Chapter 488

R’hllor chose to communicate with Aegor through dreams for a variety of reasons, but the most critical was efficiency. This method, compared to possession or physical manifestation, was far less taxing and conserved precious divine power—a necessity for the goddess to prepare for her long slumber and the upcoming struggle against the forces of darkness.

From a practical standpoint, “energy-saving” equated to a quieter approach, and indeed, no trace of their interaction within the dream—their debates, their revelations, even the world-shattering truths—left any mark on the physical world. Only when the goddess cast down a fragment of herself—a scale—into the waking world did her actions create unavoidable disturbances, causing a minor energy expenditure and a faint ripple of divine presence.

For a being of such immense power, awakening Aegor had been no more than the snap of her fingers. But for the lesser beings who inhabited Westeros, particularly the supernatural entities and R’hllor’s devoted followers, it was nothing short of a miracle.

The semi-draconic scale, imbued with a fragment of its mistress’s power, descended from the heavens and crashed into the central keep of Last Hearth. It pierced the roof, burned through Aegor’s blankets, and embedded itself into his chest. The scale’s fall seemed like a meteor striking the earth, but at the moment it reached his body, it decelerated with precise magical control to avoid harming its recipient. The result was a feat of awe-inspiring brilliance, a demonstration of power so deliberate and refined it left witnesses stunned.

The instant the scale came to rest, the energy it had carried discharged, releasing enough heat to nearly start a fire and unleashing an explosive burst of divine presence. Though brief and of negligible magnitude compared to the goddess’s true power, this eruption of divinity was pure and overwhelming—enough to terrify nearby sorcerers or inspire uncontrollable reverence in R’hllor’s faithful. The latter was precisely the case for two of her most devout servants: Melisandre and Moqorro.

The moment they sensed that wave of power, the two high priests dropped everything and raced toward the source, desperate to understand what their goddess intended. Guided by the lingering trace of her presence, they hurried to the keep and encountered Aegor at the base of the stairs. They were about to question him, but the moment their gazes met, they froze. Both sides stood still, staring at each other, speechless.

Seeing the stunned expressions on the priests’ faces, Aegor quickly realized they must have sensed something unusual. As he debated how best to reveal the news and establish authority over them, a fleeting thought of self-doubt crossed his mind: Why bother pretending? He was the goddess’s chosen representative, appointed by her will, not some imposter. Why act as though he needed their validation? If anyone was skilled at theatrics and manipulation, it was these priests. Trying to outdo them would not only risk making a fool of himself but could also cast doubt on the legitimacy of his appointment.

There was no need to put on a show—just being himself would suffice.

Standing on the stairs, Aegor abandoned any attempt at pretense. Looking down at the two red-robed priests, who had halted mid-step, he offered them a faint smile and spoke first. “Lady R’hllor has issued her divine decree, appointing me as her representative in the mortal world. My purpose is to oversee her faithful and coordinate their efforts toward her next great goal.”

Both priests visibly relaxed, though Aegor himself was unaware of just how potent the divine aura emanating from him was. He couldn’t have known that even if he’d claimed to be R’hllor herself, they likely would have believed him.

“‘Lady’?” Melisandre’s sharp eyes locked onto Aegor, catching the key detail in his words. “You’ve seen my lord’s true form? She is… a woman?”

Aegor was momentarily stunned. It wasn’t that he was careless enough to let crucial information slip—it simply hadn’t occurred to him that even R’hllor’s most powerful followers had never seen her true form.

On reflection, he realized it was likely a deliberate strategy to maintain her mystique and authority. Still, his casual comment had undermined that effort. Though mildly annoyed at himself, Aegor dismissed it as a minor mistake. After all, R’hllor herself hadn’t forbidden him from mentioning her gender.

“Yes,” Aegor said evenly, feigning calm. “She appeared to me as a woman. But I don’t think her form is the point of discussion. Whether she manifests as male or female, she remains the Heart of Flame, the god of shadows and fire, and one of the only true deities in this world. Isn’t that what truly matters?”

The two priests exchanged glances, their eyes filled with unspoken complexity.

Both had devoted decades, even centuries, of unwavering service to R’hllor, yet they had only ever seen fragmented visions in the flames—blurry, incomplete glimpses of her will. Neither had ever beheld even a shred of her true form. And now, standing before them was a mere mortal, a man without the slightest trace of magical ability, who had been granted a personal audience with their goddess.

Why him? What had he done to deserve such an honor?

“I agree,” Moqorro said at last, his voice tinged with barely suppressed jealousy as he scrutinized Aegor for any hint of falsehood. “The important matter is what divine decree our lord has issued, her grand new purpose, and what we must do to fulfill it.”

Aegor hadn’t anticipated running into the red priests immediately upon leaving his quarters, so he had no prepared response. Determined not to blurt out another unintended revelation, he took his time, deliberately crafting his answer.

He offered a slow, measured smile, a performance of calculated gravitas. Once he’d composed himself, he began to speak.

“Lady R’hllor has witnessed our struggle against the White Walkers, fought without the support of the Seven Kingdoms. She has decided to end humanity’s fragmentation and infighting, ensuring that when her enemy returns, the Wall’s defense will be backed by the strength of the entire mortal world.”

“To achieve this, she has commanded all her followers to unite behind the cause I will support—the Queen’s campaign to march south, unify the Seven Kingdoms, and rebuild the Freehold’s fortress of old.” Aegor turned to Moqorro. “You, Moqorro, will return to the Great Temple in Volantis and inform the other priests of this divine mandate.” He then looked at Melisandre. “As for you, stay by my side. Continue advising me as you always have, and provide whatever aid I require. Any questions?”

Both priests hesitated briefly, unused to being commanded by a mortal. Yet the unmistakable divine aura surrounding Aegor left no room for doubt. After a moment, they bowed and offered their assent. “We will obey the will of our lord.”

That easy?

As Moqorro departed without hesitation, likely to prepare for his journey, and Melisandre stood silently, awaiting further orders, Aegor raised his brows in surprise. Just moments ago, he’d worried about how to handle potential challenges to his authority. Despite being chosen by R’hllor, he lacked magical power, and the goddess had left him no means to communicate with her or appeal for help. Yet it seemed the priests needed no convincing.

Turning to Melisandre, he allowed his curiosity to surface. “I have to ask—why don’t you doubt the authenticity of my appointment as her chosen representative?”

“Not at all,” Melisandre replied without hesitation. “You should know that we commune with our lord—no, with Lady R’hllor—through flames. Even the most powerful priests rarely receive direct responses. Yet, no matter the silence, we always feel her presence, uninterrupted. But after the Battle of the Long Lake, something changed. Both Moqorro and I could no longer sense her at all. It wasn’t just a lack of response—there was nothing.”

Ah. So, in most cases, R’hllor remained “online,” enduring the constant prayers of her followers, though she rarely answered them. After driving the Great Other back into the depths of winter, the weakened goddess had likely severed all connections to avoid being disturbed. She had, quite simply, gone offline.

Such capricious behavior suited her nature. For a deity willing to sacrifice children en masse, simply ignoring her followers was practically merciful.

Though understanding dawned in Aegor’s mind, he chose to say nothing. Instead, he gestured for her to continue.

“We had planned to return to Volantis to investigate the cause of her silence. But this morning, as you communed with Lady R’hllor, we both saw the same vision in the flames—your face.” Melisandre’s gaze held a hint of something unreadable. “It is exceedingly rare for two priests to see the same vision simultaneously. In fact, I’ve never experienced it before. I suspect the other high priests—Benerro, Kinvara, and others—may have seen the same. This appears to be her formal announcement of your appointment as her chosen representative.”

Oh? Aegor raised an eyebrow, faint amusement curling his lips. For all her flaws and harsh methods, R’hllor had proven herself meticulous and methodical as a leader. Even if her rewards were miserly, as a superior, she had handled this transition flawlessly.

“Did she not tell you any of this?” Melisandre pressed, eager for details but cautious about prying too openly.

Aegor recognized her desire for information, but he also knew he had to tread carefully. With R’hllor now likely in hibernation and unable to provide further support, his survival depended on maintaining an air of mystery. The details of his meeting with the goddess would remain his greatest secret and weapon.

“We’ll discuss that when the time comes. For now, walk with me.”

Despite the interruption, Aegor stuck to his plan. He would head to the stables and test the effects of the dragon’s aura imbued in the scale on animals.

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