A man sitting on a throne. His long hair both black and white split down the middle of his scalp. At the center of his golden crown, a dark red jewel.
A war-torn land ravaged with fire and blood and famine.
A pair of scarred hands commanding dark and foul magics.
A vast host of fresh corpses suddenly rose up from a battlefield.
A great army of the dead shambling into a golden city.
A meager resistance. Temples burning. Lights fading.
A horde of robed figures slaying men, women, and children indiscriminately. Only stopping to rip away limbs and tear away flesh to eat and consume. Every last one of them giving praise to an oily black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
"Unbound. Directed. Enlightened."
Anguish
Eternity
When Duncan next woke, he found that he was still within the throne room in the main keep.
He wasn't on the floor anymore. The kicking and stomping had stopped. He was sitting in something now.
His suit had been cut above the waist. Now he was only wearing trousers and naught else. No boots. No shirt. No gloves. Even in his delirious state, he was able to see the dozens of cuts and fresh bleeding scars trailing up and along his arms, feet, and chest. There were probably more on his face, too.
Everything stung. Stung like… like he'd kept his hand over a roaring fire for too long. Duncan felt his legs rest at the least. But his wrists burned. Not a moment later had he realized that his hands had been bound with rope, tied to a wooden chair.
Duncan tried to blink away the sweat that blurred his vision. Tried to see the various bodies that stood before him now, but-
-wait! One of them lurched towards him suddenly. Something in their hand that-
"GRAAAAGH!" Mormont screamed as something sharp sunk easily into his right thigh. "AAAHAAHHHA!"
Mormont tried to swing himself at the arm that was connected to the long knife, but his efforts only resulted in both him and the chair falling sideways onto the floor.
Almost immediately the chair was picked up with Duncan still in it. The knife was taken out of his leg, and his vision cleared slowly.
A guard. A man with a square-shaped face and squat, stringy black mustache was grinning maniacally now as he stared Duncan right in the eyes.
Mormont spat out a clot of blood and saliva at the man whose face was only just a few feet away. The messy glob landed directly on the guard's forehead.
That mad grin had gone away then. Yet this time, in retaliation, a strong hard fist connected with the left side of Duncan's face. BOOM! Duncan swiveled back in his chair, the impact was hard enough to make his ears start ringing, and going by the hot sensation that slowly began to roll down his cheekbone, he'd been cut by the other man's knuckles too.
Too soon had another fist connected with his gut. Mormont lurched forward and vomited up the leftovers of his rations and whatever water he'd consumed earlier that day, an acidic taste stuck in his throat.
BOOOM! Another blow to his forehead, this time cutting above his left eyelid. A gust of yellow and black spots floated around him now.
Why were they there? Where were they going? Could they take him with them?
No… they wouldn't.
The knife came back. The long stiletto edge wicked diagonally across his open chest in three straight deep cuts. Reaching from his right shoulder, all the way down to his abdomen.
"GRRRRGH!" He kept his teeth together this time.
But it still just kept coming. Another quick incision on his arm. Another on his midsection. One on his other shoulder.
It just kept coming and coming and coming. Over and over and over again.
Almost as if it was taking its time.
Duncan gasped as he was immediately shocked awake by a blast of cold water.
It only made the cuts and bruises all over his stomach, arms, and legs sting that much more. The open wounds festered, and Mormont shook terribly as a seizing pain racked his entire body.
A shallow, hollow breath in response was all Duncan could muster. His face was too numb, to begotten of feeling.
WHOOOOSH-BOOM!
It happened again. Another searing cold blast of water jerked him fully awake this time. Duncan hyperventilated as he brought up his head to look around, taking in the long hall of the main keep once more. Back in Yi Ti. Back in Serpent's Reach. Back to reality.
Shapes moved beyond his blurred vision. His puffy cheeks and swollen eyes did him no favors.
Why was it all fuzzy?! Why?! Couldn't it stop?!
One of the shapes moved closer now. Something glowing. Something hot. Something sharp.
What was it? What was the shape going to do? What-
Duncan had realized it too late. Close up enough within his limited vision and he saw the smoldering, crimson blade that radiated sheer heat. Duncan shook and shook and shook, desperately trying to free himself from his bonds. To the Seven Hells with his wrists! Just get this thing away! Just get it away! Just-
The sharp tip of the white-hot knife pressed down hard onto his forehead, just above his left eye. Combined with his water-soaked skin, it-
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHHHH!" Duncan screamed out into the hall as the knife was slowly dragged down the left side of his face. Seizing and trying to get away, but something held him there! Kept him there!
Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop.
Scraping down, inch by inch, digging into his flesh. Right through his eyebrow, passing over the swollen ruin that was his left eye, and continuing to trail his cheekbone all the way down to his jaw.
And then, suddenly, it stopped.
Duncan heaved and heaved, letting his head fall forward once more.
Bursts of steam floated up from where he'd been branded. Those same shapes that had hurt him were moving again. And he saw-
No… no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no!
He'd seen it coming again this time, but that didn't make it any better! The shape in front of him procured something else, something longer now. It-
The scalding hot end of a fire poker dug right into his abdominal muscles. Like before, Duncan could not contain his agony, "EEEEEERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGHHHHHHHHHH!" He shook and howled, trying to use his legs to kick the blasted thing away!
He'd succeeded. Duncan kicked the long iron rod off to the side, away from his midsection, yet as he did so, it dragged along his skin, leaving one long jagged burning scar that cut into his sizzling flesh.
The blessedly brief reprieve didn't last long, however. Within seconds, the fire poker returned and pressed into his chest.
"URRRRRRGHHH!" Duncan gurgled and rattled as if he were having a seizure. "UUUUUUUAAHHHHHH!"
It lasted for so long, so very long indeed. Duncan heaved and heaved, trying to kick away the poker again, yet all of his attempts were futile. Even as the hot iron dug and scorched his chest, he felt a closed fist pelt the back of his head in response to his incessant struggle.
The single blow alone was nothing. Barely registered as the hot iron spear stabbed right towards his heart. Then-
Then it was gone.
The shapes started to move again. The glowing thing disappeared in the haze of it all. And Duncan felt himself slipping.
Slipping. Slipping. Slipping.
A setting sun, ashamed of those under its care.
A rising moon to take its place.
A creeping darkness that sweeps over the world, an endless night.
A stygian cathedral built on the ruins of a shrine made of pearly white marble. In the central hall, a display of bloodied spines, ribcages, skulls, and fleshless limbs arrayed in the shape of an eagle's wing. Mounted like an art piece.
A once pure and holy place, corrupted and defiled with perversion and depravity.
A malevolent parody of something pure.
A flock of thousands gathered before their shepherd. The same man with the bloodied knife. The same man bearing the golden crown with the dark red jewel.
A black stone in the man's hands, being held up towards the lightless sky with eternal reverence.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A black stone.
A voice reaching out from the void. One of caring, and understanding.
"Where does your purpose lie?"
WHOOOOOOOASH!
Mormont gasped awake once again to yet another blast of cold water that exploded over his bruised face and charred torso. Some of the blood pouring from open wounds washed away before leaking once more.
He inhaled sharply and tried to spot the shapes again. Nothing made sense.
The stench of burnt flesh filled his nostrils. The crooked angular nose that was once a defining feature of his, was now lumpy and swollen.
He wasn't in the chair anymore. Now he was stuck between two of the pillars? That's what it seemed like. Rope gripped both his wrists and held him in place. But why?
What would come next?
The shapes soon took form again. His vision in his one good eye started to clear. Yes… those men before him were looking upon him greedily, eager with hatred and spite. Not for him specifically, but for life in general. It was their purpose.
Purpose. Purpose. Purpose…
Where had he heard that before?
Mormont did not have time to deliberate further. He barely refocused in time to see one guard hand another a whip. The latter nodded and walked out of view.
He knew what would come next. Duncan curled his hands into fists.
CRRCK!
A lightning bolt struck across his backside in one swift motion. Duncan snapped up straight and ground his teeth together to ease it.
CRACK!
Another electric shock and his whole back exploded with pain.
CRRRRACK!
Duncan kept his teeth together, just enough to keep himself from howling.
A pause. A singular moment that felt like an hour.
How long had it been? It felt like years had passed since his arrival. Was the sun going to rise soon? Had the others forgotten about the operation altogether?
If only so he could rest. Then-
WHOOCRACK!
"GRRGH!" Duncan only managed to gurgle his cry of agony. This time it was impossible to contain. A leeching, branching sensation scorched his spine and shoulders.
Instinctively, he pulled and pulled and pulled on the chains holding him upright. With raw strength, he tried to rise to his feet. Yet as soon as he did, his knees were kicked hard out from under him, and he slumped back onto the floor.
Duncan jolted upright and looked wildly around the room, especially at the guards who surrounded him now, delighting in his suffering. Even then he snarled and kept heaving and dragging on the chains that bound him.
It was an animal reaction. He'd reached the end of his human responses to pain. Gone was the rational man that Mormont used to be. Now, all that remained was a feral, primal drive to live.
He-
CRRRACK!
No-
WHOCRAAAAAACK!
CRACK!
WRRRRCRK!
WHRRRRK!
Five consecutive lashes. Almost as if they were all counting down to something. Leading up to some sort of climax.
What would it be?
When would it come?
When could he go home?
Darkness welcomed him once more.
WHOOAAAAAASH!
His hair and face were soaked again, shocking Mormont awake.
His head pounded and pounded. Everything was cold again. Not because of the water, but because of-
Something hard hit him across the face.
He let out a sharp gasp of air. The thing cut right into his left cheekbone. He thought that he might fall over again, but something else held him upright. Something that tugged hard on both of his wrists. It seemed to rattle and clink. Or was it a jingle? A song?
Whatever it was, it kept him from sleeping. What was the point of a soft mattress and his collection of lovely feather pillows if he couldn't bloody sleep on them?
"Why, Father?" He groaned. "Just let me sleep… we… we've been… training all day…"
Duncan let his head hang forward. Maybe Father would recognize how tired he was? Maybe.
"I wish to speak to you now."
The deepened voice roused him from his restless slumber. Duncan blinked with his one good eye. He couldn't see out of his left, not with the battered and charred battlefield that was the left side of his face. His left cheek blocked it out entirely. He tried to lift his head, but-
THWAP! THWAP!
A meaty hand had smacked him twice over the forehead. Then it had gripped his chin and forced him upright. The blur cleared away in a matter of moments, and he saw the Yellow King standing before him.
"I feel that I must congratulate you, my son." The sallow-skinned monarch smiled down at him with what seemed like genuine compassion and… pride. "Indeed, for many moons, I have eluded Xi Mao's agents. Of course, no doubt I am potentially on a short list of possible offenders… yet a man such as him could not know for sure where specifically the Yellow King had been hiding. His oversight of this pitiful excuse for an Empire does naturally have its limits. Yet you found me. You did what he could not. And that alone compels me to wonder what exactly he sees in you, a laowai."
Duncan did not reply. Not immediately. He took a moment to catch his breath.
So... the Yellow King didn't know about the others? Didn't suspect that there was anyone else with him? Maybe he did. Maybe not. Right now, though, it seemed like the man thought that Mormont was the only operative who'd been sent to Serpent's Reach.
Slowly, he opened his mouth. He managed a dry cough to clear his stuffy throat. "L-l-lucky g-guess."
"Luck has no bearing in this. To choose to come here of all places… you would have needed to be certain in your assessment of myself and my activities. The rations and supplies my men found with your belongings proved this observation of mine to be correct."
"Perhaps."
Tsai Na-The Yellow King smiled. "You need not be coy, my son. It will not matter in the end. And neither will your cooperation be necessary here."
Mormont sneered. "How nice of you to say."
He was ignored. "What did you do, hmmm?"
"Wha…what?"
The tall man wore a sardonic grin now. One that didn't meet his void-like eyes. "What did you do to end up here, I wonder? You Westerosi do not venture far from your homeland. At most, your kind might sail to the Free Cities, or even to Slavers' Bay. Yet that would be the end of it." The monarch said. "And then we arrive at you… to come to Yi Ti... must have been a deliberate choice on your part."
Duncan shook his head. "Don't know what you're on about."
"You insist on concealing the truth from me, my son… yet you do not need to! For I have already revealed that I do not care about what you know."
"Forgive me for not believing you."
Tsai Na gave an accepting nod. "A fair retort," he admitted. "Nonetheless, as robust as you are… I suspect you would be from Northern Westeros. Such a long way away. There are many potential explanations as to why, yet I think the most likely is that… you did something. Something consequential. An act that was significant enough for you to leave your homeland."
Mormont stayed silent. It was eerily sinister just how close Tsai Na was to the truth.
"I wonder… What sort of man would be forced to leave his home? Would be compelled to make for a distant land that, I imagine, your people would have so little information on? A criminal seeking asylum? A noble looking for adventure? Or perhaps…" Tsai Na pursed his thin lips as he looked Duncan over once more. "Both?"
"I was bored. Not much going on at the time, you see."
"Not likely," Tsai Na said dismissively. "You did something. Nothing illegal, but it certainly might've insulted someone else... It would have planted a target on your back. I'm not far off, hmmm?"
Mormont didn't reply. He only schooled his features and forced himself to be ice-cold.
How in the Seven Hells did this mad bastard know? How had he come to these… surprisingly accurate conclusions about Mormont when Mao hadn't?
His silence was taken as a confirmation. Tsai Na smiled once more. "And judging from your features… you would have been popular as far as women are concerned. That's what did it, hmmm? Slept with the wrong woman? A woman who belonged to another?"
"No."
"You persist in lying, my son. I can see the truth writ in your eyes. But if you wish to keep your past to yourself, I shall not pry any further. It is time we spoke of other things, you and I."
Mormont coughed. "Ho-ack! How nice of you to change the subject…"
Again, his comment had been seemingly ignored. The monarch slowly began to pace in front of Duncan. Not once did Mormont see Tsai Na's knees dent the shimmering black robe as he casually walked. "I wish to convey to you, boy, that it was a most evil day for you when you first heard of the Yellow King and the Church of Starry Wisdom. Admittedly in a very minor fashion, disrupted my intelligence network with the death of one of my spies, but that is by the way. A wise man would have recognized the danger he'd be up against and gone home. And yet, I imagine, that for all your cleverness and aptitude, you lack a great deal of wisdom."
"F-fine way to insult me."
"Not an insult, merely an observation, my son."
Mormont glowered. Why in the blazes was he saying 'my son'?
"I'm not your son, you fucking madman." He growled.
"No… not yet."
Duncan tried to lunge at the monarch, but the ropes kept him in place. Try as he might, his wrists only continued to burn, losing circulation and blood flow.
Tsai Na continued, totally disregarding Duncan's attempts to break free. His expression morphed into one of sorrow. "You break into my house and you kill my servants. That alone is what angers me the most. You kill good, hardy men. Men who were loyal. Men who have devoted themselves to a higher cause."
"Higher cause?" Mormont managed a dry croak. He didn't bother to hide the hatred and disgust in his voice. "Beating helpless merchants? Enslaving women and children? Eating people alive? That is your 'higher cause'?"
The Yellow King ceased his pacing. Almost mechanically, he turned back to face Duncan.
Those dark pits for eyes bore into him. They didn't blink. Didn't look away. They were just transfixed on him for minutes on end. Watching him. Studying him. Curious. Condolatory. Mormont might have shied away from the man's gaze if he weren't immediately infuriated by the fact that the bastard was pitying him. As if he couldn't see the bigger picture of some sort of grand vision.
Finally, "I wish to show you something." The Yellow King said. He nodded to the guards standing on either side of Duncan. Both of them quickly released Mormont of the rope and grappled his arms.
Immediately he'd tried to bolt to his feet, yet as soon as he moved, yet another blow hit the back of his skull, BOOM! Nearly knocking him unconscious again.
Mormont fell forward in a daze. All sense of feeling had long gone, so he barely even registered the impact of the floor coming up to meet him. Once more, he felt himself being raised up by the arms, with his feet and legs dragging against the wooden floorboards below him.
Tsai Na turned and casually strode towards the throne by the back of the long hall. The great hearth roared behind it with radiating heat. And-
Drums?
Mormont shook his head half-heartedly, still recovering from the earlier blow to his head. The drumming was… familiar somehow. Doom, doom, doom… Doom, doom, doom… Doom, doom, doom.
Where have I heard that before?
He watched the tall robed figure glide over to the golden chair ahead. The source of the drumming seemed to be coming from right next to it. On the podium he'd seen earlier. What was it? Why?
The drumming grew louder with each step forward.
What-
The guards halted approximately ten feet before the dais where the throne sat. Tsai Na stepped to the side then, revealing what was sitting on the pulpit.
It was there. Waiting for him.
Nononononononononononononononononononononononononononononono!
"Where does your purpose lie?"
"This is the root," Tsai Na said, now bearing with his sinisterly compassionate smile. "This is why you are here."
Mormont was too stunned to answer. Too shocked to say anything.
The black stone. The one he'd seen in his dreams.
It was real. But it couldn't be. It shouldn't be. Should not exist. It didn't belong here, in this world. That much Mormont knew, just from looking at it.
This stone… it looked like it was going to fall apart at any given moment. Shatter into pieces. There were splits and cracks throughout the outer shell. Even still… there very clearly was something swirling inside it. Something dark. Something twisted and malevolent.
Evil.
Mao had been right all along. And Mormont had been fool enough to not believe him. To try and rationalize it away as some madman leading a cult of equally mad star worshippers.
The Blood Betrayal. The Bloodstone Emperor. It was all true. This was what had caused the downfall of a great civilization that existed over ten thousand years ago.
How? How could it be real? It had no right to be real!
"Many years ago, it was found in an iron mine to the North of this fortress," Tsai Na explained. "The workers there, by chance, dug into an ancient ruin. They found a temple, a shrine dedicated to the Bloodstone Emperor. And within, it also housed this great gift you see before you."
"G-gift?" Mormont could only gulp. Could only feel an ice-cold sense of dread.
"Indeed!" The Yellow King beamed. "A gift. With the stone being uncovered… I knew it was my destiny to ascend as the High Priest of our order. I was meant to succeed the Bloodstone Emperor. Our numbers began to swell. With each town or village plundered, I would show this stone to those among the unenlightened, those who claimed to worship false idols-our precious 'Maiden-Made-of-Light' for instance. Many of them realized their place in the cosmos… others, well…" He shrugged. "Others had to be cast aside. They were not deserving."
The Yellow King then switched his attention back to Mormont. He approached and placed a cold, gentle hand on Duncan's shoulder.
"Do you understand the magnitude of what sits before you?"
No. Mormont didn't want to know, either. The blasted thing was evil and should be destroyed.
Tsai Na continued. "This stone… this gift… was sent to us by Him. It is meant to act as an anchor to our world. A bridge to a place far, far away. A place beyond the stars and this world. Somewhere outside of time and space."
Duncan knew that Tsai Na was speaking the truth. "H-him?"
"Yes… Him. The stronger our influence grows in Yi Ti, the more powerful His influence over our world will be. And you know what?" The monarch asked. "There is a place for you among us, as well. You can help bring enlightenment to the people of this Empire."
"You're fucking mad. All of you."
"Please, my son." The Yellow King gazed compassionately down at him. Those black eyes enraptured him. "What are you, but clay to be molded by another's hand?"
"Clay molded. Purpose given."
What?
That blasted voice was in his head again! Why? Why? Why?!
"Is that not how your life was set upon your birth? Aren't we all meant to be molded by the hands of our fathers, and our fathers' fathers? In the here and now… you have no other family, my son. Here… I am your father." Tsai Na said, there was fervor and passion in his voice. "Even now… I can see the whole course of your life just by looking at you. You were running from something. You secretly wanted freedom from responsibility. Through your own mistakes, you got exactly what you wished for. And where did that bring you? Here. To me."
"You were meant to be here."
Mormont didn't reply. He just continued to stare at the black stone, feeling so incredibly small and insignificant.
Something… was probing his mind. Had slithered in. But what?! What was it?! Why was it there?!
Doom, doom, doom… Doom, doom, doom… Doom, doom, doom.
"You are directionless," said the Yellow King, with no small amount of sadness in his voice. "On your own devices, you would merely seek out base pleasure, no doubt women and drink, so as to numb the dullness of your existence. You came to this land seeking great wealth, and at the first moment it was promised to you, you enslaved yourself like a rat chasing a pinch of cheese. You found your way here! To your true father. Yet you can still free yourself of your past!"
Whatever had leeched out of the stone and now plagued his mind… it was pulsing now. Beating within him.
It took all of Mormont's willpower and more to not bend to the stone's growing sway, to the supernatural drumming beat that threatened to take him away. Mormont gasped and groaned, shaking his head as an infinite number of whispers tried to penetrate his innermost thoughts.
"It is not too late for you, my son. You can still serve something greater than yourself," The monarch genuinely pleaded with him now "Let it speak. Let it comfort you. And then you can truly be who you were meant to be."
It would've been so easy.
So very easy.
What really did he have to lose?
Doom, doom, doom… Doom, doom, doom… Doom, doom, doom. The drumming wouldn't stop. It only got louder and louder and louder and louder and louder and louder. Drowning out even his own thoughts. Yet… it did feel strangely soothing in a way. Ready to embrace him with open arms. To give him a path. A direction.
A purpose.
"You know what you must do."
He'd been cast out. Rejected by the world.
"Take up the call."
Lost everything and everyone he cared about by his own hand. Duncan had insulted his liege lord. Forsaken his own family. Hurt Lyarra. Gave a child to another woman who he didn't love back.
"Renounce all false idols."
They were false idols, weren't they? The Old Gods, the Seven, the Maiden-Made-of-Light even… what were they compared to the shard of divinity that sat before him?
Would they even come to his aid?
"Give yourself to me."
Couldn't go home. No one left to care. Not even Mao or the others were going to help him. He'd served his purpose. They didn't care about him. Not really.
Why not give himself over? Nobody would care if he started a new life for himself.
A new life with a new purpose.
"Set yourself free."
Did Duncan Mormont matter at all in the end?
What did he really have left to hold onto?
He squeezed his eyes shut. The drums! The drums! They were both comforting and agonizing at the same time! Why?! Why?! Why?!
Doom, doom, doom…
Doom, doom, doom…
Doom, doom, doom.
Doom, doom, doom…
Doom, doom, doom…
Doom, doom, doom.
Doom, doom, doom…
Doom, doom, doom…
Doom, doom, doom.
Doom, doom, doom…
Doom, doom, doom…
Doom, doom, doom.
Doom, doom, doom…
Doom, doom, doom…
Doom, doom, doom.
Finally… Duncan slipped… and went to hide away inside.
Two voices clashed. One was familiar.
But the other? It had come out of nowhere. It was… pulsating with luminescence.
Your father was right. You knew nothing of life. Never knew how bad it could get.
How could you know? You're not your father.
You could never live up to his expectations of you. But you don't have to anymore. You can choose a new path, a new father.
Wrong. Your true father is a great man, but he doesn't want you to be just like him. He wants you to be better than him.
It's pointless. He'll never accept you again, no matter what you do. Not after what you've done.
Wrong again. You can still aspire for more. It's not too late.
They've all forgotten about you. They don't care. We care, though.
How? Everything about this 'offer' would go completely against you and what you stand for. To choose this path would be cowardice of the highest extreme.
Preposterous! You are undisputably one of the most capable men to walk the face of the earth. Forget the easy gratification, the vices of the herd; the drink, the endless hordes of women who throw themselves at you. For the first time in your life, you can embrace a higher calling. A purpose given to you by a god that actually exists. No false idols or prophets.
Something REAL. Something fulfilling.
Fulfilling? Shunning your family and your responsibility to your people and liege lord, in favor of joining a degenerate cult of cannibals and murderers? That's fulfilling? Nonsense. It's madness.
You'd be a fool to refuse. Even if you did succeed in your task, what sort of welcome would be waiting for you once you returned?
Not all would be entirely forgiven, but they would welcome you back with open arms.
That's a fantasy, nothing more. You'd be spurned, rejected.
You've made mistakes, yes, but you can still make things right.
Robb Stark would send you away. The Tallharts would call for your immediate execution. For the rest of your years, your father would not hesitate to express his disappointment in you, and he would never let you leave Bear Keep. Your mother and your siblings would pity you, feel sorry for you. Artogan would shun you. And Lyarra? You lay with another woman while betrothed to her-gave that same woman a child. Why would Lyarra want anything to do with you ever again when you've broken her heart?
You don't know that. Nothing is set in stone.
Isn't it? It's hopeless to keep going. It's time to begin again. To start over. A clean slate.
You will never forgive yourself for turning your back on them. They need you.
They don't. You know this.
Will you listen to a madman who worships a rock? You KNOW the stone is evil. It corrupts everything and everyone who comes near it. If you don't stop him, then he and his followers will take Yi Ti.
So what? If Yi Ti becomes enlightened, all the better.
No, it won't! Yi Ti falling might not be the end of the world, but what legacy would you be leaving behind if you just let it happen? Don't listen to the stone and its lies! You don't have to fall prey to it.
That's not true. It shows the truth of reality. It purifies those who hear its song. Imagine what good would come once you learned your true place in the cosmos?
The Bloodstone Emperor was weak. He betrayed his sister and his people for this stone. He allowed himself to be corrupted by it. Do you really wish to follow in his footsteps, when you are meant for so much more?
Betrayal? The Bloodstone Emperor knew his place, he unbound himself from the shackles placed on him by society. He knew that he was destined to be the Prophet of He-Who-Sleeps-Above, The Crawling Chaos HIMSELF. And you? You too, owe your family nothing. You owe these people nothing! You can also-
The same can be said for this Yellow King and his foul leech of a false god?
It's not a matter of-
What do you owe them? Nothing. You make your own choices. YOU are strong. YOU know exactly where your true purpose lies. With your family. With your people. With Lyarra.
But-
The stone takes the best of you and your character and perverts those same qualities to suit its purpose.
What it's offering… that's not who you are. Not who you're meant to become.
You're nothing without direction.
You've made mistakes... But that doesn't mean you have to be the sum of your mistakes. You can always change for the better, and move forward.
Have faith. Not just in yourself, but in those you cherish. You don't know what the future will bring. Regardless… you will be able to weather whatever comes your way.
Do you understand, Duncan?
He did.
Mormont opened his eyes. The small action alone expelled the thousands of voices that slunk into his mind, casting away the heaviness that once weighed him down.
The drumming had stopped, too. Had gone away completely!
As if in response, the black stone seemed to glow bitterly in the firelight. The same damned stone that tried to dig into his mind. The same stone that had turned millions of people mad over the course of thousands of years.
Slowly, carefully, Mormont turned his gaze away from the black stone and looked up at the King In Yellow himself with a stern, uncaring glare. "You and your bloody false god can fuck right off."
It was hard to tell the exact flurry of emotions that had passed in those dark pits for eyes. But Mormont knew that Tsai Na was greatly surprised as he'd stepped away from him, almost as if he'd been struck across the face. Not by the crass words alone, but by the simple fact that the young man kneeling, bruised, and broken before him had resisted. Had stared into the abyss and was still whole of mind.
The shock quickly subsided. The Yellow King pinched the bridge of his long nose and gave a disappointed sigh. "How unfortunate," Tsai Na said. He nodded to the guards standing next to Mormont. Immediately, the two sets of hands yanked him upright. "I was expecting more from you, boy. Now, I fear, we shall have to repurpose you."
Mormont knew what would come next. He'd seen it happen earlier that day.
He was going to be taken away. Just like that merchant had been.
The Yellow King went and effortlessly lifted the stone from the podium. Then the monarch turned back to Mormont and approached him slowly.
"You could have been so much more… could have aided me in bringing enlightenment and purpose to the people. Could have helped us return the Empire to its former glory! Perhaps one day, you might've even been my successor!" The Yellow King controlled his anger. "Yet you reject the opportunity in front of you? And for what? Mere base pleasure? The acceptance of those who banished you from your homeland? A handful of trinkets and gold coins? A pat on the back from Xi Mao?!"
Thum, Thump! Thum, Thump! Thum, Thump!
As soon as it had been picked up by the King In Yellow, the black stone had started to pulse. Beating like a fully-functioning heart with blood pumping through its veins. And that same pulse only got louder as the monarch drew closer to Mormont.
Tsai Na shook his head. "So be it."
Mormont didn't reply. There was nothing left to say.
How would this work? Would he see the lights go out all around him? One by one? Or would it happen in one swift blink?
And if so, then where would he go? Who would he see?
The Old Gods? Lyarra? His family? Or even his ancestors?
Or would he simply go to that other place that Tsai Na had mentioned? To the place that the stone came from?
Mormont really hoped that wasn't the case.
Thank you, he sent out one last thought to those who might be watching him. The Old Gods, or even the Maiden-Made-of-Light herself. Thank you for the life you've given me. It was a good one, while it lasted. Take care of my family, my friends, and my people in my stead. Please. That's all I ask.
The jagged edge of the black stone was just a few feet away from him now.
Whatever it was, whatever would come next...
...Mormont was ready.