Snuffed

Chapter 27 –

The wheels of the wagon creaked under the weight of the grain and barrels as it trundled along the muddy road back toward the city. The night had long since fallen, and the only light came from the occasional flicker of distant lightning, briefly illuminating the dark sky.

A light drizzle pattered against the canvas cover of the wagon, adding to the steady rhythm of the wheels. The smell of damp earth and rain-soaked grain filled the air.

Fern sat at the front, managing the horses with steady hands as they plodded along the familiar path. Caelum sat beside her, his cloak pulled tight against the chill of the late midnight air. Pylos sat in the back, nestled among the sacks of grain and supplies, grumbling as he shifted his weight to get comfortable.

The trio had enjoyed their week away from the city, but the return journey had been wearisome, especially with the wagon loaded to the brim with grain, barrels of ale, and other supplies for Fern's inn.

"I still can't believe the amount of work that goes into running a farm," Pylos groaned, rubbing his back as if the aches had just returned at the thought. "The animals! And my back—will I ever stand up straight again?"

Caelum chuckled, the sound light and genuine despite the late hour. "You get used to it after a while. I always loved helping my Pa back home. There's something satisfying about a hard day's work."

Pylos looked at his friend with a mix of disbelief and irritation, his voice rising above the steady patter of rain. "I don't understand why you'd want to go back to that, though. A farm life? If you were going back home to train under a knight, I could understand. But to work a farm? I just don't get it."

Fern, sensing the tension rising, shook her head and interjected, her eyes focused on the rain-slicked road ahead. "Ugh, not this again! I assumed you were past this already, Pylos. Stop trying to bring that up. You know Caelum doesn't want to be a maester, and he doesn't want to be a knight either. Let it be."

Pylos crossed his arms, the frown deepening on his face as he leaned back against a sack of grain. "That's just it. I can't understand it. Why wouldn't you want something better, Caelum? Something more than… than mucking out stables."

Caelum's smile faded slightly as he listened, but he didn't respond immediately.

Instead, his gaze drifted toward the distant darkness, his attention caught by something only he could hear. A faint cry, almost lost in the wind and rain, reached his ears.

He narrowed his eyes, trying to focus his hearing, to pinpoint where the cry was coming from. It was still far. He had to—

"Caelum! There you go again," Pylos interrupted, frustration lacing his voice. "You're getting lost in your own head. I've been trying to get your attention!"

Fern placed a hand on Pylos's arm, trying to calm him. "Don't start, Pylos. Let it go."

But Pylos shook his head, his anger bubbling over. "No, I won't let it go. He always gets that look on his face, like he's somewhere else. And then he just… wanders off. Like he did last afternoon. If he hadn't gone off, we'd already be back in the city by now."

Fern sighed, knowing where this was headed. "Pylos, we all agreed to stay a little longer. Caelum just needed some time."

Pylos scoffed, his irritation mounting. "Needed time? He disappeared without a word. Again. And we had to wait for him—again. Where did you even go, Caelum?"

Caelum ducked his head, the drizzle running off his hood as he recalled the events of that afternoon.

He had left to aid some children near the Honeywine, who had been set upon by wolves. Scaring the wolves with his fire surreptitiously had been easy enough, but he had to run away from the farm without actually telling his friends where he'd be going.

Again.

He couldn't really tell his friends that he'd heard the children shouting as they ran from the wolves.

They had been on the entire other side of the village, far from Gorman's farm. He felt guilty all the same.

Fern had been forthcoming in revealing her secret to them, but he just couldn't bring himself to do the same. He was scared they would be afraid of what he could do in truth.

He stayed silent, and that only fueled Pylos's anger.

"See? You're doing it again," Pylos snapped. "You won't even explain yourself. Why do you keep lying to us?"

The tension in the wagon was palpable now, the slight rain seeming to accentuate the coldness growing between them.

Fern, in an attempt to defend Caelum, turned to Pylos. "You're not being fair, Pylos. You know Caelum has his reasons, and it's not right to make him feel—"

"Why are you always defending him?" Pylos cut her off, his voice sharp and cutting. "What are you, his lover?"

The words hung in the air like a slap. Fern's face flushed with hurt, her mouth opening and closing as she tried to find a response.

But before she could say anything, the distant cry for help reached Caelum's hearing again. There were a lot of voices.

Muddled. Far.

Fern's lips parted as she prepared to defend herself, the sting of Pylos's words still fresh. "There's nothing like that going on," she began, her voice wavering slightly with the effort to remain calm. "You're just being—"

The walls of Oldtown loomed in the distance, and Fern's breath caught in her throat.

A bright orange glow flickered ominously beyond the city walls, painting the night sky with a fiery hue. The drizzle did little to dampen the unsettling sight.

"What… what is that?" Fern whispered, her eyes widening as she tightened her grip on the reins.

Caelum's senses sharpened as the faint cries he had heard earlier now pierced through the veil of rain and wind.

The city's bells rang incessantly, a mournful and urgent sound that echoed across the land. Screams filled his ears—men, women, and children, their voices tangled in terror and desperation.

"How did they get past the chain? The fleet—they've set fire to the fleet!?" a man's voice, rough with panic, demanded, his words barely audible over the din of chaos.

"Please! Spare my children … please!" a woman's voice sobbed.

"Run to the Sept! The gods will shield you there!" A man shouted, strained and exhausted.

A child's voice, high-pitched and trembling, cut through the clamor. "Mama! Mama, where are you? Don't leave me!"

Laughter, cold and sadistic, followed by a low, mocking drawl. "Keep screaming, girl. It's music to my ears."

"Look at them scatter like rats," another voice sneered, the words dripping with cruel satisfaction. "Burn it all. Let them drown in their own fear."

"Over here! To the citadel—there's still time!" a man's voice called out, trying to rally those nearby, a faint thread of hope in the turmoil.

A woman's frantic voice pleaded, her words barely coherent. "Spare her! I'll do anything—please, just spare her!"

"Beg all you like! It's music to my ears," another man's voice growled, rough and guttural, the kind that sent a shiver down the spine. "You'll scream louder before the night's done."

The city bells continued to toll, each peal a reminder of the horror unfolding within Oldtown's walls.

His heart pounded in his chest as he turned his gaze toward the city.

Thunder cracked overhead, and in that brief flash of light, he saw what the darkness had concealed. People were fleeing the gates of Oldtown, their forms silhouetted against the flames that licked at the night sky.

Caelum drowned the noises away, he needed to focus.

"Fern, we need to get into the city, now," Caelum urged, his voice low and urgent.

Pylos, who had been glaring at Fern, turned his head and finally noticed the scene unfolding before them.

His eyes widened in shock as he saw the people streaming out of the gates, their faces twisted in fear.

Beyond the walls, the fire raged, casting an eerie glow over the city.

In the slowly picking storm, the beacon atop the Hightower blazed with a green flame—a call to arms, summoning what few banners they could to their aid.

If it had been lit recently, those men would take a very long time to come.

"The Hightower… they've lit the beacon," Pylos muttered, disbelief tinging his voice. "This… this isn't good."

Fern's panic rose like a tidal wave, her chest tightening as her thoughts raced. "My father's in there," she said, her voice cracking. "We have to find him. I can't—" She swallowed hard, her hands trembling on the reins. "I can't lose him."

Caelum exchanged a quick glance with Pylos, their earlier tension forgotten in the face of the immediate danger. "We'll find him, Fern," Caelum said firmly, his eyes focused and determined. "We'll get there in time."

"Yeah," Pylos added, nodding, his voice steadier now. "We'll help you. We just need to stay calm and get there fast."

With a desperate cry, Fern lashed the reins, urging the horses into a full gallop. "Faster! We have to get there!" Her voice broke as she urged the horses on, their hooves pounding against the rain-soaked road. The wagon lurched forward, its heavy load rattling and shifting as the horses raced toward the gates.

The wagon rattled violently as it sped along the muddy road, the horses galloping at full speed. Fern's knuckles were white as she gripped the reins, her eyes fixed on the city gate looming closer with each passing second. The Honeywine River ran alongside them, its waters churning with the reflection of flames and the shadows of fleeing ships.

People were flooding out of the city gates, panic in their eyes as they tried to escape the terror behind them. Fern didn't slow down. She pushed the horses harder, her heart pounding in her chest as she barreled toward the gates.

"Move aside! Move!" Pylos shouted, his voice hoarse as he waved his arms, urging the crowd to clear a path. Men and women scrambled out of the way, leaping to safety as the wagon hurtled forward.

Two guards near the gate called after them, their voices strained with urgency. "Stop! It's too dangerous! Turn back!"

Caelum leaned over, shouting an apology as they sped past. "We have to go in! We're sorry!"

The guards' shouts faded into the distance as the wagon raced through the gates, the throng of people pressing in from all sides.

Pylos gasped, his eyes locked on the distant Hightower. The massive structure on Battle Isle was engulfed in flames, the fire consuming it from within. Smoke billowed into the night sky, merging with the storm clouds.

"Gods above! Caelum, are you seeing this?!" Pylos's voice trembled with disbelief.

Caelum could barely hear him over the pounding of his own heart. His eyes darted between the burning Hightower and the chaos unfolding around them.

The streets were packed with people, running in every direction—toward the gates, the Sept, the citadel. Desperation was everywhere, in every cry for help, in every terrified face.

The sounds of pleading and the cruel laughter of the raiders filled his ears, overwhelming him.

The Greyjoy banners fluttered above the ships in the harbor, their presence like a dark omen.

The Ironborn had broken through, and the Hightower was under attack. The guards were fighting on the shore, but it was clear they were losing ground. The Hightower's fleet was ablaze, ships still tied to the docks burning helplessly.

Caelum's breath came in short, panicked bursts.

More ships were heading toward the citadel and the Sept, and the thought of those places being attacked sent a cold dread through him.

How could he stop this? What could he do?

He had no idea—he didn't know how to help, didn't know how to make it all stop.

The cries for help, the screams, the begging—it was all too much. He tried to block it out, but it kept coming, a relentless tide of fear and pain.

"The Sept and the citadel… they're headed there too," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, tight with worry.

"They should be safe," Pylos muttered, but his voice wavered. "But the Hightower… how could they have set it on fire? It's too high… nothing should reach it!"

Caelum's mind raced, trying to drown out the voices, the chaos, the noise that wouldn't stop. His hands clenched into fists, shaking. He had magic, but what good was it if he couldn't even think straight?

Fern's voice cut through his panic. "That doesn't matter right now!" she snapped, her voice breaking. "We need to find my father! I am taking us to the inn!"

Fern's grip tightened on the reins, her knuckles white as she urged the horses faster.

The wagon rattled violently as it sped through the streets, dodging the throngs of people fleeing toward the Starry Sept. The massive doors of the Sept were open, and the courtyard was filled with terrified citizens. Guards lined the defenses on the riverside of the sept, their eyes trained on the approaching Ironborn ships in the Honeywine.

"They haven't reached the Sept yet," Pylos muttered, his voice a mix of hope and dread.

Caelum's eyes darted to the citadel. He could see the massive doors closing as more guards mounted the walls, ready to defend.

A few ships from the Ironborn fleet were swarming into the river, and Caelum realized with a sinking feeling that it was a distraction.

The real attack was in the city, by the harbor, and the Hightower's forces were stretched too thin.

"They're trying to split them up," Caelum whispered, his voice barely audible over the chaos. "They want to keep the garrison divided."

Fern guided the wagon toward the bridge that crossed the Honeywine, her father's inn just beyond it. But as they approached, Caelum's heart sank.

Two Ironborn ships were anchored on either side of the bridge, their crews hurling arrows and flaming projectiles at the guards defending it. The bridge itself was partially on fire, and the guards were desperately trying to extinguish the flames while fending off the raiders.

"We have to cross that?" Pylos shouted, his voice high with fear. "It's on fire, Fern!"

"We don't have a choice!" Fern snapped back, her eyes wide with terror but resolute. "We have to get to my father!"

As they neared the bridge, a guard noticed the approaching wagon and waved frantically for them to stop. "Turn back! It's not safe! The bridge is—"

"Move out of the way!" Pylos yelled, his voice cracking with desperation.

The guard hesitated, then jumped aside as Fern urged the horses onto the bridge. The wood beneath them groaned and creaked, and the heat from the flames was nearly unbearable. The horses reared up, spooked by the fire, their neighs frantic.

"Hold on!" Fern cried, struggling to keep control of the reins.

Just then, a commanding voice rang out from the other side of the bridge. "Brace for shields!"

Caelum barely had time to react before a hail of arrows rained down from the Ironborn ships. The guards ducked under their shields, but the arrows pelted the bridge with deadly force.

Caelum saw the flash of metal coming toward them and instinctively yanked Fern down onto the seat beside him. The arrows thudded into the wood of the wagon, narrowly missing Pylos, who had curled up in the back.

The horses were out of control, their panic driving them faster toward the edge of the burning bridge.

"Caelum, the horses!" Pylos screamed, his voice barely audible over the chaos.

A guard on the bridge yelled, "They're spooked! Stop the wagon, or you'll go over!"

But it was too late.

The wagon careened wildly as the horses veered to the side, their fear overpowering any control Fern had left. With a sickening lurch, the wagon tipped over the edge of the bridge, plunging into the icy cold waters of the Honeywine River below.

Cold, icy water filled Caelum's lungs, and the weight of the upturned wagon pressed down on him, pinning him beneath its heavy bulk.

Fern's face was a mask of dread, her eyes wide with terror as she thrashed beside him. The horses, still tied to the wagon, struggled desperately, their movements frantic as they fought against the suffocating depths.

Caelum knew he had to act.

There was no time to think, no time to hesitate.

Bubbles escaped his mouth as he grabbed Fern, pulling her close. Summoning every ounce of strength he had, he kicked upward, his powerful legs driving the wagon upward despite the crushing weight of the water.

The wagon lurched, shifting just enough for him to reposition Fern securely in his arms. His focus then turned to Pylos, who was trapped behind them, surrounded by the barrels of ale and sacks of grain that were now spilling into the river. Pylos's eyes were wide with fear as he struggled to free himself.

Caelum reached out, grabbing the wooden beam that separated them. With a mighty effort, he snapped it with his bare hands, freeing Pylos from the wreckage. Fern, still in his grasp, thrashed as she fought for air, her movements growing more frantic with each passing second.

He couldn't let them drown.

With his free hand, Caelum grabbed Pylos, who was gasping for air, his foot bleeding from where it had been pinned under a barrel. Caelum kicked the wrecked wagon away from them, pushing it and the thrashing horses out of their path.

"Hold on! I've got you!" Caelum shouted as they broke the surface, his voice raw with exertion.

Fern gasped for air, coughing violently as she clung to Caelum, her body trembling from the cold and fear. "Caelum! Thank the gods—" Her voice broke as she tried to speak, tears mingling with the water on her face.

Pylos, struggling to stay afloat, latched onto Caelum's arm, his face contorted in pain. "My foot—it's bleeding! Caelum, don't let go!"

"I won't! Just hold on!" Caelum's voice was strained as he kicked hard against the current, fighting to pull them toward the rocky bank. The stormy river threatened to drag them downstream, but he refused to let it.

With a final burst of strength, he propelled them toward the shore.

With a mighty heave, Caelum threw Fern and Pylos onto the bank, their bodies landing with a thud on the rocky ground.

Both of them cried out in pain, gasping for breath, their bodies shaking from the ordeal.

Fern turned to Caelum, her voice trembling with gratitude. "Caelum… you saved us. I don't know how—"

But before she could finish, Caelum dove back into the river without a word, his mind already focused on what he had to do next. The wagon was still in the water, the horses struggling in vain. He couldn't leave them to drown.

Pylos, his voice weak and shaky, called after him, "Caelum! What are you doing? Come back!"

But Caelum didn't stop.

He swam with all his might, the icy water biting into his skin as he fought against the current. Driven by a desperate need to make sure everyone—everything—was safe.

As he reached the wagon again, he could see the terror in the horses' eyes, their movements growing weaker with every passing moment. He reached out, grabbing the harnesses with both hands, and snapped them clean with his hands.

"Come on, come on," he thought to himself, as the horses thrashed under the water, still being crushed by the weight of the wagon and the water.

Caelum summoned every ounce of his strength and pushed the wagon with all his might. The icy water fought against him, but he was relentless, driving the heavy mass straight toward the hull of an Ironborn ship he could see beneath the surface.

The wagon moved with surprising speed, propelled by his overwhelming strength, and slammed into the ship's hull with a deafening crash. Wood splintered and shattered, creating a massive hole in the vessel.

Bubbles erupted around him as the ship began to take on water, the impact rippling through the river. Caelum didn't wait to see the full extent of the damage. He grabbed hold of the horses, who were weak but still struggling, and with a determined pull, he swam toward the high rocky banks.

As he emerged from the water, Pylos and Fern, who had been watching anxiously, gasped in astonishment. They stared in wide-eyed disbelief as Caelum tossed the horses onto the riverbank, their muscles quivering from the cold.

"Caelum… how…?" Pylos's voice trembled with a mix of awe and fear, his eyes darting between Caelum and the horses now scrambling to their feet, shivering but alive.

Fern echoed Pylos's shock, her voice barely above a whisper. "What… what did you just do?"

The horses, now on solid ground, shook off the water and bolted away from the river, their instincts driving them to safety.

Caelum watched them go, a pang of hurt piercing his chest as he noticed the fear in his friends' eyes. It was a look he had dreaded—a look that made him feel like a stranger among them.

But there was no time to dwell on it. He pushed the hurt aside and refocused, his voice steady as he spoke. "We need to get to the inn. We're not safe here."

Pylos, still bleeding from his left foot, limped toward Caelum, his face pale and drawn. "Caelum… how did you do all that?" His voice was shaky, laced with fear and confusion.

Fern, still in shock, nodded. "Please, Caelum… we need to know."

Caelum looked at them both, his heart heavy with the burden of his secret. But they deserved to know something—he was done hiding. "I'll explain on the way," he said, his voice calm but firm. "But right now, we need to move."

Fern hesitated, then nodded, shakily. "You're right. We can't stay here."

Caelum led them through the deserted section of the city, the eerie silence broken only by the distant sounds of battle.

The streets were empty here; everyone had already fled toward the safety of the citadel and the sept. They moved quickly, making their way toward Ragpicker's Wynd, close to the Learned Anchor. Fern's face was tight with worry, her eyes darting around as if searching for any sign of her father.

Sensing her anxiety, Caelum spoke softly, trying to reassure her. "Your father is alright, Fern. Maester Marwyn is with him."

Fern glanced at Caelum, her eyes wide with a mix of hope and fear. "How… how do you know that?"

Pylos, still cradled in Caelum's arms, winced from the pain in his foot but managed to ask, "Yeah, Caelum… how could you know that?"

Caelum hesitated for a moment, then sighed. There was no turning back now. "I can do a lot of things," he admitted, his voice low. "I can see through walls. I can hear people from miles and miles away. I am watching him right now, Fern. He is helping women and children who couldn't flee in time hide in his inn."

Pylos's eyes widened in shock, his mind racing to piece together the implications. Suddenly, it all clicked. "That night… the attack on the manse by the Honeywine… It wasn't a demon, was it? It was you!" His voice was filled with a mix of realization and disbelief.

Caelum stiffened, then nodded, his expression somber. "You are right. It was me. I couldn't just stand by while Maester Qyburn tortured those people. I had to stop him."

Fern, still trembling from the cold and fear, looked at Caelum with a new understanding. "I… I suspected you had learned magic from Archmaester Marwyn," she said shakily. "But I never imagined… this." Her voice trailed off, as if she was still trying to comprehend the full extent of what she was hearing.

Caelum gave a small, sad smile. "The Archmaester helped me control my abilities. He knew I couldn't keep them hidden forever."

Pylos, despite his pain, suddenly exclaimed as another realization hit him. "That's why you're always running off! You're out there helping people—every time you disappear without a word!"

Caelum nodded, his pace quickening as they rushed through the streets. "Yes, but right now, we need to focus on getting to the inn."

Suddenly, Caelum stiffened, his eyes widening in alarm. Pylos, still in his arms, noticed the change and asked nervously, "Caelum… what's wrong?"

"The inn," Caelum said, his voice tense. "The Ironborn have made it there. Liernen is still inside. We need to hurry!"

Fern gasped, her heart lurching in her chest as panic set in. She nodded, pushing herself to keep up with Caelum as they sprinted through the desolate streets, the smell of smoke growing stronger with each step.

They took a sharp turn toward the river, the Learned Anchor looming closer.

As they rounded the corner, the scene before them was one of utter chaos. Ragpicker's Wynd was ablaze, and so was the section of the city where the Learned Anchor stood.

Ironborn raiders swarmed the area, their cruel laughter mingling with the cries of the wounded. Hightower guards and some knights fought valiantly, but they were outnumbered, struggling to hold their ground against the onslaught.

"We have to cross through that?" Pylos's voice was small, filled with fear as he took in the scene before them.

Fern bit her lip, her mind racing. "Why didn't my father flee?" she whispered, her voice trembling with worry.

"He's sheltering the women and children from the brothels of Ragpicker's Wynd," Caelum explained, his voice urgent. "They couldn't run far enough. The inn is large enough to be defended by a few guards."

Fern nodded, determination etched on her face as Pylos stared at Caelum in a mix of awe, fear, and something close to reverence. Caelum met his gaze briefly, then turned away, pushing aside the unease that look gave him.

"We'll have to stick to the back alleys," Caelum said, his voice firm. "We only need to cross one block to get to the inn."

Fern nodded again and led the way toward the alley behind a butcher's home, little more than a pigsty. The stench of blood and old meat filled the air, but none of them complained. The sounds of clashing swords and shouting men grew louder as they moved closer to the inn.

"We have to clear the inn!" a guard's voice rang out, strained with the effort of battle.

Another voice, urgent and weary, replied, "We're outnumbered! We need to retreat, regroup at the sept, and wait for the main garrison from the Hightower!"

An Ironborn raider's jeering laughter cut through the air. "By the time they come, we'll have made off with your women and gold! Run while you can!"

A knight's voice, grim and resolute, retorted, "The main garrison may not show. The Hightower is on fire, and these squid bastards have choked the exits through the labyrinth. We're on our own."

The three kids crept through the alley, with Fern guiding them toward the inn. "This way! We're almost there," she whispered urgently, her eyes scanning the path ahead. Caelum led the way, shouldering through several wooden walls with ease, the wood splintering under his strength like it was nothing.

Pylos, wide-eyed as he watched Caelum's effortless strength, couldn't help but murmur, "How… how are you doing that?"

They were halfway across when a burning building beside them groaned and collapsed, blocking their path with a wall of flaming debris.

Caelum, still carrying Pylos, stared at the blockade for a moment, then took a deep breath, feeling a familiar chill grow in his gut. He exhaled sharply, a stream of frost escaping his mouth and quenching the smoldering fire, turning the flames to icy ash.

Fern watched in awe, her breath catching in her throat as she whispered, "Ice… amidst all the fire…"

Without hesitation, Caelum pushed through the cooled debris, shoving aside the icy remains as he kept Pylos secure in his arms. They emerged onto a burning street, and there, at the end, stood the Learned Anchor. The inn was guarded by several archers on the rooftops and a few knights and guards battling the Ironborn raiders in the streets below.

Before they could take another step, a guard atop the inn shouted, "Raise the shields! Incoming volley!"

Arrows whistled through the air, a deadly rain of sharp metal descending upon them. There was no time to run or hide. Fern, driven by desperation to reach her father, had already darted halfway across the street.

"Fern, no!" Caelum shouted, his heart lurching with fear as he sprinted after her, Pylos still clutched in his arms. He knew he wouldn't reach her in time.

With a burst of pure determination, Caelum hurled Pylos toward the door of the inn, just strong enough to send him skidding safely inside. As Pylos tumbled through the doorway, he gasped, "Caelum, no—!" But before he could say more, Caelum, without breaking stride, leaped toward Fern, every muscle in his body straining.

In the blink of an eye, as thunder rumbled ominously overhead, Caelum threw himself over Fern, shielding her with his body. The arrows struck, pelting his back with relentless force.

Fern gasped, her eyes wide with fear and awe as she looked up at him. "Caelum… you're—"

But Caelum felt no pain. The arrows had embedded themselves in his cloak and clothing, but his skin remained unscathed. When the barrage finally ceased, Caelum looked down at Fern, his voice filled with concern. "Are you alright?"

Fern's breath hitched as she reached out to touch his back, her fingers trembling. "Caelum… you're not hurt. How… how are you not hurt?"

The other men in the street had been too preoccupied with the battle to notice them, but now, as the chaos began to settle, they were starting to turn their attention toward the alley.

Caelum gave Fern a reassuring smile, though there was a hint of something sad in his eyes. "I'm alright, Fern. Everything's alright."

Fern shook her head, her voice filled with disbelief as she inspected his torn cloak, finding no wounds beneath. "Did you know… did you know the arrows wouldn't hurt you?"

Caelum hesitated, then shook his head slightly. "No… I didn't know. But I knew they would hurt you."

Before she could say more, an archer from inside the inn spotted them in the middle of the street and shouted, "There are kids out there! Get them inside, now!"

Liernen's voice rang out from behind the archer, filled with a mix of relief and urgency. "Fern! What in the hells are you three doing here?! You should have stayed outside the city! Get inside, quickly!"

Caelum didn't waste a second. He scooped Fern up into his arms, and dashed toward the safety of the inn.

Caelum, with Fern secure in his arms, quickly entered what little safety the inn provided. The moment they were inside, Liernen rushed forward, gathering Fern from Caelum's arms and pulling her into a tight embrace. His voice trembled between scolding and sobbing, "What in the hells were you thinking, Fern? Coming here, into the heart of this madness? I— I thought I'd lost you."

Fern clung to her father, tears mingling with the soot on her cheeks, "I'm sorry, Papa… I had to find you."

The inn's main hall was filled with huddled figures—mostly women and children—who were gathered away from the windows. Some sat on the stairs, while others were upstairs in the rooms, trying to comfort each other or treat what wounds they could. The air was thick with tension and fear, every face etched with the terror of what lay outside.

A few guards were stationed in the inn—four in total. Three archers were positioned at the windows, firing volleys in support of the men battling the Ironborn in the streets. A lone swordsman stood near the door, his grip tight on his weapon as he listened intently to the sounds of the fight outside.

By the fire stood Maester Marwyn, finishing treating the wound of a whore from Ragpicker's Wynd. As he finished, he turned and locked eyes with Caelum, his gaze penetrating and knowing.

For a moment, nobody spoke, the only sounds coming from the guards as they fought to hold off the attackers.

But Caelum couldn't afford to stand still. He had to help—he could hear the cries for help echoing in his mind, the desperate voices from all across the harbor and docks pulling at his heart.

He turned to leave, his movements quick and almost frantic.

"Caelum," Marwyn's voice was firm, cutting through the chaos. "Are you certain of what you're thinking of doing?"

Liernen, still holding Fern, looked between the Maester and Caelum, confusion turning to realization as his eyes widened in horror. "No… Caelum, you can't be serious. You're just a boy. You'll get yourself killed out there!" He stepped forward, his voice rising with desperation. "You brave, stupid boy! What do you think you're doing?"

Pylos, still clutching his bleeding foot, shook his head and let out a hysterical laugh. "You don't know, Liernen… you don't know what Caelum can do."

Liernen turned sharply to Pylos, his face pale. "He's just a boy! He has no place out there, not against them!"

But Pylos's laughter only grew, tinged with a note of madness. "No, Liernen… it's Providence. Those bastards out there… they have no idea what's coming for them."

Fern, still held by her father, stared at Caelum with a mix of fear, awe, and worry. Her lips trembled as she forced a shy smile, her voice soft, "Please, Caelum… be safe."

Liernen looked at his daughter, aghast. "Fern, don't encourage this madness! He's—"

Before anyone could say more, an archer by the window shouted, "Take cover!" But his warning came too late—arrows whizzed through the window, deadly and swift.

Liernen gasped in horror, but that horror turned to awe as Caelum moved in a blur, catching the arrows in mid-air before they could strike the archer. The room fell silent, every eye on Caelum as he calmly held the arrows in his hand.

Caelum turned toward the window, his expression calm yet resolute. He climbed onto the windowsill, turning back to face the inn's occupants.

He looked over his shoulder, gaze settled on Liernen and Fern, his voice steady and smiled. "Don't worry, Fern. I'll be just fine."

As thunder rumbled in the distance, the storm's fury reflected in his eyes, which now glowed a dark, fiery red.

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(A/N)

Time for our boy to shine!