Chương 672: Chapter 672: Jon's Soul
"This is Jon's spirit."
Below the Skyreach Castle, within the encampment, the night persisted.
Viserys, steadfast in his unwavering loyalty, held a vigil for his most devoted Hand of the King, Jon Connington. The soldiers had felled several trees, using the choicest wood to hastily craft a coffin for the interim.
Jon's body now lay serenely within, beside him, Viserys's sword, Dusk.
The climate of Dorne was scorching, and despite the stark contrast between day and night temperatures, a body would decompose within half a day under the blazing sun.
Dusk, forged from the heart of a red comet, would scorch enemies in battle. Yet, for anyone but Viserys, holding it brought a bone-chilling cold.
Melisandre, the Red Priestess, posited that the comet's heart was a gift from R'hllor, the Lord of Light, to Viserys. Thus, anyone else would feel a paralyzing chill upon contact, barely able to hold it. Only Viserys was immune, able to wield it freely.
She proclaimed Viserys to be the 'Son of the Sun,' the reincarnation of the hero 'Azor Ahai.' However, Viserys knew the truth of his own existence; he was no reincarnation, certainly not a 'Son of the Sun.'
Now, utilizing Dusk's intrinsic chill, he placed it beside Jon's body, using the sword's cold to preserve it, ensuring the corpse could be returned home without decay.
Though only half a night had passed, Jon's body remained unchanged, as if frozen from the inside out.
Meanwhile, in the daylight, the once-proclaimed 'Heaven's Reach' was reduced to ruins and debris. Jon Connington's assassination had sparked a rare fury in Viserys.
He ordered all forces to withdraw from Skyreach Castle. All captured Dornish nobles and the murderer, Julian Cogwell, were bound and placed at the center of the castle.
Subsequently, Viserys commanded his ally, the black dragon Balerion, to eradicate the ancient castle, reducing it to mere rubble and memories with its fiery breath.
Skyreach and the Fowler family, Sandstone and the Cogwell family, the Yronwoods of Yronwood Castle – all were erased from the annals of history.
The Fowler twins, being female, were spared, while all other male heirs were burned alive.
Similarly, for the Cogwell family of Sandstone: one heir was beheaded by Jon Connington, and the other was burned alive.
Harman Yronwood, Count of Yronwood Castle, was crushed by a falling ceiling stone, while his brother and heir, Ser Uller Yronwood, was incinerated by dragonfire.
The Yronwood family was left with but a single illegitimate daughter, Ellaria Sand, who was currently in King's Landing, lover to Oberyn, bearing him four daughters.
The Fowler twins and Ellaria Sand were all stripped of their inheritance rights and demoted to commoners.
Now, deep into the night, a young man with silver hair sat alone in the hastily erected mourning hall, hand resting upon Jon Connington's coffin.
Silence enveloped him.
The wind rustled the white curtains of the mourning hall, creating a soft whisper, and there were no guards outside. Viserys had dismissed them all.
Currently, a faint black mist appeared in his palm. It seemed ethereal, morphing into various shapes as if possessing consciousness.
Viserys knew this was Jon Connington's spirit.
Ever since absorbing the powers of the Old Gods and the Three-Eyed Raven, Bran Stark, his psychic abilities had nearly peaked.
Now, he no longer needed to manually collect life and spirit. Merely residing within the Red Keep of King's Landing, the souls of the deceased within several miles were drawn to him, concentrating upon him. This was why he rarely left King's Landing in recent years.
Jon Connington's spirit leaving his body meant a complete death, with no possibility of revival. His body, without the suppression of Dusk, would perhaps begin showing signs of decay in a few hours.
However, what Viserys was contemplating now was whether there were other opportunities for Jon Connington's spirit.
"Can I communicate with the spirit of the deceased?"
"Or perhaps there are other turning points?"
Viserys gazed at the faint black mist in his palm, a momentary contemplative expression on his face.
However, he did not know what to do at the moment.
After all, everything about this path was unfamiliar to him, with no reference points. He could only continue to feel his way forward.
However, Viserys did have one consultable entity.
It was the remnant of the Valyrian sea god Miraesis. She knew many things and might provide some help to Viserys.
Unfortunately, she was not with him at the moment. He would have to wait until he returned to King's Landing to inquire.
Including the matter of the giant white raven skull, it should also be timely scheduled.
The remnant of Miraesis in the less divine unnamed statue, he was somewhat looking forward to what was contained in the white skull.
But now, the most important thing was Jon Connington's spirit.
Viserys carefully stored it to prevent it from mixing with other absorbed black mists. Otherwise, without a means of communication, even he would be unable to distinguish who each of them was.
This was an opportunity. Viserys had never thought of developing in this direction before. However, the unexpected death of Jon Connington was the first time he turned his attention to the link of human life and death.
Could he communicate with the deceased?
Viserys did not know, but this was the only thing he could do now.
The next morning, at dawn.
A hazy new sun slowly rose from the east, and lingering fires still burned amidst the ruins of Skyreach Castle, with black smoke yet to disperse.
Now, the hearts of everyone in the royal army were somewhat heavy, including the nobles of the Riverlands. The entire army dismantled their tents, escorting the spirit of Prime Minister Jon Connington back to the Riverlands.
However, as they rode their warhorses, their minds were burdened with heavy thoughts.
"Let's go."
They had defeated their old opponents, their enemies, but the outcome was not what they desired.
The castle was leveled, heirs were all killed, and only girls, stripped of their castle, were left.
Their futures were predictable: no noble would dare risk marrying them, even with their noble blood. Ultimately, they would marry commoners or become prostitutes.
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