Candles burning around her, the red priestess gazed deep into the hearthfire. The Lord of Light's visions taxed her strength to receive, and her wit to interpret. Lord, Melisandre prayed, show me your will so that I may do what is required of me. Must I turn away from your instrument? Was I wrong? I had been so sure…
Visions danced in the flames, looping and whorling across each other. She saw towers of glittering black crystal rising from a red wasteland, and men with steel limbs contending against one another. She saw a pale creature with eyes the color of old ice glaring hatefully from a tower of blue stone and gold. The enemy? Have I seen the Great Other?
In the spaces between the flames, she saw stars spinning endlessly in the night. One star detached from the others and fell to earth trailing smoke and burning feathers. The fallen star touched the ground with a mighty blast. The image blurred and resolved into a woman with stars in her hair and eyes the color of wildfire.
This is not Azor Ahai, she thought. And yet… the enemy, the star and the woman. My Lord would not show this to me if it did not mean something. Melisandre rocked back from the hearth, sweat pouring from her brow. She mopped the sweat away with a stray scrap of cloth; the visions had been harder and harder on her these past few weeks, and it would not do for a priestess of R'hllor to show weakness.
She turned back to the fire and summoned her will for one final effort. Show me my path, Lord. The fire surged, and she saw war, death, suffering, sorrow and darkness reflected in the flames. Behind it all, the tower of blue and gold gleamed with malevolent, pale light from the very summit of the world. She saw the hazy figure of Azor Ahai framed in that baleful light, and the wildfire-eyed woman calling down the stars.
Melisandre tore herself from the vision with a cry and fell to the floor, spent.