The storm passed as suddenly as it had come, leaving an eerie stillness in its wake. The sky above was a dull, ashen gray, and the sea around us churned sluggishly, thick with volcanic residue. The air reeked of sulfur and decay, and in the distance, jagged islands of blackened stone loomed like the bones of a long-dead beast.
Valyria.
The crew was silent as the ship drifted closer. Even the most hardened sailors looked pale beneath their sun-worn skin. Otherys stood beside me at the prow, his fingers white-knuckled around the hilt of his sword.
"No sane man sets foot here," he muttered. "Not even pirates or slavers."
I did not reply. My gaze was fixed on the shore ahead, where the remnants of a once-great empire lay in ruin. Great towers of fused stone, shattered and melted, jutted from the earth at unnatural angles. Rivers of blackened lava had long since hardened into grotesque shapes, and the land itself seemed to shift and breathe as if alive.
Then, I saw it.
A structure half-buried beneath the ruins-an entrance of sorts, its archway framed by carvings that had not yet succumbed to time. The symbols were Valyrian, but older than anything I had seen before.
TheVaultofEmbers.
"We make landfall," I said.
Otherys turned to me sharply. "You're mad."
"Perhaps," I admitted. "But this is why we came."
The crew did not need convincing. They would not follow. They would stay with the ship, ready to flee should the ruins claim me.
That was fine. This was my journey alone.
-----
The air grew colder as I stepped past the threshold, torchlight flickering against the smooth, obsidian walls. The deeper I went, the more intact the structure became, untouched by the cataclysm that had ravaged the rest of the empire.
It was as if something had preserved it.
The halls bore carvings of dragons-many-headed beasts with molten eyes, wrapped around symbols of fire and blood. The further I walked, the heavier the air became, charged with something ancient and restless.
Then, at the heart of the Vault, I found it.
A pedestal of black stone, etched with sigils that pulsed faintly with an inner fire. Resting upon it was a single object-a small, crimson orb that seemed to drink in the light around it.
A dragon egg.
Not fossilized. Not dead.
Alive.
I reached out, fingers brushing against its warm surface.
A whisper curled through my mind, low and guttural, speaking in the tongue of my ancestors.
"Blood of the First Flame… the ember reignites…"
The vault trembled.
And from the darkness, something began to stir.
-----
The Vault trembled. Dust rained from the ceiling, and a deep, guttural hum reverberated through the stone. The egg beneath my fingers pulsed with heat, the faint glow in its core flaring to life.
I took a step back, heart hammering. This was no relic. This was no forgotten artifact of a dead empire.
This was power-dormant, waiting.
A sudden gust of wind howled through the chamber, though there were no openings, no tunnels for air to escape. The carvings along the walls burned with an eerie light, casting long, writhing shadows.
Then I heard it.
A voice-low, rasping, speaking in High Valyrian.
"Who dares wake the slumbering flame?"
The air thickened, pressing down on me like unseen hands. My vision blurred at the edges, the weight of something far older than myself sinking into my bones.
I forced myself to stand tall. "I am Rhaegis Darharis," I declared. "Blood of Old Valyria. I seek what was lost."
A pause.
Then, slow laughter-dry as ancient parchment, yet filled with something deeper.
"Blood of Old Valyria?" the voice mused. "All blood burns the same."
A sudden force slammed into my chest, sending me staggering back. My torch fell from my grasp, the flame sputtering against the cold stone floor.
From the shadows, something moved.
A shape-tall, robed in darkness, its features shifting like embers caught in the wind. Its eyes burned like molten gold, twin suns in a hollow face.
"You seek power," it whispered. "But power is never given. It is taken. It is earned. And it always demands a price."
I clenched my jaw, steadying my breath. "I am willing to pay it."
The figure tilted its head, the glow of its eyes intensifying. "Then prove it."
The Vault shuddered once more.
And from the depths of the chamber, the shadows came alive.
-----
The shadows coiled and twisted, taking form as something monstrous. Shapes flickered in and out of sight-serpentine tails, clawed limbs, fanged maws whispering in the dark. They prowled forward, circling, watching, waiting.
"Power is not inherited," the figure intoned. "It is seized. The weak falter. The unworthy perish. Show me which you are."
A test. A trial.
I had expected as much.
The air burned with unseen fire, the presence of something vast and ancient pressing down on me. My breath came slow and steady as I shifted my stance, hand tightening around the hilt of my blade.
The first shadow lunged.
I twisted aside, steel flashing in the dim light. My sword passed through it like mist, but the thing did not falter. Instead, it reformed in an instant, claws raking toward my throat.
I barely managed to duck, rolling across the cold stone. Another shape descended upon me, but I was faster this time-pivoting, slashing, forcing it back with raw momentum. But the shadows did not tire. They did not bleed.
Steel would not save me.
"Think," the voice murmured. "Or die."
I gritted my teeth, scanning the chamber. The carvings along the walls still glowed, pulsing in rhythm with the energy in the air. Valyrian runes-marking the old ways, the old power.
I reached for it.
The moment my palm pressed against the nearest sigil, heat surged through me, searing into my veins like molten fire. The world blurred-visions of the past, of flame, of sacrifice flashing behind my eyes.
Then I understood.
I turned to face the shadows once more, raising my free hand. Instead of striking with my sword, I called upon the power that now coursed through me. A single word, spoken in the Old Tongue-
"Dracarys."
Fire erupted from my fingertips. It was not dragonflame, not yet-but it was enough. The shadows shrieked, writhing as the light consumed them, burning them away into nothingness.
Silence fell.
The robed figure watched me, unblinking. Then, at last, it spoke.
"You are not Valyria reborn." A pause. Then "But you may yet be its heir."
The chamber trembled one final time. And at the heart of the Vault, the egg beneath my hand pulsed once more.
Alive.
Waiting.
And mine.
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Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed.