Returning Home

It took about two hours before I finally reached the destination under the guidance of the Kutsal Stone. The journey was not hard, as I had some hiking experiences. However, if not for some small streams, the water could become a big problem. The air was hot and suffocating. The scorching sun also was not helping.

Fortunately, my efforts were not in vain. In front of me lies the remnants of an ancient temple, once regarded as the most prestigious and revered sanctuary of its time. The temple, now reduced to haunting ruins, becomes proof of the destruction that came with the Doom.

Approaching the temple, I was immediately struck by the grandeur and majesty that once defined this sacred place. The entrance, framed by massive, intricately carved stone columns, stands as a testament to the artistry and craftsmanship of the Valyrians. The remaining fragments of decorative friezes and relief sculptures give glimpses of the extraordinary skill and devotion that went into every detail.

As I venture further into the temple grounds, a vast courtyard opens up before me. The air is heavy with an aura of reverence and mystery as if the spirits of the past still linger amidst the fallen stones. Statues of dragons and dragon riders, now missing limbs and eroded by time, stand as silent witnesses to the rituals and ceremonies that once took place in this hallowed space.

The main temple structure, now partially collapsed, once rose high into the sky. The remaining walls are adorned with faded frescoes, depicting scenes from ancient wars and tales, their once-vibrant colors now faded by the relentless march of time.

Surrounding the central temple, a complex of smaller structures and shrines lie scattered, each with its purpose and significance. Walkways and staircases, worn by countless footsteps, connect these architectural gems.

Nature has claimed much of the temple over the centuries, with thick vines and roots snaking their way through crevices and cracks, reclaiming the land that was once taken from them.

Despite the passage of time and the ravages of nature, the allure and prestige of this ancient temple are palpable. It stands as a testament to the ingenuity, devotion, and spiritual quest of the Dragon Lords. Exploring these ruins is not merely a journey through the history of the Valyrians, but a glimpse into the very soul of a people long gone, leaving behind a legacy of architectural marvels and an enduring sense of awe and wonder.

I awoke from my admiration towards the temple with the vibration of the stone. It is pointing towards the now collapsed main temple structure. This time, it did not stop the vibration. As if we finally reached where it wanted.

It made me wonder what it was that got the stone so excited.

As I step cautiously into one of the remaining intact rooms of the ancient temple, a sense of anticipation filled the air. The room is dimly lit by beams of sunlight that filter through small cracks in the ceiling, casting ethereal patterns upon the stone floor. It is a place steeped in mystery and guarded by the weight of history.

The room itself is modest in size, with weathered stone walls adorned with faded tapestries that hint at the grandeur it once possessed. A sense of timelessness lingers as if the room has remained untouched for centuries, preserving the secrets it holds.

At the center of the room, resting upon a stone pedestal, I discover the first treasure—another stone. It had a remarkable sight, its iridescent surface was glimmering with hues of gold and crimson.

As I got closer, I discovered mosaic-scaled structures of the stone. And, I immediately understood that this stone-looking thing was not a stone at all. There was only one scaled stone in the world of Game of Thrones, the Dragon Egg.

The egg was of considerable size, a testament to the legendary creatures that once conquered continents. It emanates a faint warmth as if it still carries the dormant power of the ancient dragons.

To the right of the dragon egg, hanging upon the wall is a magnificent sword. Its blade shimmers with a mesmerizing pattern, displaying the skill and artistry of the smith who forged it. It was made from Valyrian Steel, the greatest and most famous work of Valyrian blacksmiths.

The hilt of the sword is adorned with intricate flame inscriptions, delicately etched into the metal. These fiery symbols seem to come alive as the light plays upon them, casting an ethereal glow that dances along the length of the blade. It evokes the essence of fire and embodies the fierce power that dwells within the sword.

As I reached out to grasp the hilt, a surge of energy courses through my fingertips, an undeniable connection between me and the weapon. The sword is remarkably light, its balance perfect, as if it yearns to be wielded in the hands of a skilled warrior.

Unfortunately, I am not that skilled warrior. I did not hold a sword before, I did not sweat while training. Not yet, at least. This magnificent sword only should be wielded by someone who deserves it. And, I am sure that I will become that person.

And finally, nestled upon a weathered stone shelf, four ancient books stand proudly, their presence commanding attention. Bound in worn leather, the books call me closer, their covers adorned with symbols and sigils that hint at the knowledge held within.

The first book is bound in a deep green cover, embellished with intertwining vines and delicate floral patterns. Just by holding, faint, soothing energy radiates from within, evoking a connection to the natural world and the life forces that flow through it.

Adjacent to the first book, the next book awaits. Its cover is crafted from rich, crimson leather, adorned with flickering flames and fiery symbols. The air around this book crackles with a hint of heat, as if the essence of fire is present, yearning to be channeled through the knowledge contained within.

The third book exudes an enigmatic and mysterious energy. Its cover is crafted from midnight black leather, embellished with silver moon phases and shadowy silhouettes. As I tried to hold it, I feel a subtle chill, as if unseen eyes watch from the darkness, offering glimpses into the art of whispering and shadows.

The cover of the final book in this quartet is crafted from weathered brown leather, etched with intricate runic symbols that form a tapestry of knowledge. As I open its pages, I was greeted by a compendium of runic alphabets, ancient texts, and the ways in which these mystical symbols shape and manipulate the fabric of reality. The room seems to vibrate with an undercurrent of ancient power as I slowly tried to understand the wisdom contained within this sacred book.

As I stand in the room, surrounded by the dragon egg, the gleaming sword, and the four enchanting books, I can't help but feel happy and excited. The treasures before me are not merely physical objects but keys to a realm of ancient wonders and forgotten magic.

They will be my main support in this cruel world. And as I learn their power, I will embark on a journey that would be recorded in the annals of history.

Looking at the stone at my neck, I did not know what to say. It was thanks to it that I did not leave this land quickly, and found these items. Without Kutsal Stone's guidance, I would lose priceless things. In the end, I can only express my gratitude with a small murmur while carefully caressing it.

"Thank you."

It trembled with joy, and maybe a bit of pride?

"Is there anything I should take, or anywhere I should go before leaving this area?"

I hoped for a positive answer. Who does not want more of these very rare treasures? I want, and I would never say no to more of it.

My little greedy hopes were crushed as seconds pass without any response from the Kutsal Stone.

"At least, I tried."

"So, can we go to my house in Meeren now?"

As the words escaped my lips, an unexpected and mystical occurrence unfolded within the ancient temple. The very air seems to vibrate with newfound energy, and the Kustal Stone in my neck begins to tremble as if responding to my request. The tremors grow in intensity, causing ripples of anticipation to surge through my veins. This would be my first real magic sight and my first teleportation.

Suddenly, in the midst of the trembling, a vibrant and shimmering circle materializes before me. It hovers just above the ground, emanating an ethereal glow that casts a soft, mesmerizing light onto the surrounding environment.

Its intricate design, etched into the very fabric of space and time, holds the promise of a swift and magical journey. The patterns within the circle seem to pulse with a life of their own as if they were conduits of ancient knowledge and transcendent power. Countless runes were constantly being written and merging with the circle.

I carefully wrapped the dragon's egg and books in the torn cloth I had taken off and hung the sword around my waist.

As I approached the radiant circle, I can feel its subtle pull, as if it recognizes my intention and stands ready to transport me to my home.

The Kutsal Stone was still trembling, resonating with the energy of the teleportation circle. It serves as the key, the catalyst that activates this wondrous gateway.

As I step forward, a surge of exhilaration courses through my whole being. I felt a momentary disorienting sensation, as if the very fabric of reality momentarily shifts, and then, with a flash of brilliant light, I find myself transported through the teleportation circle.

The temple and its ruins fade from view, replaced by the familiar sights and sounds of my own home. I have successfully traversed space and time, arriving at my desired destination in an instant. The teleportation circle, having fulfilled its purpose, dissolved into the air, leaving behind only the lingering sense of wonder and the memories of this extraordinary event.

However, before I let go of my admiration for the beauty of magic, a cold, devoid of any emotion voice came from behind me.

"Stop right there! Do not move or I will shoot."

This voice awoke me from my awe. This was my first encounter with people, and already I am threatened. This dangerous situation woke me up from my stupidity. Just because I have gained some strength and treasures, I thought everything will be easy and slowly I will achieve my dreams.

In this world, even colossal dragons could be killed, not to mention me who was made from flesh.

"Slowly turn around, and do not try to reach your pretty sword. If your hand goes down even a little bit, then you could say goodbye to your hand."

His emotionless voice sent chills to my bones.

I turned around slowly, without abrupt movement. And, the moment I turn my back, the man who threatened to shoot me came into my view.

The person I saw was a man in his late twenties, with rugged features. He stands at an average height, with a solid build that exudes strength and resilience. His face carries a weathered quality, marked by lines that speak of experience and hardship, lending an air of gravitas to his portrayal.

Dark brown hair falls in waves around his face. His beard adds a touch of authority and maturity to his profile.

His piercing cold blue eyes, filled with intensity and depth reflect a sense of honor, determination, and commitment.

However, none of them matters to me as I unconsciously called.

"Huseyin? "