Truth of Shadows

Volantis was always unpleasant, but as days and then weeks and moons passed Shiera thought the city entirely unbearable.

There were many things that annoyed her, but the one currently highest on the list was the man in front that had pulled a knife on a masked shadowbinder. He had to be desperate, to be that foolish, or perhaps too brave by half, but neither served to gain her sympathy.

"Give me your coin. I know you have more on you, I saw you in the market, buying those scrolls."

"Did you?" she asked, stepping forward and into what little light the waning evening sun still supplied in this tight alley. That he did not balk at a clearer view of her mask spoke for his honesty, though not for a clear mind.

"N-No games!" he near-shouted, flaunting the old steel in his hand, the limb shaking for a moment. "Just give me your coin."

"I don't think I will."

"I'll gut you!" His dirty face was gaunt and the clothes he wore little more than old rags. No doubt he was weakened considerably, but a contest of strength would not favour her despite that. Fortunately, she had no need to engage in something like that with anyone.

The man rushed forward, intent on driving steel home and making off with her belongings, but that plan was thwarted after the second step. He was close enough and this alley was largely filled with shadows, the sun only barely lighting the city. Here and now, shadows answered her call easily.

He stopped in place, caught in her grasp like a fly in the spider's web. Shiera walked forward, unconcerned for his life or position. Taking the old knife out of his frozen hand she threw the steel to the side, where it clattered against the stone, to be found later by some hapless drunk.

"Gut me, will you?" His eyes followed her, gripped in naked fear, obviously aware of the fact that he had no way out of the situation he had placed himself in, even as he continued to struggle against her hold on him. Shiera quietly debated how to proceed.

She could kill the man easily as he was or she could let him go, now properly afraid, so that he may learn from his mistakes. But for what reason should she show mercy, when the man had clearly been so willing to end her own life here and now?

A threat unaddressed would only lie in wait, to emerge later, more significant and troublesome to get rid of.

Shiera knew what Brynden, Daemon, or Aegor would have done. She felt rather sure in predicting what Naruto would have done too, but thinking about that any more would only frustrate her. Perhaps there was another solution to her current problem, one that may serve to address some of that frustration now that it was just below the surface again.

Reaching into the folds of her robe Shiera procured a small glass vial. The Citadel may guard its secrets with ironically religious fervour but many Maesters were not nearly so dedicated regarding their personal expertise.

Sweetsleep was poison and medicine both, depending on the exact amount administered. Three pinches would kill painlessly, while one pinch would grant a night of deep and dreamless sleep, but it could linger in the flesh for days, even weeks, afterwards and things would progress more quickly than that. One pinch would suffice.

Unstopping the vial Shiera forced the glass against the man's lips and pulled his head backwards, until she saw his throat move to swallow the sweet-tasting concoction. He tried to spit it out, and nearly choked on the liquid in the attempt, but he was not strong enough to fight against her grasp.

As poison, sweetsleep was best used with cake or a honeyed wine, where the noticeable sweetness was hidden away under the natural taste, but she had no need for such considerations here.

With how weak the man already was he lost the battle to unnatural slumber after barely a minute, his muscles slackening and only her hold on his shadow keeping him upright. Loosening that grasp he crumbled to the alley floor, caught by cobblestone and dirt.

Unfortunately, she now had to somehow get around a hundred pounds of unresponsive muscle and flesh to her residence on her own. Just another annoying consequence of her own choices, if a minor one.

In the end Shiera found a helping hand willing to remain silent, and at the cost of a fistful of honours and the subtle threat of her mask the porter carried the sleeping thief into her house and left, probably for the nearest opportunity to drink and forget any possible implications of what he had done.

She got to work, binding hands and feet first, should anything go awry during her other preparations, and then moved onto the more important parts.

Leeches set to work on the man, to gather blood for her needs, while she stoked the fire in her personal chamber. Until now she may not have seen any success through fire, but dragons were beings of flame, so much so that their blood was hot enough to ignite, and she could see no way that it would have adverse effects.

Valyrian glyphs were a form of writing, and done in blood, and imbued with magic and intention, could have magical effects of their own, so long as she and her necklace were close enough to counteract the degradation of magic and sorcery in this age.

The sun set and thoughts of sleep went ignored as she searched for a suitable sequence of glyphs to enable her purpose. Blood magic was the strongest magic there was. Shiera knew that truth, just as all those seriously engaged in sorcery of some kind did.

There was power in life and sacrifice, and perhaps it was just that sort of power she had been missing in her efforts until now.

Hours of reading and writing out sequences had passed by the time she settled on an approach and the sun was beginning to rise again as she stood to prepare the last steps. The blood she had gathered had sat unused for the night but now she was ready to proceed.

Shiera mixed her own blood with his, to strengthen what power there was inside. He was of Volantis, so some remnant of Valyria was in him too, but her own lineage had intentionally been kept pure for generation upon generation.

She painted the first glyphs on the floor around the thief's bound form, working by the light of candles and the morning rays. Then she moved to his body, marking his flesh in yet other symbols, along the chest and back, the arms and stomach, and then finally the face, ending with a final glyph on his forehead.

Lighting three braziers on the outside of the circle she had drawn Shiera collected the final and most important piece. Her dragon egg had sat in the burning hearth for the whole night, the stone-like shell warm to the touch and covered in ash and soot.

As she returned to the other room Shiera let her fingers trail over the blue scales, the beauty of the egg known by now and yet as enchanting as the first time she had laid eyes on it upon Naruto's return. She was ready.

The thief was bound to a simple chair, to keep him upright and allow her easy access to his torso, with the wooden legs placed in a small, wide tub, to catch the blood as it pooled once she began.

Shiera placed the egg in the man's lap, where it would be closest to the power she would soon invoke.

Preparations done; she took a step back, still in the circle but with room to move.

"Zōbrie sētenon, dohaeris. Ānogar sētenon, dohaeris," she began, beckoning magic to the surface.

She continued to chant, breaking out in song, to bend shadow and magic, blood and power and sorcery to her will. Valyria had tied power to blood, and she was the blood of dragonlords, so she used their words now, as they had millennia ago.

Shiera felt the necklace around her throat react to the power she was invoking, felt the air in the room thrum with the untapped potential of sorcery.

At the corners of the room shadows writhed, moving and dancing as they reared up in a reflection of life. The blood she had inscribed shifted and moved, yet never lost the shape of the glyphs she had written on floor and flesh. Flames flickered in a rhythm all their own, united in purpose with her. Three they were, as the dragons had been during the Conquest.

As magic and sorcery reached their peak Shiera stepped forward, the High Valyrian phrases repeating again and again, growing in volume. She unsheathed her steel, as Valyrian as her own flesh and blood, and the power within. She raised it high above her, the flickering fires reflecting in the dark ripples shaped centuries ago.

How the knife had been made even Shiera did not know exactly, but sorcery and spells had been woven into the metal, to empower it beyond normal means.

Stepping close she laid her free hand against the thief's chest, the edge of her blade hovering just above the skin and his heart, where blood shaped a circular symbol. On her last syllable she pushed forward lightly, the ancient spell-forged steel parting flesh with nary any resistance.

"Hnng!" The thief's eyes snapped open, blown wide just as his face contorted in pain and surprise. Skin and flesh and muscle and bone yielded without effort on her part, and blood welled from the wound she had inflicted, running down his body in small rivulets. Yet their path was unnatural, shaped by her power and intent, and the glyphs she had written in blood.

One scarlet droplet at a time her egg made contact with the lifeblood she was spilling.

What remnant of life the man was still desperately grasping left him in a last agonized breath, muscles relaxing and head lolling backwards with nothing there to support it anymore. Yet blood continued to flow from the wound, donating power and magic to her cause.

Shiera pulled her knife from the wound, the Valyrian steel red with blood. The scarlet trail widened and strengthened without anything closing the wound she had inflicted. Touching her index finger to the blood she laid it on top of the egg, where one of the steel-grey veins disrupted the blue scales.

A push of magic made flames bloom, wreathing the egg in blood and fire. New shadows appeared, spawned by the additional light source, to join those already dancing on the walls, and Shiera beckoned the magic at her fingertips to act. To follow her will in breathing life into the egg, so dragons may live again.

Heat scored her unmasked face, flames flickered higher and higher, and blood gathered.

Blood magic was the most powerful kind of magic, and it extracted its price ruthlessly.

The thief had been thin and lanky before, after what had likely been months of too little to eat, but now he was more husk than just corpse, limbs reed-thin and skin stretching tightly on his bones. The dancing shadows she had summoned and the lights flickering to the rhythm of sorcery in the room made for a ghastly sight on his face, deep-set eyes becoming two deep holes intruding into his skull.

Glyphs inscribed in blood on his skin had rooted themselves in place forcefully, burning into the flesh, never to be removed, marking the body as the sacrifice it was.

Then, blood covered every bit of scaly egg she could see, orange flames lazily burning and feeding on the scarlet curtain.

Shiera judged it to be enough, unrestrained power and sorcery being leashed under her command, control and force of will pushing back what she had intentionally unleashed, until all the fires in the room blew out in a cold gust, the darkness that had intruded on the space replaced by the natural light of the morning sun shining through the window.

The return to normalcy made the blood flow as it should, the curtain dropping to reveal the egg hidden underneath, unchanged.

Shiera stared, unsure how to react. She stepped close and put her hand on the blue scales. It was warm to the touch, and felt like stone, just as before. Picking it up she turned the egg in her hands, inspecting it from all sides. She did not understand.

Fire and Blood, those were the words of House Targaryen. They were the spark of Old Valyria, kept alive after the Doom. Even if she had never carried the name, her blood was that of dragon riders all the same.

Why then, did neither accomplish her goal?

Shiera remembered the split vision as clearly as the day she had first seen it. Herself in one eye, and him in the other. Dragons, born again. But only in the separation of her and Naruto. Him in Westeros and her remaining across the Narrow Sea in Essos.

What did her heart or his matter, when dragons stood to be gained, to stand as bulwark against freezing cold and devastation?

She had done it. Sent him away from her side, despite any personal misgivings. And now she was alone, with nothing to show for it.

Her egg mocked her with its warmth, with the promise of results, of success, but it showed no reaction at all, not before and not now, to any of her attempts. Even sacrificing life would not give her what she needed. And if that did not, nothing would.

Knees buckling, she collapsed to the floor, uncaring of the blood and the corpse right in front of her. Forehead touching scales she screwed her eyes shut.

It couldn't be. It just couldn't.

If all her efforts had been for naught, everything she had done in the last year, if all of that had been entirely pointless…. It was simply impossible.

Shiera opened her eyes again, suddenly hating the sight in front of her. She flung the egg across the room, where it crashed into a wooden bookcase, so its unchanged appearance could not accuse her any further.

If that was true, then, then…. Then she needed to leave Volantis.

Asshai was a gigantic city, and one of the greatest ports in the world. And yet beyond the enormous boundaries of the harbour itself it was as empty as it was big.

Freedom stood as the highest value in Asshai, unbound and unconditional. There was no act forbidden in the limits of the city, no thought too scandalous, no price too high, no plan too horrendous. Ideal to practice sorcery of every kind, which was why it harboured more sorcerers than any other place.

Shiera had not been back for decades, but she had no intention of staying. Asshai was just convenient, for its port and the position on the river Ash, the best way to Stygai and the Pit.

She walked the dark empty streets in a daze, never straying from her path even as she left the city walls behind. Ghost grass was the only plant that grew anywhere in the Shadowlands, the pale stalks rising over her head as she walked upriver, her only possession a simple leather satchel, her dragon egg inside.

Perhaps it was simple fortune that had no young shadowbinder on their first trip up the Ash as she walked the same path. Shiera had no wish for human contact much less conversation at the moment, only the deformed fish swimming in the poisonous river as her silent companions.

The walk was long and gruelling, and the days melted together, little daylight reaching between the high cliffs rising on both sides with only a very narrow opening at the top, but she did not care about any of it. Once perhaps, the Ash had flowed underground here, but at some point earth and stone had split, making this a small valley instead of a cave.

Magic and sorcery nourished her, keeping her able even as she walked through days and nights. Even so the task exacted a toll. Her feet blistered and eventually bled, driving agony up her legs with every step, and the rough ghost grass scraped her body whenever she had to force her way through the stalks, but she continued.

Stygai rose in the distance, pitch-black walls towering above the surrounding lands, to keep what was inside at bay. Whispers in Asshai named it the corpse city, for the hundreds of people that had never returned from their first steps inside the gates, and even shadowbinders seldom chanced the trip anymore.

It was night by the time Shiera reached the open gates of the city, greeting her like an expectant maw waiting for its next meal. The Ash glowed a light green when the sun hid below the horizon, the only source of light anywhere in Stygai, throwing shifting shadows against the stone.

Howling winds assaulted her ears as soon as her foot passed the boundary, the screams of the damned and long-dead crying out in anguish. Stygai's dangers were in large part not the physical kind. The evils of this city had no need for claws and teeth, for muscle or steel.

In Stygai your own demons accompanied you every step.

"Traitor to truth," they whispered.

"Breaker of bonds."

"Betrayer of trust."

She walked and walked, ever forward, no matter her stumbling and the pain of every step, trying to ignore the demanding voices.

"Thief."

"Murderer."

"Witch."

"Liar!"

"Coward!"

Shiera stumbled, catching herself on her hands, sharp jagged stones cutting into the skin. She had to go on. Just a bit more. Then there would be peace.

"But would it not be easier, to end it now? And rest?" the thought drilled into her head, loud and insistent. One bleeding hand dropped to her knife. Even exhausted it would not take much for the sorcerous steel to draw blood for a final time.

Her egg was warm even through the leather of her satchel, pressing against her chest and giving some semblance of comfort. No, she needed to go on. There were things she had to do.

Shiera pushed herself to her feet, struggling to stand, her right ankle protesting the movement and the ensuing weight placed on it, demanding attention. But she had none to give.

Again and again, she placed one foot in front of the other, slowly but surely working herself deeper into the city. Half-crumbled buildings loomed over abandoned market squares or broad main streets, rubble long since destroying whatever hospitality this place had ever offered.

Animals could no more live here than humans, so when the whispers quieted for a time, there were only her own laboured breaths and the crunch of gravel under her feet echoing of the dark stone all around her.

A cold wind swept through the city, ruffling her robes in a gentle caress, and making her hood drop from her head, displaying glamoured hair, long and brown, just as she knew it.

Soon, the witch could rest, and forget her sins.

She continued to walk, passing narrow alleys, old towers, a hollowed-out inn, and the near unrecognizable remnants of a church. What gods had ever been prayed to by the inhabitants of Stygai she did not know, and most likely no one alive did anymore.

On and on the street stretched, seeming never-ending to her exhausted, dazed mind.

Finally, Shiera reached her goal. The stone street she had been walking simply dropped away, consumed by the gigantic pool in front of her. Here, Shadow itself had been unleashed, and consumed everything that stood in its way.

Darkness unbound, it writhed and roiled, spiralling inwards. And downwards, ever downwards. Until it would finally pull you under, and you were caught in its cold, comforting grasp.

She dropped to her knees; her exhausted body finally having accomplished its task. There would be rest soon. Not much longer.

Shaking hands reached for the leather satchel she carried, jagged pieces of stone piercing the skin and rivulets of blood welling from the cuts. Trembling fingers fumbled at the loops keeping it closed, until the flap finally fell open.

The egg was warm, as always, and the grey veins in blue were just as beautiful as she remembered. A suitable offering, she hoped.

Shiera scooted forward on her knees until her hands could reach over the edge. The wind tugged at her robes and skin, strengthened by the movement of the Shadow below.

When she made to stretch out her arms, to give the egg in offering, a new thought came to her. Why make this so complicated? Once, she had taken knowledge from this place, something never meant to leave here. Now it was time she gave it back.

The greatest offering she could give. Surrendering everything she still had.

Yes, only that would do. Nothing less than that.

The she could finally rest.

She saw them, waiting for her. Naerys, happier than Shiera ever remembered her being, with her brother Aemon at her shoulder. Daemon and Daenerys, leaning into each other and taking comfort in the other's presence. Daeron and Myriah, Aerys, Baelor and Maekar and their children, grown as she had never seen them in life.

And even Aegor and Brynden were there, for once as close as brothers, with none of the wounds they had inflicted on the other in years of war.

Finally, one last face joined them, to the side but part of the picture all the same. Naruto looked angry with her, as he should, and yet ready to forgive, ready to welcome her with open arms.

Yes, yes, she had waited so long, this was what she needed, what she wanted.

He held out a hand for her, inviting her forward and Shiera moved to stand, struggling to her feet.

Before she could take the first step she noticed all of their looks. They were focused on her neck, all of them watching in disapproval. Yes, of course. Her necklace, she had no more need for it now. She could leave it behind, for time to do with what it will. The sorcery was of no more use to her.

They all looked at her in encouragement, approving of her understanding and graced her with smiles as she reached for the necklace of silver and iron, the black gemstone in the middle.

Her fingers closed around the pendant with every intention of tearing it off and leaving it behind.

Skin met the black opal and then there was a sudden, burning pain, anger and fury invading her mind for a moment. Shiera jerked, displaying the necklace to the surroundings, and where before there had been a dark black gem with unfathomable depth there was now a furious red glow.

Her palm was marked with a circular burn in the middle, a reminder of her actions, and the glow around her neck strengthened more and more, red consuming her vision and forcing back encroaching darkness. The ghosts of her loved ones were scattered in the brightness and wind, all of them disappearing in a keening screech, and then there was only the ominous black pit.

What…, what had she been doing? She had come here to throw the egg inside, to erase the shame of it all, but not this.

In front of her the Shadow loomed large. Deep and dark and hungry, it was, but she saw no more comfort in the sight.

Shiera understood what had happened to her, just as she was able to place the feeling her necklace was giving off. She could not help but chuckle bitterly, shaking her head. "Even now you would guard me?"

Protective, even sheltering. And angry, at her and what she had been about to do. That was nothing however compared to the animalistic fury directed at her surroundings. Deserving or not, it clearly did not matter to Naruto. But it did to her.

Normally, even her mastery of shadowbinding would not suffice to throw it off, once the city had her in its grasp.

She stood on damaged feet, fighting against her body's protests. Her egg was still comfortingly warm in her hand, and it helped her focus her mind, finding and ignoring those thoughts not truly as they should be. All of them were her own, but Stygai gnawed at your doubts and flaws and regrets, until it found a crack it could force to widen and spread.

But if the whispers had been right about one thing it was that she was running away, had been doing so for many years now. Naruto clearly would not stand for it, even this far away, and perhaps she shouldn't either.

She had chosen her actions, and successful or not, she had to live with them now, consequences and all. No more running.

Shiera turned away, facing the ruined city and not Shadow itself. Placing her egg back into its satchel she took the first step away, eyes searching the rubble and streets for the other threats of Stygai, necklace and egg two sources of comfort and warmth for her.

That she had lived, and not perished by her own hand, meant only that the city would try to accomplish the same thing another way. More directly dangerous, but also something she could work around and combat.

Considering her exhaustion, however, stealth might be the best option now. If Naruto would preserve her life, knowing or not, then there were things she needed to do, to accomplish, with or without dragons.

Veiling herself in shadows Shiera set out cautiously.

I hope you enjoyed chapter 27. I am nearly done with 28 and already started working on 29.

Next chapter will be Naruto in Oldtown again, and then we will soon be moving into the first steps of the rebellion, probably beginning in 31 or 32, though the actual war will still take a bit longer.

This chapter is obviously strongly separated from the surrounding ones, similar to Dany's chapters in the books, but I thought giving the resolution to this part of Shiera's story now would be fitting.

Obviously everyone can view Shiera's actions regarding Naruto however they wish, but the major point for me is this: Doing things for the right reasons, e.g. trying to stop/prevent an icy apocalypse by bringing dragons back, does not negate the effect those actions have on yourself and other people. Similarly, success does not make things moral, ethical, or just, just as failure doesn't either.

Shiera weighed the cost of her actions against the potential gain and made a decision, one she now has to own up to and live with. Had she admitted to being wrong and making a mistake, and searched him out again, Naruto would have likely forgiven her, considering that he could control his rage enough not to take revenge on Pain. But Shiera has her pride, even now, and I can't see her living with that. She has a conscience, good though she may be at ignoring it sometimes, and in some way she will now act to atone for what she did, even if she would not admit it.

I hope that this is a satisfying conclusion to her part in the story for now. As I have said before, she will return in a more significant role in part three, when we tackle the canon time.

The High Valyrian in the first part basically means: Shadow magic, serve/obey. Blood magic, serve/obey. If people don't like these small inclusions I could include translations in brackets, rare as those occasions would be, or just indicate a change in language otherwise.

Since we know so little of Stygai this version of its threat is obviously fanon, but I thought an insidious city-wide mental interference that becomes harder and harder to spot over time could fit the bill. At the beginning Shiera can separate her own mind from the outside intrusions just fine, but that quickly changes.

As to the necklace: Chapter 19 featured reference to the bond between Shiera, the shadow she created, and Naruto. Considering what Naruto is, some part of Kurama is also involved. Chakra can have a will imparted on it, featured heavily when Naruto trains to separate Kurama's chakra from his will to master the KCM, so some part of Naruto is reflected in the shadow inside her necklace.

As always, thanks for reading and reviewing. Until next time.