[This arc has dragged a bit long and I would be uploading two chapters today to finish this arc. While these are only two chapter, the next chapter is more than twice the length of a normal chapters. After this, our action will shift back towards Slaver's Bay and the free cities. So, please send some more power stones for the extra chapter.]
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[You can check advanced chapters on my P@treon where the story has reached quite an eventful point and this week is going to be an action packed week on P@treon. As of now we are 15 chaptes ahead on P@treon and by end of week we will be 16 chapters ahead.]
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Jon narrowed his eyes, waiting for the first warlock to speak further and reveal more of his secrets.
"It is as Lady Melisandre said," the first warlock drawled. "I am immortal, though not entirely. You could say that my soul is immortal but my physical body was not immortal."
"The first body I had possessed, my original body, was the best, the most suitable, and the most compatible vessel for me," he continued. "That body endured for centuries. In it, I was truly immortal."
"But even that body eventually decayed with time, and it finally gave way. It was then that I devised a method… a way to take over another body. Yet none since my first have been as perfect. After that, every vessel I found could endure no longer than a century. I have lost count of how many bodies I have worn since my original form perished."
"Not only that," he said. "The power I could wield in different bodies also varied greatly. For my original body, I was immensely powerful. But then with weak bodies, I was a lot weaker."
"But now…" he laughed. "After I take over your body, I will be powerful. Even more powerful than I was in my original body."
Jon's brows furrowed and he ignored the comment of the first warlock taking over his body. "How does this work? Changing bodies? Is it something only you can do, or can the other warlocks do it as well?"
The first warlock laughed, the sound echoing with unsettling amusement.
"I truly appreciate how calm and curious you remain, even on the verge of death," he said. "But perhaps this is what that much magic, that much power in your blood does to you. It gives you such confidence. Marvellous."
"But no," he said at last, his tone turning sharp. "No one else can do what I do. I alone wield this gift. I am not like the others. They are my creations, my shadows. We stand in entirely different leagues of power."
"As for the method," he grinned. "It is a bit complex. Better not to discuss it."
Jon did not react but he could tell from the first warlock's expression that whatever method he used was something really disgusting. He then glanced at the three warlocks standing silently behind the first.
"And these three?" he asked. "Are they any different from the eight I killed? More powerful?"
The first warlock gave a dismissive shrug.
"Not really," he answered. "They just belong to an older generation, so they are a little more powerful than them but nothing beyond that."
"Is this your source of confidence?" the first warlock added, his pale lips curling into a faint smile. "Do you believe that because you managed to kill them, you will be able to kill us as well?"
"I do not know how you accomplished it. What method or what deception you used, but do not imagine you can replicate it here."
Jon shook his head. "I am not hoping for anything. I only thought that before I die, I might satisfy my curiosity."
"How old are these warlocks?" Jon questioned further.
"The oldest one is more than a century and half old," the first warlock replied, gesturing to the warlock on his right. "If this is what you were wondering. And any average warlock, in these conditions with extremely thin magic, lives more than a century."
"And with magic coming back to the world, they could easily live up to more than two centuries."
The first warlock's tone was too calm, too relaxed for someone whose eight subordinates out of eleven had just been slain. Either he was overconfident or simply too powerful to care.
"And earlier," Jon pressed, "you said that I woke you from your slumber. What did you mean by that?"
"It is an interesting question," the first warlock smiled, his blue lips curling faintly. "And I will answer it. One last question, before I grow impatient. I am eager to take over your body. I can almost feel that power coursing through your blood."
"You see," he continued, "I am a very powerful warlock, too powerful. And for me to live, to remain the immortal that I am, I require an immense amount of magic."
"But after the Doom of Valyria, the magic in the air began to thin… thinner and thinner. It became harder and harder for me to remain alive. I was forced to sleep for longer and longer periods just to keep my body working. Even draining the magic from corpses ceased to be enough. And with time, the magic all but vanished from the air."
His pale eyes gleamed with an eerie light.
"Eventually, there came a time when I was forced into an eternal slumber. The magic in the world could no longer keep me awake, not even for a moment," he said.
"When I forced myself into eternal slumber, a couple of centuries ago, I had not really hoped that there would come a day that I would be able to wake up. I had thought that before I could wake up, the House of Undying would be gone."
"But, a few months ago," he continued. "The magic seemed to return to the world. My warlocks were able to get their powers… get their magic back."
"But still that thin piece of magic was not enough to wake me up," he said. "But then you arrived in the city."
"And my eyes snapped open," he grinned. "I could have felt your power even before you set foot in the city. I was able to wake from the slumber."
Jon narrowed his eyes, struggling to make sense of the situation. How could his presence truly change anything? Yet he could not dismiss the warlock's words outright. He bore the magic of both Targaryen and Stark blood within him. That much was undeniable.
He knew the warlock was not entirely lying but still, it was difficult for him to understand.
"And how do these warlocks gain their powers?" Jon put up another question.
"I have already answered the last question I was supposed to answer," the first warlock said with a small smile as his eyes turned towards the warlock whom he had just described as the oldest.
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