Chapter 546: The Fall of the Sept  

The Sky's Roar

A dragon's shadow circled the skies, its roar echoing far and wide.

For reasons unknown, Balerion had forsaken the common soldiers of House Hightower, instead setting its gaze upon the black structure standing tall in Oldtown.

The Starry Sept was the grandest in the city. For millennia before the Conquest, it had been the headquarters of the Faith of the Seven, the seat of the High Septon.

Three centuries ago, when Aegon I first landed at King's Landing, the then High Septon secluded himself within the Starry Sept, praying for seven days and nights, sustained only by bread and water. Emerging, he decreed the Faith would not oppose Aegon and his sisters.

He prophesied that should Oldtown ever rise against the Targaryen dragonlords, dragonfire would consume the marketplace, the Citadel, the mighty towers, and the Starry Sept itself.

House Hightower heeded his words, opening their gates to Aegon, earning peace in return.

Yet, three centuries have passed. Leyton Hightower, the current Lord of the Hightower, dismissed the old prophecy, choosing to oppose Viserys.

As dusk painted the sky, Balerion's form loomed ominously over Oldtown, a harbinger of doom.

With a thunderous roar, the dragon dived, spewing fire upon the Sept's dome, slicing through it as effortlessly as a knife through butter.

The Black Dread assaulted the Sept. Its frail dome shattered instantaneously, collapsing amidst a cloud of dust.

"Panic! Run!"

Cries filled the air as septons and septas scattered. Those once devoted to silent contemplation now screamed in terror.

The dragon landed upon the once-majestic structure. Under the intense heat of its flames, the Sept wailed, collapsing piece by piece, crushing countless clergy.

The relentless inferno melted the Sept's black marble, shattered its stained glass, and consumed many who couldn't escape in time, their agonized screams chilling the air.

From a tower of the Sept, some clergy, unable to endure the torment, leapt ablaze, aiming for the river below. Yet, misjudging their leap, they crashed brutally onto the riverbank.

As the tower leaned and crumbled into the adjacent river, it unleashed great waves, capsizing many vessels trying to flee.

Night began its descent, yet the city's skies glowed fiery red.

The dragon circled the Starry Sept, continuously belching fire, reducing the magnificent structure to ruins.

Those who escaped watched in horror as their faith crumbled, weeping and praying for the Seven's vengeance upon their foe.

Yet, all they witnessed was the melting statues of their gods. Soon after, with a resounding boom, the Starry Sept was wholly consumed by dragonfire, its echoing devastation reaching far.

The Sept's fall shattered the faith of many clergy. Some bled from fervent prayer, others leapt into the river in despair, and a few discarded their robes, sneaking away.

Amidst the apocalypse, humanity's true colors shone.

"Viserys has gone mad!"

"Viserys has gone mad!"

"What does this tyrant want?"

The Citadel, located by the Honeywine River and composed of numerous isles connected by stone bridges, was the largest complex in Oldtown. Now, it was in utter chaos. Maesters and acolytes scattered like headless flies, with countless refugees flooding in.

The Citadel's archmaester, Theobald, was both shocked and enraged, pacing anxiously. He hadn't anticipated such dire circumstances. This meant one thing: Viserys was a true "Destroyer of Order."

"This tyrant... he's lost his mind."

Each year saw a new archmaester for the Citadel. This year, it was Theobald's turn. Little did he anticipate inheriting such a crisis.

Ever since House Hightower decided to intervene in the civil war of the Seven Kingdoms, the Citadel had been preparing for battle. They had predicted the outcomes, calculating all possibilities. They believed a Targaryen victory was most likely, but never imagined the Citadel itself would be threatened.

War clouds had gathered over Oldtown not long ago, and Archmaester Theobald had symbolically sent a few maesters away. Yet, none foresaw the rapid fall of Oldtown. The war began in the morning and by dusk, the city had fallen. And with the Dothraki and dragon's arrival, the war's trajectory was utterly terrifying.