Chapter 44: Chapter - 44
The streets of Winterfell echoed with the faint rustle of the dry leaves as they stirred in the morning breeze.
Standing by the window, her gaze fixed on the distant horizon, she couldn't help but feel the weight of responsibility settling upon her shoulders.
Lord Stark's words from yesterday still rattled around in her head. He'd dumped quite the responsibility in her lap.
"The Martells will be arriving soon followed by an unending line of privileged cunts, and I doubt El will be here to welcome them. But I believe it's for the best," he had declared.
His statement tangled her thoughts further.
She found herself voicing a question, her tone respectful yet tinged with hesitation. "May I ask why, Lord Stark?"
He fixed her with a steady gaze, his voice lowering slightly. "You may not be aware, but a tide of nobles is en route here, each seeking an audience with the White Mage for various healing requests. I was hoping you could serve as a barrier to prevent these people from using their supposed need for healing as an excuse to meet with El."
"Many will come to your clinic's doorstep seeking healing, yet their true intentions will be otherwise," Lord Stark began, his tone imbued with a seriousness that matched the gravity of his words. " It is not that bad right now but it will be soon and you are the only one, aside from El himself, capable of discerning whether someone genuinely needs to meet him.
I know you've been performing admirably in this role, and I just wanted to emphasize the importance of making no exceptions to this rule—not even if the King of the Seven Kingdoms himself demands an audience."
He paused for a moment to let his words sink in.
"From now on, I want you to handle this as the sole gatekeeper. You will only need to justify these decisions to El and no one else." His expression was stern, reinforcing the critical nature of her role in guarding the gate to El's invaluable time and expertise.
"But, Lord Stark, I... I can't do that," she stammered, the weight of his expectations bearing down on her with uncomfortable intensity.
"Why is that? Because it's disrespectful?" Lord Stark's question cut through the air, his laughter sharp and humorless.
Ned leaned in, his face stern. "I know I'm asking a lot. It's not fair to put this all on you. But you're the only one who can do it."
His voice got harder, almost like he was giving orders on a battlefield. "These southern lords don't get it. They don't understand that I can't just order El around. I need you to make that clear to all of Westeros."
He paused, his words heavy in the air. "Even if it makes people think I can't control my own people."
Freya felt a chill run down her spine. She'd always respected the Starks, but this... this was something else. They were willing to risk their reputation to protect El. To protect his freedom.
She knew what she had to do. This wasn't just some job - this was important. This could change everything.
Freya straightened her back. If Lord Stark thought she could do this, then by the gods, she would. She'd be El's shield, keeping all the bullshit away so he could focus on his work.
She thought back to two days ago, when El had stumbled out of that crazy workshop of his. His eyes had been bright, words tumbling out as he tried to explain his latest idea.
She'd asked him to come back soon, but she knew better. His mind was already a million miles away, lost in whatever new puzzle he'd found.
Freya sighed. Well, if El was going to be El, then she'd just have to step up. Someone had to keep the wolves at bay.
As she pondered her options, the thought of sending Fenrir to retrieve El briefly crossed her mind, knowing well that his mere presence could solve all her troubles.
However, she ultimately decided against it, choosing instead to confront the challenges on her own. This seemed a minor sacrifice compared to everything he had done for her.
After all, their fateful meeting had pivoted her life into unforeseen directions, blessing her with opportunities she could never even dream about like the founding of the school of medicine—a project close to her heart, despite El's jests about using the students as free labor.
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Deep beneath the earth, in realms untouched by light or life, a cavernous expanse revealed its chilling secrets. The chamber's vastness stretched into the unseen, testing the limits of my augmented endurance. The air hung heavy and oppressively hot; had my lungs been those of an ordinary man, I might have been gasping for breath in the stifling heat.
Darkness reigned, punctured only by the sinister red glow emanating from an enigmatic mass suspended at the room's center. Millions of delicate, blood-like strands, seemingly alive, held it aloft, each pulsating with a ghastly luminescence that set a horrifying tone—a scene that would not be out of place in a scene in the Alien franchise, yet it harbored a unique terror that surpassed mere cinematic horror.
The mass in the middle was essentially a cradle that housed a dragon edd of my creation and it would act as a shield and a filter to let the egg have anything and everything it needed
The shell was a marvel of my own creation, intricately lined with magical veins. Upon closer examination, one could see that tiny runes, each meticulously etched, shimmered with a faint light across the surface of the shell. Each glowing symbol was a testament to the deep magic infused within the very walls of this ominous nursery.
I stood next to Vaylara in silence and looked up at what we had created with awe and glee on our faces.
My fellow visionary in this audacious project had grown increasingly passionate—her enthusiasm exceeding my own at some indistinct point.
After many intense discussions, bursts of brainstorming and sleepless nights of work we were finally done.
Vaylara had taken care of the most crucial step needed for this entire project as I was nowhere near skilled enough to play with souls yet.
The breakthrough had come unexpectedly, borne out of Vayalara's exasperation with my very imaginative aspirations for our creation.
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1 week ago..
As we delved deeper into these theoretical discussions, it became clear to me that I was less interested in definitive answers and more in understanding Vayalara's perspective on scenarios that had only ever existed in my imagination. Observing her reactions helped me gauge what was feasible within a reasonable timeframe and what might take a lifetime to achieve.
Those ideas were shelved for future exploration.
During one of these conversations, I posed what I thought was a simple question, which finally prompted Vayalara to raise her voice in frustration.
"No, you can't have a dragon that can breathe both fire and ice."
"Why not?" I asked, genuinely curious.
"The kind of balance required for naturally opposing forces to coexist in harmony indefinitely is not possible," Vayalara explained, her tone a mix of exasperation and patience. "You would have to etch the concept of balance into their soul, and for something as complex as this, I don't think a single concept will cut it."
I paused, processing her words. "Wait, wait, wait—backtrack a bit here. What exactly do you mean by etching concepts into souls?" I was intrigued by this new avenue of magic Vayalara referred to.
She paused, halting whatever tangent she was previously pursuing.
With a moment's hesitation, she began to explain, "It's the art of embedding meaning into souls. It's so perilous that no one has ever managed to do it without encountering some unforeseen consequences."
"Really no one in history? Why is it so hard?" I enquired
Vayalara continued, her tone earnest and patronizing. "Imagine the soul as a painting, where each significant moment in life adds a single unique brush stroke."
She then drew an analogy to highlight the complexity of the process. "The best attempt at etching concepts I've seen performed could be likened to a child with a fistful of paint trying to improve the greatest painting you've ever seen. They aim to improve it and imbue it with new meaning, but almost every time, the result is… ugly." Her explanation resonated with me in a way that was as baffling as it was enlightening.
"So, it's a lost cause?" I asked.
"Unless you want to dedicate a lifetime to just this and are happy with ambiguous results," she replied, her voice laced with a mix of caution and challenge, suggesting the enormity of the task yet leaving the door open for the possibility, however remote.
Seeing that she wasn't very confident about getting results i almost dropped the idea entirely before a question popped up into my head
"What if the painting was blank?" I asked
"What do you mean?" Vayalara's brows furrowed, her interest piqued.
I clarified, "What if we do the etchings when the canvas is blank and let the painting grow around it?" The concept of starting with an empty soul seemed to present a different angle to our previous considerations.
Vayalara took a long pause, visibly weighing the implications of such an approach. Finally, she spoke, her voice cautious, "That would, in theory, work. But you need to understand that a new soul is very fragile."
"But possible?" I pressed, eager to explore every potential avenue, despite the risks.
"... Yes, but it comes with its own list of problems," she admitted, her expression serious.
My statement seemed to capture her interest more firmly, perhaps because it suggested a realm of possibilities that hadn't been fully considered before.
"Ah, but since you haven't named any, I'm going to assume they are slightly manageable," I ventured, a slight smile playing at the corners of my mouth.
This seemed to spark something in Vayalara; she looked genuinely intrigued and began to consider the proposition more seriously.
"I do not know much about the formation of souls," I confessed, voicing my concerns. "But I've recently discovered that the animals I use my abilities on and spend more time with eventually begin to slowly gain consciousness. It's the most baffling thing I've seen, and I still have no clue how it happened."
The revelation seemed to strike a chord with her. Her eyes widened in surprise before shifting to a contemplative and excited expression. "That will definitely help cut down the time this is going to take," she mused.
The notion that we could potentially use anything I create to speed up the experimental process was a big plus but I had more questions.
Vayalara listened patiently as I asked. "What concepts can be etched? Is there some sort of limit? What language should they be in?"
"They have to be words that hold a fixed deep meaning and it's most stable when you use one word. Normally, it is in the language of the person whose soul is being changed. But since we're working on a blank canvas of your creation, I would suggest we use the language that you are most comfortable associating with," she explained, adapting her expertise to our unconventional approach.
But she didn't stop there and asked. "You sound like you have an idea in mind already. Why don't you just tell me."
My grin widened, the audacity of what i was about to do just after a few weeks of promising myself that i would not do reckless experiments, and this I had no fucking idea how it would turn out.
"We are going to create a dragon egg, then etch the concept of adaptability on it, and then drop it down a hole that goes as close to the center of the planet as possible and wait and see what comes out."
The realization of what we were about to create finally dawned on her, and the smile that spread across her face should have worried me, but I doubted I looked any different.
"You do know that there are a million different ways this can go horribly wrong," she remarked, her smile still in place.
My smile grew even more demented at that.
"I know of no better purpose in life than to perish attempting the impossible."
The divine general wasn't going to have shit on my dragon.
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A/N: If you wish to read ahead you can find me on Pa treon
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