PROLOGUE

The chanting rumbled the stone once again, a symphony to sleep to each time the moon rose in the night sky. The prayers had grown in length as well as frequency since the Lady Melisandre had returned. Reverberating throughout the towers of the Red Temple, tales of bleeding stars piercing the sky, swords of fire cleansing the world and a great darkness consuming the sun had become gospel for the followers of R'hllor.

These stories filled the mind of Saira with wilds and wonders, fears and dreads, curiosity and intrigue. Tossing and turning, sleep eluded the young slave girl. She was a comely young lady of six and ten years of age, she had olive skin with eyes a jewelled hazel, her hair was a deep nut brown that flowed from her shoulders.

Staring at the ceiling of the hall, the sound of snoring, coughing and groaning accompanied the evening prayers. She was surrounded by at least a hundred other sleeping slaves, sometimes she tried to count them before the darkness shrouded her view. There was little else to see in the hall save for several plaques along the walls. Carved into the squared stone was a fiery hand, the symbol of the followers of R'hllor.

The hand was burnt black, with flames of crimson engulfing it in a blur of grey smoke. Within the carved hand lay a bleeding heart with a sword plunged deep through from the right side downwards. A burning comet soared above the bloody organ as the flames licked at the explosion. The entire symbol was encircled in a line of red that ran down the edges.

When the torches burnt down, darkness flooded the hall finally sending Saira to sleep. Her dreams offered her an escape to a different reality, one where prayer and faith had no bearing. She dreamed of her home, yet every time it seemed more and more unfamiliar to her. Her family hut that sat beneath a collapsed palm tree, the golden beach at the coast, lined with rocks of every shape and colour, the crystal blue waters of the Summer Sea so clear she could see the creatures that dwell below the surface as they scurried and glided across the ocean floor.

What I wouldn't give to go back, oh what I wouldn't give to return to my home again? To my mother, my father, my sisters… She often dreamed of her mother and father exiting the hut to greet her, except their faces were blurred to her vision, she could no longer recall their faces, I wonder if I would recognise them were I to see them again? Would they recognise me? She thought sadly, she found happiness when she dreamed of her four sisters, the young girls playing in the sand and smiling in the sunshine, enjoying the clean cool waters as the waves washed over the sand and rocks. Discovering a new sea creature and running excitedly to show her mother, as she prepared their supper.

She dreamed of the celebrations with other families of the tribe whenever a child was born, stupendous gatherings that would last for days at a time in commemoration of a new life being brought into the world. Humongous bonfires that burned fifty feet high, feasts of fruit and fish, foraged and caught from every corner of the island. These dreams did precious much to comfort Saira as they would quickly turn to nightmares. When slavers came across their island, her life changed forever. Her home, pillaged in a matter of hours, she remembered the palm trees burning, smoke rising in the sky. Blood soaking in the sand turning it mahogany, the blood of her father…her mother…her sisters…

She wished she could unsee it, her father slain by sword and knife, her mother taken naked and bare, her sisters captured and enslaved. Herself, taken to the Red Temple, never to see any of them again. Only in her dreams would she see them and it filled her with happiness and sorrow.

A loud boom hit her ears and she felt herself being shuck awake, seeing her best friend Shiera brought her back to the real world.

"Saira wake up, it's time."

"Rise, rise warriors, rise to the light for it shines brightly this day!"

She could hear off towards the door, a male priest bellowed as he lifted a glowing staff of amber and crimson into the air, back to the ground with a deep thud as it collided with the stone.

"Come Saira, we have to go." Her friend urged, Shiera was a year or two older than her, one of her only friends, she claimed to have been born within the temple walls, amidst salt and smoke. Her blond locks and violet eyes always appeared wild but focused. All she knew was the Red God R'hllor and his holy journey.

The courtyard opened up to the sheer scale of the Red Temple, buildings of red stone stood as beacons of worship to R'hllor. An enormity of pillars, steps, buttresses, bridges, domes and towers flowed into one another as if they had all been chiselled from one colossal rock. When the sun shone upon it, a hundred hues of red, yellow and orange melted and melded together, dissolving into themselves like clouds at sunset.

At the head of the yard stood the High Priest Benerro, a tall thin man, he had a shaven head, a drawn face and skin as white as milk. Slave tattoos of flames covered his cheeks, chin and head to make a bright red mask that crackled about his eyes and coiled down around his lipless mouth.

To his right stood priest Ezzelyno, a far more normal man, his black hair was cut short, clean shaven, his eyes were a deep brown contrast to the red robe adorned his shoulders, the Fiery Hand coating the front and arm sleeves.

Further to the right stood Moqorro, he was a monster of a man standing well over seven feet tall, as wide as two men with a belly like a boulder. His skin was black as pitch, darker than coal or jet. Burnt. Saira thought. A tangle of pure white hair grew from his face like the mane of a lion. Across his cheeks and forehead, flame tattoos of yellow and orange danced about with dashes of red streaking through them. His scarlet robes were embroidered with golden satin flames on the sleeves, collar and hems. He held his iron staff tall in his right hand as tall as he was, a dragon's head sat atop the metal that spat crackled green flames when brought down.

To the left of the High Priest resided the sultry priestess Kinvara, her beauty cast across the courtyard complimenting the red ruby of her necklace. It appeared to be pulsating with a deep lust. Her brown locks fell effortlessly upon her shoulders with not a hair out of place. Her eyes focused and alluring, a piercing sea of hazel gold.

Standing ever so slightly behind her, was the priestess Melisandre, a robe identical to Kinvara coated her body, her maroon locks flowing wavy down her shoulders and back. The ruby of her necklace shone as bright as the sun, as bloody as a beating heart. Rumours had been whispered about the temple of her travels on the far side of the narrow sea. The legendary chosen warrior Azor Ahai had allegedly been found in the western land according to the red priestess. She had resurrected him from beyond the grave and believed he to be the chosen one to save the world from the coming darkness.

A rumble came from the guards stationed around the courtyard as High Priest Benerro raised his hand, spears and staffs clattered with stone in synchronicity. Hoots and shouts emanated from the edges until silence settled over the crowd.

"We are blessed this day brothers and sisters…" began the thin man. "For the sacred warrior of the Lord of Light has been found." He continued, his voice bellowing across the silent space. "The Lady Melisandre has revealed him to us, she ventured across the Narrow Sea to preach the word of our Lord, to gather followers and fighters to his cause…she swore she would not fail us…and she has not disappointed."

"And now the time has come…our time brothers and sisters, the time for us to finally play our part, the pieces have fallen into place on the board and it is our time to make our move. We will mobilise our armies, sail across the salt waters and take our place behind our warrior of light! The Great Other amasses his forces of evil from lands of ice and darkness, he raises his armies from beyond the grave to do his bidding and now they move to destroy the world of men"

His voice grew to a bellow as the religious fervour took hold. "This warrior will lead the charge against the Great Other…and we will ride alongside him into the darkness…for that is our PURPOSE!"

Sporadic shouts, cheers and hoo-rahs began to whistle across the yard, chants and prayers started to gather sound amongst the slaves, some dropping to their knees, others reaching their arms up to the sky, some overcome with emotion, weeping in groups together wailing to each other.

"And know this brothers and sisters, for if you should fall, know that you will have served a greater cause…to the Lord of Light R'hllor and to the people of this world…and know that you will not be forgotten, that your sacrifice will be remembered!"

Saira could feel the adrenaline start to coerce through her veins as the speech grew to fever pitch. Shiera was to her right, hands clasped together tightly as she whispered a prayer to herself. I wonder if she prays for her home, for her family…or does she truly pray to fight alongside this chosen warrior on the far side of the world…I don't want to fight…I want to go home…do I even know where home is?

"Name! Name! Name him!" Began to ring out as Benerro raised his fist to the sky, "This warrior will be named Azor Ahai, savour of this world, the Lord's chosen, son of fire, warrior of light! But he is a man from a foreign land to ours, and there he is known by another name…a name we must honour and respect…Jon Snow!

"Snow! Snow! Snow! Snow! Snow!" filled the courtyard as hundreds of voices chanted as one and the name 'Snow' echoed amongst the towers and domes of the Red Temple.

"We haven't a moment to waste my brothers and sisters, our work must commence now, warriors prepare for combat, whores parade the streets, workers practise your craft. Those who remain, you will have the most important role, your sacrifice will be more forthcoming."

The guards commenced shifting and grouping some of the slaves together, those destined for war had a tattoo of a sword on their cheek, those parading the streets had tears and those for the forges and anvils had hammers and chisels.

Saira had none of these colouring her face nor Shiera, she felt her friend grab her hands and hold them tight, "It's going to happen Saira, it's coming. Our sacrifice will begin today."

"Today?" She questioned

Before she could respond, they were being forcefully shoved aside to the left into a smaller group, no more than twenty and five. She looked around at the faces of those next to her. Most were young women like her, slight and small, few were men mostly gaunt and pale. Some had fervour in their eyes, others had sadness.

"Remember brothers and sisters, all that you do from this day forward may very well save this world from the looming shadow this Great War will bring." Concluded the High Priest as they disappeared from her view.

The yard resumed the commotion as hundreds of bodies were grouped together and herded towards this tower and that dome. Saira began to notice every group was being shuffled and shoved except for her one. Still holding the hand of her best friend, Saira turned to her,

"What are we sacrificing Shiera?"

"Worry not Saira, it will be glorious."

"Why do you say that, what does it mean?"

"It means we will see the light, we are truly blessed this day Saira." Shiera had always believed in what was happening at the Temple far more than her, Shiera saw a band of religious warriors with a glorious purpose, Saira saw a cult of slavers who had bought her like a prized pig. As the courtyard thinned out, their group remained still. Until Saira saw the lady Melisandre approach them,

"My brothers, my sisters, you have been chosen this day, you will know glory and fulfilment, you will know the true meaning of why we are here. The Great War is upon us…and you will serve as the first means of offence. Please, come with me."

They were led to a large hall lined with rows of troughs, slaves were topping the baths up with boiling water before swiftly making their exit. Approaching one of the troughs, Saira could feel the heat on her face.

"You may disrobe to bathe yourselves, take as much time as you need." said the Red Woman.

"Why are we getting this?" asked Saira puzzlingly. "You are the Lord's first chosen, you will be the first to walk into the light." she replied.

"But what does that mean?" pried Saira

"Hush child." Melisandre whispered as she placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "All will be well, the Lord has smiled on us this day, young one. Now must honour his favour, we must play our part in his plan. It is our purpose, it is why we're here."

"What's your name child?"

"Saira"

"A beautiful name, as beautiful as you." She caressed her brown locks as she stared deeply into her eyes. "Bathe now, the water will do good to purify your soul." Why does my soul need to be purified? Are we special? What are we meant for in this Great War?

The sting of the hot water felt soothing on her skin as she sank into the tub. Prayers began to ring through the long hall conducted in some foreign language she did not know. Red incense rose from lanterns gently swaying above her, the scent was sweet and heavy. It filled Saira with a warm, calm feeling as she relaxed into the steamy waters. The holy words of prayer became muffled as she submerged herself.

A bell rang out after conclusion of the prayers. Drying off, Saira noticed the red woman conversing with the others in her group. I wonder if she is filling their ears with promises of glory and prosperity, what does she tell them? A quartet of guards gradually escorted them from the hall, what followed was a day of revelry and reverement. Sermon after sermon followed by feast after feast, Saira had never known such indulgence in her life. Yet she felt something was wrong in her gut.

By the time they found themselves in the courtyard, dusk was settling in. The red hands encased in brazen flames scattered among the temple began to glow brightly fierce. Torches burned a deep orange lined the walls casting shadows that jumped from side to side.

In the centre, stood a pyre of incredible stature. Rings of red priests orbiting the structure chanting all the while, guards began to herd and shuffle the group together as she found Shiera by her side clutching her hand, "Our time has come Saira, we will know true bliss now." she said excitedly. "What will we know…what bliss?"

A voice rang out from the front of the group, "Hear us now, oh great lord. Show us the way, protect us from the darkness and shield us from the Great Other. For the night is dark and full of terrors."

One by one, the members of the group were led to the pyre, some went willingly with glee in their eyes and smiles on their faces, others went hesitantly, looks of sadness and dread on their faces. Why are they sad, why are some happy? What is happening? Pyre's are for burning…

Shiera stepped forward holding onto her arm, whilst Saira stood where she was.

"Saira come."

"What's happening, what are they going to do?"

"It's ok Saira, this is our purpose, there's no reason to be afraid."
Saira felt someone grab her arms and start to edge her forward from behind, one of the guards seemed to have noticed her hesitancy. In a split second, Saira found herself being dragged forward towards the wood, Shiera attempted to reassure her, whilst all Saira could do was scream as panic started to close around her chest.

She now had two guards urging her forward, one either side, their grip crippling on her arms as she felt tears form in her eyes. She spotted the red lady, Melisandre standing beneath the pyre, the ruby of her necklace pulsing a blood red. Her eyes appeared empty without emotion, a slight smile upon her face.

"What are you doing!? Why are you doing this!? WHAT'S HAPPENING!?"

She managed to say through tears and screams as the guards carted her past the priestess. Binding her to the wood, she felt helpless as her wrists became tight. Shiera continued to reassure her as she herself was bound to the next log along with promises of paradise and glory.

Looking out over the courtyard, her entire group was now bound to the pyre, Saira could feel her tears coursing down her face as her fate became clear to her.

"Accept these tokens of sacrifice oh lord, as offerings of our desire to follow your will. Take them by the hand and bask them in the glory and honour of your cause. Gift them paradise worthy of their sacrifice." preached Melisandre as her voice carried around the courtyard amongst the chants.

"WHY!? Why are you doing this!? This isn't right!" screamed Saira, her voice drowned in the cacophony of sound reverberating off the stone. Glancing towards the others tied and bound, there seemed little to none resistance among them, most appearing content with their fate.

How? How can they be content with this? I need to break free…I need to…I'm-I'm not sure if I can…I'm scared…I'm really scared… Saira continuously tried to wriggle free, her wrists, her fingers, her hands anything she could. She then realised her legs and feet were bound as well.

Feeling a wave of heat blow over her, a number of guards were approaching the pyre carrying flaming torches. Time seemed to slow for Saira as she watched each guardsman, one by one, light a section of the wood then toss the torch upon it.

Shiera then broke out into prayers of darkness and worship as the flames edged closer towards them. Looking to the sky, watching the clouds gracefully glide through the smoking air. Closing her eyes, as screams and cries started to overshadow the chants and prayers, Saira could feel herself opening her mouth to scream with no noise leaving her as the flames licked at her legs.

The pain became so extreme she lost the strength to hold herself up. As her rags caught fire and the flames progressed, Saira felt the heat engulf her face and neck before the courtyard fell silent.