The Abyss

298 AC

Mormont's body had broken through the glossy black mirror like a bomb.

As he shot down the dark watery shaft of volcanic rock, instinct told him to elongate himself and keep his hands outstretched in front of him so as to break through the water like a knife. Something sharp caught hard against his knee as he fell. Mormont clenched his teeth as he felt the hissing air bite at the fresh wound, and the hot tinkle of blood as it seeped out of his flesh.

Mormont hit the water with a crackling BOOM, going twenty feet under the surface. By the time he'd stopped diving deeper into the depths, he'd lost consciousness.

Slowly, the body had risen to the surface of the inky black water, and was pushed along with the powerful current that led deeper into the heart of the volcano. The dim light from the large hole at the top of the cavern soon receded behind him.

Water-choked lungs had managed to deliver one last message to the brain. The lightning blue eye fluttered open with a stinging intensity, the arms flailed and crashed into the water, and the head lifted from the shadowy pool so as to let the air re-enter the body.

Mormont turned over his body and lay facing up at the dark cavernous ceiling. His whole body felt as if it had been launched by a catapult, his arms and legs racked with excruciating throbs of pain, and his head about ready to explode. At times, he'd forced himself to turn over and throw up into the stream so he would not choke on his own vomit.

He let the current take him away, further down towards the orange lights that were getting brighter and brighter. What were they? Mormont didn't care. He was half-alive staring up into the empty void above him.

Something was getting louder. It was the rush of water, he found. Why was it blaring into his ears? Painfully, Mormont had lifted his head and glanced up behind him.

It was the head of a waterfall. And he was headed straight towards it.

Mormont felt the electric shock of danger alert his body. The slackness he'd felt in his arms and legs had been removed, now recharged with vigor, energy, and the will to live. He glanced around for anything to grapple onto, but he saw nothing in the darkness.

He felt a rock scrape against his back and he growled with the pain, feeling the saltwater bite into the new wound. He lanced upwards and away from it. He straightened himself in the water and began paddling away from the water's edge.

The current was too powerful, it had picked up too much. Mormont put more force into his arms and tried pulling his way up the stream. It was of no use, however. Soon enough, he felt his leg slip against the edge, and that was all it took to send him over the edge and down again into the dark pit below.

The fall was not as high up as the first, and Mormont felt the muscles in his back crash against the water once again. The stinging pain made his body light up with convulsions. He vomited again as he lurched over onto his side, throwing up what was left of his dinner.

The current had lessened, and Mormont had floated down another short jetty of black water and into a small pond where the water had stilled. He let himself stay there for minutes, hours, days, years.

When he felt his head gently tap against something hard, Mormont realized he was almost up against solid ground. Sluggishly, he heaved himself up and dragged himself over onto the dry, warm volcanic rock, allowing himself to pass out from the shock and exhaustion of the last fifteen minutes.

In the inky blackness, as the chest pumped softly up and down, blisters and scabs had formed over the fresh cuts and new scars on the large body.

Underneath the torn and wet robes, just on the dense skin of the body's left breast, there were flashes of sparkling blue as the blue angular lines on the right arm had slowly spread out over the top of the chest and stopped.

When Mormont awoke next, he'd slowly turned himself over and got onto both feet, wavering slightly as he felt the long cut on his leg throb painfully. His full consciousness had returned when he saw the cavern in which he was. The stench of brimstone had quickly filled his nostrils, making him flare them in disgust.

He could not see the ceiling at all. It was just an empty pitch of darkness high above him. Too high up for him to see. Glancing downwards, Mormont had seen carved bridges of stone in the depths below, the innumerable collection of stalagmites and stalactites that lined the rocky ceilings and floors of the chasm. He was on a large platform overlooking a vast network of bridges and mines.

Across the gaping vale, on the other side of the chasm, Mormont saw the ore veins of gold, silver, copper, iron, and tin dotting the jagged stone walls. They were like shimmering multi-colored stars in the red night sky.

Mormont turned around and looked up at where he'd come from. He could no longer see the hole he'd dove into initially. He'd practically made it miles beneath the First Flame by this point. How far away was he now from the surface? Had he made even more distance once he'd been knocked out by the impact of the water?

His memories had come back to him. He grit his teeth as remembered why he was down here. A sacrifice. He spat out blood from his mouth and into the black pool of water.

No doubt, the fall from the hellmouth had not been intended to kill him. Only to soften him up, to make him more sensitive to the horrors that waited further below. It was only a taste of the pain to come.

Mormont felt the flayed flesh on his back become numb and make a dull throb. He needed to find a way out of this place if only to get to Euron Greyjoy and kill him with his own two hands. He didn't care if he was killed by Greyjoy's mute soldiers, as long as the Ironborn prick was dead.

He glanced around for some kind of exit, even out across the vast chasm. He decided that one of the bridges might be the key to a potential way out. His side of the cavern had seemed largely unexplored for the most part. Mormont saw that the closest of the narrow stone bridges was perhaps fifty or so yards below him, and far below it was the inky black void of nothing. Down there was the bottom of the world itself.

Mormont remembered something, a faraway memory from years ago. He pressed his hands against his torso, down along his abdomen, and above his waist. He grinned when he felt it. The box of matches had stayed inside his robe! He took it out and opened the wooden box. Some of them were wet, but in this place, they'd become dry soon enough.

He gathered his wits about him and was just about to begin his descent towards the bridge when he saw something by the other edge of the pool. He squinted his eye at the disruptive element and then widened it once he realized what it was.

A gleaming white bear's head pommel glared out at him in the darkness just on the opposite edge of the pool! Longclaw! He forgot entirely about his plan and stumbled over to the scabbard that was rocking gently against the stone edge. He picked up the ancestral blade of his family and gave a thankful sigh. If he was going to his doom, it would be this sword that he'd have at his side.

Mormont strapped the scabbard across his right shoulder and onto his back and kept the dagger on his belt. Then, he began his downward climb to the bridge.

It was easygoing at first. Mormont kept a sturdy grip on the volcanic rock edge, and slowly climbed down foot by foot, yard by yard across the short stone ledges and latches that bumped out of the steep cliff.

But then as he inched closer, he felt the suddenness of the great black abyss far below him. It stared right back up at him like a tiger's eye. It begged him to be swallowed within it, to meet its abysmal bottom with a sickeningly loud crunch of bone and flesh. Mormont forced himself to look at the orange rockside just a foot away from him. Don't look down. No matter what you do. Don't look down.

It was then that sweat had begun to bead and perspire from his skin, his forehead, and his hands. It was so damned hot down here! You're below a volcano, of course it'll be hot. Even as he stretched towards another chunk of rock on the cliffside, he could feel the sweat rolling down his forehead and into his right eyebrow, smothering the small forest of hair and moving down, slowly, carefully into the socket of his eye.

Inches at a time, he edged down towards the bridge on the rocky slope. He was like a caterpillar worming his way down a massive tree. Locking his fingers into the tiny holes in the rock, latching his toes on the inch-wide ledges in the stone. Feeling the heat begin to boil him as he hung high above the abyss. Otherwise, don't look down. Don't think about the darkness miles below that wants to eat you whole. Don't think about falling off the rock and smashing your bones like an ant beneath a boot. Don't worry about your screaming muscles or the bad cut on your leg. Don't think about the flayed skin on your back or the never-ending ringing bell of pain in your head. Just take the stone inches as they come, bit by bit, conquer them.

The stone ledge ended. There was a large gap, and he was at the top of an archway that widened further below him. Just about ten feet across the gap, the stone ledge continued. A leap would be suicidal. Mormont glanced above him. There was another cut into the stone, large enough for him to get a sturdy grip and drag himself across. He wiped his sweating hands on the waistcloth of his robe. There was no point arguing. He would just have to try.

Starag Mormont felt his muscles scream at him as he hung above the black pit below him. His arms cried out a thousand times in pain, as he slowly pulled himself across the stone ledge way, each hand making an iron grip on the stone. He began to see red. Don't let go! Keep going! You're perfectly fine. Nothing is wrong with you. You've just received a few minor cuts and bruises and nothing more. These are injuries that Torwyn would laugh at. Just get yourself across and onto the other side!

He placed his left hand on the next lap of the stone ledge when a chunk of warm orange rock cracked and crumbled off underneath his right hand. Mormont widened his eye and felt his heart jolt thunderously as he dangled helplessly from the stone ledge with just one hand. His legs searched for a foothold and found one. That was when he realized. He was across the gap! He now noticed just how much closer he was to the bridge now and he clung to the stone. Just a few feet away and he was standing on top of it!

Mormont stepped foot onto the sleek stretch of the bridge and collapsed. He was on solid ground once more, for however much it counted. He let himself catch his breath and wiped away the fresh sweat from his forehead.

After a few minutes, he got back up on his feet. His side of the bridge had been cut off with rubble. It was blocked. As he looked down at the other end, he noticed that it too had been blocked off with rubble, but there was also a circular red outline towards the bottom of the crumbled stone gateway.

Mormont walked across the bridge. He felt the hot wind from the depths come up and bite him, making him perspire more than he'd like. Once he made it to the other side, he could smell and feel the heat getting more and more powerful.

He got a better look at the orange circle. It was a hole, a lateral stone shaft that led deeper into the volcano. Mormont prayed that it led to the way out. There was no point in laying about. Time to get to work.

He got onto his knees and crawled into the shaft. The sides were a few inches wider than his shoulders. If anything came for him in here, he'd be unable to draw Longclaw. The dagger would be his only viable weapon.

As he went deeper into the shaft, the air grew warmer still, and had gotten much hotter the further he progressed. Eventually, the stone tube had singed the skin on his hands. Mormont sharply pulled back his hands and snarled. His next trial would be heat!

Mormont drew his dagger and cut off the upper portion of his robe. He sliced it into strips on the stone floor and wrapped them tight around his hands and fingers. His torn trousers and leather boots would just have to do against the hot stone.

Once he was wearing his makeshift silken gloves, Mormont took in a harsh breath of air. He lunged forward on the hot volcanic rock and set to work, cursing as he padded down along the tunnel.

He felt as if he were a bear sprinting on all fours as he climbed steadily through the infernal tube. Keeping his stomach off the ground, and lurching only on his hands and toes.

As he progressed, he felt spurts of steam cone upwards into his face. It was from the sweat dripping down from his forehead! And then the pads on his hands began to smolder. Sparks were catching on his hands and feet, both from the friction and the inferno that he found himself in. There was no air in the tunnel, he couldn't breathe at all. Gods, the silk gloves were beginning to burn! Mormont lurched back against the upper ceiling of the tunnel. He screamed as the stone scorched his skin upon contact. He kept screaming regularly with each contact on his hands or feet. Now his boots had been set ablaze! More sparks flew from each hand placement, his fingers being boiled.

Now he must've been finished. He would keep on climbing until he'd fry in this damnable shaft. He could barely see in front of him as tears and sweat blinded his only good eye. No! You must keep going! Don't stop! Not now! You made a promise to Rhaenys! Keep going!

Just then, his hands had made full contact with the hot burning stone. He howled in the lateral shaft. Scream! Scream! Scream! That's good! It means you're alive! Keep going! It can't be much longer! Pull through! Now! Now!

Barely out of earshot, Mormont heard the sound of rushing water! He looked ahead and saw the starburst of green, white, and blue come crashing towards him! Mormont gripped onto the stone and felt his fingers burn, realizing that if he let go, he'd come spilling out the way he came and into the black abyss.

The wave came and washed over him a thousand times. The heat was soon replaced by blessedly cold and relieving torrents of saltwater. Mormont held his breath for what seemed like hours underneath the sharp jetty.

A few moments later, the pressure of the water had died down, and Mormont was barely able to catch his breath in the lateral shaft until it was filled to the brim with fresh steam. He felt himself boil once again, though it was not as bad as before.

It cleared quickly, and Mormont felt the stone begin to dry and heat up again. He didn't waste any time. He lurched forward on burnt hands and feet until he finally climbed out from the other side of the tube. It was colder! There was an underground lake!

Mormont let himself lay down just a few feet away by the lake's edge, in a tight crevice on top of the rocks. Gingerly, Mormont rested his head and his flayed back against the cool stone and let the darkness put him back to sleep.

In the dark underground chasm, the large body softly slept. Blisters formed over the opened wounds and the heartbeat on steadily inside the chest. Rest had soon recharged the slackened nerves which had earlier surged with tremendous pain and the turbulent pumping of adrenaline.

Years later, Mormont was awoken by another crashing wave of cold seawater. The foam and salt spray exploded into his body, pressing him against the rock, and shocking him back to life.

He was up on his feet in an instant once the water had died down again. His breathing was rapid, his lungs working overtime to accommodate his surprise and the danger he felt in his chest.

Mormont scanned the area wildly, looking for any potential dangers. It was an animal reaction. His mind was no longer of the thinking, reasoning man he'd once been. Now his mind was filled with the primal drive to live, to survive this hell he'd found himself in. He was at the end of his human reactions to pain.

He was inside a large cavern that stretched far beyond into the distance, though the other side was blocked with thick brimstone stalagmites that jutted out of the inky black depths. He estimated there was about a kilometer between him and the opposite end of the cave.

The orange lights were much brighter here. There were several more lateral shafts inside the rock. Mormont imagined that the slaves who'd once dug in these mines had had to climb through those very same tubes. The orange glow and fumes of smoke came from multiple of those same shafts.

Mormont glanced up at the ceiling. It was probably about thirty feet high, and there was a gaping hole in the dark that he could make out. There was a steady beat of water flowing from it.

He must be underneath the other side of the First Flame, the side that was bordered with the Smoking Sea itself. No doubt, there were many crevices and cracks in the rock that allowed fresh seawater to come streaming inside and down into these caves. It certainly made sense when he saw the underground lake in front of him.

Mormont decided not to wait around for the next torrent of seawater. He'd come out from behind the rocks and looked to his left and his right. He needed to find a passage that led up and out of this damned place. Where could he find it?

Mormont searched wildly with a bloodshot lightning blue eye, scanning around the cavern. There! To the right, he saw a set of roughly mined stone stairs leading up into the rock!

He lumbered his way over to it, feeling his toes kiss the cool underground air and lick the smooth orange stone. He glanced down. His boots had been burned to shreds. There was little left besides a few leather scraps on his feet. The makeshift silk gloves he'd tied to his hands were completely gone, having burned away along with the skin on his knuckles and his outer palms.

He removed what was left of his boots. It must have been far too hot in the tunnel for them to withstand the heat. Mormont tossed the remains into the shimmering black pool and marched carelessly on towards the set of stairs.

Mormont steadily climbed the steep steps one by one, placing his hands up onto one and then the other. Again and again. He had soon lost himself in the mindless climb. Up and up and up!

Was he really making progress? Or had Greyjoy also plotted out this path for him to follow along? Had the mad bastard known that Mormont would make it this far? What would be at the end of the race?

Starag Mormont had a distinct feeling he was being toyed with, even in the depths of the earth itself. That there was nothing, no prize at the end except for pure oblivion. It had to be that. There was no escape from this pit, was there?

Stop it! The hard voice had ordered from within. Stop feeling sorry for yourself, you bloody fool! Think of Rhaenys. Think of your children. Think of Jon. Think about getting out of this place and wrapping your hands around Greyjoy's neck. That will be your prize! You only have to reach out and take it!

The walking corpse had methodically kept on climbing. All the while, the brain was half monitoring the body as it padded from one step to the next.

Suddenly, Mormont nearly slipped forward as he ran out of stairs to climb. He was at the top!

Mormont got up above the surface and scanned his new surroundings. He felt the heat begin to penetrate the layer of sweat that had formed over his skin. Hot air had filled his lungs. He was inside an underground tower of sorts, standing atop a catwalk on the edge of the wall, while in the middle, Mormont could see several floors beneath him, and at the very bottom was a not-so inviting pit of lava.

Mormont stayed away from the stone railing and edged towards the walls of the tower. He saw his exit on the other side, a stairway leading up.

Mormont stepped forward, testing the ground for its sturdiness. It held. Another step. It also held true. He sped up his pace.

About halfway across the catwalk, he spotted something slivering out of the wall on his immediate right. It was thick, slimy, and orange. Mormont nearly jumped back into the glowing pit when saw that the damn creature before him had a fucking face!

But it was fast. As soon as it saw him, it darted back into the stone. Gone.

Mormont didn't waste another second. He drew Longclaw sharply and held it out in front of him. The adrenaline began to pump ferociously back into his veins. He was now back in enemy territory. Or had he never left? In the lair of monstrosities that were likely to kill him, that had likely killed many Valyrian slaves before he ever arrived.

Mormont quickly made his way across the catwalk. Just as he was about to make the final turn for the stairs, he felt the electric shock of danger hit him square in the chest as he could feel the heat begin to approach him from his right side. Mormont dove forward, narrowly avoiding the blast of fire that jutted out of the wall behind him.

He got back up on his feet immediately and turned around to see what had caused it. He nearly froze once he saw them.

Slithering, writhing masses had glared out at him from the holes in the curved wall. Each of them looked damn near the same, but all of them were varied in size. Gods, the largest must have been the size of a horse!

Long orange snouts, hundreds of jagged teeth laid out in rows, strange curled horns, tiny piercing red eyes, and scaly, slimy bodies that had oily hairs hanging from their chins.

So these must have been the Firewyrms of Valyria. The magical beasts that lived in these lands long before dragons. The same creatures that had likely lived inside Aerea Targaryen's body even after she had died.

Mormont saw their flailing mouths and tiny, centipede-like arms that gripped onto the walls. He also saw their mouths open up, and the glowing orange tinge within them. He jumped behind the nearest stone wall and watched as a massive inferno of orange, red, and yellow exploded past him and directly onto the remainder of the stone catwalk.

He heard stone rumble and squelch behind him as if something was moving within it. Mormont leaped away just in time as the largest of the damn fire serpents blasted out of the stone wall and roared at him. It must've been the oldest, the mother. Gods, it was horrifying!

He saw the lungs of the damn thing light up, and the familiar heat had soon made itself known to him. It was going to roast him alive! And Mormont would not be fast enough to get away this time!

The animal side of him had taken over. Could he kill it? With Valyrian Steel no less? He would have to risk it, lest the other wyrms bore their way through the stone and scorch him into a pile of ash.

With a primal roar of fury and pain, Mormont swung upwards with all his might at the orange head, feeling the heat of its fire breath get closer and closer with each second.

He saw the Valyrian Steel blade sink easily into the pale orange flesh, and the heat stop dead in its tracks as the smoky black sword had cut off the circulation between the neck and the head.

It was then that the cavern shook with a terrible CRACK! Out of the corner of his eye, the markings on his right arm had suddenly glowed a bright light blue, and lightning crackled up and along Mormont's blade and into the stone walls, and even onto the floor. The foundations in the tower shook terribly, signaling that it was about to collapse.

Mormont didn't have time to sit and stare at the crackling blue sparks of lightning that charged into the stone. He didn't wait to hear the wretched, inhuman screams that came from the damn fire serpents as they were fried alive by the forks of blue electricity. Neither did he bother to look at the steaming head and carcass of their mother. Mormont turned around and ran up the stone staircase.

Behind him, the cave had shaken, and stalactites cracked and fell from the ceiling and down into the lava pit below. The stone catwalk rippled and flared, and began to crumble. By the time Mormont was out, the passageway below was already half-blocked with fallen chunks of orange brimstone.

A fine layer of dust had risen from the entrance into the tower, and Mormont had landed on the hard obsidian ground, letting himself catch his breath as he felt the rumbling stop behind him.

Mormont stayed there for a while. He didn't even think of the magic anomaly that had occurred before his eye. The thinking and feeling part of him had gone. It had endured too much pain in too little time. It existed outside of him now, floating along and watching him as he plodded along from one hazard to the next.

Gods, what time was it? Had it been years since he first dove into the hellmouth? How much time had passed since he had begun his harrowing journey? More still, how close was he to the end? If there was one at all?

No. Mormont knew it would come soon. It had to be. And he knew that something terrible was waiting for him further beyond. He would soon find his way into the killing ground, the end of his journey.

Mormont felt the rage in his sick stomach, he felt it in his screaming muscles and in his burned feet and hands. In the torn skin on his back and shoulders. You're going to get out of this alive. What would Arthur say if he were here? He'd tell you to stop moping and get on with it! You're going to kill Greyjoy. You're going to go back home with Jon. You'll see your wife's beautiful violet eyes again. You'll get to see your children grow up and conquer the world all on their own. You WILL survive! Get up, Mormont! Now!

Mormont had wordlessly shuffled to his feet at the brazen command. He looked to his right at the other side of the narrow cave he had found himself in. There was nothing particularly special about the rectangular-shaped room, except that the thin bridge he was standing on was made purely out of dragonglass, obsidian.

He glanced below the bridge itself. Black. Nothing. An empty void. And on the other side? A tall archway with old torch sconces of Valyrian Steel on either side of it. Mormont widened his eye when he felt a cool breeze brush against his cheek. Even more so when he saw a dim natural light. He was almost outside!

Mormont lurched forward on bruised and burned feet, his bloody footprints staining the pathway of black glass. His right hand refused to let go of the Valyrian Steel bastard sword in its grip.

He made it to the other side and took the left turn. The air was getting cooler and cooler. There was natural purple-grey light up ahead, bouncing off the sleek stone walls.

Mormont stepped out into a very long and curved hallway. One side was purely volcanic black stone, smoothened out so that neither stalagmites nor stalactites would be hanging from the walls, or jutting out of the floors. The other side was non-existent save for a series of pillars that lined the west side of the hall, about ten feet apart. Out further beyond was a great chasm of flat smooth rock and massive jagged obsidian spikes.

Mormont stared at the impressive location in awe and had even looked up into the red night sky of Valyria. There were thick dark grey clouds hanging over top of him. He could hear the distant rolling of thunder high above him. The cylindrical walls high above him were jagged and bumpy, as if…

He realized. Mormont was standing inside the First Flame, inside the actual mouth of the volcano itself!

He got a better glance out at the entire arena before him. Yes! Far on the left edge of the black rock platform was a much deeper drop into the endless abyss. That was where the lava and magma would fire from if an eruption took place. The architecture, Valyrian, was always built to last, even if the world had come to an end.

And on the far side of the stone platform below him? He saw it! The was another elegant stone archway leading upwards! He just needed to get across and-

"Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr." He stopped dead in his tracks as soon as he heard it. "Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!"

Mormont had soon felt a primal fear within him begin to leap and scream in his mind. Danger had quickly woken up his dead nerves one final time, reviving what was left of his thinking mind, and making his body shake with the animal reserves of strength and… perhaps even courage.

As Mormont watched the large dragonglass spike out in the middle of the First Flame, he nimbly stepped one foot in front of the other as he walked the length of the obsidian hallway and saw It sleeping peacefully in the center of the black stone platform.

He first saw the tail. It was long and scaly, almost as large as five horses and as long as a mast atop a powerful war galley. Black, leathery wings that were probably as extensive as a tourney ground once they were stretched out to full length, and the protruding spear-like claws at the ends of them. Then there was the hard-scaled body of iron and black steel, the slender neck adorned with jagged spinal spikes, and the massive black horns that were curved downwards. Leading up to the strong jaw with rows of teeth as sharp as swords, and the mouth that echoed a thunderous rumble inside the pit of the volcano.

Starag Mormont stopped himself from progressing further and let a quiet sigh exit his mouth. "Fuck."

Sleeping soundly in the middle of his path, was a dragon.