The sudden shift in circumstances forced Viserys and the two-headed man into a direct confrontation atop the dragon's back. The precarious battleground highlighted the man’s grotesque and unnatural nature.
This creature isn’t a natural anomaly, Viserys thought grimly. He’s definitely a “mutant,” shaped by magic.
The elongated neck, stretching three feet like sothing from a horror story, was unnatural enough, but the true terror lay in the gaze of the two heads. Back in the main hall, their deanor had conveyed an aura of calculated malice—a blend of simple, brutish strength and sharp intelligence. Now, their expressions were savage, primal, and devoid of restraint. The hardened skulls and powerful, whip-like necks made them formidable even against Viserys's tactics.
Suddenly, a voice echoed in his mind: [Master! Leave it to !]
It was the voice of one of the Undying Ones, a soul bound to Viserys since his ti in Qarth.
Another voice interjected, masculine and eager: [Master! I can do it too!]
Viserys had absorbed eight Undying Ones' souls during his ti in Qarth. Over the years, he had found uses for them, embedding one in Varys to aid his transformation and granting others specific roles. Varys, now tasked with intelligence and administrative duties, had seamlessly adopted his altered identity, his newfound obedience attributed to Viserys’s commanding presence.
Viserys entertained the idea of embedding an Undying One’s soul into the woman’s head. Such a move could prove invaluable—like planting a spy among the Tyrians. However, he was cautious not to release multiple souls at once.
The bond between Viserys and the yellow dragon, strengthened by their mind-rge, proved advantageous. The dragon’s flight patterns shifted constantly, ensuring Viserys always had the upper hand in his strikes. This tactical advantage, combined with the two-headed man’s struggle to coordinate his dual heads in combat, began to wear his opponent down.
Viserys carefully studied the dynamic between the two heads. The female head seems to handle strategy and thought, while the male head leans toward decision-making and action, he observed. With this realization, he decided to eliminate the male head, leaving the female intact for interrogation.
After a fierce exchange, Viserys executed his plan. He beheaded the male head and imdiately used fire magic to incinerate it. What remained of the two-headed man now resembled a grotesque, lopsided figure—a crooked-necked woman.
Wasting no ti, Viserys breathed one of the Undying Ones' souls into the surviving head. As the magic took hold, the savage and feral gaze in the woman’s eyes dissolved, replaced by an expression of servility and submission.
“My great master,” the creature said in a low, reverent tone, “thank you for giving a new body.”
The transformation was complete. The voice, mannerisms, and deanor now mirrored those of Varys when his body was imbued with an Undying One’s soul.
“Tell everything you know,” Viserys commanded.
The forr two-headed man began recounting what little he knew, though it was sufficient to piece together crucial details. He described the events leading to the Doom of Valyria:
Valyria had perished not rely because of the volcanic eruption of the Fourteen Flas. A vast, intricate network of suppression spells had been woven beneath the mountains, designed to contain their destructive power. However, as the tides of magic ebbed, these spells weakened and ultimately failed. The Fourteen Flas erupted violently, engulfing the land in an apocalyptic flood of lava and ash.
The destruction wasn’t solely due to the natural catastrophe. Valyria had been a hub of magical experints, cursed relics, and witchcraft prohibitions. When the suppressing magic collapsed, these volatile forces combined in a catastrophic chain reaction, ensuring the obliteration of the once-great civilization.
Tyria, as a “satellite Free City,” had been relatively spared from the magical excesses that dood Valyria, leaving much of its infrastructure intact. The great hall Viserys had visited, it turned out, was a temple dedicated to the gods of the Valyrian people.
When the Doom struck, many Tyrians sought refuge in the temple, believing it to be a sanctuary. However, the temple was enchanted, and when the disaster erupted, the enchantnt malfunctioned. Hundreds of thousands of people were trapped inside, dying horrific deaths. Over the centuries, the Tyrians connected the temple to an underground shelter that eventually expanded into a subterranean city. The skeletal remains in the temple were the result of these underground inhabitants piling the bones of the dead there, creating the grim spectacle Viserys had encountered.
As for the two-headed man, Boryas, Viserys confird his suspicion: he was a “homunculus,” an artificially created being. Tyria housed what was essentially a “genetic laboratory,” established by the Dragonlords. This facility produced mutants with specialized traits, engineered to serve their Valyrian masters.
What intrigued Viserys most was the Tyrians’ innovative use of magic. Their magical devices enabled crop cultivation without sunlight, a technique powered entirely by arcane energy rather than the sun. Such thods could revolutionize food production, even in the most desolate environnts—a resource too valuable for Viserys to ignore.
Even more astonishing was what Boryas revealed about Tyria’s ruler, a being called On. The supre leader of Tyria had three heads and five faces, an abomination that dwarfed even Boryas' unsettling appearance. On was clearly orchestrating sothing significant, though the specifics of his plans remained a mystery.
Boryas also divulged another revelation: Tyria was ho to an enormous repository of Dragonbones, the remains of thousands of dragons. The Dragonlords of Valyria had evidently used Tyria as a graveyard or storage site for these remains, likely for magical purposes. The thought of gaining access to such a trove of resources gave Viserys even more reason to seize control of the city.
Crops grown without sunlight, thousands of Dragonbones, and the advanced magical and genetic technologies housed in Tyria—all of these were treasures Viserys was determined to claim. And after their attempted ambush, the Tyrians’ actions only hardened his resolve. They dared to move against —they will regret it.
“Boryas,” Viserys said coldly, his gaze steady on the grotesque figure before him, “return to the dungeon. We will maintain constant communication. I will return soon with an army to take this city.”
Boryas, now infused with the soul of an Undying One, bowed deeply. “Don’t worry, my great master. I will serve you with all my strength.” He sared volcanic ash over the wound on his neck, straightened, and departed with a servile air.
Viserys mounted his dragon and flew toward the black, round stone arch that marked the temple’s exit. He paused mid-flight, glancing back at the great hall, his thoughts racing.
Boryas had shared an additional piece of critical information: Tyria, since Valyria’s fall, had shed its pretense of being a re satellite city. Its leaders had begun seizing Valyria’s most sacred legacy—the Dragonlords’ bloodline.
Boryas spoke of figures tied to this legacy. Before Viserys, a man nad Aurion had declared himself Emperor of Valyria and ventured to Tyria, only to be captured.
Similarly, Aerea Targaryen, who had ridden the Black Dread to the Ruins of Valyria, had apparently wandered to Tyria afterward. Aerea lived in Tyria for so ti, but it seed the Tyrians had leverage over her. Her return to King’s Landing was marked by cryptic final words: “Never!”
Viserys’s jaw tightened. If Tyria’s leader, the three-headed and five-faced On, knew more about Valyria and its mysteries, then conquering the city was imperative.
This On must hold answers—about the Dragonlords, the Doom, and the true legacy of Valyria.
Reviews
All reviews (0)