Capítulo 331: Chapter 332: The Mark of Blood
Clang… Clang… Clang…
A faint sound of bells echoed through the mist, distant yet oddly close.
Samwell slowed his breathing as he cautiously moved forward, straining his ears to catch any sound in the eerie silence.
The cobblestones of the street had long crumbled to dust after a millennium of decay. Charred ruins flanked the path, blackened as if scorched by fire.
"This is probably your ancestors' handiwork," Samwell said, patting the white dragon at his side with a wry smile.
Cleopatra flapped her leathery wings, stirring a cloud of ash and dust. Her blood-red maw flickered with embers of fire, ready to ignite.
She didn't like this place.
Samwell could sense the dragon's restlessness and unease.
He didn't like it either.
This was a dead city, suffused with an oppressive atmosphere that made his skin crawl.
Yet, the memory of the harpy's severed face—its eye that had granted him newfound strength—drove him onward.
He was unwilling to leave without uncovering the city's secrets.
Samwell couldn't shake the feeling that buried within these ruins lay something tied to the gods of Ghiscar, something that might reveal powerful mysteries.
Whether it was to counter the endless schemes of R'hllor or to prepare for the looming arrival of the Great Other and its army of cold servitors, Samwell needed to deepen his understanding of the occult.
So he calmed Cleopatra, steeled his resolve, and pressed on.
---
The street curved ahead, and at the bend stood a massive stone stele. Carved upon it was an image of a harpy.
Unlike the harpy of Astapor clutching chains, this one grasped two jagged lightning bolts.
This is the true symbol of Old Ghis.
Beneath the harpy was an inscription in what appeared to be Ghiscari script. Samwell couldn't read it, but he guessed it might be a directional marker.
He advanced cautiously, the echo of his footsteps filling the desolate street.
Hiss…
A faint sound stopped Samwell in his tracks.
He raised a hand to signal Cleopatra to remain quiet and strained his ears toward the sound's source.
Hiss… Hiss…
It was faint, like the sound of scales slithering across stone.
Samwell suddenly surged forward, his steps quick and purposeful.
Cleopatra flapped her wings and followed, her heavy footfalls leaving deep impressions in the cracked ground.
The dragon's presence made any attempt at stealth impossible. Samwell reached a relatively intact building but found the strange sound had vanished.
Had it been frightened off by the dragon?
Was it the harpy he'd been chasing? Or some other lurking creature?
Samwell signaled for Cleopatra to wait outside as he ascended the crumbling stone steps.
The building's facade was half-collapsed, but its massive black stone doors remained intact. A faint aura of sanctity seemed to emanate from within, soothing Samwell's nerves against his will.
Above the doorway was carved a closed human face.
For reasons he couldn't explain, the visage reminded him of the heart trees in the North, except those wept blood, while this one did not.
More inscriptions encircled the carving, likely Ghiscari script, but Samwell couldn't decipher them.
Pushing open the doors, Samwell entered what appeared to be a prayer hall.
Its interior had long since decayed; only a black stone altar remained.
On the altar lay a thick book with a golden cover.
Samwell was surprised to find the book seemingly untouched by time—free of dust or decay.
He approached cautiously, noting that embedded in the cover was a diamond-shaped green crystal. Gold filigree surrounded it, forming intricate symbols that exuded a faint, unearthly glow.
Was it edible?
Samwell's first thought was characteristically blunt.
He pried the green crystal from the book's cover and popped it into his mouth.
The crunch of his chewing echoed in the chamber. Despite some difficulty swallowing, he managed to gulp it down.
He waited expectantly.
The attribute panel in his mind remained unchanged.
Disappointed, Samwell opened the book.
The first page depicted an intricate, unsettling symbol.
It resembled a winged dragon at first glance. Looking again, it appeared to be a hissing serpent. Upon closer inspection, it morphed into a towering black stone spire.
Samwell shook his head in confusion. He was about to return the book to the altar when he noticed its golden cover was rapidly deteriorating.
Before his eyes, the entire book crumbled into dust and scattered to the floor.
Samwell frowned, pondering the mysterious phenomenon.
A sudden instinct made him whirl around.
A woman stood silently behind him.
She had flawless features, hair of silver and gold cascading like silk over her shoulders, and violet eyes that glimmered with warmth and amusement.
In her hands, she held the very book that had just disintegrated into dust. The green crystal on its cover gleamed with an otherworldly light.
Samwell froze, every muscle in his body tensed.
"Are you ready?" she asked with a radiant smile.
Forcing himself to stay calm, Samwell studied her carefully.
Silver hair and violet eyes—distinctive traits of the Valyrian Freehold.
Yet this was the ruined capital of Old Ghis, Valyria's ancient enemy.
What was a Valyrian woman doing here?
"Shall we begin?" the woman continued, as if oblivious to Samwell's wariness.
Samwell realized with a start—this was no ordinary woman.
She was a phantom.
"Valyrian sorcery revolves around blood and fire," she said in perfect High Valyrian. "Blood for fire. Fire for blood."
As she spoke, she closed the book and raised her right hand, now engulfed in flames.
With a single motion, she traced the symbol Samwell had seen in the book.
A fiery image of the symbol appeared in midair: part dragon, part serpent, part tower.
"This," the woman said, her violet eyes reflecting the fiery glyph, "is the Mark of Blood: Sanctuary."
The moment she finished speaking, her hair began to fall strand by strand. Her youthful visage aged rapidly, wrinkles etching deep into her skin until she looked like a frail old woman.
And then, her transformation continued.
Her flesh decayed, peeling away to reveal bone, which in turn crumbled to dust.
Within moments, the once-beautiful woman had disintegrated entirely, leaving only ashes and silence.
Samwell stared at the empty space where she had stood, his mind racing.
Outside, Cleopatra let out an impatient roar, shaking him from his thoughts.
Raising his right hand, Samwell summoned fire to his fingertips.
He traced the symbol in the air, mimicking the phantom's actions.
The glyph began to take shape, its fiery lines pulsating with power.
A surge of energy coursed through Samwell's veins, igniting every cell in his body.
His heart thundered in his chest. His blood, bones, and flesh burned with vitality.
In the echoes of his mind, countless voices whispered and murmured, offering fragments of forbidden knowledge laced with temptation and danger.
Samwell's eyes gleamed with fiery light.
An uncontrollable urge rose within him.
"The Mark of Blood: Sanctuary."
The words escaped his lips like an incantation, resonating with an ancient power.
(End of Chapter)
TL; The magic name might change in the future. I'm thinking of changing it to "Blood Seal" instead of "The Mark of Blood"
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