The Weight of Power

Chapter 21 –

Sunlight streamed through the tall windows of the Citadel library, illuminating the worn wooden table where Caelum, Pylos, Yandel, and Nerf huddled over an ancient tome. 

The air was thick with the scent of parchment and beeswax, a familiar and comforting aroma that had become a constant companion during their weeks of study.

"I still can't believe Maester Lorcas had us dissect a human heart today," Pylos exclaimed, a shudder running through him. "The way he sliced through those valves... it was fascinating, but gods, it made my stomach churn."

Yandel offered a different perspective. "Dissection is essential for understanding the intricacies of the human body," he said, tracing an inked-down sketch of the heart with his finger. "Without it, we'd be fumbling in the dark, relying on outdated theories and guesswork."

Nerf, his amethyst eyes alight with curiosity, nodded in agreement. "I find it fascinating how the different organs work together to sustain life. It's like a complex machine, each part playing a vital role."

Caelum listened intently, his mind racing. 

He had a unique advantage in their anatomy lessons, his magical sight allowing him to peer beyond the surface, to see the intricate workings of the body in a way no other novice could. 

He'd witnessed the tiny creatures that thrived within the body after death, their movements a constant dance of life and decay. 

It was those creatures, he now understood, that caused the rot of flesh after death. 

He hadn't shared this insight with the others, of course, but it gave him a deeper understanding of the subject, a knowledge that went beyond the words on the page. 

It wasn't just the human body either. 

Everything, from the water they drank to the very air they breathed, teemed with these minute entities. They inhabited every corner of the world, shaping and transforming it in ways most were blind to.

He could see even deeper, beyond the flesh and blood, into the very building blocks of existence.

Each organ was a collection of tiny, interconnected structures, a symphony of motion and purpose. 

Within those structures, tiny suns danced and vibrated, their movements governed by unseen forces. 

It was like peering into a miniature cosmos, each tiny speck a sun, revolving around a core.

He realized that the world was a tapestry of intricate connections, a delicate balance of opposing forces. 

The pull that held them to the ground, the invisible threads that bound objects together, the energy that fueled life and decay – all were intertwined, each influencing the other in a never-ending dance.

He saw that everything, from the smallest grain of sand to the vast expanse of the sky, was connected by a common, unseen consciousness. 

Everything was connected. 

Everyone was connected, by their collective consciousness.

It was as if the world was a grand, cosmic joke – a chaotic symphony of order and disorder, life and death, creation and destruction. 

If only he knew how to share this revelation, to convince the maesters that their understanding of the world was incomplete. 

But how could he explain what he saw without revealing the true source of his knowledge? 

The thought filled him with a familiar frustration.

"Caelum!" Yandel's voice cut through his musings. "Are you alright? You seem lost in thought."

Pylos grinned, nudging Caelum playfully. "He does that sometimes. Gets caught up in his own little world."

Caelum blinked, a sheepish smile spreading across his face. "Sorry, I was just... thinking about the lesson."

"Well, don't think too hard," Pylos quipped. "We need to get back to the Learned Anchor. Fern will be wondering where we've disappeared to." He turned to Yandel and Nerf, his voice taking on a more formal tone. "We've been invited to the Starry Sept this evening for the seventh-day sermon. Would you care to join us?"

Yandel's face fell. "I'd love to, but Archmaester Ebrose has requested my assistance. He's negotiating a trade agreement with some Myrish merchants for a shipment of glass, and needs me to scribe the details."

"Myrish glass?" Pylos asked, intrigued. "What does the Archmaester need with that? It's expensive stuff."

"He's not saying," Yandel replied with a shrug. "Something about a device he's working on. He tried melting glass a few days ago, but didn't quite get what he wanted."

Pylos raised an eyebrow. "If he's trying to replicate their glassmaking techniques, he's out of luck. They guard those secrets closely."

Yandel shook his head. "It's not that. It's... something else. I don't fully understand it myself."

"Well, good luck with it, Yandel," Caelum offered.

"We'll see you later," Pylos added.

"Farewell, Yandel," Nerf chimed in, his voice soft.

Yandel smiled gratefully. "Thank you, friends. I'll see you all later." He hurried off, the heavy tome tucked under his arm.

"What about you, Nerf?" Pylos asked, turning to their new friend. "Will you join us at the Sept?"

Nerf hesitated, his eyes darting nervously between Caelum and Pylos. "I... I'm not sure," he stammered. "I have some... other matters to attend to."

Before Pylos could press further, a voice came from behind them. "Nerf!" The acolyte Patrick strode towards them. "Archmaester Marwyn requests your presence."

Nerf's amethyst eyes widened in surprise. "Archmaester Marwyn?" he asked, his voice laced with a hint of confusion. "What could he possibly want with me?"

Caelum stiffened, a sense of foreboding washing over him. He glanced at Pylos, but his friend seemed oblivious to the tension in the air.

Patrick, clearly enjoying the attention he was garnering, shrugged nonchalantly. "Who knows what goes on in that mad old coot's head?" he said with a sneer. "But he's waiting for you by the glass candle chamber. You'd best not keep him waiting."

Nerf nodded, his composure returning. "Of course," he said, a polite smile gracing his lips. "Thank you for informing me, Acolyte Patrick." He turned to Caelum and Pylos, his smile widening. "Farewell, my friends. I hope we can continue our studies another time."

With a graceful bow, Nerf turned and followed Patrick towards the glass candle chamber, his long black hair swaying gently behind him.

Pylos sighed, a hint of disappointment in his voice. "Well, it seems we've lost another companion for the evening." He turned to Caelum. "Shall we head to the Sept, then? Fern won't want to wait long."

Caelum nodded, a sense of unease settling in his stomach. "Go on ahead," he said, picking up the remaining books from the table. "I'll just return these to their shelves and catch up with you."

Pylos hesitated for a moment, then shrugged. "Alright. But don't take too long, Caelum. Fern said that the sermon should soon after sunset, and I don't want to miss our first sermon at the Starry Sept!"

Caelum watched as Pylos strode away, his mind racing. He quickly gathered the books from the table, his thoughts consumed by a growing concern for Nerf. 

What could Marwyn possibly want with him?

As he headed for the shelves, he focused his senses, straining to hear the conversation unfolding in the glass candle chamber.

Caelum, his heart pounding, strained his hearing towards the glass candle chamber. The voices, though muffled, were still discernible to his heightened senses.

"Welcome, little sphinx," Marwyn's voice echoed, a hint of amusement in his tone.

A beat of silence, then Nerf's voice, laced with confusion: "I... I don't understand, Archmaester. I apologize for any offense I might have caused."

"No offense taken, child," Marwyn chuckled. "Your secret is safe with me, Fern."

Caelum's breath hitched. 

Fern? He was so confused.

"But... how did you know?" Fern's voice was barely a whisper now, filled with a mixture of fear and defiance.

"Your disguise was good. If I hadn't visited the inn, I wouldn't have caught on. I would recognize Hop-Bean's work anywhere." Marwyn replied. "How is the little dwarf? Is he still afraid of us big folk?"

Caelum listened intently, his mind racing to catch up with the revelation that his friend Nerf was actually Fern. 

A wave of emotions washed over him; surprise, and confusion most of all.

"...not as afraid of me as he is of other people," Fern's voice was strained, barely a whisper. "Please, Archmaester, I apologize for the deception. I will leave the Citadel at once. Just... please don't tell Lord Hightower."

"Keeping secrets isn't a crime, child," Marwyn chuckled. "Especially not when those secrets are born from a thirst for knowledge. Many here at the Citadel harbor their own hidden truths. Archmaester Theron keeps a mistress and a bastard child at the Quill and Tankard. Ser Garth Hightower, the heir to Oldtown, prefers the company of men over women. 

 Even your... friends," Marwyn paused, his words heavy with unspoken meaning, "have secrets they wouldn't want the world to know."

Caelum's blood ran cold. Was Marwyn about to expose him?

"What... what do you want from me?" Fern's voice was barely a whisper now. 

"To learn more about you, child," Marwyn replied, his tone softening. "Those amethyst eyes of yours... they're quite striking. Tell me, who was your mother?"

"She was a... a whore," Fern stammered. "From Ragpicker's Wynd. My father, Liernen, told me that much."

"Liernen isn't your true father, is he?" Marwyn asked gently.

Fern hesitated, a wave of shame washing over her. "No," she admitted. "He took me in when my mother died. I... I'm sorry, Archmaester. I never meant to deceive anyone. I just wanted to help my father, to learn the skills I need to run the inn."

Marwyn's voice was surprisingly kind. "You have nothing to apologize for, child. Neither you nor Liernen are in any danger." He paused,. "Raising a child that's not your own... it's a noble act. Paying the hundred silver stags to sneak you into the Citadel... that's not something most innkeepers could afford. Why do you think he did it?"

Fern's voice was barely a whisper. "My father's sister... she died a whore. He didn't want that for me."

Marwyn nodded slowly. "Liernen is a good man."

Caelum, listening intently, felt a surge of warmth towards the innkeeper. 

He'd always known Liernen to be gruff but fair, he had given him a room at his inn, in exchange for work during the late afternoons.

"Did Liernen ever tell you about your blood father?" Marwyn asked, his voice once again filled with curiosity.

"Only that he was a lord from the crownlands," Fern replied. "But I never knew his name."

Marwyn's voice took on a professorial tone. "Valyrian blood, perhaps. I sense the potential for sorcery within you, child. A spark waiting to be ignited."

"But... will you truly not report me to Lord Hightower?" Fern's voice quivered, her relief palpable.

"Of course not," Marwyn chuckled. "Instead, I'll offer you the same choice I offered your friend, Caelum. Become my apprentice." His tone was enticing, promising secrets and knowledge. "I can teach you more about healing than Ebrose ever could. My knowledge of medicine surpasses even his, in some aspects."

Fern's voice sharpened with suspicion. "Why would you do that? What did Caelum choose?"

"Magic is returning to the world, Fern," Marwyn explained. "Your Valyrian blood could be a powerful asset. Besides, I'm writing a book, 'The Book of Lost Books', and I need a skilled scribe to capture my thoughts. I'll teach you how to disguise yourself better, how to hide your secret. You'll have access to knowledge and power few could dream of."

Silence hung in the air as Caelum strained to hear Fern's response. 

His heart hammered in his chest. 

Marwyn was a dangerous mad man, obsessed with magic and the arcane. 

Why would he choose Fern out of all the potential candidates in Oldtown? There were likely hundreds of other children in oldtown that had Valyrian blood in their veins.

"What did Caelum choose?" Fern repeated, her voice barely a whisper.

"He hasn't given me an answer yet," Marwyn admitted. "But I believe he'll come around. He's a smart boy, and he knows a good offer when he hears one."

"I... I need to think about it," Fern said. "I need to talk to my father. Thank you for not betraying my secret, Archmaester."

"I understand, child. Take your time. I'll await your decision." Marwyn's voice was calm, almost soothing. "But remember, the world is changing. Opportunities like this don't come along often."

Caelum listened as Fern's footsteps faded away. 

He was both relieved and deeply troubled. 

He wanted to believe Marwyn's intentions were good, but something about the Archmaester's words and demeanor set off warning bells in his mind.

He thought of Fern, her kindness and the trust she'd shown him. Meredith would have done the same thing if she had been in her position. 

If anyone deserved a chance at a better life, it was her. 

But was Marwyn the right person to guide her?

Caelum couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to this offer than met the eye. 

He had to warn Fern, protect her from whatever Marwyn had planned. 

But how? How could he do that without revealing his own secret?

If it became necessary, and Marwyn proved dangerous, he would damn his secret and tell her.

Damn his fears.

The weight of his own magic, the power that set him apart, felt heavier than ever before. 

He longed for a world where he could be just Caelum, the boy from the farm, not some anomaly with extraordinary abilities. But that world, it seemed, was slipping further and further away.

If Fern was truly in danger, he would tell her everything. 

Damn his anxieties. 

He hastily shoved the remaining books back onto the shelves, their haphazard arrangement a minor inconvenience compared to the worry gnawing at him. He practically sprinted through the library's labyrinthine corridors, his mind racing with thoughts of Marwyn and Fern.

As he reached a heavy wooden door leading out of the library, he grasped the iron handle and pulled. To his surprise, the entire door came off its hinges, the rusted metal screeching in protest. Caelum stumbled back, the door crashing to the floor with a resounding thud.

"What in the Seven Hells was that?" A gruff voice echoed through the corridor as a guard in Hightower livery rounded the corner, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

"I... I just tried to open the door, and it came off," Caelum stammered, his face flushing with embarrassment.

The guard knelt down, examining the broken hinge. "Rusty old thing," he muttered. "No harm done, lad. I'll have someone fix it." He gave Caelum a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "You best be on your way."

Caelum nodded, grateful for the guard's understanding. 

He hurried away, the strange incident already fading from his mind as he focused on his mission. He couldn't be late for the seventh-day sermon. It was his first time visiting the Starry Sept since arriving in Oldtown, and he didn't want to miss it.

The sun was setting as Caelum made his way through the cobblestone streets, the golden light casting long shadows that danced and flickered like the flames he'd conjured in his room. 

He reached the Learned Anchor just as the last rays of sunlight disappeared behind the horizon.

Liernen greeted him at the door. "You're just in time, lad. Fern's gone to run a few errands, but she should be back soon. Could you help me hitch up the wagon? We'll need it to get to the Sept."

Caelum nodded, a wave of affection washing over him. Caelum's respect for the innkeeper had grown even deeper after learning of his selfless act in raising Fern as his own.

"Pylos is inside, finishing up his supper," Liernen said, jerking his head towards the bustling common room. "You can join him if you like."

"Thank you, Liernen, but I'm not hungry right now," Caelum replied, his voice a touch higher than usual. "Where's the wagon? Is there anything else I can help with?"

Liernen pointed towards the back of the inn. "The horses are tied up behind the building. Hitch them to the wagon, and make sure the wheels are properly greased. They've been squeaking something awful lately."

"Will do," Caelum said, eager to keep his mind occupied. He strode towards the inn's back door, his thoughts still swirling with the cryptic conversation he'd overheard.

As he reached for the door handle, he pushed, expecting the usual resistance. Instead, the door flew open with a loud bang, nearly ripping off its hinges entirely. Caelum stumbled back, his eyes wide with alarm.

"What in the blazes was that?" Liernen shouted from the common room.

"Sorry, Liernen!" Caelum called back, his voice shaking. "I was rushing."

Liernen emerged from the inn, a bemused expression on his face. "Easy there, lad," he chuckled, shaking his head. "No need to tear the place down. I appreciate the enthusiasm, but slow down."

Caelum apologized again, his heart pounding in his chest. 

He hadn't meant to fling the door open like that. That's the second time it had happened. Something was wrong.

Pylos, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, appeared in the doorway. "Well, that's one way to make an entrance," he quipped. "Thought you wouldn't make it back in time."

"I rushed as soon as I could," Caelum replied, his voice strained. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was deeply wrong.

Pylos waved a dismissive hand. "Just call me if you need help, Caelum. I'll be here."

Caelum nodded, a knot of fear tightening in his stomach. He headed towards the back of the inn, his senses on high alert.

The two horses, their coats gleaming in the fading light, were tethered to a nearby post. Caelum approached the chestnut mare, his hands trembling as he reached for the rope. He untied it slowly, his gaze fixed on the horse's wary eyes.

As he began leading the mare towards the wagon, he gently tugged on the rope, intending to guide her into position. But the mare didn't budge. Caelum tugged again, harder this time. 

Suddenly, the mare lurched forward, pulled with a force that should have been impossible for Caelum to muster. A cry of pain escaped the horse's mouth as it stumbled, its legs tangling in the rope.

Caelum froze, his eyes wide with horror. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, rushing to the mare's side. He quickly untied the rope, his hands shaking.

"Everything alright back there, Caelum?" Liernen's voice boomed from the inn.

"Yes, Liernen!" Caelum called back, his voice tight. "Just... just a bit of trouble with the mare."

Caelum crouched beside the mare, his hand trembling as he reached out to stroke her velvety nose. "Easy, girl," he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

He focused on his touch, willing it to be as gentle as a feather's caress. His fingers brushed against the mare's warm flank, each stroke a conscious effort to control the strength that thrummed beneath his skin. To his relief, the mare's trembling subsided, her breathing slowing to a steady rhythm.

"There you go," Caelum soothed, his voice barely audible. "It's alright. I won't hurt you again."

He stood, his heart still pounding in his chest. This was new, this surge of power that seemed to respond to his every whim. Was this another gift from the gods? 

He didn't know, but the fear of inadvertently harming someone else gnawed at him.

With renewed determination, he approached the black stallion, his movements cautious and deliberate. He spoke to the horse in a low, calming voice, his touch as light as a butterfly's wing. The stallion, sensing Caelum's intentions, lowered its head, its ears twitching in curiosity.

Caelum carefully attached the harness, his fingers fumbling with the buckles and straps. Every touch felt exaggerated, every movement magnified. Even a gentle tug on the reins felt like a powerful yank, but he persevered, his focus unwavering.

Finally, both horses were hitched to the wagon, their heads bowed and their bodies relaxed. Caelum stepped back, surveying his work with a mixture of pride and trepidation. 

Next, Caelum turned his attention to the squeaking wheels. He approached the task with the same exaggerated care, treating the heavy wooden spokes as if they were as delicate as parchment. 

He dipped his fingers into the grease, wincing at the sensation of the thick, oily substance on his skin. He carefully applied it to the axles, each turn a deliberate effort to control his newfound strength.

With a final grunt of exertion, he finished the task, wiping his greasy hands on a nearby rag. He stepped back, surveying the wagon with a mix of satisfaction and unease. The horses stood calmly, their harness secure, and the wheels no longer emitted their earsplitting squeal.

Just as Caelum finished, Fern emerged from the inn, a small basket slung over her arm. "All set?" she asked, a warm smile on her face.

It seems she had gotten her mummer's wig off, her short boyish brown hair were brushed, and her Amethyst eyes sparkled when they set upon him.

"Just in time, dear," Liernen boomed, clapping her on the back with a hearty laugh. "You did a fine job, Caelum. Let's be off to the Sept, then."

Caelum nodded, a sigh of relief escaping his lips. 

The wagon was ready, and he'd managed to avoid any further mishaps with his uncontrollable strength. He vowed to himself that he wouldn't touch anyone on the way to the Sept, not until he could figure out what was happening to him. The thought of accidentally hurting someone, especially Fern, Pylos or any of his friends, filled him with dread.

x ------ x ------- x ------- x ------- x ------- x ------- x ------- x ------- x ------- x ------- x ------- x ------- x ------- x

The Starry Sept of Oldtown was a masterpiece of architecture, its domed ceiling soaring high above a sea of flickering candlelight. The seven statues of the gods, each carved from a single block of black marble, stood sentinel along the walls, their enigmatic faces bathed in the soft glow of the countless candles.

Caelum, however, found little solace in the serene beauty of the place. He fidgeted on the wooden bench, his eyes darting from one statue to the next. 

A strange unease prickled at the back of his neck, a sensation he couldn't quite shake. The air itself felt thick, charged with an energy he couldn't define.

His gaze settled on the statues' eyes, each one a gleaming shard of obsidian. The star-like stones seemed to glint with an inner fire, a reflection of the same celestial power that had brought him to this world. 

The sight left him uncomfortable.

His fingers tightened around the armrest, the smooth wood a stark contrast to the rough fabric of his tunic. He was acutely aware of his own body, the power that thrummed beneath his skin like a caged beast. 

The incident with the horse had shaken him, leaving him with a lingering fear of what he might be capable of. He'd barely touched the door, the horse, and yet the results had been... excessive.

He glanced at Fern and Pylos, seated beside him, their faces serene as they listened to the Septon's words. They seemed oblivious to his inner turmoil, their faith a comforting anchor in the storm of his own doubts. 

Caelum wished he could share their tranquility, but he was too afraid that even the faintest touch from him would break something, or hurt someone.

"...and in these dark times, let us turn to the Seven for guidance and strength, for they are our shield against despair and our beacon of hope," the Septon's voice echoed through the vast chamber, yet the words seemed to bounce off Caelum, failing to penetrate the swirling chaos of his thoughts.

Pylos, noticing Caelum's restless shifting and the way his fingers drummed a silent rhythm on his thigh, leaned closer and whispered, "Are you alright, Caelum? You seem on edge."

Caelum forced a smile, his gaze fixed on the flickering candles. "I'm fine, Pylos," he lied, his voice barely a whisper. "Just a bit tired, that's all."

Fern, her brow furrowed with concern, leaned closer to Caelum. "Are you sure you're alright?" she whispered. "You look a little pale. And you've been so jumpy ever since Archmaester Marwyn visited you at the inn. Did he say something to upset you?"

Caelum swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. "It's nothing, Fern," he lied, forcing a smile. "Just a bit overwhelmed by the sermon, I suppose."

Fern nodded, her amethyst eyes filled with empathy. "I'll pray for you, Caelum. May the Seven guide you and bring you peace."

Caelum squeezed her hand, a wave of guilt washing over him. 

He longed to tell her the truth, to confide in her about Marwyn's visit. He would if Marwyn proved dangerous, but the fear of rejection, of being seen as a monster, held him back.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. But his anxiety only grew, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts and emotions. He gripped the armrest of the bench, his fingers tightening involuntarily.

There was a sharp crack, followed by a loud snapping sound. The armrest, weakened by age and Caelum's unintentional strength, splintered under his grasp. 

The bench tilted, sending Caelum, Fern, Pylos, and Liernen tumbling to the floor in a tangle of limbs and startled cries.

The sermon came to an abrupt halt, the entire congregation turning to stare at the source of the commotion. A septa, her face etched with concern, rushed over, followed by a knight in gleaming Hightower armor.

"Are you alright?" the septa asked, helping Fern to her feet.

"We're fine, Septa," Liernen grumbled, rubbing his bruised elbow. "Just a bit shaken, that's all."

The knight examined the broken bench, his brow furrowed. "Must have been old and worn," he concluded. "No harm done." He offered them another bench, closer to the front this time.

Liernen apologized profusely, but the septa waved him off with a gentle smile. "It's no trouble at all," she assured him. "We should have been more diligent in our inspections."

The sermon resumed, but Caelum couldn't focus. His hands trembled, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. He knew he couldn't stay here, not with this uncontrollable power coursing through him.

"I'm not feeling well," he whispered to Fern, his voice barely audible. "I think I should go home."

Fern's eyes widened with concern. "Would you like me to come with you?"

Caelum shook his head. "No, I'll be fine," he lied. "Just need some fresh air. You stay and enjoy the sermon."

He rose from the bench, his legs unsteady. With a final apologetic glance at Fern, he slipped out of the Starry Sept, leaving behind the flickering candlelight and the comforting words of the Septon.

Caelum practically fled the Starry Sept, the cool night air a welcome relief against his flushed skin. He stumbled through the open doors, the sounds of the sermon fading behind him as he emerged onto the vast marble plaza. The imposing silhouette of the Citadel, its towers and spires piercing the night sky, loomed over him like a watchful giant. It was a sight that had once filled him with awe and wonder, but now, it only served to amplify his growing sense of unease.

He hurried past the towering statues of the Seven, their white starry eyes seemingly following his every move. The thought of their gaze, imbued with the power of the same star that had brought him to this world, sent a shiver down his spine. He needed to get away, to find a place where he could be alone.

His feet carried him past the clustered mansions of the pious, their windows glowing with warm light that promised comfort and safety. But Caelum knew he couldn't seek refuge there. 

Not tonight. 

Not until he understood the strange power that surged within him, threatening to turn his every touch into a destructive force.

He quickened his pace, his heart pounding in his chest. He passed beneath the arched gateway of the city walls, leaving behind the bustling streets and the comforting familiarity of Oldtown. The vast expanse of farmland stretched before him, bathed in the silvery light of the moon. 

He followed a narrow path that wound alongside the Honeywine River, its gentle murmur a soothing counterpoint to the chaos raging within him.

As he walked, his mind raced, trying to make sense of the events of the day. The broken bench, the startled horse... it was clear that his magic had manifested in a new, frightening way. He didn't know how to control this newfound strength, and the fear of unintentionally harming someone he loved was almost unbearable.

He found a secluded spot by the riverbank, hidden from view by a cluster of willow trees. He sank to the ground, his head buried in his hands. He felt so lost, so alone. He had come to the Citadel seeking answers, but all he had found were more questions, more mysteries.

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath of the cool night air. He had to figure this out. He had to learn to control his power, to harness it for good. 

But for now, he needed solitude, a space to grapple with the terrifying reality of his own strength.

Caelum breathed deeply, the scent of damp earth and river water filling his lungs. He needed to figure out how to control this new strength, but he had no idea where to start. 

He wished Luke were here, his steady presence and calm wisdom a soothing balm against the chaos swirling within him. He longed for Meredith's gentle touch, her ability to ground him with a simple smile.

He glanced at a nearby willow tree, its branches drooping low over the water. 

He reached out a hand, intending to brush a stray leaf from his face. Instead, his fingers closed around the trunk, a surge of power coursing through him. The tree groaned, its roots straining against the earth, then toppled over with a deafening crack, falling across the riverbank.

Caelum recoiled, his eyes wide with terror. He hadn't meant to do that, hadn't even realized the extent of his strength. What if he'd hurt someone? The thought sent a wave of nausea through him.

A muffled groan, faint but distinct, cut through the silence. 

Caelum froze, his heart pounding. 

Someone was in pain. 

His magical hearing, honed by years of practice, allowed him to pinpoint the direction of the sound. It was coming from somewhere further along the river, a distant cry for help.

He hesitated. 

He knew he should help, but he was terrified of his own strength. What if he made things worse? What if he accidentally hurt the person he was trying to save?

But then he remembered Luke's words, a mantra he'd repeated countless times during their training sessions back home: "Think, plan, weigh the dangers."

Caelum took a deep breath, steeling his resolve. First, he needed to understand the situation. 

He followed the sound, his senses heightened, every rustle of leaves and splash of water amplified in his ears.

The groan led him to a small manse, a stone structure nestled amongst the rolling hills. Hightower guards patrolled the perimeter, their torches casting long, dancing shadows. 

One of them, a knight in full armor, stood at the front door, his face a mask of stoic indifference.

Caelum used his magical sight, his vision piercing through the stone walls. What he saw inside chilled him to the bone. Maester Qyburn, his face pale and focused, stood over a table on which a man lay strapped down, his body exposed and his chest cavity opened wide. 

The man's muffled cries echoed through the room, his eyes filled with terror as Qyburn's scalpel danced over his flesh.

Caelum's stomach churned. 

This wasn't healing, this was... torture. 

He scanned the room, his gaze falling on a small table cluttered with vials and instruments. 

Among them, he recognized the distinctive shape of a milk of the poppy bottle. The man was being drugged, his pain dulled but not erased.

Caelum's anger flared. 

He had to stop this, to rescue the man from Qyburn's cruel experiments. 

But first, he had to assess the situation. His gaze swept through the manse, revealing more horrors: several cells, each containing a prisoner, their faces gaunt and their eyes filled with despair.

Caelum's eyes burned with a sudden, intense heat. A crimson glow filled his vision as he focused on a spot on the manse farthest from the cells, a section of the wall where no harm could come to the prisoners within. He inhaled sharply, ready to unleash the fiery power that surged within him.

But a hand on his shoulder stopped him. Caelum reacted on pure instinct, a surge of adrenaline fueling his muscles. He whipped around, his arm lashing out with a force he didn't fully comprehend. The figure behind him was sent flying, a startled cry escaping their lips as they slammed into a nearby tree.

Horror flooded Caelum's face as he rushed to the fallen figure. The moonlight illuminated a familiar face twisted in pain – Archmaester Marwyn.

"You... didn't mention that particular talent," Marwyn groaned, clutching his side.

Caelum's heart sank. He knelt beside the Archmaester, his magical sight revealing a fractured rib, a shard of bone pressing dangerously close to a lung. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice laced with guilt and worry. "What are you doing here?"

Marwyn winced as he tried to sit up. "I'll live," he rasped, then coughed, a spray of blood staining his lips. "I had business outside the city. As I was returning, my glass candle ignited. It led me... to you." He looked up at Caelum, his eyes narrowed. "What are you doing out here, so far from the city?"

Caelum gestured towards the manse, his voice thick with anger. "Qyburn is in there. He's... he's cutting people open. Alive."

Marwyn's eyes narrowed. "How do you know that?" he asked, a hint of suspicion in his voice.

"It doesn't matter," Caelum retorted, his voice tight with urgency. "We have to stop him."

Marwyn raised a hand, his expression grim. "You don't understand what's happening here, boy. How did you know Qyburn was... experimenting?"

Caelum glared at him, his anger rising. "You knew about this, didn't you?"

Marwyn's face hardened. "Yes, I did. And I'm telling you, trying to interfere would be foolish. Take a moment, boy, and think. Who are those guards protecting the manse?"

Caelum's gaze shifted towards the Hightower banners fluttering in the night breeze. A cold realization washed over him. "Lord Hightower..." he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Marwyn nodded. "Leyton Hightower is a man of many interests, including magic. While Qyburn may not share that fascination, he is obsessed with understanding the mysteries of life and death. Lord Hightower has given him free rein to pursue his... research."

"Research?" Caelum spat out. "He's torturing people, Marwyn! That's not research, that's brutality!"

Marwyn's lips curled into a sardonic smile. "And how do you know that, boy? Did you simply stumble upon this place, or is there more to your abilities than meets the eye?"

Caelum clenched his fists, the anger threatening to consume him. "Yes," he hissed. "I can see through walls. I can hear whispers from miles away." He turned to Marwyn, his eyes blazing. "And I won't stand by while innocent people suffer!"

Marwyn's eyes gleamed with a newfound fascination, a predatory hunger replacing the earlier pain. "Most interesting," he murmured, clutching his injured rib. "So, the boy who fell from the stars possesses more than just dragonfire. You are a most intriguing find indeed."

He turned towards the manse, a sardonic smile playing on his lips. "Those 'innocent' souls you wish to save, boy? They are not as blameless as you think. Leyton Hightower delivers criminals to Qyburn – thieves, murderers, rapists. The dregs of society. Leyton has the right to punish them as he sees fit, and this is the method he has chosen."

Caelum's jaw tightened. "There are laws in this land, Marwyn. The King's laws. They can be sent to the Wall, or executed. But torture..." He shook his head, disgust rising in his throat. "Torture is not justice."

Marwyn laughed, a harsh, barking sound that echoed through the trees. "Your morality is... quaint, boy. But it's misplaced. Lords make the laws and enforce them as they see fit. Look there," he pointed towards the manse, "a knight stands guard. The very thing you aspire to. Do you think he questions his lord's orders? Knights are dogs, Caelum. Loyal only to their Lord. Which lord will you serve when you become a knight? Whose will will you enforce? Who will you make king?"

Caelum shook his head, his voice trembling with barely contained rage. "He'll die, Marwyn! We have to stop him."

Marwyn raised a skeptical eyebrow. "He won't die, boy. Qyburn knows what he's doing. He needs his subjects alive for his... research."

"They're still in pain," Caelum retorted, his eyes blazing. "What do you propose I do, then? Just stand here and watch?"

"What can you do?" Marwyn countered. "Storm the manse, eyes blazing? Kill the guards? Kill Qyburn? And then what? Those guards are merely following orders. To them, they're simply carrying out the Lord's justice."

Caelum's hands clenched into fists. "We can get them out," he hissed. "Create a distraction, set the manse ablaze, free the prisoners..."

Marwyn's expression darkened. "You'd free criminals, boy? Thieves, murderers, rapists? Is that the kind of justice you seek?"

Caelum faltered, the weight of Marwyn's words sinking in. 

He didn't know what to do. 

His sense of right and wrong warred with the harsh reality of the situation.

Marwyn sighed, a hint of pity in his eyes. "Your morality is admirable, Caelum, but naive. These men are not innocent. They've committed heinous crimes, and Leyton Hightower has chosen a... unique form of punishment. However," his voice took on a conspiratorial tone, "there may be a way to stop this, but you'll owe me a favor."

Caelum's eyes narrowed. "Another one of your schemes, Marwyn? I heard you with Fern in the glass candle chamber. Your claim of Valyrian blood was nonsense. She may have Valyrian blood, but so do hundreds of others in Oldtown."

Marwyn chuckled, wincing slightly as his broken rib shifted. "You are a fascinating creature, Caelum Starborne. Yes, Fern is an intriguing little sphinx. I approached her to get closer to you, of course. And by helping me here, you'll be in my debt. A win-win situation, wouldn't you agree?"

Caelum weighed the proposal in his mind. His eyes glowed red for a moment, the anger still simmering beneath the surface. "If you harm Fern in any way," he said, his voice low and menacing, "I will not show you mercy."

Marwyn raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I have no intention of harming the girl. Quite the opposite, in fact. I see great potential in her." He paused, his gaze returning to the manse. "As for Qyburn... the best way to stop him is to expose his actions. Leyton Hightower may have given him tacit approval, but what he's doing goes beyond even a lord's right to punish. He's dabbling in necromancy, Caelum. Searching for the lingering essence of souls in the dead."

"How do we do that?" Caelum asked.

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(A/N) I've been sitting on this chapter for over a week. I just haven't felt good at all. I'm very sick.

I am sorry for the cliff hanger, and I will continue it in the next chapter. Then we'll finally get to what's happening in the war. I had more planned for this chapter, but I just don't feel well enough to write for a while.

I hope this was worth the wait.