Game of Thrones: Lord of the Flames

The harpy-woman noticed Samwell's lack of surprise and immediately understood.

"You already suspected this, didn't you?"

"Mm." Samwell nodded and then asked, "So, the Long Night from a thousand years ago—was that R'hllor's doing as well?"

"Exactly. You may not realize this, but faith gathered through normal preaching is incredibly meager. Apart from a handful of fanatics, most people claim to believe in gods yet lack genuine devotion. The faith they generate is negligible. Only when they are faced with catastrophe, desperately praying for salvation, does their faith become truly fervent.

R'hllor discovered this truth and devised a brilliant plan:

Create an apocalypse capable of destroying humanity, then harvest the abundant faith it produces.

And so, the First Long Night came to be. For the first time, the White Walkers appeared on Westeros, and in Essos, the great Dawn Empire was annihilated by monsters birthed in the darkness..."

"Hold on." Samwell interrupted. "How exactly did R'hllor create the Long Night and all those monsters in the dark? Is He really that powerful?"

The harpy-woman shook her head. "If R'hllor were truly that powerful, He wouldn't be trapped in the Sea of Elements like the rest of us. As for how He managed to create the Long Night, honestly, no one knows—not here, not anywhere. That's R'hllor's greatest secret.

He is a master of sorcery involving light and shadow, ice and fire, so perhaps the truth lies in those arts.

As for those 'monsters,' they weren't real monsters. They were His followers. Naturally, in their eyes, He appeared under another guise—such as the so-called 'Great Other.'"

At this, Samwell asked,

"Was the Daughter of Light another of R'hllor's guises?"

"No. The Daughter of Light was R'hllor's wife," the harpy-woman explained. "The First Long Night was orchestrated by the two of them together. But as it neared its end, R'hllor killed the Daughter of Light."

"Why?"

"No one knows. We suspect it had something to do with faith energy—perhaps they couldn't agree on how to divide it."

Samwell fell silent.

He felt there was likely more to R'hllor's motive for killing His wife.

In the old tales, Azor Ahai, the hero who ended the First Long Night, also killed his wife, Nissa Nissa, to forge the legendary sword Lightbringer.

This parallel couldn't be mere coincidence.

Moreover, when Samwell faced the Night King, R'hllor Himself had appeared, urging him to kill his own wife, Daenerys, claiming it was the only way to end the Long Night.

Clearly, this act of spousal sacrifice held extraordinary significance for R'hllor.

Pondering this, Samwell glanced at the harpy-woman.

She appeared deferential, but he suspected she was withholding something.

Still, Samwell chose not to press her on it. Instead, he shifted the topic:

"After the First Long Night, didn't R'hllor gain enough faith energy? Why orchestrate a second one?"

"Probably because the faith He gathered the first time wasn't enough to break free from the Sea of Elements. That's why He initiated a second Long Night. Of course, this time, His plans all fell apart… thanks to you. Heh, maybe He's already preparing for a third."

Samwell's gaze sharpened.

"Do you know how to find R'hllor?"

"You're asking the impossible," the harpy-woman said, spreading her hands in mock helplessness. "The Sea of Elements is boundless and perilous. Finding someone here is incredibly difficult, as I'm sure you've already experienced.

Besides, R'hllor is undoubtedly avoiding you right now. You've just become Westeros's savior, with an immense influx of faith energy empowering you. No one would dare confront you directly at this moment.

But as time passes, your strength will dwindle. Humans are the most forgetful of creatures, after all. Heh.

In a few centuries or millennia, when those who lived through the Long Night have all died and their descendants have forgotten you… forgive my bluntness, but that's reality. By then, R'hllor won't need to hide from you anymore."

Samwell's expression remained stoic as he nodded. He was about to ask more when a sharp, piercing shriek filled the air.

The sound, like a crying infant, was as shrill as needles piercing one's soul.

Samwell frowned slightly, while the harpy-woman let out a stifled groan, her body trembling as if about to collapse.

"Run! It's an elemental wraith!"

"Elemental wraith?" Samwell echoed in confusion, just as a massive black tide surged into view ahead.

From the tide emerged countless grotesque, malformed heads.

Each head was as large as a house, resembling a monstrous, eyeless infant.

"Ah—Ah—Ah!"

The screeches pouring from their mouths churned the Sea of Elements into chaos. Currents raged violently, countless bubbles forming and bursting, creating even more turbulent flows.

"Run, Lord Caesar! If an elemental wraith bites you, you're dead!"

The harpy-woman was already fleeing, but one of her wings lagged behind and brushed against the black tide. Instantly, the flesh on her wing began to melt, the decay spreading rapidly toward her body.

With a shriek, the harpy-woman's eyes flashed with desperation. Without hesitation, she slashed off the affected portion of her wing.

Her face pale, she turned to flee, only to find herself frozen in place.

An invisible force seized her, leaving her immobile as one of the elemental wraiths lunged toward her, its gaping maw poised to bite.

"No!"

Boom!

At the last moment, a giant golden hand slammed down, shattering the wraith into fragments.

The impact rippled through the Sea of Elements, leaving cracks in its fabric like a spiderweb.

Samwell withdrew his hand, his expression grim.

Even for him, the elemental wraiths were unexpectedly troublesome.

"Lord Caesar! These wraiths are endless! We have to run!"

Seeing no point in fighting, Samwell abandoned his defensive stance. Grabbing the harpy-woman by the neck, he charged in the opposite direction of the encroaching black tide.

Boom!

Explosions of light and molten elemental streams erupted behind them, swallowed by the surging black tide.

After running for what felt like an eternity, Samwell finally stopped, looking back to ensure no trace of the tide remained.

"Lord Caesar, thank you for saving me!" the harpy-woman said breathlessly.

"What are these elemental wraiths?" Samwell asked, his tone grave.

"No one knows," she replied, shaking her head. "They seem to be native to the Sea of Elements—or perhaps they are part of the Sea itself. They're mindless and incapable of communication, existing only to consume anything they encounter. Countless beings have perished to them… even us so-called gods are not immune.

While spiritual forms can theoretically exist eternally in the Sea of Elements, survival depends on avoiding its dangers—whether elemental currents, storms, or wraiths.

But even greater dangers lie in other gods."

Samwell's eyes narrowed.

"Gods?"

"Yes," the harpy-woman said, her voice trembling. "For instance, the Seven you know—the Father and Mother were slain by wraiths. The Smith and Crone fell to an elemental storm, while the Maiden, Warrior, and Stranger… were killed by R'hllor."

"Have the Seven Gods all died…" Samwell wasn't particularly surprised by this revelation.

After all, the Seven had always been far too silent.

Despite being the most widely worshiped deities in Westeros, they showed no presence.

Samwell had long suspected the Seven were fabricated deities, created to strengthen political control and unify faith.

"If a god dies, where does their faith energy go?" Samwell asked.

Although most Westerosi weren't devout believers, the Seven still had widespread influence. That faith, however faint, must have added up to something significant.

"Well…" The harpy-woman hesitated, her voice faltering.

"What? Is there something you're not telling me?"

Samwell's tone remained calm, but to the harpy-woman, it sounded like thunder crashing down.

She shivered involuntarily and quickly answered,

"Lord Caesar, when a god dies, they leave behind something like a crystalline core. Some call it a godhead. Consuming another god's godhead allows one to… to inherit their faith energy."

Samwell now understood why the harpy-woman had hesitated.

She was afraid he might kill her.

"Lord Caesar…" The harpy-woman stammered, seeing the growing chill in his gaze. "Don't kill me… The Ghiscari Empire has long since fallen… I hardly have any devout followers left… Even if you killed me, you wouldn't gain much faith energy…"

"Relax, I won't kill you." Samwell smiled faintly, placing a hand on her shoulder. "As long as you're not hiding anything from me."

"I swear I'm not!" The harpy-woman quickly pledged with exaggerated sincerity.

Samwell's smile remained inscrutable, and he continued,

"Who else has R'hllor killed?"

"Too many!" The harpy-woman shuddered.

"Even before the First Long Night, R'hllor and the Daughter of Light had already killed many gods: the Black Goat, the Weeping Lady, the Three-Headed God, Symeodo… and the Old Gods of your Westeros."

Samwell's eyes narrowed slightly.

"The Old Gods? R'hllor killed them as well?"

"He killed some of them," the harpy-woman clarified. "The Old Gods, or as they call themselves, the Ancient Deities, is a collective term. In reality, there were hundreds of them—old and sluggish entities.

After the First Men were driven north of the Neck by the Andals, the Old Gods lost many of their followers and became weaker as a result. This made them easy targets for R'hllor.

But R'hllor's slaughter provoked widespread resentment. Many gods despised and opposed Him. That's why, when you became a key figure in R'hllor's plans, so many gods chose to secretly assist you."

Samwell had to admit there was truth to this.

Looking back, he had indeed received significant help from divine entities.

For instance, the harpy-woman had subtly guided him in Ghiscar, linking the two Long Nights in his mind.

The Three-Eyed Raven had provided cryptic advice. The Old Gods had gifted him a bronze armor. The Many-Faced God had delivered dragon eggs and the yellow skull…

"Of course, R'hllor eventually realized that killing gods and seizing their godheads was too slow a method to gather faith energy. That's why He devised the Long Night. I must admit, creating fear is an incredibly efficient way to harvest faith."

She paused, a bitter smile on her face, before adding,

"One wonders, if mortals knew their suffering came from the very gods they worshiped day and night, what would they think? Heh…"

"You're no gods," Samwell said disdainfully.

"You're absolutely right!" The harpy-woman quickly agreed. "In the end, we're nothing more than wretched souls trapped in the Sea of Elements. We don't deserve the title of gods. Perhaps only those who truly transcend all this can be called true gods. But alas, who knows if that's even possible…"

As she spoke, her eyes kept darting toward Samwell, brimming with curiosity.

She seemed to wonder whether the man who had just saved Westeros might use this surge of faith to break free and become a true god.

Samwell remained as calm as ever, appearing indifferent to the notion of becoming divine.

"You said earlier that R'hllor arranged the Second Long Night because something went wrong during the First. Do you know what it was?"

"I don't," the harpy-woman admitted, shaking her head. Fearing he might suspect her of withholding information, she added,

"This concerns R'hllor's deepest secret. If I knew, I probably wouldn't be alive now. Lord Caesar, if you wish to uncover the truth, you'll have to find R'hllor Himself.

And you'd best do it sooner rather than later. The longer you wait, the weaker your faith energy will grow. Humans are forgetful creatures. Once this generation forgets the Long Night and the White Walkers, they'll forget you too."

Samwell nodded slightly.

"So, if I want to return to my original world, what should I do?"

"Can you sense your physical body?" the harpy-woman asked.

Samwell closed his eyes briefly.

"Yes."

"Then it's simple. You just need to use your faith energy to connect with your body. Once it responds, you can create a 'bridge' to return to your world. However, I must warn you—doing so will greatly deplete your faith energy. Please think carefully before you act."

"I'll keep that in mind." Samwell nodded.

Then, he transformed into a streak of golden light and vanished into the Sea of Elements.

The harpy-woman exhaled deeply, as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She glanced around nervously before heading off in the opposite direction.

After traveling a long distance, she came to a halt. Before her stood a massive ancient tree in the middle of the Sea of Elements.

Carved into its trunk was a weeping face, emanating the sorrow of countless ages and all the suffering of the world.

"You met Caesar," the ancient tree said, its voice deep and resonant.

"I did," the harpy-woman replied. "Do you think he'll end R'hllor?"

The ancient tree swayed its branches, stirring waves in the Sea of Elements.

"I don't know. Perhaps he will… or perhaps he'll become the next R'hllor."

(End of Chapter)