Although the dark clouds had completely shrouded the city of Qohor, blocking out the sun and plunging it into an artificial night, the changes in the sky were far from over.
A sudden flash of lightning cut through the dense clouds, like the opening drumroll of a grand performance. One after another, streaks of electricity slithered through the sky, forming a dense web of lightning.
Then, the winds howled. Fierce gusts tore through the streets, sending loose wooden structures flying. People scrambled for cover, seeking shelter from the violent wind and the debris it carried.
But this was only the beginning. The storm intensified at a terrifying pace, growing so strong that even rooftops were ripped away and hurled into the air.
Then, a terrified shout rang out. Soone pointed skyward, their voice barely carrying over the chaos.
From the depths of the storm clouds, more than a dozen tornadoes erged, their spiraling forms resembling monstrous tentacles. They stretched downward at alarming speed before touching the ground, sweeping through the city. Countless objects were sucked into the air—furniture, carts, debris—and even people.
And still, the disaster escalated. Lightning, which had been gathering within the storm for so long, now crashed down in torrents, striking buildings with devastating force. Wooden structures burst into flas on impact, fire spreading rapidly as the wind carried it from street to street. Before long, it seed as if the entire city had been swallowed by an inferno.
Even the mighty Black Goat altar was not spared. The people of Qohor watched in horror as countless bolts of lightning struck the towering shrine. Then, a terrible sound echoed in their minds—an enraged, agonized wail. At that mont, the great statue of the Black Goat, perched atop the altar, erupted into flas.
"My lord!"
Even the most slow-witted of the Black Goat's followers realized then that their god had been defeated—defeated by Lynd Tarran. The collapse of their faith shattered them. One by one, they fell to their knees, weeping in despair.
But their cries did not stop the catastrophe.
Fist-sized hailstones began to puml the city, smashing into buildings and leaving gaping holes. Those unfortunate enough to be struck directly were left with cracked skulls and shattered bones. Many died instantly.
On the city walls, the rcenaries could no longer bear the terror before them. Their duty to defend Qohor was forgotten in an instant. They threw open the gates and fled, desperate to escape the storm of destruction.
Yet their flight was short-lived. As the first of them reached the edge of the thick fog outside the city, they froze—literally. The mont their bodies touched the mist, they turned to ice.
Only then did the others realize the truth: this fog was not simply a veil hiding the outside world. It was death itself.
Panic surged through the rcenaries, their fear spreading like wildfire back into the city.
So many calamities, arriving all at once, had crushed the last remnants of resistance. There was no room for defiance anymore. Only fear. Only despair.
Then, a voice broke through the chaos.
"Surrender!"
One voice beca two. Then ten. Then a thousand. The call to surrender spread like an infection, sweeping through the city. Even the High Priest of the Black Goat, the most devout among them, could not hold on to his faith. He abandoned his hatred for the destruction of the Black Goat’s statue, throwing himself into the chorus of surrender.
As those cries of submission filled the air, the storm above Qohor began to subside. The winds weakened. The lightning ceased. The hail stopped falling.
And then, silence.
The entire city stood still, trapped in an eerie, unnatural hush.
Then, as if on cue, the dark clouds split apart. A single ray of sunlight pierced through the heavens, casting its golden glow over the city.
A gasp rippled through the crowd.
"God! A god!" soone shouted, pointing at the sky.
And there, bathed in the descending light, Lynd hovered in the air, clad in the armor of the Banished Knight. He gazed down upon Qohor like a deity surveying his domain.
His voice echoed through the city, carried by the power of the Cloud-Top Bell’s runes.
"Gather everything from House Soyed—its wealth, its mbers, everything. Deliver them to my Sumrhall. In addition, all Valyrian steel within this city shall serve as Qohor’s compensation to . That is my demand."
He let his words settle before continuing, his tone sharp as steel.
"You may choose to disobey . But know this—if I return, I will not leave a single stone of Qohor standing. There will be no rcy next ti. Consider this your only chance."
Without waiting for a response, he ascended, vanishing once more into the storm clouds.
And then, the sky cleared.
The mist at the city's borders faded away. The sun shone once more, revealing the ruin that remained—Qohor, broken and burning, a shadow of what it had been.
lisandre erged from her hiding place, stepping out alongside the others.
But unlike them, she did not tremble at the sight of destruction.
She did not cower before the ruins or the still-burning altar of the Black Goat.
Her eyes burned with sothing else entirely.
Excitent.
Her fingers tightened around the holy symbol of the Lord of Light.
Where others saw devastation, she saw proof.
While the faith of others had crumbled, hers had only grown stronger.
Lynd Tarran had gained the power of a god.
But he was not yet a god.
And in lisandre's eyes, true divine power would only be greater still.
Moreover, lisandre believed that Lynd’s act of striking the Black Goat God's altar with lightning and burning its statue—while leaving the Red Temple completely unscathed—was undeniable proof that the Black Goat God was a false deity, whereas the Lord of Light was the one true god. Even though Lynd possessed godlike power, he still held great reverence for the true god and dared not damage his temple in any way.
This only reinforced her resolve to bring Lynd into the faith of the Lord of Light, as his conversion would undoubtedly inspire even more people to believe in R’hllor.
Although she was eager to head to Sumrhall imdiately and et with Lynd Tarran, she knew that leaving Qohor anyti soon was impossible. Right now, this was the perfect mont to spread the faith of the Lord of Light.
Lynd Tarran’s destruction of the Black Goat God's altar and statue would undoubtedly shake many of its followers. After all, if a god couldn’t even protect its own image, how could it possibly protect its believers?
anwhile, the Red Temple could use this event to its advantage—pointing to the fact that even Lynd’s divine power had failed to harm their temple as proof that the Red God was far greater than the Black Goat. This would allow them to absorb the wavering believers, accelerating the spread of the Lord of Light’s faith throughout the city.
As lisandre contemplated her next steps in infiltrating the ruling class of Qohor and ensuring that the faith of the Lord of Light took root among the city’s elite, the citizens—who had gradually recovered from their fear of the calamity—began to surge toward the Upper City. More specifically, they were heading for the Soyed family's estate. Their intent was clear: to capture every mber of House Soyed and deliver them to Sumrhall in order to fully appease Lynd Tarran’s wrath.
It wasn’t just House Soyed’s estate that ca under siege—every property they owned throughout the city was quickly surrounded. Many mbers of the Soyed family, as well as their employees and associates, were dragged out, bound, and taken away. Their businesses were imdiately sealed off.
Had Lynd not specifically demanded that House Soyed and everything belonging to them be delivered intact to Sumrhall, the enraged citizens of Qohor might have already torn apart every last remnant of the family.
Faced with the seething populace, the city's ruling elite remained silent. Instead, they chose to cooperate, ensuring that every mber of House Soyed was apprehended and confined together. Officials were dispatched to seize and catalog all of the family's properties. At this mont, no one dared to play gas or hide assets—the terror that Lynd had instilled in them was simply too overwhelming. Their only thought was to placate him and quell his fury. Even the high priest of the Black Goat God's church did not dare to resist. He quietly ordered his followers to gather all the Valyrian steel in their possession, preparing to send it to Sumrhall along with everything else that had belonged to House Soyed.
One after another, the noble families of Qohor rushed to distance themselves from House Soyed. Any benefits they had once accepted from Qos Soyed were hastily relinquished, pooled together, and added to the inventory of House Soyed’s seized assets.
Even those who had once been bound to House Soyed through marriage alliances abandoned their ties. So went so far as to hand over any relatives with Soyed blood—including husbands and children—without hesitation.
Thus, House Soyed, one of Qohor’s founding families, was uprooted and erased from the city entirely.
With no ans of resistance, the mbers of House Soyed could do nothing to stop their downfall. They had attempted to rally their forces, hoping to flee Qohor and seek refuge in another Free City. But their efforts were futile. Their servants refused to obey. Their hired rcenaries and trained warriors discarded their weapons and even opened the estate’s gates, allowing the furious citizens to enter unimpeded and take part in their capture.
Once all the mbers of House Soyed were gathered in the cells where they awaited their fate, their fear, despair, and rage could only be vented upon their own family’s leadership. To them, it was the shortsighted greed and arrogance of their elders that had led to this catastrophe. None of them seed to rember that they themselves had once been complicit in the decision to withhold the magical armor.
As the head of House Soyed, Qos Soyed was naturally the primary target. Perhaps anticipating that the family might attempt to rescue him, the authorities made sure to imprison the old man in a separate, heavily secured cell.
By this point, Qos Soyed had completely broken down. His hair had turned stark white in an instant, and he sat dazed on the cold floor of his cell, mumbling incoherently like a man lost in madness.
...
While the entire city of Qohor was busy dismantling House Soyed on Lynd’s behalf, he had already returned to his small boat.
However, instead of continuing to propel the vessel with telekinesis, he lay back with a weary expression and instructed Marwyn to set sail.
Though he chose not to guide the boat with his power, he still conjured a breeze to help speed up their journey.
Marwyn, noticing Lynd’s exhaustion, could tell that the earlier display of power had taken a toll on him. It was clear that he was truly drained. Without hesitation, Marwyn followed his orders, skillfully hoisting the sail and steering the rudder, guiding the boat downstream along the river.
As Marwyn had suspected, Lynd had indeed expended a great deal of energy. This was his first ti attempting to channel all the power contained within the dragon runes of the Banished Knight’s armor. Furthermore, those runes had been enhanced by the runes of the Naless King, making their power even more formidable.
Because he was wielding such an imnse force for the first ti, Lynd’s control had been sowhat unstable. This imbalance led directly to his response when provoked by the Black Goat God—unleashing a devastating bolt of lightning that shattered it entirely.
When he had first attacked Qohor, Lynd had already sensed the power contained within the statue of the Black Goat God, which stood atop its altar in the city.
The nature of this power reminded him of Garth Greenhand’s presence in the Godswood of Highgarden, but it was not quite the sa. This energy had been ford by using a sliver of the Black Goat God's divine power as a catalyst, rging it with the centuries-old faith of Qohor’s people.
Although the entity took the form of the Black Goat God—a monstrous being covered in countless eyes and writhing tentacles—it was not the god itself, nor even an avatar. It was nothing more than a projection.
A similar power existed elsewhere in Qohor, residing in the statue of R’hllor, the Lord of Light, within the Red Temple—though by comparison, it was far weaker.
Amid the apocalyptic devastation wrought by Lynd, the projection of the Black Goat God lashed out in defiance. At that mont, Lynd was completely imrsed in the Naless King’s identity. In that instant, he was the Naless King.
And as a god who had once waged war, the Naless King would never tolerate such a challenge. It wasn’t just a matter of facing a re projection—even if the Black Goat itself had manifested, Lynd would have struck it down all the sa.
The result was absolute destruction. Lightning cleaved through the Black Goat God’s altar, shattering its statue and annihilating the power contained within its projection.
At the very mont the statue and its projection were obliterated, every single follower of the Black Goat God in Qohor—including Lynd himself—heard a tornted, furious howl. Moreover, Lynd felt an eerie gaze upon him from the void itself.
This gaze was the true reason for his rapid depletion of power.
It was more than just an oppressive presence—it carried the nature of an imprint, attempting to seep into his very being. To resist, Lynd was forced to unleash a vast amount of the Naless King's rune power to dispel it.
Without the augntation of the Naless King's runes, the magic of the Banished Knight’s armor alone would not have been enough to sustain such an overwhelming display of power.
Fortunately, the people of Qohor had surrendered just in ti. Had they resisted any longer, he might have been forced to retreat as well.
But everything was unfolding exactly as he had envisioned. Now, he only had to wait to reap the rewards of his victory. He was confident that Qohor’s ruling elite would no longer dare to defy his will. And even if they did, the citizens of Qohor would surely force them to comply.
The wealth accumulated by House Soyed over a thousand years, along with their skilled craftsn and artisans, would provide Sumrhall with an extraordinary surge in strength—an opportunity Lynd had no intention of wasting.
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