Chapter 316: Visions in the Flame

"Come in."

Samwell pushed open the door and stepped into a warm, brightly lit room.

Five tallow candles burned fiercely on the windowsill, with four more set at either end of the long table. The fireplace crackled with lively flames. This was the chamber of the red-robed priestess Melisandre, a room where darkness was never allowed to linger.

"Can you still see visions in the flames?" Samwell asked as he entered, his gaze fixed on the priestess sitting before the fireplace, staring blankly into the fire.

"Lately, I've been able to see them again," Melisandre said softly, rising to her feet. She approached the table, poured two glasses of red wine, and handed one to Samwell.

"I'd advise you not to look into the flames anymore," Samwell said, taking the glass and sipping it. "Those images are likely tricks of R'hllor."

"I'll be careful," Melisandre replied, taking a deep drink from her own glass and setting it back on the table. "But I no longer feel the power of the Lord of Light. Instead, it feels as though another deity is speaking to me through the flames."

"Which one?"

"The Maiden of Light," Melisandre replied.

Samwell froze for a moment before realization dawned. "The deity worshipped in Yi Ti?"

"Yes," Melisandre confirmed with a nod. "It is said she also wields power over light and fire."

"Perhaps she is just as treacherous," Samwell warned.

"I understand. That's why I no longer trust the visions in the flames as I once did. I view them merely as references now."

Melisandre blinked, stretched, and yawned slightly. Weariness blanketed her, a stark reminder that her strength was waning.

"Your Majesty, how are your magical studies progressing?"

"Not bad," Samwell replied, spreading his palm to show the silver-white flame mark etched there. "But the mark you left on me last time seems to be malfunctioning."

Melisandre examined the mark with a light touch, her brow furrowing.

"The seal is weakening. Have you been hearing any… unwelcome voices lately?"

"Yes. Do you have a way to restore the seal?"

Melisandre shook her head.

"My power has diminished too much to help you further.

"The voices you hear are a consequence of your powerful soul. It allows you to sense the Elemental Sea more acutely, which is both a blessing and a curse. While it enhances your magical potential, your current lack of strength in sorcery makes you vulnerable to its waves of influence.

"I tried to shield you from this, but clearly, I overestimated myself."

Samwell frowned. "The Influence of Elemental Sea? What is that?"

Melisandre explained:

"The Elemental Sea contains unfathomable power, like an ocean stretching infinitely. Mortals are insignificant in comparison, and even the smallest ripple can create waves strong enough to engulf us. This is the greatest danger in the study of sorcery.

"Those with strong souls, like you, can sense the Elemental Sea better and learn magic more quickly. But it also means they're at greater risk of being consumed and assimilated."

Samwell drank another sip of wine, contemplating her words.

"But the voices I hear sound like someone speaking. And they're speaking in Valyrian."

Melisandre's blood-red eyes stared at Samwell for a long moment before she replied:

"The mysteries of the Elemental Sea are beyond mortal comprehension. I'm afraid I can't give you a satisfying answer. But if the voices truly speak Valyrian, you might consider visiting the ruins of Valyria in the Smoking Sea. That place holds many secrets—but also immense dangers."

The dangers were undeniable. Samwell knew that even Balerion the Black Dread had been gravely injured in the Valyrian ruins. His white dragon was far from ready to brave that forbidden land.

"Another time," Samwell said, looking at the mark on his palm. "This seal should hold for a while longer, and the whispers aren't too disruptive yet. I can endure it."

Melisandre nodded, seemingly reluctant to encourage him to venture into the ruins.

"There is another way, though. If you can quickly master advanced sorcery and strengthen your magic, the ripples of the Elemental Sea will no longer affect you as much."

Samwell silently nodded, feeling a growing sense of urgency.

After a brief pause, Melisandre spoke again:

"Your Majesty, are you planning to travel to Essos?"

"Yes," Samwell replied, slightly surprised by her question. "In a few days, I'll be heading to Astapor in Slaver's Bay to meet the Mother of Dragons. Did you see something in the flames?"

"Dragons are destined to meet," Melisandre replied, her tone carrying a note of anticipation. But then she added, "However, I must warn you: dragons are inherently proud and wild. They are not easily tamed."

Samwell chuckled. "I understand. That's precisely why making a dragon submit is so rewarding."

Melisandre's eyes flickered, and she said:

"Astapor was once part of the Ghiscari Empire. After the Valyrian dragonlords destroyed Ghiscari civilization, it became a center for the slave trade. The city may hold remnants of Ghiscari and Valyrian secrets. Keep an eye out while you're there."

Samwell nodded thoughtfully. "I will."

After a moment, he asked, "Could I see the visions you mentioned?"

"Of course," Melisandre agreed. "But as you warned me earlier, these visions might be divine tricks. Be cautious."

"I understand," Samwell replied. Since the events on Blood Reef Isle, both he and Melisandre had developed a natural wariness toward deities.

Melisandre took his hand and led him to the fireplace. Pointing to the leaping flames, she said, "Your Majesty, look."

Samwell focused his gaze. In the flames, he saw gray ash swirling upward and a city engulfed in fire.

Above the burning city loomed a colossal shadow—a creature with the body of a woman, bat-like wings, a scorpion's tail, and talons like an eagle's, clutching twin bolts of lightning.

"A harpy," Samwell murmured.

He recognized the figure as the symbol of the Ghiscari Empire, much like the dragon symbolized Valyria.

The harpy's shadow seemed to cry out, though the vision conveyed no sound. Beneath it, the city crumbled in the inferno. Amid the warped air and drifting ash, Samwell spotted a black figure:

A dragon!

It roared at the heavens, its massive wings closing protectively around something.

Through the smoke and fire, Samwell finally glimpsed the figure the black dragon was shielding:

A girl with silver hair.

Her clothes had been burned away by the flames, revealing skin as smooth and pale as white jade.

Then, she raised her head. Her violet eyes seemed to pierce through time and space, locking onto Samwell's own.

"Daenerys Targaryen."

(End of Chapter)