Just as a side note...I would not really use the app at this moment in time. It is beyond bad.
Visual Bliss - They will come to this conclusion, unfortunately, quite early on in the war. Even the likes of Rhaenyra will understand this.
Chris-GMP - Bathing with your dragon is a pastime anyone with a dragon should really have tbh. lol. The POVs beyond Aegon make more sense now that we're in the endgame. His effect on the world is more apparent then. ;). And thank you for your words regarding the votes and your thoughts on the story! I didn't really want to advertise and get people to vote for my story, but its nice that people like it enough to vote for it in third for best timeline!
SpartanWolfj6 - it would spoil it too much, if i answered that question! ;)
Everyone Else, Thank you for your reviews and comments, I always read them even if I don't respond to them.
As always, please enjoy this chapter and let me know what you think.
Note: If you would like to read ahead, the next three chapters after this chapter are available on P. .^T.^R.^E.^O.^N./ Boombox117
Mid 126 AC – Velos, the Isle of Cedars
Septon Arren (Elamaeri Septon) POV
He sat at the back of the Sept, the rolling melodies of the crowd rising, and rising, alike an impossible breeze sweeping through sun-warmed leaves that, instead of losing its virulence, its power, instead, grew mightier, and mightier, the resistance of the many leaves falling away much alike the resistance of the Faithless fell away as the Faithful swept through them by voice, by presence…
By faith.
Arren closed his eyes as Septon Habros' voice, the man leading the prayers to the One and the Seven, dulled, melting amongst the voices of the Many, a sound that felt like his ears were tasting the sweetest of honey, and he basked in it, basked in its sweetness, in its liquid goldness, knowing the warm Poems and beatific Hymns of God and his Seven were touching upon the hearts of those whose hearts had been made to shelter in the cold, dark shadows.
The voices, Arren felt, heard, continued to grow, growing as the last of the sceptical, the lost, the fearful, found an ember within themselves they not realised could live, could exist, at the very centre in their being, accompanied by the warm glow that came with freedom they had come to know over the past moons.
A sense of meaning. A sense of rightness.
Arren reopened his eyes, during the Hymn of the Last Candle, and he saw, he saw, seeing on face – peace and warmth – seeing on body – shoulders straightened, postures opened – and Arren knew that the cracks of change grew just a little wider in the hearts that had dwelled for too long in cold, dark shadows.
His gaze went and fixed, towards the Statues behind Septon Habros, which stood in a Septagon, seven sided, the light of the coloured glass windows beaming down at each of the Seven – red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet – converging to a single point, where there stood nothing, a faceless nothingness, yet as Arren looked, as he placed his sight upon that void, he felt only everything.
Man was made out of the image of his Songs, and Man made not God in his image.
God was everywhere, if one knew where to look and Arren found God plenty in that space of nothingness, whose crown of Seven was present this very moment, chasing away the haunting shadows of those who sheltered in these seven walls full of the warmth of meaning. The warmth of rightness.
Arren chose to remain for a long time yet, a hunger that long settled deep going unsated as it always was, the congregation coming to an end.
Arren smiled, warmly, he spoke politely, genuinely, as the crowd of gathering bade their farewells, the sight of his robes a beacon of his nature, of his purpose, until he was left alone with Septon Habros, the Septas and his young proteges, in a great chamber filled with comfortable silence that still held the warmth of song, faith.
Septon Habros, a word given, bows returned, was all that remained, apart from Arren, the Septas and the young proteges, departing away to parts unseen, and Septon Habros' steps broke the comfortable silence that had spread around Arren, like the sound of glass cracked with the smash of hammer, one step at a time.
"A wonderful service, Septon Habros." Arren complimented, a warm smile on his face as the Septon approached.
He'd been again to all the Septs in Velos and in the villages throughout the Isle, even visiting the new ones, and though Arren would not countenance slighting words, he could admit that he felt God's and the Seven's presence here as close as he'd ever felt anywhere else.
Part of it, a large part, was of course because of the burgeoning faith of their growing flock, which was close to rival that of the faith of the congregations of Elamaerys, but some of it was by the guidance Septon Habros had provided.
"You do me great honours, Septon Arren, but I cannot lay claim for a feat not done. I am merely the stones lain on a path that paved the road." Septon Habros said with slight bow of the head as neared the last row of benches.
Habros was a thin man in the twilight of age at five and forty namedays or so. Some may even call him spindly, such was his thinness, yet none could do so for there was a strength in him that made his body tout and his presence unignorable.
A strength that had been borne from the enduring of twenty years of slavery in the limestone quarries of the Disputed Lands, and a strength that'd blossomed into steel in the halls of God and the Seven.
Arren smiled and he could only incline his head in approval to that, and, in the same instance, he gestured the man to come take a seat beside him, and the two men of faith sat beside each other on the furthest of benches.
"I was surprised to see you amongst the congregation, my friend." Habros remarked and Arren made an agreeable noise.
"The captain of the ship had been kind enough to tell me that it would still be some hours before the ships pull anchor and set sail. A runner will be sent to fetch me." Arren smiled as he glanced at Habros before he looked at the colour-stained glass, through which light cast down at a sharper, more left sided beams of light.
Habros chuckled lightly before he hummed quietly. "Won't be much longer before the doors are stormed through."
"No, I would suppose not." Arren agreed, and, as he spoke further, he glanced at the man beside him. "But perhaps there is just enough time to sit for a while longer in the afterglow of a wonderful service."
This made Habros chuckle a little more before a serene smile fell upon his face. "I understand the feeling. Oft times I sit in contemplation alone after a service for that exact reason."
"Hmm." Arren agreed with a wordless sound. The presence of God and the Seven always remains for a time longer after a service. Most felt this time was the best of times to do one's thinking, to contemplate the meaning of life, and God's will.
Arren always felt that he gained closer comprehension of both at these moments of time than in any other times…
It was a while later that the comfortable, amiable silence broke.
"Have you considered transferring back to Velos?" Habros asked and Arren tilted his head consideringly.
"I have." Arren stated as he glanced at the man.
The Septons of Velos were tasked with a most important role.
To see to the conversion of as many people as possible.
They were to make the Isle of Cedars a place as strong in faith as Elamaerys and they'd, the Septons, had answered the call as readily as the soldiers and knights picked up the spear and sword in the call for war, and Arren had been no different.
Arren had spent some years in Velos for this very purpose, from 118 AC to 121 AC, where he proselytised the Faith throughout the Isle, helping the lost from the Disputed Lands and elsewhere find the path to Truth.
That meant that even though there was some five thousand or more people being choosing to leave the Isle of Cedars for Elamaerys every year, there was also a steady offset of the number of people leaving the Isle, which he'd witnessed climbing from a few hundreds to a thousand or so by the time he'd left, due to the arrivals of people from the mainland.
Now?
It would not surprise him if the numbers of peoples leaving for Elamaerys was nearly the same as the number of people arriving at Velos.
From what he heard, Velos' empty homes did not stay empty long and he'd seen it in the streets enough when he'd returned to Velos after the five years of absence, with the number of non-Valyrian peoples becoming perhaps thirty or more percent of the people who habituated Velos.
With the influx to Velos of some six and twenty thousand liberated from the Dothraki, most of whom were women and children with only a few that were men or boys on the cusk of manhood, that percentage was going to climb significantly.
And Arren would not ill-consider that the majority, the other tens of thousands of peoples who had chosen a different walk of path. He doubted those who had taken the choice of coin and a passage home, wherever that may be, would return but…
He did think those who had taken coin and the promise of settlement in lands like Elyria, may choose to come to Velos in time, especially once the restrictions of migration were lifted. The opportunities of Velos would likely prove to be more attractive than Elyria or even the likes of Meereen, which were limited in their own ways.
From what he understood, this limitation of migration had largely been done to avoid the same issues that'd happened at the beginning, where the problems of too many people in too short a time had nearly overwhelmed Velos.
The Unsullied stationed on Velos had been purposeful, and necessary, as had the constant presence of soldiers from Elamaerys.
At that time also, there were also many more men than there were present now, even before the influx of women and children.
The early years of new settlers of peoples from the Disputed Lands to Elamaerys had tended to be women and young boys, whom had been needed to be farmhands and to work in the textile factories whilst in Velos, the men had been needed to build Velos and to prepare farmlands and plantations in the country side.
That slowly became unnecessary in the last five to eight years, and most of the new Elamaeri settlers were men and their families, gradually reducing the number of men on the isle that once originated from the Disputed Lands, even though more men from the mainland each year moved to Velos to partake in the trade industries at the Ports and the cultivation of prime farmlands.
The situation wouldn't have been too severe had it not been for the fact that the vast majority of the slaves liberated from the Dothraki were over three quarters women and children, with most boys no more than ten namedays old, often times the result of rape by the Dothraki, which presented a problem of its own, and the Colony of Velos did not have the capacity to accommodate nearly ninety thousand who were mostly women and children. At least not immediately.
In any case, regardless of what would happen with them, it did mean their mission in the Isle of Cedars was one that was going to remain important for a very long time, if the trend of constant new settlers and migrant workers was to continue, regardless if bolstered by the former slaves of the Dothraki or by migrants from the mainland, and Arren had made the choice to remain.
At least that before the Archon had told him, nine and ten other Septons, and the High Septon about a mission that had the Paramount Bells rung loudly in all of their ears, bells that had come from a man who was always more their prophet than he was their Archon.
Arren gave a wan smile as he spoke. "I do not think I will be able to return for some years yet, unfortunately."
Habros eyed him intently and curiously before he nodded slightly and looked to the front, a contemplative look on his face that lasted as he spoke several long moments later. "Know that I am praying for all of you."
Arren wan smile fell and its place came a warm smile as he looked at where Habros was looking. Habros of course knew about the meeting that they had held with the Archon. Every Septon knew. Yet only one and twenty Septons had been selected for this mission.
A mixture of Septons who resided in Velos and in Elamaerys.
"I surmised nothing else, my friend." Arren only said and for the rest of the little while he had left, he remained seated beside Habros, seated in silence. Seated in the House of God, and that of his Seven.
It was some time later that the doors of the Sept opened, loudly, and Arren stood up, and he departed though not before sharing one last smile with an old friend.
Six and Ten Days Later…
He took in a deep breath, tasting the salt of the sea that lingered, as if still, in the shimmery summery air, his eyes set upon the horizon where, far beyond the horizon the eye could see, stood an isle beckoning forth their fleet of ships.
It'd become a ritual, of a kind.
Ever since they'd sailed past the northernmost isle of the Basilisk Isles three days ago. To stand on the foredeck before the call of the last meal of the day and eve.
He'd noticed that first day, that the air was stiller, somehow, in the waters that were broken up by the chain of islands, and it felt as if the very air knew something they did not, for it lingered, as if grief had touched upon it and was despondent to let go.
As they ever sailed closer to the island of target, Arren had grown to understand that it was perhaps not grief that was reluctant to be let go by the airs of this place, but rather, it was a veil of a kind, a dark despondent veil, made of a dark past whose bones of monstrous violence and heinous sacrilege remained extant.
And as they sailed closer, that heavy air seemed to grew in intensity, in wrong vigour, and though Arren thought, perhaps, it was his imagination, the weight of the task, his guardedness to it, he still could not help but grow solemn and be disquieted of the task they were called to. "The Isle of Toads…" Arren murmured, a deeper sense of disquiet falling over him as he looked over to the horizon.
He knew the tales. Tales that persisted. Tales that had told of madness and evil on an otherwise unremarkable yet fateful day that'd even seen the Archon shaken.
He'd heard details of the tale personally from the guards who survived that ordeal, and since then, those tales had been spun a new life when they realised where they were going.
Demons, sightless, visionless, invisible demons who ate the light of the world and preyed on the souls of man through the shrouds of the dark forest…
And they were heading straight for that Godless place.
Arren stood for some time on the deck of the ship, gazing out to the sea, his thoughts deep in musing, and it was only when the shouts and liveliness of the men on the ship grew louder than the sweeping horns of the sea and the turbulent thoughts of his mind, and Arren found himself grateful for that comforting sound.
"Septon Arren!" He turned around at the call of his name and he smiled at the junior sailor Galos. "Meal's ready now." The young man of nine and ten informed.
The crew ate in patterns, in the same way they worked, and Arren along with his fellow septons on this ship ate last by choice.
He thanked Galos before he made his way down towards the bowels of the ship, and he arrived at the temporary dining deck that also served as the main sleeping quarters, and he soon found his place amongst Septon Alfred and Septon Joreo.
Pleasantries and few words were exchanged as they waited and they had need to wait not long soon enough. The meal was the same as the eve before, a spiced rice broth with bread and smoked dried meats, and a side of dried fruits.
He was made to pause his eating when Alfred tapped at Arren's side with his elbow, and he looked upon Alfred with a trace of a frown who only gestured with his head towards Joreo, whom Arren saw stare at his broth with a deep look of contemplation, as if he was pondering the very nature of life in his rice broth.
"You wear a strange look. Joreo." Alfred said with a middling smile, and his words broke Joreo of his mesmerisation, one blink at a time.
"What is it that captures your mind so?" Alfred continued, curiosity unhidden in his voice.
Joreo gathered himself and a musing smile grew on his face.
"No more what captures your minds so most hours of the day, my friends, especially now that we are on the eleventh hour." Joreo gave as answer.
"The Demon of Toad Isle." Arren commented and Joreo's musing smile lessened.
"The Demon of Toad Isle." Joreo stated, more severe yet there was ponderousness.
None had spoken as they thought of this demon and its importance to their presence.
The debates – and arguments – had oft dwelled long into the night amongst the Septons. Twenty they were numbered, the High Septon the one and twentieth, about the nature of the Archon's answer to their purpose on this journey.
They'd been selected, the Archon had said, to be akin to a man born to blindness given the miracle and curse of sight. The Gods willing, they'd return from Toad Isle with this miracle and curse.
The Archon had said and would say no more.
In the end, the debates had generally been reduced to an accepted consensus, that what they would learn on Toad Isle, should they survive Arren mused, would open their eyes to mysteries foul of this world.
Mysteries that were beyond the magic of men.
Mysteries needed to be understood by Men who held Faith in the True God of all.
"Perhaps I have lost sense" Joreo began, the contemplative silence that befell their side of the deck broken "but I am struck by a queer thought." Joreo stated before he continued a moment later. "A thought about what makes a Demon."
Arren raised his eyebrows in surprise before he frowned as he considered it.
"Demons are the foul offspring of the Seven Hells. Creatures whose light of the Seven does not shine upon, will not shine upon." Alfred said slowly as he eyed Joreo with a glimmer of confusion. "They simply are. Why do you ask what makes them?"
"The Book of Sinners holds no verse that speaks of their origin, and neither the Books of Gerald, Madser and Almer nor the Poetries of the Four and Ten Heavens and the Hells speak about the origins of demons. Or the Lord of the Hells." Joreo said and Arren considered that for a moment.
It was true. The Seven Pointed Star, the Old and the New, held no discernible matter on the origins of the Demon, whose malevolence seeped sorrow and misery into the withered bones of the accursed and brought suffering to the flesh and soul.
But it was unimportant.
…was it not?
"What is this thought, Joreo? What do you believe makes a Demon?" Arren questioned as he set down his spoon.
"I do not know." Joreo said with a humorous smile, one that fell as soon as it arrived, and Arren noted the furtive glance the man send around them to make sure none overheard. "Perhaps this may be something we are to learn on the morrow."
There fell a silence that captured them wholly, each of them pondering on the words spoken, including the very man who had uttered them.
There had been some musings that suggested that the Isle of Toads was a crossroads to the Seven Hells, ensnaring the souls of lost men forever. The tales had told them all about the strange beings, toad-like men, who called the isle home.
Close to men they were, much like the Ibbanese but where they differed from the Ibbanese, who spoke and seemed like men even if they were not, the guards had said, it was as if they were no more than an animal that bore bad similarity to men.
A tamed, innocent looking animal who knew not to fear men.
A creature that only looked like a tamed, innocent looking animal with a master to answer to.
Some Septons had considered that the toad-like men were the guardians of the Demon and the Gate of Hells it had dwelled from, and Arren had believed this to be likely, though, Arren thought, if that was the case…if Joreo's musings had some sense to it, then did that mean that those lost souls were also Demon spawn?
That the Demon of Toads was not always a demon but had been made into a demon, just like poor men had been turned into Demon spawn?
It was an unsettling thought, Arren decided. As was the thought of the fate that could befall them should they too be ensnared into servitude and monstrous form.
"If we survive." Joreo's words seemed sudden, startling Arren so, but he realised that the moments in between his earlier words and these words were not so apart in time as he'd initially perceived.
"If we survive…" Arren murmured, the words nearly as disquieting as the implication of failure was, and he could tell the other two Septons had come to such understanding too.
"I have faith." Alfred said confidently, the ruinous silence that had taken form, a silence that spoiled appetite, broken under the unwavering confidence of his words.
"I have faith in our Archon. The Prophet." Alfred stated, more lowly, his expression firmed in determination as his gaze flickered from one face to another.
"Should doom befall us, I find no greater relief than to stand by the one whom is so favoured by God and the Seven, the one who wrestles with fate and finds himself victorious." Alfred declared and Arren, after a brief moment of surprise, found himself smiling and agreeing, and he nodded so.
"Aye." Arren said, a mild look of gratitude on his face for the reminder of whom is it that shepherding them through doom. "Well said, Alfred."
"Hmm." Joreo made out an agreeable voice, a similar smile on his face. "To nurse despair is to court one's destruction." Joreo said, quoting the verse of Chapter 12, Samwell the Anointed Son from the Book of the Warrior, and Arren thought the verse was perfect.
Arren could not say he knew the Archon. Oh but he'd known him for years but only from afar. He'd been amongst the first of the slaves at Corinth.
Bought and brought from the fasthold on the heel of Essos, freed on the same day he'd placed his feet on that peaceful land, the shackles of slavery he'd been born with broken with but words on the wind, words, declaration, that broke his bond of slavery.
His admiration had started then, he mused.
Admiration, yes, but one that was tense. That was restrained.
After all, this was a Prince.
A different kind of Prince than those of Essos but a Prince still.
A privileged man, the most privileged man there could be. A Targaryen. A dragonlord. The family who conquered an entire continent with their dragons.
Yet, though he remained afar, he learnt and he saw and he grew to understand.
From afar when he was taught the ways to be free by the people of Dragonstone, he learnt the kind of man they chose to follow from the comforts of a secure life.
A man who cared for the people who lived simple lives.
Admiration became less tense. Less restrained.
From afar when he worked, a few or a hundred bodies separating him from the Archon as they'd built the city of freedom with their own hands, he saw the kind of man that the Archon was.
A man who saw himself as little different from the men who followed him.
Admiration grew into respect and loyalty.
From afar, as he looked upon the man who spoke of triumph after the defeat of the slavers in the Basilisk Isles, speaking with righteous anger, righteous solemnity, he grew to understand why people believed him to be blessed by the strange Gods of his new people.
He learnt his letters. He learnt his words.
He sought to read the Book of the Gods, to understand what Gods would seek to bless such a great man, and, as he read, as he understood, he learnt that these Gods were different from those he'd known of, kind and righteous and just and gods that demanded nought but what men, all men, should demand of the other.
He grew to understand that this man, the Archon, the Prophet, was exactly the kind of man the Gods would favour, did favour.
Respect and loyalty turned to love and belief.
This man was the very reason why he chose the path of a Septon, to teach others, who had once been like him, that the Gods were the ones who gifted them a man like the Archon, a man who toppled empires and brought freedom to millions, a man who desired only the best for each and every one of them.
So yes…there was no need to nurse despair.
To court destruction.
Not when it was faith that would see them protected from whatever evils lay on the Isle of Toads.
Faith in God…
And Faith in the Archon.
A day and a morn later…
Arren gripped on the edge of the boat to balance himself as the hull sank into the white beaches of the Isle of Toads, though he paid it little mind for his attentions were firmly affixed to the gathering that was to his west, which was closer to the tide than it was the line of trees, with a couple of men coming their way less than a thousand paces away, and rapidly too.
"I'm sorry, good Septons." The words of Thorello drew away his attentions and he peered at the man who jumped over the edge of the small boat. "I can't linger too long so if you could be quick about it…" the sailor was polite in his words but the demands were clear and so Arren, Joreo and Alfred climbed out of the boat from the side of the boat into the shallow water before they trudged up the beach.
"Looks like they're sending a few men yer way." One of the other sailors said lazily as they begun to push the boat back into the sea, though Thorello lingered for a moment as he looked at Alfred and Arren could see a flicker of something in his eyes, a flicker he recognised as the man's eyes darted to the forest line before they met Alfred's gaze again. Fear.
"May the Gods look after yer souls and our Archon. I don't know why our Archon wants back at this accursed place" the man's expression twisted, the fear leaving and instead concern crept in "and I don't know why only just so few!" there was exasperation there, the kind that was made after moons of not having an outlet.
Arren knew where it came from. Whilst he and the other Septons had been told that they were to be made seeing, the remaining men in the army that'd stayed behind when the bulk returned home had not that luxury.
Arren glanced at the twenty Carracks that lay anchored in the distance.
And though the men had not been told, beyond the forty men chosen to accompany them, none of them were fools and none of them had not heard the tales of the last time their people had been on this accursed island.
Most believed that the Archon was back for revenge and truthfully, Arren considered that there was possibly a factor of that, considering that it was the Archon's greatest vice. The vice of retribution.
And so, the order by the Archon of staying behind was not one that well received by the men, nor the sailors, nor even the cooks. It was said that there was not one of the men that had not volunteered for this task and Arren believed it.
The sailor let off a disgruntled noise before he grunted out his following words that was added with a sweeping look that meant more than what was said. "But you make sure you use them daggers if you have, ye hear me, good Septons?"
'Make sure he doesn't die.'
"I do not believe the Gods are done with us, or our Archon just yet." Alfred said in answer, a light smile that bore some amount of amusement on his face.
That seemed to satisfy the man enough to leave without another word and Joreo chuckled lightly as they began to walk, the meaning clear to understand.
There was no doubt that their people loved the Archon as if he was their family.
It might have been less than a hundred paces before they were met by the knights, clad in full Elamaeri steel, painted in immaculate white that could only mean that the armour had been painted recently, and Arren understood the meaning behind it.
Though the paint had been meant to stave some of the heat of Essos, it had also come to mean as a symbol of preparedness for war.
"Septons." They were greeted by one of the knights.
"Are we the last?" Joreo asked.
"You are. Come, the Archon awaits. Follow our steps and do not stray." The knight warned and Arren frowned at that.
"Why?" Alfred beat him to the question that'd been on the tip of his tongue.
The knight hesitated for a moment before he spoke up. "The Archon says we're being stalked. He sent us to make sure you weren't…captured."
Arren's eyes widened slightly and he looked towards the treeline with deep concern but he could see nothing, hear nothing.
"…I see." Alfred only said slowly, hesitancy creeping in his voice as they all exchanged looks and for the rest of the journey, none of them said anything further.
When they arrived closer to the gathering, Arren noticed that the helmeted knights, all heavily clad in white armour with sword and shield in hand, were in a circle, surrounding what must be the Archon and the Septons.
And when they arrived, the circle opened as the guards parted for the three of them, and Arren was made to pause at the sight of it.
The Archon sat cladded in his Valyrian Steel Armour, striking in its tartan colours of crimson and azure, a ring of bloodstone gems and dragonglass hanging down from around his neck all the way to his waist, in hand the mysterious bone-white staff that had bloodred lines running its length with dark spikes crowning the top of the curve of the staff, with the septons seated either side of him around the campfire.
The Archon's famously severe gaze fell upon them, and all three of them bowed their heads reverently at the man before they greeted and acknowledge him.
"Your Grace." All three intoned.
"Rise, Joreo. Alfred. Arren." The Archon said stoically as he beckoned them forth and gestured them to sit in the three spaces that were unoccupied and they did as they were bid.
And as Arren sat, he couldn't help but stare at the Archon, who looked as regal as the Father must have done to Davos at the Fall of Merren.
The Archon smiled slightly, and a thrum of a noise escaped his throat as he gently lifted the staff and knocked at the sand, his sole eye sweeping across all of their faces, Septon and knight alike.
"I must thank you all for choosing to be present on this day. I am aware that you have done so on faith and respect for me rather than any wish to be here on this terrible island." The Archon said solemnly.
"It is our honour, Your Grace, to be called into duty." Irros, one of the youngest Septons said with a reverent tone of voice, and the young man's words were echoed by knight and septon alike.
"Duty…yes…" the words trailed off for a moment before the Archon gripped his staff visibly tighter. "A choice word that I profess means more than you presently know." The Archon straightened himself a little. "And I shall rectify some of this ignorance now."
The Archon continued, his voice growing more severe. "I have kept our purpose on this isle as vague as possible, not because I do not trust you but because secrecy is a weapon that will do us well when the time comes."
The Archon raised his hand and he pointed towards a place over his shoulder, and Arren saw that it was directed at the treeline.
"That is why I must continue to ask you for your faith" the Archon looked around, meeting all of their gazes, including the knights, one by one "wholly and totally. I must ask that you do not waver, that you do not succumb to fear even if it seems overwhelming." The Archon raised his hand, silencing any who might have wished to speak, a light smile breaking through his severe look.
"I know you wish to profess but I want you to keep those words, keep them deep in your hearts and use them to remind yourself when we walk the dark path into the Demon's lair." The Archon said, the smile lost and a grim look taking its place.
There was only silence in the wake of that.
The Archon stood up after a few moments of this silence. "I have told you that this mission is meant to open your eyes, to make you no more blind than a man who sees far and clearly." The Archon said solemnly as he walked towards the High Septon who stood up in front of the Archon.
Arren and the others also stood up, some unsure, others in quiet determination.
"But this shall only be the beginning." The Archon said as he placed his gauntleted hand on the High Septon's chest. "For your eyes shall be the road -" Arren was startled at the flickering of the flames of the campfire, flickers that made it seem as if the flames were slithering in the open air. "- that shall pave for the way to our freedom against Demons…and false gods alike on Man's Earth."
Arren's eyes widened as Aurion gasped, his eyes going unseeing, and in the very next instance, his face had been warped into terror as light returned to his eyes.
"Y-Your G-Grace." Aurion's voice was rasping, a body wide tremor seemed to take hold of him as he stared wide eyed at the Archon, wide eyes that then turned to the staff that the Archon was holding, somehow, impossibly, his eyes widening ever more. The High Septon kept looking and looking, his eyes seemingly seeing something surrounding them in the way his head was arched back in wonder.
"Is this…this…what I am seeing…" the High Septon, one of the most eloquent of men he'd ever met, stammered in his words, a look of awe and wonder stuck on his face, though, that look of awe and wonder was soon lost as the man looked towards the treeline, and Arren was startled at the violent way the High Septon recoiled.
"Gods, Your Grace…! What is that foulness?!" the sheer level of disgust and horror in the High Septon's voice startled Arren even more, and he was not alone in this.
"Evil, High Septon. And the evil you is no more than a fraction of what is hidden from the view of man, High Septon" the Archon explained before he moved onto the next Septon.
"The Gods no longer wish for us to be ignorant about the dangers that exist to our world." The Archon said as he placed his hand on the chest of Septon Bephos, who was shaken by the outburst of the High Septon.
"Cast away your fears, Septon Bephos." The Archon stated, drawing the man's, and Arren's attention to the Archon, and the Archon's voice quieted as he continued. "Keep to your faith. To the truth. Do that, and you shall never lose."
This seemed to calm Bephos and once again, the same vacant look in the man's eyes was there, a vacant look that disappeared almost as soon as it had arrived, and again was there a look of wonder and awe when he looked at the Archon, the staff and the rest of them though that look did not last for it seemed he had seen the same foulness that had twisted the High Septon so.
Again and again and again, the Archon carried the ritual on the Septons, drawing ever nearer to Arren as the Archon swept through the Septons one by one, and again and again and again, the looks of wonder and horror remained exact, and each time, each Septon that the Archon finished with and drew nearer to Arren, the most nervous Arren became.
And when the Archon stood in front of him, peering at Arren with that sole eye of his, Arren couldn't help but tremble in anxiousness…in fear.
"Arren…" the Archon began, gazing at as if he was searching down to the depths of his soul and he hide away his eyes from the Archon's gaze, an act that made the Archon pause with his hand. "Are you prepared?" the words were simple, short, yet to Arren there was so much in them that he struggled to find it within himself to answer.
Was he prepared?
To no longer be blind?
He steeled himself as he met the Archon's gaze and he nodded firmly.
The Archon's expression didn't change as he placed his gauntleted hand on his chest and Arren thought he heard the Archon speak 'See the Truth of Existence' but it must have only been his imagination for his lips did not mov-
Arren was falling.
Falling, and falling, and falling, his body unmoving yet he felt himself pulled into downwards, upwards, every single direction at once and he could feel nothing but helplessness despite all of his attempts to cease his fall into the dar-
Arren was motionless, not of choice but even if he had to choice, he would not move, he would never able to move as he set his sight on impossible, impossible things.
Lances, pillars, a world of virulent colours surrounding by a poisonous mist of grey surrounded Arren, and he could not under-
Just as soon as he saw where he'd arrived, he felt that same pull yanking him back into darkness, and an instant later, he was meeting the gaze of the Archon once more.
Arren stumbled back. "W-wha…" he couldn't finish his words as he stared wide eyed at the Archon, and he felt his eyes widen even more when he saw a bright light around the Archon, a light that bore resemblance to the light around the moon, yet his attentions were soon grasped by the light, the brighter light, beside him.
The staff…it was a brighter light than the Archon, much brighter, lights that though were as silver as each other, he could see marked differences in the way the light swirled around itself and he followed those swirls, swirls that reached high above the Archon's head, and he noted that it looked like a dome of a kind, threads of light that spun around like a holy shield.
His eyes widened even more as he grasped beyond the shield, and he recoiled slightly as he saw the black threads that lay at the border of the shield, on the other side and he followed where they came from…and where before his recoiling was slight, it was now with full body.
There, in the treelines, there was a void of such darkness that even light could not penetrate through, despite the fact that it was high noon, despite the fact that were now clouds or leaves that should have been able to leave the darkness so untouched. Before, before he was made to see more, he had seen only the trees, and the trees behind them. Now…there was only darkness.
And for all that he saw the darkness, he instinctively, at the very centre of his heart, he knew that it was not mere darkness…no…this was the image of evil.
He looked away from the darkness, an easy feat, and he found that the Archon had already moved on, having passed Joreo already and onto Qoros beside Joreo, though he paid it little mind for he saw the same light he'd seen around the Archon also around the Septons and the knights, though there were differences.
The knights, like Aegon, were a fusion of greys and whites, some darker greys than others, whilst the Septons were a collection of silver and whites and far less distinct from one another than the knights were.
He marvelled at the lights, what it could mean and he looked to Alfred, who seemed to be looking at his hands in clear wonder, and the question in at the tip of tongue was ceased when he realised that his questions would soon enough be answered, and as he looked around, met the gazes of the other Septons who'd undergone the blessing, he could tell that they too had come to that understanding, and so, Arren waited.
The last Septon whose eyes had been opened had simultaneously been the longest and shortest wait he had, as the Archon stood by the campfire which arced high into the sky and concentrated into a ball of fire that hovered into the air before the woods of the fire were all snuffed out of all heat, not even a wisp of smoke remaining.
"What you see now, is life." The Archon explained, his gaze sweeping across all of their faces. "You see the inner fires, small concentrations of the divine fire that was granted to us by the Gods. You see our good hopes, our good dreams, our wishful wants, our deepest wishes, our very nature, that is now what you see."
"Your Grace…" one of the Septons, Vargero, interjected hesitantly as he stepped forward. "This gift…this is too much. We are not meant to see this much." The man said with wonder and horror in the same breath.
Arren could tell that more than a few held the same
The Archon looked at Vargero, a stoic look on his face. "Then you believe God is wrong?"
This made Vargero startle and quickly shook his head "No! No, Your Grace, I would never mean to infer to such a thing."
"Good. Because every act I make, everything that I do, is with the blessings of God. And the Seven." The Archon stated, his voice severe. "All that you see now, is because you are meant to see so much." The Archon knocked against the sand with the butt of his staff, and Arren gasped alongside a number of the other Septons at the act, for more threads of light sprung loose from the Staff.
"You are meant to see the true nature of the things that lay in the crevices of our world" the Archon intoned, once more butting the Staff against the sand, and once more the holy shield grew in size and might, so much so that it was twice the size it was before. "You are meant to understand the evil that so many are blind to."
The Archon again knocked the butt of the Staff against the sand, and Arren's eyes widened when his gaze was filled with fire, the ball of fire growing in size and Arren's eyes widened even more when he saw light come from the gems and the dragonglass – a grey light and a blue light respectively, lights that sunk into the fire before it raced away, towards somewhere behind the Archon.
The guards moved and Arren saw where the fire had gone. It had gone into that darkness, a darkness that now was shied away a little by the now blue-whitish fire.
"This new sight of yours is merely the beginning" the Archon stated before he turned around and picked up the Valyrian Steel helmet and as he spoke, his voice was slightly distorted. "For this day, you shall see the true face of evil and the challenges that are before our people in the years, decades and centuries to come."
The Archon proceeded to walk towards the fires and Arren was startled by the sounds of the knights moving into formation either side of them, their shields high and their swords firm and tout, and soon he, along with the other Septons were following in the Archon's steps, the feeling of trepidation and worry permeating throughout them all.
Exchanges of looks were made, some stoic, others determined but more than a few were worried, uncertain, though none had spoken as they walked into the bowels of the darkness, shielded as their path might have been by fire.
Each step they took, felt as if the hairs at the back of their neck grew touter, as if their very senses were telling them that they were in grave, grave danger.
Arren swallowed as he looked up, the holy shield that surrounded them clouded by the dark hands of the darkness that dwelled in this land, and he wondered, what their senses would tell them if it had been for that shield.
'Terror. They would only feel terror.'
They walked for an hour and more, and had it not been for the fact that they had known were walking in clear daylight through the thickest of forest, they might well have thought that perhaps they were lost in the night, such was how oppressive and blinding the darkness was, even amidst the protection of the shield and the fires.
They walked through open fields where in the distance he thought he could see people, or at least what seemed like people, though they did not stop to visit, no, they kept up the pace they'd started with, following the path of fire that led them and surrounded them into the forest once more, and the closer they surely neared to the place of evil, the more thankful Arren was of the shield surrounding them.
"What do you see" Alfred's hushed voice from beside him captured his attentions and when he looked, he realised that Alfred was asking one of the guards.
"I only see a forest, Septon." The knight said in answer and he noted the look of exchange the knights around them had.
"…I see." Alfred said and the other septons, a few whom had also heard the quick exchange, looked troubled by the answer from the knight.
And Arren was troubled too.
'How can they not see the evil? Feel the evil?' he wondered with great trouble.
It was all around them, as thick as fog.
'Life…they were seeing life. If all of the white lights that surrounded menfolk was meant to mean life…then it meant that this darkness…this blackness was the antithesis of life.' Arren thought gravely to himself.
This was an accursed place, he felt that deep in his bones, he thought as he looked at the Archon, who kept walking at the front beside two of the knights flanking either side, the staff he held a beacon of power that outshone all, walking fearlessly into the Demon of the Toad's lair, and he steeled himself once more.
The further they walked, the more of the darkness tested the holy shield, and Arren and the rest of the Septons were doing all they could to not be seized by fear.
They had not known they had arrived, a moment that felt had taken too long yet was far too soon in the same instance, until the knights told them so, that they'd reached a town, the ruins of a town with a toad idol, one where nature seemingly long before reclaimed it as its own, yet for Arren and the other Septons, all that they saw was a black void that drowned out nearly all of the light in the world.
"Knights!" the Archon's voice was loud and hard as he called out to the knights, and Arren was startled when a wave of fire grew around them, larger and brighter than the fires that lit their path.
"Do not break the formation. Whatever you do, whatever you sense, do not flee. Trust me, trust in your Archon, the man who has led you in battle before." The Archon stated and the men proved their faith in the Archon as they banged on the shield with their short and moved closer in formation and though Arren could not see their faces, he knew exactly what it looked like.
"Septons." The Archon began as he came to a stop and peered over his shoulder.
"Pray. Pray to our Gods, pray for me. Have faith in me for it is faith that will see us cast this demon out of our world." The Archon's voice was severe as he spoke and he did not wait for them to respond for he continued to walk and they followed in his steps, drawing nearer to the void that terrified Arren to his very bones.
It was not long before the Archon came to a stop, standing a little apart, far out in the front and Arren couldn't help but imagine the Archon as the very tip of an arrow or a spear as they closer to the centre of the void, a void that Arren haltingly recognised as taken form, a silhouette of a shape that he could not quite recognise.
Arren's eyes widened as the lights around the Archon grew, like a sunrise burrowing out from the ends of the horizon, greys and whites and blues rose like wisps of smoke of a baking carcass, and the Archon was not the only one who was changing, no, the staff that was held by the Archon, the bright, mysterious and almost certainly divine weapon, had grown several orders of magnitude in intensity, and so too had the holy shield that surrounded them grow larger, and mightier for though it once was a clear looking shield, it was now far more opaque.
Mutterings from among the Septons had grown louder too, and Arren could hear the whispers of prayer, whispers made i-
Arren felt his entire body snap into stillness, his very spine locked into an absolute prison as waves upon waves of evil swept through his body.
Arren thought he knew fear. He thought he knew terror.
He learnt otherwise in this very moment.
His eyes, the only things that moved, that could have moved, latched onto the bloom that arose in the distance, in front of the Archon, whose light seemed akin to a pebble in front of a mountain in comparison to the blighted bloom of darkness that cast down shadows of monstrous evil.
There was no other word, even the word evil did little to truly describe the waves of evil that he felt was threatening to be inflicted upon his very soul, inflictions that scratched, clawed, dug towards his soul and desired to pull it down into the depths of the darkest torment in the Seven Hells.
The Archon raised his staff, the brilliant light that emanated from it growing in might, growing in size, yet all that it seemed like, was a mere hill before a mountain, something that could never stand against such overwhelming evil.
"LORD GOD, PROTECT US!" one of the Septons, Bephos, wailed in terror as he dropped to his knees, clutching his Seven-Star necklace, and soon his voice was not the sole one to beg the Gods for mercy and protection, as more of the Septons fell to their knees.
The knights were not immune to the evil and the terror that evil induced in them, no, he could hear their armour rattle as they struggled to maintain their composure, and just as Arren's knees seemed to buckle, to cast him down in sheer terror, and just as the knights seemed to itch to run in fear, there was a voice, a demand, that stopped them still for a brief, momentous instance.
"STAND, DAMN YOU!" Arren wretched his eyes clear from the looming damnation and cast them to the front, towards the direction of the voice.
He saw the High Septon standing there, with four other Septons. Septon Alfred. Septon Irros. Septon Aeronno. Septon Jorys.
They stood there, standing tall, staring down at them with determination, with fury with resolve, with faith and Arren, despite the weight of the evil, despite the sheer terror that seeped into his bones, slowly walked his way towards the four men.
"IS YOUR FAITH SO WEAK?" the High Septon screamed, demanded, begged, his hand sweeping in front of him. "IS YOUR FAITH SO BRITTLE THAT IT SHATTERS UNDER THE BRIEFEST PRESSURE?" this time, there was no mistaking, there was no doubt of the angry accusation that was levied in his voice and Arren could tell that his words having an effect on the Septons and especially on the knights, whose rattling armour were slowing.
Arren arrived by the four Septons and he was not alone for Joreo had followed in his steps though the High Septon paid him no mind as he stared angrily at the kneeling Septons.
"STAND, DAMN YOU, STAND! DO NOT FORSAKE THE GODS, DO NOT FORSAKE OUR ARCHON! STAND, DAMN YOU AND HAVE FAITH!"
Arren found himself uttering the same words as the High Septon was and he was not alone in this, for their voices blended into each other, notched arrows blending into a spear of faith, one that was meant to help them stand and stand until all were standing together against the wrath of evil and Arren noticed, in the impromptu communion, that the waves of evil, the terror that was induced him, lessened and lessened the more he believed, the more he felt safe.
And he wasn't the only one, as Arren noted the faces, faces once mired in terror, had grown more lax, no more bound in stricken terror, and instead, the more time passed, the more the fiery faith grew within each of them, so much so that none were kneeling any more.
And that was not the only change either, for he could see the light that surrounded each man, each Septon and Knight, grow in brightness, in intensity, as if their very souls were nurtured by the regained faith that they had momentarily lost, and Arren…
He marvelled at it all.
'Forgive for my doubt, my lord God.' Arren thought as he grew stony in determination, a look that was shared by more and more of the Septons and they, in union, turned around and gazed upon the Archon and the Demon he fought.
"My Lord Archon. We stand by you! You hold our utmost faith. Destroy the Demon in the name of our Gods!" the High Septon cried and soon, he was not the only one who voiced his own words of encouragement, of outpouring of faith, for they all moved in unison to bolster the Archon against the blight of this Demon.
Septon and Knight.
The words seemed to cause an effect, for the power that originated around the Staff grew brighter, more powerful, threads of light streamed out of it, like flowers blooming out in Spring, pushing against the evil blight with more and more might and it wasn't long before he witnessed the shield being directed at the Demon.
A deafening roar shook the very ground, and Arren heard telltale flaps of a nearby dragon, and he heard the deafening loosening of dragonflame and soon the fires that had been raised by the Archon melted with the dragonflames, climbing to surround them as high as the highest of buildings in Elamaerys.
"Enemy incoming!" one of the knights bellowed, forcing Arren to look at the direction and what he was shook him terribly, for there were bodies, burning bodies, racing towards through the flames in a mad dash.
"SHIELD WAAALLLL" was bellowed all around, and Arren was witness to the knights cutting down figure after figure in terrifying efficiency, and when he looked back at the front, at the Archon, he saw five knights surrounding the Archon, defending him from the flaming bodies that tried to get to the Archon.
Yet the Archon did not seem to pay it any mind, for he raised his staff even higher into the air, the threads of light that emanated from the staff, lights that were no longer simply the purest of light, mingling with the darkest of lights he'd seen thus far, pouring out in greater and more violent volumes.
The threads begun to shift, transforming, most of them coalescing into a single point and the evil blight that hovered over them seemed to rear back in response, and for the first time in ages, Arren could see the light of the sun streaming down through the gaps of the leaves as the Demon's form shifted, changed, and Arren gasped in disbelief when he saw the form that it was taking.
The mostly formless Demon instead begun to resemble a man, no, a toad-like thing, eyes of the blackest of reds, and a teethless mouth with bottomless depths that looked no less ominous than two rows of sword like fangs.
More threads grew from the head of the Staff, threads that begun to snake around, probing, around the shifted form of the Demon, like a hunter surrounding its prey and then…then it happened.
Like arrows, like spears, the threads and the large spear daggered into the Demon, its form, once a void of the utmost blackness, was now losing its hollowness as light, holy light, filled the Demon from every pore whence.
"$&%%$£$£$£&!"
The Demon, whose form leaked holy light and held a strange green tint, screamed, screaming so terribly loud that Arren was forced to shield his ears, a scream that did not seem to end, not until they were all deafened in the foul language it screamed in, a language of the Demon, only seeming as if it was growing volume, these screams, and though Arren was pained, suffering, he felt only a grim satisfaction that the Demon was in the greatest of agony.
Arren was forced to squint his eyes, the intensity of the light so severe that it was threatening to blind him and all of the rest of them but Arren continued to look, continued to see the end of evil, and he was not disappointed, as he just about saw the form of the Demon show so many glowing crack-
Arren was lifted off of his feet as an explosion rippled through them, an explosion that he felt throughout his body.
His ears rung. His body ached. His eyes were unseeing and it took some time, and the shouts of the men around him bolstering his resolve, before he found the strength to get off his back.
His ears continued to ring, ringing loudly and as his gaze swept around, he found that most were still on the ground, though some were standing, most of them the knights who aided any around them.
He could see piles of rocks surrounding them, black rocks that looked like dragonglass, though he could dwell not long on it for he felt hands around his arm, pulling him up.
"Septon, are you hurt?" the man, the knight, who had pulled him asked in concern.
"I will live." Arren said with an attempted smile and the knight only snorted in response.
"Aye, I think so." The knight sighed heavily before he shook his helmeted head. "Can't say I thought we would after all of that…" the knight said in a disturbed tone of voice that made it clear that he was still heavily shaken. "What was it…what did you see, Septon?" the knight asked quietly and almost fearfully, as if he had only just about convinced himself to ask the question.
Arren swallowed dryly as he looked around. The flames that surrounded them had been snuffed out, and all he could see was charred stones and charred corpses, dozens of them. The trees weren't spared either, for the flames had burned most of them whole and through. From what he could tell the circle of fire had been wide, thick, and it made him realise that the Demon spawn were not of mortal flesh.
He kept on looking around, this time a lot closer and he saw that most Septons had been back on their feet or at least sitting, and they were being checked over by some of the knights, as some undoubtedly had been injured by the black rocks.
He then looked to the front, to the Archon, whom he could see standing beside a few of the knights, looking at some black rocks that he could not quite tell what they were from his present position.
"I saw evil." Arren murmured as he looked at the knight's helm, barely able to see the man's eyes. "I saw evil and the face that it wears." The way the knight reared back made Arren realise that he'd spoken such words in grave hollow numbness.
Arren barely managed to force himself to smile. "But our Archon defeated the Demon. He defeated it." And may the Gods forever hold him in their hearts for it, he fervently thought as he looked at the back of the Archon before he looked at the Staff, which seemed to shimmer with such brightness and holiness that it was hard to look at it directly.
"Demonslayer…" the knight murmured in awe and Arren barely noticed the knight walking away from as he continued to stare at the back of the Archon.
Arren found himself walking towards the Archon in an almost hypnotic daze.
"Arren?" Alfred was the one who called his name but Arren would not be stopped from his current course.
When he neared, the Archon turned around, and though his face was shielded by the helm, he knew that their gazes were meeting. The knights either side of the Archon moved to place their bodies closer to the Archon but they had no need to do so for Arren dropped to knees in front of the Archon.
"Septon Arren…" the Archon began but Arren only shook his head, a grateful smile on his face. He got a glimpse of the stone that had been in front of the Archon. It was a black and grey stone head of a toad of what once was a toad idol.
"You are truly God's chosen, my Lord Archon." Arren only stated in a deeply, deeply, reverent tone of voice and Arren bowed his head, touching upon the dirt with his forehead as prostrated. "I have seen, Your Grace. My eyes are open."
His eyes were open. Open as the skies were.
He'd believed that Demons were a distant thing at the most.
Things that were no great danger to man, for the Gods protected them from their foul touch.
However…
Arren knew now that it was not the case, not completely. That there was foulness, that there was evil that God and the Seven had not banished away from this earth.
Arren noticed that others had kneeled next to him but he paid it no mind as he continued to think. Bound as the Demons were, they were not banished and he knew now, in the deepest of his heart, the Gods had a Plan for them, for the Faith, one that would see the earth liberated from stink of evil, in the same way that the Archon and the knights had liberated vast swathes of Essos of the stink of slavery.
Arren raised his head as he sat on his knees, and he swept his gaze around and he noted that all of the Septons, even those who were bloodied and injured, were kneeling in front of the Archon, with the High Septon right beside him.
The High Septon smiled at him before he looked at the Archon with reverent eyes and what he said next, was what all of them had felt, would feel, would always feel until the Gods called them to the Seven Heavens.
"My Lord Archon. Command us."
-Break-
The Religious Significance of Aegon the First, the last Prophet of God
Chapter Sixteen: The Fourth Holy Act of Aegon
The Fourth of the Seven Holy Acts by Aegon the First can be argued to be the most significant out of all in the aiding of the continuation of our world.
To summarise this perception, it can be understood in simple terms that the First Holy Act had seen Elamaerys, the most holy of lands, found as directed by God and the Seven, sparked the birth of Elamaerys.
The Second Holy Act had been the return to the true principles of the Faith and how to live by the Commandments given by God through the Seven, both of which had been corrupted by selfishness and greed by the gold and power driven Andals of Westeros, which allowed Truth of God and the Seven to one day spread throughout the world, which continues to this day.
The Third Holy Act, the Last Prophet's resurrection under the bathing fires of the Dragon, an infinitesimal ember of the Divine Fire that breathed life into the universe, allowed the Prophet to continue his divine work for another three decades until he was called home by God in culmination of the Final and Seventh Holy Act, the Birth of the Silver Tree, which to this day centuries later fills the hearts of Elamaeri with Hope, Conviction and Faith.
The Fifth Holy Act, the death of a second and more dangerous Demon whose followers would have posed a threat to Elamaerys, and the Sixth Holy Act, the Archives of Elamaerys, similarly had purpose in them that saw to the prosperity of the Faith and of the Elamaeri people.
Each of these Six Holy Acts were fundamental to Elamaerys and its people, however, for all of these Divine Acts, it is the Fourth that had the most significant consequence that ultimately led to a prepared Elamaerys against the greatest and darkest of foes that exist on this mortal plane.
The most hateful enemy of Mankind.
It cannot be understated how much different it all could have been, had the Last Prophet not carried out the Opening of the Eyes, first for the Order of Septons, and then later for the Order of Alchemists.
The world may well have fallen into eternal Darkness at the hands of the accursed Dark Ones (whose names by order of Archon Aeraelys shall forevermore be stricken from history) had the Order of Septons and the soldiers of Elamaerys not learnt of the dark entities such as the Demon of Toads that plagued the mortal plane.
This discovery is considered by historians and religious figures alike as the most pivotal step in the role that Elamaerys would take over the centuries in the drive to eradicate their ilk and their followers from our world, and thus secure a more permanent division of the planes.
Before the Reckoning for the Demon of Toads, it was widely believed that only magic remained in the mortal plane and that creatures like the Brindled Men, the Children of the Forest, the Ibbanese, the Zekiras of the Land of the Washqutet, or even the White Walkers – which at the time of the 120s AC had been considered to be real but only superficially (see Ch2 on the Prophet's earliest warnings on spiritual threats) – were remnants of dark magic practices rather than true evidence of any demonic or unlikely divine punishment.
After the Toad Stone incident, this no longer held true in the eyes of Elamaeri and particularly the Order of Septons, who had stood witness to the Fourth Holy Act in 126 AC, as they lay witness to the existence and death of a Demon, the Demon of Toads, who had barely been confined to the Demonic Gates to the Seven Hells, known by their distinct oily Black Stone appearance, by the time of the Reckoning (see Ch 26 on the Gates of the Seven Hells)
It was also the beginning of the bestowment of Holy Sight by the holy hands of the Royal Family to the Elamaeri people, particularly amongst the clergy and the Order of Alchemists, who, alongside the Royal Family, in time would form the second and third point in the spear that protected Elamaerys and the wider world against the false gods, demons, and their agents, as witnessed in the Ǽyumkŏtan Wars (163-169 AC and 203-221 AC) against the CēķlīLōca Demons in Southern Greater Ulthos, the Crusade against the Ýȫrștak blood mages of Central and Northern Ulthos and their foul horned Demon god (267-282 AC), and of course, the War for the Dawns which nearly ended the entire world of Man…