Disclaimer: I do not own Elder Scrolls or A Song of Ice and Fire. All rights belong to their respective owners.

Chapter 28

Volantis 297 AC

The sky was covered with clouds, preventing the citizens of Volantis from seeing the stars. However, despite the darkness, the city was completely illuminated thanks to the hundreds of lanterns that adorned its streets.

The light from the lanterns illuminated the many paths of the city, along which several people walked at that time of day. The number of people at that hour of the night was due to many heading to the temples of the Lord of Light, R'hllor. Volantis was governed by the triarchs, descendants of the Old Blood, that is, the Valyrians, who still kept the religion of the ancient Valyrians, something that did not occur with the common folk living outside the black walls.

The temple of the Lord of Light in Volantis was considered one of the most important of the faith of R'hllor, and thus the high priest of this religion, a man named Benerro, lived there. This priest was a tall and thin man, with a gaunt face and skin as white as milk. He had flames tattooed on his cheeks, chin, and shaved head, forming a bright red mask that seemed to crackle in his eyes and swirl in tendrils around his lipless mouth.

Inside the main temple, Benerro was there, although he would not be the one to lead the ceremony that night. He would leave that task to another of the priests. The reason for his decision had to do with what had happened a few hours earlier. For some reason, all the flames of the candles and torches in the hall had increased in intensity while some acolytes and believers prayed, causing great commotion and surprise among those present. This was interpreted as a sign that R'hllor was listening to their prayers, so they at once went to inform Benerro. Upon arriving in the hall, he was surprised to see that the flames of the lamps and torches were so large that they easily reached the size of a small child, something that deeply astonished the high priest. He saw how several of the priests, acolytes, and believers fell to their knees, exclaiming with emotion as they saw R'hllor manifesting his power in the temple.

'The amount of heat and light at that moment was incredible, but it was not the only thing I felt...' thought Benerro as he saw a candle, slightly burned at the top. That candle was not like the others, made of wax; this one was special, as it belonged to the famous glass candles, which could not be lit in a normal way. For the flame to still be lit, there had to be magic in the air, something that had been scarce since the fall of Valyria, centuries ago. The high priest had felt something else when he saw the glow of the flames of the candles and torches. Being a priest capable of performing miracles according to the will of R'hllor, Benerro perceived something strange in the environment, so without wasting time, he ran to his office. There, he took a glass candle he had as decoration and, bringing a normal candle close to it, watched in amazement as it lit up.

'It was incredible... never in my life did I expect to see one of these candles light up.' thought Benerro as he got up from his chair and approached the balcony of his room. When he went out, he saw the temple courtyard, where the other priests were hurrying to prepare everything for the evening prayer. 'It was something incredible, but at the same time very fleeting... it didn't last long, just a few seconds until the fire went out.'

After that thought, Benerro's mind focused on the possible cause of that phenomenon. He did not know what was happening, but he remembered something from one of the many books that the Old Blood occasionally sent to be destroyed for being considered "useless". In one of those books, titled The Origin of the Flames of the Freehold, strange things were mentioned. Unfortunately, this book was one of the few remaining copies from the glory days of the Freehold, and its condition was fragile, as it had not received good maintenance. Many pages were stained with mold, causing the ink to run, destroying much of the information. However, fortunately, Benerro found a fragment that gave him a clue about what was happening.

'The colors of the flames show the source of their origin, and they are seen more clearly in glass candles. When there is magic nearby, the color of the flames varies depending on the type of magic present. The most common are red and orange flames, which show mundane magic. But the rarest are white flames, which show the presence of an object emitting powerful magic. This flame is the rarest of all.' thought Benerro, recalling what he had read in that book. 'Those fragments are not very explicit, but at least that means that whatever caused the appearance of magic, even for a moment, was an extremely powerful object... an object that is surely now in the hands of the Old Blood... That is not good... They cannot have something so powerful. Unfortunately, I can't do anything, at least for now... If only Azor Ahai would appear soon, his arrival could unite all the followers of R'hllor to face the Old Blood.'

The figure the high priest was thinking of was legendary: Azor Ahai, the champion of R'hllor, according to the legends. A champion destined to destroy the Great Other, protecting the world from his influence and terror. Unfortunately, this hero, who was said to have lived during the era of the Long Night, forged a sword called Lightbringer, with which he defeated the Others and returned them to their place of origin, thus saving humanity. It is said that to forge the magical sword, Azor Ahai had to kill his beloved wife, as only in this way would the weapon be complete. However, to the misfortune of all believers of R'hllor, no signs of the return of this hero had appeared, who, according to prophecy, would return to face the Great Other again when the time came.

'If magic has returned, even for just a moment, which means it is possible that the great enemy is about to awaken. I must prepare my flock for what is to come. The best thing will be to send a message to all the priests who are proselytizing throughout the known world, trying to convert the foreign population to the true faith, the faith of R'hllor.' thought Benerro, nodding mentally, as it seemed to be the most accurate path. Thus, he turned on his heels and returned to his studies, as he had many coded letters to write. He did not want anyone, except those involved, to know about his suspicions.

The laughter of several people filled the hall of one of the many inns in the city of Volantis. In it, many customers drank beer and ate, while others tried to flirt with some of the waitresses. However, the person we were interested in was not taking part in any of that. She was sitting at one of the tables furthest from the tavern.

The person occupying that table was dressed in a hooded cloak, which concealed her face, though not completely. Part of her face was visible: the lower area, revealing a pair of blue lips.

"The trace of magic is faint, it has almost completely faded." whispered the man with blue lips in Qartheen, whose name was Arrotho. He was a warlock of the House of the Undying.

Arrotho had been near the banks of the river Rhoyne when he heard the call of Pyat Pree, which prevented him from being present when the warlock gave the orders of the Undying to all his kin. However, thanks to the gradual return of magic, the Undying were able to send him some information so he would know what to do. After receiving the orders, Arrotho began to search for some source of magical power in the area, as the river Rhoyne was considered sacred by many. Its blessing supposedly turned its children into masters capable of controlling water. However, it seemed that at that moment there was no one with such abilities.

Realizing that he could not find anyone suitable to feed his masters, Arrotho began to plan his next destination. His first choice was to travel to Pentos, take a ship to White Harbor, and from there, head north, beyond the Wall. He also considered the possibility of embarking with slavers who would take him directly there, and thus capture several "Skinchangers" to take them to Qarth. However, when he was about to leave, something happened. He felt an enormous source of magical power. The density of that power was such that he almost choked on the air, as it was so intense that he could feel it vibrating on his skin. Unfortunately, the source of power disappeared as suddenly as it had appeared, but luckily for him, it left a trail he could follow to this city.

'The trace of residual magic led me to the gates of the black walls, indicating that the power comes from those who live behind those walls.' thought Arrotho, frowning slightly under his hood. 'If magic is returning to the world, it is clear that the Old Blood is slowly regaining their innate powers, which could mean that dragons will soon return... Dragons... Is it possible that the powerful magic I felt was an attempt to bring a dragon into the world?! Of course, that makes perfect sense! Only mythical beings have such magical power. It is clear that power belonged to a dragon. This means they have tried to bring one into the world, but, since the magic faded, it is possible they did not succeed. However, that does not mean they will not try again, and they may succeed this time. The best thing will be to infiltrate the place of the ritual, and once they perform it, I can steal it and take it to the Undying.'

When Arrotho finished these thoughts, he got up from his chair, left some coins on the table, and left the place, determined to approach the black walls to try to enter that area of the city of Volantis. As he walked, he was completely absorbed in his thoughts, as he had to find a way to get through the gate without attracting the attention of those on the other side. Although he could resort to his "abilities" to achieve it, he did not want to risk the members of the Old Blood detecting him. Something that would undoubtedly end his life. So, as he walked, he went over various plans in his mind, each more complex than the last. He was so focused on his thoughts that he did not notice that, beside him, a white wolf pup was walking calmly, suddenly stopping to stare at him.

Jon's vision focused on the strange person muttering some words in what he recognized as Qartheen, a language of which he knew only a few words. Unlike other cities in Essos, High Valyrian was not much used in Qarth, so Jon had not been able to learn much of that language.

'Although Ghost's vision is better than a human's, it's not the same as using my own eyes, as I'm still not used to this.' Jon thought, seeing the stranger through Ghost's eyes. This power was possible thanks to a kind of magic, something Jon did not remember learning to use. 'It's very strange to use this power... I don't remember learning it, and Edzard never told me about anything like this. The only thing he mentioned that might resemble this is the power of the so-called Wardens... but even so, it's very different... they are supposed to summon animals, not enter their minds and share a body... No... this power is more like the powers of the Skinchangers that appeared in the tales Old Nan told me when I was a child.'

The ability Jon was thinking of had appeared a few days after finding Ghost. At first, everything happened in his dreams, in moments when he felt he was walking on all fours like a wolf. Not only that, but he felt his senses amplified, but not in the usual way; it was different, something more natural and less magical. It took him a while to understand it, as everything was so vague that whenever he woke up, he thought it had been a dream, despite often waking up with the taste of blood and the entrails of the prey he hunted in those dreams.

'I didn't give it much importance, thinking they were just dreams, but that changed during the raid on the Stepstones.' Jon thought, as his mind traveled to that campaign, especially the assault on one of the islands.

Flashback

The night sea breeze brought to the camp the smell of decomposing pirate corpses, scattered across a plain near where the Braavosi troops were stationed.

Meanwhile, in the tent of the leader of this assault group, a meeting was taking place between the Braavosi leader and the captains of the mercenary bands. The ungrouped mercenaries performed guard duties, and Jon was one of them.

The eyes of Ned Stark's son were fixed on the darkness of the place, seeing attentively. This confused the other mercenaries, who did not understand why Jon always looked into the darkness, as if he could see something there. This had given rise to rumors about Jon's strangeness, leading many people to avoid him, limiting their conversations to assigning him his daily tasks.

"Kid." called a voice from behind Jon, who stopped looking ahead and turned his head.

Jon's eyes settled on the owner of the voice, a man with coppery skin, black hair, and dark almond-shaped eyes. He wore studded light armor and carried a large axe on his back.

"Yes." Jon responded seriously.

"Your shift is over. I'm here to relieve you."

"Alright." Hearing the man's words, Jon got up from where he was sitting, seeing the darkness.

Then, he left the place and headed to his tent to rest. Although the camp was for mercenaries, the tents were individual, as each mercenary had to pay for their own gear. The only thing provided by Braavos was the ammunition, which, although supplied by their contractor, was not free, as it was sold to the archers at somewhat reduced prices. If a mercenary did not have their own tent, they could opt for a communal tent, but it was not ideal if they wanted to sleep decently.

When he reached his tent, Jon removed the magical protection he had placed over it and entered. As he did, he saw the interior, which had only a simple fur-lined sleeping bag, with a linen cloth he used to cover himself if the weather became too warm. Next to his "bed" was a leather backpack he used as a decoy to carry some belongings during travels.

Walking towards his sleeping bag, Jon began to remove his armor. When he was left in lighter clothing, he lay down and started thinking about how his friends were doing on the other islands. He thought about it until he finally succumbed to sleep.

Jon blinked in confusion as he realized his eyes were seeing the terrain surrounding the camp, something that deeply puzzled him, as he was sure he had just fallen asleep.

'This is strange... Why am I having this dream again?' Jon thought, perplexed, recalling that it was the twentieth time it had happened, which puzzled him even more. This seemed strange to him because, in his experience, dreams were not usually repeat in this way. Perhaps in some cases they did, but not with the high frequency he had experienced with these dreams.

However, as much as this caused him confusion, he could not continue thinking about it, as he heard nearby voices speaking in High Valyrian and the common tongue of Westeros. Feeling curious, he decided to move in that direction. After trotting a few meters, he reached the source of the voices. Approaching slowly, he saw several men gathered in a cave.

"Alright, boys, listen to me carefully. The camp of the rats brought by the Braavosi is well defended for now, but it won't be for long." spoke a gruff voice with a marked Westerosi accent.

"Are you sure, Alester?" said another voice, speaking in the common tongue but with a rough tone, showing it was not his native language.

"Yes. The mercenaries are confident in their numbers, but that means nothing if they don't have good defenses. And as we all know, they haven't fortified the camp, they only have lookouts to alert them." responded the same man who had spoken before, leaving a dramatic pause for those nearby to process his words. "If we eliminate those lookouts, they will be easy prey for a surprise attack."

The man's words were followed by a chuckle from another person, who, after finishing laughing, began to speak. "Oh, old man, I like the way you think! But how do you plan to get close without being detected to eliminate those damn lookouts?"

The answer to the question was a loud laugh, followed by Alester's voice.

"That's easy, Burton. These coasts are treacherous, and the morning mists can cause unexpected accidents for those who don't know these places as well as we do." said Alester, as he took a jug of what Jon could only deduce was beer. "This morning, a few poor idiots fell into the sea and drowned, leaving behind only their clothes."

The pirate's words surprised Jon, as he had not noticed anything strange in the camp or the troops. But according to what this man said, they already had enemies infiltrated within their ranks. Although Jon was confused, thinking it was a dream, the way the man spoke and the chill that ran through his body upon realizing they had enemies within the camp made him realize this was not a dream.

'Am I having a vision? No... this is not a vision, it seems more like a dream... Damn it, I don't understand what's happening, but if I'm really in the real world, I must pay attention to what's happening here, as it seems they are planning a night ambush.' Jon thought, quickly refocusing on what the pirates were saying.

"I see, then, captain. Where, how, and when do we attack?"

"Today, in a few hours, when we see the signal. We will attack discreetly, divide into four groups, and attack from all possible directions. We will use the cover of night to stay hidden. The priority is to cause so much chaos that they won't know what's happening until most of them are already dead."

"Alright, it seems like a good plan, but you forget that we are only a few, while they outnumber us three to one." said another pirate.

"I know, that's why I've had to ask an old acquaintance for help, who will send some of his crew to even the odds as best we can. Until they arrive, which I estimate will be in a few hours, we will stay in this place to gather everyone and march when we see the signal."

After these words, all the gathered pirates began to laugh, amused by what they thought would be an easy slaughter.

When Jon saw that the conversation had ended, he quickly turned on his heels and left the place. As he walked, he tried to recognize the surroundings he was in. As he advanced, he also tried to find a way to return to his own body. It was then that, passing by a puddle and seeing the reflection, he realized that the body he saw was not his own, but Ghost's.

'It seems I really am in Ghost's body... How did I get here? Why am I here? What kind of magic is this?' Jon thought, as he stood there, not understanding what was happening.

End Flashback

'In the end, I don't even know how I returned, but fortunately, I did in time to be able to leave the place and quickly, secretly, head to the pirates' meeting point. After that... well, let's just say a water-filled cave is not the best place to be if someone capable of conjuring lightning with their hands attacks you.' Jon thought, with some curiosity. When he arrived to confront them, he charged at them and, after killing the first five pirates, cast the spell of «chain lightning», causing all the enemies to die, but not only that, all those who were unlucky enough to be caught in the storm also died, even if they were not directly hit by the lightning.

'Well, that doesn't matter now. What really matters is why on earth there is someone who smells like a person capable of using magic, but not like a Valyrian... Well, it doesn't matter. It's not like I can understand everything he's babbling, but from what little I've heard, it seems he wants to infiltrate the Black Walls...' Jon thought, mentally smiling as he walked stealthily near that person. Jon had taken control of Ghost's body after shrinking it, with the goal of entering that place and seeing how the descendants of the traitors to his master lived.

With that plan in mind, he continued to follow the person, keeping his distance until they finally reached their goal: the infamous Black Wall.

The great wall of fused stone, created with Valyrian magic, stood imposingly, illuminated by thousands of torches. Many of these torches were carried by slaves, who had the task of patrolling and protecting the wall to prevent the entry of unwanted people.

'Ummm... the wall is high, and now that I focus on it, I can feel the remnants of the magic used to build it... A true masterpiece of engineering and construction, offering both physical and magical protection. But, like all mortal constructions, it has its deficiencies. In this case, I believe the scarcity of magic in the current world has left some points of the wall without magical protection, which could allow some mage, warlock, or whatever the few magic users in this world are called, to infiltrate... but I know that because I was trained by the same person who taught the Valyrians the art of magic.' Jon thought as he observed the person he was following, who kept staring at the wall intently, with a finger in his mouth, biting his nail in clear sign of anxiety. 'I suppose he can't perceive what I feel about the magic... Ummm, that's interesting. That shows that not all magic is the same... but well, now that I'm here and have observed the wall closely, I think there must be some point through which I can enter and see those scum.'

Ghost's paws began to move after that thought, stealthily approaching the wall, looking for a place to enter the old part of the city and, in that way, find his enemy.

As Jon walked towards the wall, he passed by several merchants entering and leaving through the wall's gate. The number of caravans was so large that they formed an almost endless line that blocked almost the entire path to the entrance.

'Umm... it seems the merchants can enter. Can I follow them?' Jon thought as he used the shadows cast by the wagons to go unnoticed in his attempt to infiltrate. When he finally reached the gate, he realized he was wrong, as he saw that the line was slow to move. Each time a wagon arrived, the merchant had to present himself and hand over a letter to the guard, who received it, checked it, and then returned it to the merchant. This guard had a dragon-shaped tattoo extending from his neck to his left cheek. That mark was proof that the guards were slaves, as in Volantis they had the custom of marking male and female slaves with tattoos to distinguish their type of servitude. 'It seems that, by the mark, they are soldier slaves... but I'm not entirely sure.'

"Who has invited you to cross the Black Walls?" the slave asked the merchant.

The merchant did not deign to respond verbally but took out a letter with a broken black wax seal, showing it had already been opened. The merchant reluctantly handed it to the slave, who took it, read it, and then nodded. After that, the black steel bars blocking the passage were lifted, allowing the merchant to continue on his way.

Seeing the merchant approaching, Jon wasted no time. Moving Ghost's body, he began to run towards the entrance, trying to stay as hidden as possible. Unfortunately, Ghost's fur, which was perfect for blending into the snow, was terrible for merging with a black structure like the wall, so the guards quickly saw him. As soon as they detected him, one of the guards took his spear and began to chase him away. Realizing he had been discovered, Jon quickly retreated, cursing in all the languages he knew.

'Damn it... I was so close. Stupid Black Wall and stupid guard who didn't let me pass...' Jon thought in frustration as he walked around the wall, looking for another way to infiltrate. However, it seemed he would have no luck, as although the magical defenses had several gaps, the physical defenses did not, so there was no place he could enter.

'I think the best thing would be to try this with my human body, as with it I could use a potion to enter... Yes, I think that's the best option, after all—' Jon's thoughts were interrupted when he sensed the presence of the blue-lipped man approaching him.

The way the man walked set off alarms in Jon and Ghost's mind. Although Jon was the one controlling the body, the wolf's mind was still active, helping Jon move more instinctively. Jon's eyes fixed on the man's body, who began to walk towards the entrance, reciting some words in a language Jon did not recognize. However, what the apprentice of the last Dovahkiin could recognize was that, little by little, a magical glow began to surround the man, somehow distorting the space in front of him.

'Is that... spatial displacement? Don't mess with me! That type of magic is classified as teleportation and is not easy to use without artifacts or prior preparation!' Jon thought in panic as he saw the warlock begin to distort, as if his very existence was about to disappear from the world. Observing that, Jon quickly realized that the man had found one of the many cracks in the wall's defense, so he would use that magic to infiltrate. Knowing this was his opportunity, he ran towards him quickly, trying to catch him. Fortunately, he arrived before the warlock completely distorted, so he was also dragged to wherever the man was headed.

During that "teleportation." Jon felt he was in some kind of large room, where he perceived the presence of several people with great magical potential, although their actual power was very low and recovered extremely slowly. Unfortunately, he was not there long enough to discover who they were, but, unbeknownst to him, those beings had noticed him.

When Jon came to, he realized he was in some kind of city, full of palaces illuminated by hundreds of torches and beacons. The air was filled with sweet scents from incense. The city, hidden within Volantis, had palaces that put to shame many of the houses and castles Jon had seen in Westeros. Each of those palaces was built differently, but there was something that distinguished them beyond their architecture and decoration: the color of the stone used. Many of the palaces were made with the same black stone as the Wall, while others used white stone, giving the place a binary splendor.

'It seems that even here there is some kind of division between the families. It is more than obvious that they are all descendants of the same families that once ruled Valyria. The oldest palaces were built by the first nobles, while the white stone ones are newer residences, created by the children of those nobles to have their own homes.' Jon thought as he saw the structures and their decorations. To him, it was clear that each castle must be worth a fortune, as the decorations included inlays of gold, silver, and precious stones. Unfortunately, he could not continue seeing much, as he was interrupted when one of the slaves recognized him as a "street dog".

Seeing how several of them began to approach him with the clear intention of killing him to prevent him from "dirtying" the city, Jon wasted no time and quickly moved away from the place, dodging obstacles in his path as best he could. While fleeing, he could hear the shouts and insults of the slaves chasing him, but he did not stop for anything and kept running. Finally, he reached an alley where he could rest for a moment, having managed to shake off his pursuers.

'It seems I've lost them... at least for now...' Jon thought as he slowly appeared from the alley, trying to stay as hidden as possible in the shadows. If it was dangerous to walk in Ghost's body as a pup before, now, in his current form, the situation had become ten times more dangerous, as he could neither use magic nor fight. Being aware of this weakness, he had to be more cautious. 'Well, I'll have to tread carefully and keep my senses always alert.'

With those words in mind, Jon wasted no time and began to explore the place, knowing that this visit would provide him with a lot of information. For several hours, he continued walking through the city within the black walls, seeing every person inside. With each castle he saw, the anger and desire to slit those bastards' throats only grew; on the contrary, he found more and more reasons to kill them. But, since he couldn't do it in his current form, nothing happened inside the city.

When he finally saw how those pigs lived, Jon quickly headed towards the city's exit. Luckily, the exit was not so strictly guarded, so he could easily escape, hiding in the shadows cast by several merchant caravans. Once outside the city of the black walls, Jon quickly headed to his inn, looking at the sky while thinking: The Old Blood should start asking for forgiveness for their sins, because sooner or later, I will come to end them all.

Finally, Jon reached his room, entered, and began to withdraw from Ghost's mind, something that had become easier with each interaction of this kind he had from time to time.

Arrotho's eyes were fixed on the night city of Volantis, seeing keenly, like a hawk, as he tried to find the source of power his masters had perceived when he entered the black walls. When he arrived at the walls, he realized, after a long period of analysis, that the Valyrian walls had cracks in their magical defenses, something he had not anticipated but found very favorable. Upon discovering those gaps in the barrier, he wasted no time and at once used one of the spells his masters had granted their servants to quickly bring them food: the power to move distances instantly, crossing any obstacle. Upon crossing, he realized that the Valyrians living there had lost much of their magical power and that their blood no longer shone with the same intensity as in the past.

'It was disappointing to see that those proud descendants of the Valyrians do not have enough power to be considered good food for the Undying... Something I don't understand, as the source of magic I felt was supposed to come from this place. However, it seems I was wrong, because there isn't much magic in this place.' Arrotho thought with annoyance, frustrated at having expected to find a source of power in the Valyrians. However, not all was lost for him. After leaving the city of the Old Blood, his masters communicated with him mentally. At first, he was surprised and confused by the sudden call, but soon he was even more astonished when they told him they had felt a powerful magical presence near him. 'It seems that presence was perceived when I entered the old part of Volantis. According to the masters, which being or object has such magical power that it could feed them and restore them to their prime by itself. So, they have ordered me to find it... and that I will do. I can already taste the rewards they will give me... So... Where are you? Well, that doesn't matter. Sooner or later, I will find you in this city, and when I do, you will be the key to my rise in the hierarchy of the Warlocks of Qarth...'

With those mental declarations, Arrotho flashed a sinister smile as he began to walk through the city. Volantis was huge, and there was no time to lose in finding that source of magic.

Author's Note:

To those who have made it this far, thank you for reading. To be honest, my English writing skills are not strong, and I'm relying on Google Translate and the dictionaries that come with Office 2019.

And here is chapter 28…

Looking at the chapter itself, we see Jon roaming in Ghost's mind, showing us how he learned to use his skin-changing abilities. I want to mention that Jon will have one more 'skin' in the future. Which one? Well, that's up to your imagination XD.

We also see how the return of magic to the world is affecting things. I hope to include more references to this in the future, as it's an important part of the plot.

I apologize for any spelling errors. Please don't forget to leave a review if you enjoyed the chapter, or if there's something that needs improvement, or if you have any questions about the story. Any constructive advice is welcome. With nothing more to say, see you in the next chapter.