Untamed Power

Chapter 22 –

Marwyn's gaze fixed on Caelum, his eyes sharp and calculating. "Tell me, boy," he said, his voice barely a whisper above the gentle murmur of the river, "how many guards protect this... establishment?"

Caelum nodded focusing his magical sight on the manse. He counted silently, his mind racing as his vision pierced through the stone walls of the manse.

"Eleven guards," he reported, his voice steady, "and one knight. There's also a stable around the back, with several horses."

Marwyn nodded, a grim satisfaction settling on his face. "Good," he said. "Your task is simple, if not easy. Sneak into the courtyard, unseen. Lock all possible exits, ensuring Qyburn has no way to leave."

Caelum's brows furrowed. "And then?"

"Then, release the horses from the stable," Marwyn continued, his voice low and urgent. "Create a distraction. Something... spectacular. Something that will draw attention from the city."

Caelum stared at him, incredulous. "How am I supposed to do that?"

Marwyn's lips curled into a sardonic smile. "You claim to see through walls and hear whispers from miles away, boy. It's time to put those abilities to the test." He paused, his gaze raking over Caelum's form. "I know you have no experience sneaking about like a common thief, but those gifts should prove useful."

Caelum's jaw tightened. "I'll do it," he said, his voice firm. He was still unnerved by his uncontrolled strength, but a flicker of determination ignited in his eyes. "Just tell me what to do, and I'll get it done."

Marwyn nodded approvingly. "Good. As for me, my cart is by the river. It's a half-hour ride to the city, and another ten minutes to the Citadel. I should be able to convince the Seneschal, Archmaester Theron, and a few others to investigate. The Seneschal has the power to put an end to Qyburn's... activities."

A flicker of doubt crossed Caelum's face. "Can you ride with a broken rib?"

Marwyn waved a dismissive hand. "I've had worse. Besides, this is more important." He rummaged through his satchel, producing a mask of Valyrian steel, its intricate design shimmering in the moonlight. It was the same mask he wore as the Archmaester of the Higher Mysteries, a symbol of his authority and knowledge. He extended it towards Caelum.

Caelum eyed the mask warily. "What's this for?"

"To hide your identity," Marwyn replied.

Caelum scoffed. "I thought you said my magic wasn't something to hide like a shameful disease."

Marwyn's lips twitched in amusement. "The mask is a precaution, boy. Should you get caught, unlikely as it is, you will be caught acting against Lord Hightower's guards. That could have... consequences."

"But this mask..." Caelum protested, gesturing towards the ornate design. "It's too recognizable."

"Only if you get caught," Marwyn countered. "And there's no chance of that, is there? Not with your abilities." His eyes gleamed with a predatory hunger. "If you are spotted, the mask will paint a picture of a thief who made away with my belongings. I should have no issue corroborating that."

Caelum reluctantly took the mask, his fingers tracing the cool metal. "Alright," he said, his voice a low growl. "I'll do it."

He wrapped his head and body in cloth, leaving only his eyes and hands exposed. He donned the mask, the cold steel a stark reminder of the danger he was about to face.

"Remember," Marwyn said, his voice a chilling whisper, "be swift, be silent, and leave no trace."

With a final nod, Marwyn turned and limped towards his waiting cart, the pain in his side evident in every labored step. Caelum watched him go, a mixture of gratitude and unease churning within him.

He had no love for the enigmatic Archmaester, but he knew that Marwyn's help was essential if they were to stop Qyburn's horrific experiments.

As the sound of the cart wheels faded into the distance, Caelum turned towards the manse, his eyes scanning the imposing structure for a point of entry. His magical sight pierced the stone walls, revealing the layout of the building and the positions of the guards within. He circled the manse, his movements slow and deliberate, like a predator stalking its prey.

The longest section of wall, on the west side of the property, faced the Honeywine River. Caelum noted the guard positioned on the upper floor, he looked bored beyond belief. He carefully avoided that side regardless, his eyes searching for a blind spot.

He crept along the edge of the wall, his senses heightened. He could hear the voices of the guards patrolling the grounds, as they made merry with their conversation, keeping themselves occupied, their footsteps crunching on the gravel path. He could see through the walls, their silhouettes shifting and flickering like shadows in a lantern's glow.

Caelum's gaze settled on the stable on the south side of the manse. It was the only structure attached to the main building, its stone walls seamlessly merging with the rest of the estate.

"That's it," he whispered to himself, a spark of hope igniting in his chest.

The stable offered a potential entry point, a way to bypass the guards and the guard's watchful eye.

He moved towards it, his movements swift and silent. He pressed himself against the wall, his heart pounding in his chest. He had to be careful. One wrong move, one careless touch, and he could alert the guards or worse, cause unintended damage with his newfound strength.

He reached the stable door, his eyes scanning the surrounding area for any sign of movement.

The coast was clear.

He pressed closer to the wall, each step a measured calculation of risk and reward. The rhythmic crunch of gravel underfoot drew nearer, punctuated by the low murmur of voices. Caelum held his breath, straining to hear their conversation.

"Heard the Lyseni slavers are getting bolder," a gruff voice said, a hint of unease in its tone. "With the Royal Fleet smashed, who's to stop them?"

"Aye," another voice chimed in, rough and weathered. "Those Myrish dogs are emboldened too. They say their ships are patrolling the Stepstones, some have even grown bold enough to sail towards the coasts of Dragonstone, preying on any merchant unlucky enough to cross their path."

Caelum listened intently, a frown creasing his brow. The war had indeed emboldened the slavers, giving them the opportunity to exploit the chaos and instability that gripped the realm.

The destruction of the Royal Fleet at Gulltown, and white harbor had been a devastating blow, not only for the Targaryen cause but for the safety and security of the Seven Kingdoms as a whole.

"They'll get what's coming to them," a third voice interjected, its tone laced with contempt. "The Targaryens won't stand for it. The King will see to it that those slavers are brought to justice."

"The King?" the first guard scoffed. "He's locked up in the Red Keep, hiding behind his Kingsguard. It's the lords who are fighting this war, not him."

A fourth voice, younger and tinged with bitterness, joined the conversation. "I wanted to sail with the Hightower fleet," he grumbled. "Join the blockade at Shipbreaker Bay. But no, I'm stuck here, guarding prisoners for Maester Qyburn." He sighed, a hint of resignation in his voice. "Can't say I'm too dismayed, though. It's peaceful out here, at least."

Caelum's heart pounded in his chest.

He turned his attention to the stable door, a massive wooden structure locked shut by a massive wooden beam. He had managed to hitch up the horses at the Learned Anchor, but only with the utmost care, his touch as delicate as a butterfly's wing. He didn't know if he could exert that same level of control on such a large object.

The fear of his uncontrolled strength gnawed at him. He couldn't risk breaking the door down. The noise would surely alert the guards. He had to find a way to open it gently, without causing any damage.

He took a deep breath, steeling himself for the task ahead. He reached out a hand, his fingers trembling slightly as they hovered above the beam. He focused on the sensation of his own power. He imagined his hand as a feather, a gentle breeze, a whisper of touch.

With the utmost care, he grasped the wooden beam barring the exit of the stables. The beam felt lighter than parchment to him, and the door creaked open, the sound barely audible above the murmur of the river and the distant chatter of the guards.

The stable's interior was dimly lit, the only light coming from a few lanterns hanging from the rafters. The air was thick with the sweet scent of hay and the warm musk of horses. Six magnificent steeds stood in their stalls, their coats gleaming in the dim light. They were a mix of breeds, from sleek coursers to sturdy draft horses, each one a testament to the Hightowers' wealth and discerning taste.

A large, ornate carriage occupied one corner of the stable, its polished wood and gleaming metalwork reflecting the flickering lantern light.

Caelum's magical sight revealed two figures near the stables. One was a guard, stationed outside the main building, his back turned to the entrance. The other was a stable boy, curled up asleep in a small shed a few feet away.

Caelum moved silently through the stable, his bare feet barely making a sound on the straw-covered floor. He approached the horses, his movements slow and deliberate. He reached out a hand, his touch feather-light as he stroked the nearest horse's velvety muzzle. The animal snorted softly, its warm breath tickling Caelum's skin.

One by one, he untied the horses, his fingers working with the precision of a seasoned groom. He took care to avoid any sudden movements, his every action a delicate dance of control and restraint.

The horses seemed to sense his intentions, their eyes following him with a curious gaze as he moved from one stall to the next.

After a sweat trickling amount of time, with such careful movements that Caelum was left shivering at the end, he was able to untie all the horses inside the stable.

Caelum listened as the guards' conversation shifted. Their voices echoed through the open stable door, carrying snippets of their plans for the next day.

"Going to the Quill and Tankard tomorrow?" one guard asked, he sounded a ways away from the stable, and with his sight he realized it was the sentinel posted atop the manse. "Heard they've got a new brew from the Arbor."

"Nah," the guard outside the stable replied. "I'm heading to Ragpicker's Wynd. There's a new girl at the Honeycomb, they say she's a real looker."

"Best be careful there," the sentinel warned. "Ragpicker's Wynd isn't as clean as it used to be... best try the docks. If you're looking for a good time, I hear Peach is back at the Sailor's Wife. The things she can do with her tongue, maiden help me, I woulda taken her to wife if she wasn't a whore!"

Caelum's eyes scanned the courtyard, his magical sight revealing a grove of large, leafy trees just outside the stable. High up in one of the trees atop a heavy sturdy branch, sat a heavy lemur clung to a thick limb, its eyes wide and droopy, as it chewed on the bark of the branch.

An idea sparked in Caelum's mind. He spotted a hefty rock lying near the stable wall. It looked heavy, but to him, it felt as light as a feather. He carefully picked it up, his movements precise and controlled.

He aimed for the upper branches of the tree, the spot where the lemur perched. With a powerful throw, he hurled the rock upward. It struck the branch with a resounding crack, splintering the wood and sending the startled lemur scrambling higher into the tree.

The guard outside jumped, his hand flying to his sword. "What in the Seven Hells was that?" he shouted, looking around wildly.

"Did you see anything?" he called up to the guard on top.

"Nothing," came the reply. "Best go check it yourself."

The guard frowned, his eyes scanning the courtyard. "I'll go check it out," he muttered, moving towards the tree.

As soon as the guard left his post, Caelum seized his chance.

He vaulted over the stable window, landing silently in the flower-filled courtyard. He crouched low, weaving between fragrant jasmine bushes and fruit trees laden. The air was heavy with the sweet scent of jasmines, a stark contrast to the grim task at hand.

He reached the wall of the manse, his heart pounding in his chest.

He slipped into a dense cluster of jasmine, his body concealed by the lush foliage.

He could still hear the guards' voices, their confusion growing as they investigated the fallen branch.

"Damn lemur must have knocked it down," the guard grumbled. "Strong little beast."

Caelum smirked to himself. Now for the difficult part.

Caelum's magical sight swept through the manse, his vision unhindered by the thick stone walls. He identified two main doors, one at the front and one at the back, both crafted from heavy metal and reinforced with thick bolts.

Several windows dotted the façade, but each was barred with iron grates, a testament to the building's function as a prison as much as a residence.

Inside, Qyburn was meticulously stitching the unconscious man's chest closed. The Maester's movements were swift and precise, his hands steady as he manipulated the needle and thread. There was a clinical detachment in his demeanor, a focus that bordered on obsession.

Caelum's stomach churned as he watched Qyburn tie off the last stitch, his work a grotesque parody of a healer's art.

"Lyonel," Qyburn called out, his voice surprisingly gentle, "would you be so kind as to have our friend here taken back to his cell? And perhaps prepare for the next subject? A woman this time, if you please. And see to it that this table is thoroughly cleaned. I will be in my study."

"Of course, Maester Qyburn," Lyonel replied, his voice echoing from the hallway.

Caelum watched as two guards entered the room, their faces impassive as they lifted the unconscious man onto a stretcher and carried him away.

There were three guards inside the manse, one on top and seven outside. A Knight was on guard near the front gate, by the outer wall of the manse.

Caelum refocused on his task, his eyes tracing the path to the back door. He moved along the wall, his footsteps light as a whisper.

He avoided the flower beds, the fruit trees, and the wall of the manse, hidden as he was behind the jasmine hedge bushes.

Each step was a conscious effort to control his strength, a delicate dance between power and restraint. He couldn't risk alerting the guards.

Crouched behind the fragrant barrier of jasmine, Caelum shifted his focus to the front of the manse. Through the tangle of leaves and blossoms, his magical sight pierced the night, revealing a knight and a guard stationed near the outer wall. A crackling fire burned beside them, casting long, flickering shadows that danced in the darkness.

The knight leaned back against the wall, his polished Hightower armor gleaming in the firelight. His heavy castle steel shield and sword were placed beside him. His companion, a younger guard with a mop of unruly brown hair, sat cross-legged on the ground, his eyes fixed on the flames.

"...and then she says, 'My lord, you're as fiery as a Dornishman,'" the Knight chuckled, a lascivious grin spreading across his face. "Gods, I love that woman. She's got a spirit, a passion that my wife lacks."

"Aye," the guard replied, a hint of envy in his voice. "Sounds like you've got yourself a real firecracker, Ser Elmar."

"Firecracker indeed," Ser Elmar agreed. "Like a warm blanket on a cold night." He sighed, a wistful expression clouding his face. "What I wouldn't give to have a woman like that here, by the fire, on a night like this."

Caelum rolled his eyes. He needed to focus on the task at hand.

He crept closer to the front door, his eyes scanning the heavy iron surface. There was no obvious way to lock it from the outside. He couldn't step out into the moonlight to find something heavy to lock or barricade it.

He had to find a way to seal the door, to prevent anyone from leaving or entering the manse. A memory flashed through his mind, a history lesson about the dragonlords of Valyria, how they used dragonfire to forge their mighty weapons and towering cities.

Could he do the same? Could he use his own fire to melt the metal, fusing the door shut?

He took a deep breath, his eyes glowing with a fiery intensity. He focused his power, channeling the heat that surged within him. A searing beam of red energy shot from his eyes, striking the iron door with a hiss. The metal glowed white-hot, then began to melt and drip, the edges warping and contorting under the intense heat.

With a final sweep of his gaze across the warped and sealed door, Caelum cut off the flow of fire from his eyes. He stepped back, expecting the metal to cool and harden quickly.

To his horror, it continued to slowly drip and pool, threatening to leave the entrance completely open.

Panic welled up within him. He had to act fast.

Desperation drove him to a rash decision. He ripped off the cloth and the Valyrian steel mask, exposing his face to the cool night air. He leaned forward and blew on the molten iron, a desperate attempt to cool it.

A chilling sensation washed over his lungs, as if he had inhaled a lungful of ice. A blast of frosty air rushed from his lips, instantly solidifying the molten metal. It hardened into a jagged, misshapen mass, sealing the door shut.

Caelum stared in disbelief. He touched the frozen metal, his fingers tingling with the residual cold. He hadn't just melted the door; he had also frozen it solid with his breath. A new wave of astonishment washed over him.

Had the Seven blessed him with yet another magical ability?

His mind raced, trying to make sense of it all. He had never heard of anyone with such power, not even in the ancient tales of Valyria. What did the gods have in store for him? He felt less human, more like an anomaly, a creature of myth and legend.

The thought of his destiny, whatever the Seven had in store for him, filled him with a sense of dread.

What danger would cause them to send down someone with power that he was being gifted with?

He had always dreamed of being a knight, a hero who earned his place in the world through hard work and valor.

But with each new revelation, that dream seemed to slip further away.

He shook his head, pushing aside the doubts and fears. He had a task to complete, a promise to keep.

"And the way she seasons that boar," Ser Elmar's voice drifted through the night, a hint of longing in his tone. "Sweet as honey, with a hint of spice. Makes my mouth water just thinking about it."

"Aye," the guard agreed, " Makes me wonder why you even bother with the kitchen at home."

"The wife is no slouch either," Ser Elmar chuckled in reply. "She may not be the firecracker that Alys is, but her cooking is heavenly."

Silently thanking the Seven that the Knight and guard had not spotted him, Caelum quickly donned the mask and cloth, concealing his identity once more.

He moved swiftly along the wall, keeping to the shadows as he made his way towards the back of the manse, shadowed behind the same thicket of jasmines he had used hugging the walls of the manse.

Caelum moved swiftly along the wall, his eyes fixed on the back of the manse. He passed by the distracted guard, who had returned to his post and resumed his conversation with the sentineled guard atop the manse.

"...and her arse," the guard on top was saying, his voice a low chuckle, "shaped like the finest peaches. Soft, round, and oh-so inviting. It's a sight to see when its red and shiny."

"Aye," the guard replied, a hint of longing in his voice. "I've heard tales of this Peach. They say she's the most sought-after woman in all of Oldtown."

"More than that," the sentinel insisted. "She's the most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on. Skin like porcelain, eyes like pools of molten gold. And those nipples..." He paused, a dreamy expression clouding his face. "Pink as cherries, they are. Sweet as summer wine."

Caelum grimaced, a wave of disgust washing over him. He had no desire to hear the intimate details of the sentinel's exploits. He quickened his pace, eager to put some distance between himself and the crude conversation.

"And her cunt, Gods, her cunt" the sentinel continued, oblivious to Caelum's presence, "pink and velvety, softer than anything I've ever touched. Even my wife's..." He trailed off, a low whistle escaping his lips.

Caelum reached the back door, his senses heightened. The guard stationed there was slumped in his chair, his head lolled to one side, a half-empty flagon of ale clutched in his hand. The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest indicated he was fast asleep.

Caelum moved closer, careful to avoid the lantern that hung above the guard's head. He could smell the stale ale on the man's breath, a pungent aroma that mingled with the scent of sweat and leather.

He removed the cloth covering his face, then the Valyrian steel mask. His eyes glowed crimson as he unleashed a torrent of fire, the heat searing the metal door. It melted quickly, a drop dripping and pooling at the base.

With a gasp, he cut off the flow of fire and blew on the molten metal, the icy chill filling his lungs. The metal solidified instantly, forming a crude but effective seal.

The sudden change in temperature seemed to stir the guard. He grunted, swatting at the air as if fending off a bothersome fly. "Damn... breeze..." he mumbled, his words slurring together.

Caelum held his breath, his heart pounding in his chest. Had he been discovered?

The guard shifted in his seat, pulling the blanket more tightly around his shoulders, trying to ward off the unexpected chill, and settled back into his slumber, his snores resuming with renewed vigor.

Caelum exhaled slowly, relief washing over him.

Caelum quickly donned the mask and cloth, once again cloaking his identity in shadow. Now, he had to enact the final stages of the plan. The horses were ready to bolt, and all that remained was to create a distraction large enough to draw attention from the city and make his escape.

The question of how to leave the compound gnawed at him. He couldn't risk another distraction near the stable, and he couldn't scale the walls with his uncontrolled strength. He needed a way out that wouldn't draw attention to himself.

But then, as he watched the flames flicker in the lantern above the sleeping guard, a daring idea took root in his mind.

It was a risky move, but it was the only idea that came to mind.

His eyes blazed crimson once more, a surge of power coursing through him. He focused his fiery gaze on the interior of the stable, igniting the hay within. The flames roared to life, quickly engulfing the dry straw and wood. The horses, startled by the sudden heat and light, neighed in terror and bolted out the open door, their hooves thundering across the courtyard.

"Fire!" the sentinel shouted from the roof. "The stable's ablaze!"

The peaceful night erupted into chaos.

The guards in the courtyard scrambled to their feet, their relaxed demeanor replaced by panic. Ser Elmar barked out orders, his voice sharp and authoritative.

"Get water!" he commanded. "Someone fetch buckets from the well!"

"The horses!" the guard at the stable shouted, his voice filled with alarm. "Gods damn it! They're loose!"

The guard who had been dozing by the back door stumbled to his feet, his eyes wide with fear. "The door!" he yelled, as he tried to open it to get water from within. "It's sealed shut!"

Three guards crowded around the door, their faces pale in the firelight. "How did this happen?" one of them asked, his voice panicked.

"It looks like it was melted," another replied, his eyes wide with disbelief.

Inside the manse, Qyburn's voice rose above the din, a note of panic edging into his normally calm demeanor. "What's happening out there?" he demanded. "Open this door!"

The stable fire raged, the flames leaping high into the night sky, a beacon visible for miles around.

Caelum watched from his hiding place, his heart pounding in his chest.

The courtyard was now a scene of utter confusion. The guards, realizing they had no way to extinguish the blaze, were now desperately trying to break down the sealed doors.

Caelum saw his chance. He darted from his hiding place, keeping low to the ground as he made his way towards the western wall.

He reached the base of the wall, his eyes scanning the towering stone structure. He took a deep breath, summoning every ounce of strength he possessed, praying to the Seven that his strength was indeed something he could rely on right now.

With a mighty roar, he slammed his fist into the wall.

The impact sent shockwaves through the stone, a deafening crack echoing through the night. A massive section of the wall crumbled, raining down debris as Caelum stumbled back.

He had done it. He had created an opening.

Panicked shouts echoed through the courtyard, cutting through the roar of the flames. "What was that?" a guard yelled, his voice filled with fear. "Sounded like a thunderclap!"

"By the Seven!" Ser Elmar exclaimed, his eyes wide with disbelief. "The wall! It's been breached!" He paused, his brow furrowed in thought. "Did someone bring a siege engine to the bloody manse?"

Caelum didn't wait to hear the rest.

He sprinted away from the chaos, his feet pounding against the hard-packed earth. He raced towards the river, the cool night air whipping through his hair as he ran.

He hoped Marwyn had made it back to the Citadel in time, that he would soon return with the seneschal to apprehend Qyburn.

But then, his magical hearing picked up a new sound, a desperate cry for help that cut through the din of the fire and the shouts of the guards.

"Help! Someone, please!" The voice was high-pitched and terrified, choked with smoke.

Caelum's blood ran cold. He had forgotten about the stable boy. The shed he had been sleeping in was attached to the stable, and now it was engulfed in flames.

"The boy!" a guard yelled. "He's trapped in the shed!"

"We're coming!" Ser Elmar's voice boomed through the courtyard. "Hold on, lad!"

Caelum's heart hammered in his chest. He couldn't let the boy die. He had caused this, and he had to fix it.

He spun around, without another though, and raced back towards the manse, his eyes fixed on the inferno that now consumed the stable.

Ignoring the gaping hole he'd created in the wall, Caelum sprinted past two dumbfounded guards. Their voices reached him in a jumble of panic and confusion.

"There is no siege engine here. Gods help us." one of them shouted "Who would attack a manse?"

"The gods are angry!" the first guard shouted, his voice trembling. "This is a sign of their wrath!"

Caelum paid them no mind. He raced towards the south side of the manse, towards the burning stable.

The horses were long gone, their hoofbeats fading into the distance. But the stable boy's cries for help still echoed through the night.

"Help! Please!" The boy's voice was raspy, choked with smoke. "I can't breathe!"

"Hold on, lad!" Ser Elmar's voice boomed from the other side of the inferno. "We're coming!"

Caelum skidded to a halt at the open stable door.

The flames hadn't reached this side yet, but the heat was intense. He could see the boy through his magical sight, huddled in the corner of the shed, his body trembling. The hay outside the shed was ablaze, the flames licking at the wooden walls.

"Everyone to the river!" Ser Elmar ordered. "Fetch water! Now!"

The guards obeyed, their figures silhouetted against the fire as they raced towards the Honeywine.

Caelum took a deep breath, his eyes glowing with a chilling light. He lowered the mask from his face, exposing his mouth, and exhaled a blast of icy air. A wave of frost extinguished the flames nearest the shed, creating a temporary barrier between the boy and the inferno.

He quickly readjusted the mask and rushed into the shed. The boy screamed, his eyes wide with terror. "Demon!" he shrieked, scrambling back into the corner. "Gods! Ser Elmar! Please! Demon! Stay away! STAY AWAY!"

"Calm down," Caelum urged, his voice muffled by the mask. "I'm here to help you."

The boy didn't seem to hear him. He continued to sob hysterically, his cries for Ser Elmar growing louder.

"Ser Elmar!" he wailed. "Help me!"

"Just a moment, lad!" Ser Elmar called from outside. "The guards are getting water!"

Caelum lowered the mask again, unleashing another blast of icy breath.

The flames retreated further, the temperature in the shed dropping noticeably. The boy's sobs grew weaker, his body going limp as he succumbed to the shock and smoke.

Caelum scooped the unconscious boy into his arms and rushed out of the shed, his heart pounding in his chest.

He sprinted towards Ser Elmar, who was waiting anxiously on the other side of the burning stable. The flames licking at his clothes.

Caelum dropped the limp boy outside the stable, a wave of relief washing over him as he saw the boy's chest rise and fall with shallow breaths. But before he could catch his own breath, Ser Elmar lunged at him, his sword flashing in the firelight.

"Demon!" the knight screamed, his eyes wide with terror. "You came out of the flames! You're a monster!"

He swung his sword wildly, the blade whistling through the air.

"Stop!" Caelum shouted, dodging the attacks. "You're mistaken! I saved the boy!"

But Ser Elmar was beyond reason, his fear blinding him. "Liar!" he snarled, his voice choked with emotion. "You must have set the fire! You're a demon sent from the Seven Hells!"

Caelum weaved and bobbed, his movements almost effortless as he evaded the knight's swift attacks.

He could see the fear in Ser Elmar's eyes, the way his hands trembled as he gripped the sword hilt.

He knew he could easily overpower the knight, but he couldn't bring himself to harm him.

"Please!" he pleaded, his voice rising above the roar of the flames. "I'm not your enemy! I'm trying to help!"

But Ser Elmar wouldn't listen. "Die, demon!" he shrieked, lunging forward with a desperate thrust.

Caelum slapped the blade aside, the force of his blow sending the sword flying from Ser Elmar's grasp.

The knight stumbled back, his eyes widening in shock.

"I'm sorry!" Caelum cried, "I didn't mean to..."

But Ser Elmar cut him off with a roar, his face contorted with rage.

He charged at Caelum, bracing behind his shiny steel shield.

Caelum panicked, his instincts taking over. He thrust out his hand, his palm meeting the center of the shield with a sickening crunch.

The metal buckled and warped, a spiderweb of cracks spreading across its surface. Ser Elmar's arm, trapped beneath the shield, twisted at an unnatural angle.

The knight screamed, his body collapsing as his arm detached from his shoulder, the severed limb clattering to the ground.

Caelum stared in horror at the mangled mess before him, his stomach churning. He had done it again.

He had hurt someone, and this time, it was far worse than a broken bench or a spooked horse.

He had crippled a man.

He staggered back, his legs trembling. A wave of nausea washed over him, and he vomited onto the cobblestones, the acidic taste of bile filling his mouth.

Caelum stumbled back from the gruesome scene, his stomach heaving once more. He fell to his knees, his body wracked with dry sobs. The taste of bile lingered in his mouth, a bitter reminder of his own power, a power he couldn't control.

Ser Elmar's moans filled the night air, a symphony of pain and terror. "Stay away," he whimpered, his voice barely audible. "Please... don't hurt me anymore."

Caelum knew he couldn't leave the knight to bleed out. Despite the horror of what he had done, a sense of duty, a healer's instinct, stirred within him. He had to try to help.

He crawled towards Ser Elmar, his eyes fixed on the gruesome wound. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

Ser Elmar whimpered again, his eyes fluttering open. "Please..." he begged, his voice barely a whisper. "Help me..."

Caelum's magical sight revealed the extent of the damage. The knight's arm had been severed cleanly at the shoulder, the wound a gaping maw of torn flesh and exposed bone. Caelum knew he had to stop the bleeding, but he had no bandages, no clean cloth.

The flames from the stable roared behind him, casting a flickering glow on the scene. The heat was intense, the air thick with the acrid smell of burning wood and horsehair. Caelum's mind raced, searching for a solution.

He remembered a lesson from Maester Lorcas that wounds could be burnt shut with hot metal to stop such bleeding.

He didn't have any hot metal, but he had something far more potent.

"Forgive me," he whispered to Ser Elmar, his voice barely a breath. "Forgive me, Ser Elmar."

He closed his eyes, focusing his power once more. A crimson glow emanated from beneath the mask as his eyes blazed with fiery energy. He directed the heat towards the wound, the flesh sizzling and sealing shut under the intense heat.

Ser Elmar screamed, his body convulsing before falling still.

He quickly checked Ser Elmar's pulse, his magical sight confirming that the man's heart was still beating, though faintly.

He was alive, but unconscious.

The pounding on the manse doors intensified. "Ser Elmar!" Qyburn's voice called out, filled with urgency. "What's happening? Open the door! Ser Elmar!"

Caelum peered inside, Qyburn and four guards were trying to break the door down from the inside. The sentinel stationed on top with them.

Caelum glanced back at the inferno.

The flames were spreading through the stable.

He couldn't risk the fire spreading further, endangering the lives of the prisoners trapped inside the manse. The flames hadn't yet reached the main structure, but he couldn't afford to take any chances.

He willed himself to his feet, a wave of dizziness washing over him as he did so. He stumbled towards the southern wall of the manse, the one connected to the burning stable. The western wall was already breached, but he needed to ensure the flames didn't spread further.

He raised his fist, his eyes burning with a fiery resolve..

With a guttural cry, he unleashed his power, his fist connecting with the wall in a thunderous impact.

The stone cracked and splintered, a massive section collapsing inward, creating another gaping hole. The fire, now contained within the stable, roared in defiance, but it would spread no further.

Caelum cast a final glance at the unconscious Ser Elmar, a pang of guilt twisting in his gut. He had saved the boy, but at a terrible cost. He had to get away from this place, from the violence and destruction he had wrought.

With a heavy heart, he turned and fled through the newly created opening in the wall, his tears mingling with the sweat on his face. The inferno behind him raged on, a fiery testament to his power and his desperation.

He didn't look back, his only thought was a prayer of forgiveness from the Seven, as he rushed to put as much distance between himself and the manse as possible as he rushed back to the city.

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

That's the rest of the chapter.

Caelum's made mistakes. Mistakes have consequences.

Too much power in the hands of a child, an untrained on at that. Not everything is going to be easy.

Superman had to spend years, learning control. I don't know about MoS, but in every iteration of Superman, control is either taught by Jor-El (Superman and Lois) or, by the Kents at the farm (most comics)

As for the conversations between the guards, locker room talk I imagine. I hope it wasn't too crude, or off-putting.