, only to stop. He found that he couldn’t move, his body frozen in its place without being able to resist in any way. Trying to move his arm was like trying to move a mountain, and despite knowing the futility of it all, the righteous fury remained, unable to go anywhere, his purpose still completely unfulfilled.
He glared at Harry with everything he had left. The sorcerer hadn’t even turned around.
Harry took one more step toward the dead god’s head, and then the entire temple shook, “CEASE!”
Seven voices boomed from the air itself, and the sheer might in them made the temple tremble, enough that even the madness that gripped Daeron faded entirely, enough that he could feel the difference.
The young prince was disoriented by it, but he noticed that Harry had stopped as well, and for some reason, he had a smug smile on his face.
“There you are,” Harry said softly. “I thought you’d show yourselves eventually, the Seven Who Are One.”
AN: I’m sorry if this chapter feels off. For some reason, that cold that I’ve been having kept returning for a few days at a time, and I sort of had to push myself to get this chapter out. Anyway, this chapter is supposed to show you why Daeron acted the way he did at the end of the chapter. I will have a much more thorough explanation next chapter, but I hope that most of you will get the gist of it. As for the god segment, I hoped to try something new instead of fighting some eldritch entity again, like in Valyria, but I’m really not sure about it. I hope you guys like this chapter, but if not, I don’t mind rewriting it depending on your feedback. So, as usual, please let me know what you think and if you have any suggestions.
Comments
Marius Petrauskas
Nice
Lord Feywild
Your depiction of divinity was amazing, you have inspired many ideas into a fellow writer.
mintmonarch424
Perhaps the seven who are one are like black zetsu and have been gathering faith to revive 'mother'. I love this depiction of the seven who are one. There is another author, dasteiza, who portrays the seven who are one in a similar way, though they mostly write porn haha
HP-DG-AP-PN-RG-NR
Please tell me Harry is about to take out the Seven! Westeros would never be the same lol
Sukhraj Singh
Something tell me Daeron is going to be undergoing a crisis of Faith soon as I feel that the Seven Who Are One are going to die soon. And seeing your god die is going to be faith ending for young Daeron
Rachel N
❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
Monzter E
A really dumb child... but good ragebait from harry. Wonder how the author will present the seven who are one. Like a robot, 7 personalities, or a schizo. Also how will the author resolve this dumb kid's dumbness
