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123 AC, Chroyane
Pyat Pree stood at the helm of the ship that he was sailing on, almost feeling the sheer excitement of the Undying Ones at the back of his mind. His target should come soon from the depths of the cursed city of Chroyane, according to the visions that the blind Red Priestess received, the one that he had discreetly had access to while in Volantis.
The Warlock had to admit that the road to this city hadn't been an easy one. It was clear that Benerro, the High Priest of R'hllor, had also recognised Chroyane in the visions, especially given the subtle mobilisation of magi towards the river Rhoyne.
As much as that meeting in Volantis was about unity against a common threat, it quickly appeared that it truly was about starting a race, one that Benerro cleverly convinced most magical sects in Essos that it would require his leadership to achieve.
Normally, Pyat Pree wouldn't have tried to be so aggressive against the Red Faith, let alone the small army of magi that Benerro tricked into serving him. Alas, the Undying Ones' will was unyielding, and despite having to face an entire continent's magic users, it seemed that Pyat Pree's gambit had paid off this time.
He had hired every pirate ship near Chroyane to escort him and his warlocks to their destination, with most guarding their rear in case they were attacked. After all, he didn't wish to risk being taken by surprise. It wasn't hard to find the pirates. They were everywhere in the Sorrows, the stretch of the Rhoyne above Chroyane. It did cost him a significant sum of gold, but then again, gold was meaningless compared to magic, compared to true power, compared to the Undying.
He had also discreetly caused the Volantis fleet to be delayed for a few weeks, thanks to a few careful sabotages using illusions. That had halted Volantis' routine patrol into the Rhoyne, and delayed Benerro's designs for their race, as the ports became closely watched by the Triarchs of Volantis, who, as well as the so-called Old Blood of the city, feared the Red Faith's growing influence.
For once, Benerro's greed and political ambitions were stopping him. How ironic.
Ah, politics. Pyat Pree did not enjoy them at all, preferring drinking Shade of the Evening, and relishing in the wisdom of the Undying Ones, or perhaps using his growing power thanks to the resurgence of magic in the world. Unfortunately, as the voice of the Undying Ones, he often had to engage in politics, but that wouldn't be for long. As soon as he finished, Pyat Pree would ascend amongst the Undying Ones, and he would no longer have to concern himself with such things again.
Pyat Pree didn't know why Benerro was so involved with the politics of Volantis. He could likely start a revolt and wipe out the Old Blood, but hadn't done so for some reason. He wasn't arrogant enough to think that he could outmanoeuvre Benerro completely, but he could delay him. After all, the High Priest of R'hllor would not have expected them to go so far in their race.
Many of the pirates who refused Pyat Pree's generous offer proved their worth in other ways. After all, sacrifice was an extremely potent form of magic. A few crews' lives had been enough to create a gigantic illusion of Chroyane to the south of the ruined city, near Volantis. That should be enough to trick most people, or at the very least delay Benerro enough that Pyat Pree would have found his target and started to flee back to Qarth.
And it had worked exactly as intended.
There were no traces of Benerro, his Red Priests, or any of the magic users that aligned themselves with him in fear of the display of power in Volantis.
It did help that Chroyane was a blind spot to the Red Faith's very powerful future sight, and that the Undying Ones had taught Pyat Pree how to foil their sight. All it took was a few sacrifices, which he had many at his disposal.
And now, they remained outside the mist that surrounded the city, ready to capture their target. Three of the large pirate ships were hidden thanks to his illusions, with their entire crews completely armed. There were also hundreds of his warlocks standing near the shores in a circle, ready to perform the magic that the Undying Ones had taught him, one that would allow him to defeat the creature that the Undying Ones hoped to acquire, which would allow them to defeat Death itself, to truly become endless, undying, as their namesake suggested.
It took the shape of a man, a weak-looking one, if Kinvara's visions were to be believed. The Undying Ones did not tell him much, but Pyat Pree surmised that there was something inside the man that they wished to take, some devastation that piloted him, and had great power. But the man, himself, obviously feared them.
From each devastation that the creature left, it was obvious that it was fleeing every sect of magic users it could find, or at least, avoiding them. It went to Westeros, a land whose magi had been hunted down to extinction centuries prior, and in Essos, it fled Valyria, whatever giving it power obviously helping the creature survive against the cursed nature of the city's ruins.
There were a few things that did not make sense, including the death of a god in the far west, but that did not matter. Pyat Pree's faith in the Undying Ones was resolute, and he knew that he lacked the wisdom to question their choices.
He would obey them as he always has, and their spell would bind this being to their will, and they shall feast on him and raise him to greater heights than any before them.
Their plan had already helped him outplay Benerro, and for that alone, Pyat Pree trusted their judgment more than ever. Soon, the Temple of the Undying would rise above all else, and Qarth would regain its title as the greatest city that the world has ever seen.
It was obvious that whatever power resided within the creature was limited in some way. After all, it knew that there were people after it, after its power. It had shown that during the incident in Volantis. However, it hadn't tried to retaliate. Instead of attacking Qarth or Volantis, or any of the Temples of R'hllor, the creature had chosen to flee, to go to this twisted city, likely hoping that the cursed mist within would protect it from more visions, or perhaps that the threat of greyscale would be enough to deter them.
Yet, Pyat Pree was not deterred, not at all, for his masters would protect him from any blight or curse until he fulfilled his purpose and joined their number.
All of this came to the question of why such a creature, which, as it might look like a man, was actually an inhuman being according to the Undying Ones, would flee if it was not weak.
If Pyat Pree could guess, it would be that whatever was inhabiting the human vessel of his target was some kind of God or demon, something that was limited in the living world, while it would be immensely powerful in its own domain. Though the Undying Ones did call it the Walking Death, or perhaps more ominously, Destined Death, which made him think that the creature was something more, something that his masters had not found it fitting to teach him quite yet.
Whether he was correct or not didn't change anything. He trusted the wisdom of the Undying Ones, and they would lead him to power and victory.
Pyat Pree's thoughts were interrupted as a burst of golden light illuminated the sky briefly. It took him some time to notice that the mist had gotten slightly thinner, to allow that much light through. The Warlock of Qarth could almost feel the power that had radiated from that light, and he couldn't help but feel unnerved as something felt completely wrong to his senses. It was akin to a loud noise that he could barely hear through his connection to the Undying Ones.
Fearing that something might have gone awry, Pyat Pree drank a big gulp of Shade of the Evening, his mind expanding as he started to openly communicate with the Undying Ones.
Pyat Pree's masters responded quickly, but their reply confused him more than anything. He felt the sheer excitement they radiated at the sight, which was contrasted by the disquiet that he couldn't help but feel at the noise.
It took a few moments for them to take the time and explain to him what had happened.
Another god had perished.
That did explain the unease he felt. The world reacted harshly to the death of a god, and it reminded him of what happened moons prior, when a Westerosi Sea God perished, though to a much smaller scale. The dead god must not have been a very important one.
Still, for the Undying Ones, it was proof that their target was near, that they would finally ascend to what they should have been and truly defeat Death itself. Also, it was likely that the creature would even be weakened after the battle with the god, meaning that their plan would go through flawlessly.
Finally, a small boat appeared from the depths of the mist, and Pyat Pree had to close his eyes to stop the Undying Ones' anticipation from overwhelming him.
This was it, the product of moons of work, of a small mountain of gold and dozens of his warlocks losing their lives. Pyat Pree raised his hand, dispelling the illusion of the ships and finally facing his enemy for the first and final time.
Pyat Pree looked down, almost smirking at the small vessel compared to his own. Yet, he would not let his hubris get the better of him like so many lesser men. Then again, there was also something satisfying about his target looking up at him in fear.
He found his target easily, for he was the only man in the small ship. He also looked exactly like the man in Kinvara's visions. Though the warlock did not expect the man to have brought two women with him, one who looked around the same age as him, and another not even a woman grown.
That did not concern him. After all, what were two additional deaths in what would be today's massacre? Perhaps he could use them to appease the pirates he employed, who would, no doubt, be unnerved by what they were about to witness. Then again, it wasn't like he was planning on letting them live for too long anyway.
Pyat Pree then cast a large illusion of many clones of himself surrounding them on all sides. It was better for them to think no to escape through the shores. After all, the Undying Ones' spell needed them not to move too erratically.
He then graciously opened his arms and addressed his target, "We greet you with joy. You sail under an auspicious tide. You have been granted the rare honour of serving the interests of the Undying Ones, where you shall experience their wisdom and truth."
His target, the man who was wearing a strange hat, looked him in the eye despite the distance and spoke up with a surprisingly steady voice, given the fact that he was surrounded by three pirate ships and what seemed to be an army of sorcerers, "Can we not?"
That brought the warlock short, but he did not mind a delay, given that he was trying to buy time for his Warlocks to finish the spell. "We offer you purpose in servitude that would surpass what many would even dream of. Many would call this a kindness."
The man raised a hand, "Yeah, whatever. All of that is very nice and everything, and I'm sure that you're all very proud of what it is that you want to do, but you see, we've had a rather emotional day. I just don't have the time, let alone the patience, to deal with any of this. So, why don't we call it a day, and we can get back to this some other time?"
Pyat Pree had rarely felt speechless by any reply. He had expected many things: aggression, resignation, or even defiance. But outright dismissal was not one of them, especially with his display of magic.
However, before he could retort, one of the pirates standing next to him, whose name Pyat Pree did not even attempt to learn, yelled out, "Fuck that! Even if the fuckers let you go, I'm not leaving without a taste of these lovely lasses of yours."
The men cheered at that proclamation, every single one of them leering openly at the two women in the much smaller ships. One of them went so far as to point at the one with Valyrian features with a grin full of yellow teeth. "That one especially. Look at her; fair skin, soft hands. Valyrian, ain't she? Bet she screams like a…."
Pyat Pree's target stiffened and stared up at them, and the Warlock couldn't help but feel a sudden sense of danger coming at him. He could almost feel the Undying Ones urging him to hurry, as he slowly took off his hat.
He quickly urged one of his illusions to get his subordinates to finally activate the ritual.
In a single moment, hundreds of people, the pirates who chose not to accept his offer, were killed by the many warlocks who finally revealed themselves across the shores of the river, and their blood slowly dripped down, almost turning the water crimson around the smaller boat.
The warlocks started to chant, just as the Undying Ones had demanded of him, and Pyat Pree's eyes widened in shock as he realised what was happening. He had wondered why his masters had not asked him to chant alongside them, and now he knew, for the chanting warlocks suddenly fell down, like dolls with their strings cut.
In this moment, dozens of his own subordinates, people that he had trained for decades, perished. They were a drop in the ocean, but he couldn't help but mourn them for just a fraction of a second before ordering the rest to be ready for a possible battle with their target.
The spell almost reached its climax, an illusion that could even trap gods, all from the genius and the wisdom of the Undying Ones.
Pyat Pree closed his eyes, relishing that his duty would finally be fulfilled. However, another sense of urgency from the Undying Ones brought him out of his early sense of victory, as he noticed that his target was still staring impassively at him, his hat in one of his hands, while the other one was raised. Somehow, he was completely alone, the two women having vanished in thin air.
He snapped his finger, and the spell seemingly backfired completely, and she recoiled, sending him flying back, landing in the back of the ship. His warlocks, who were sustaining the spell, had likely shared that same fate.
Pyat Pree stood up, feeling slightly disoriented. He called to the Undying Ones and found nothing, something or more accurately, someone, stifling his connection with them. It was a terrifying experience to see the world without the Undying Ones' wisdom in the back of his mind, especially given how much he needed it at that moment.
He hurriedly looked around for his Shade of the Evening, which should renew the connection with his masters, only to be able to find nothing in the chaos. However, what he did see was that the crimson water started to glow, the spell seemingly ready to collapse completely.
Seeing what was about to happen, he quickly ran out of the boat, jumping with agility that most people would not expect from him, before the river erupted as if it were made of Wildfyre, sending him and the pirates flying towards the river.
Pyat Pree could feel his skin burn as he fell into the river, the stench of blood and smoke filling his lungs. The heat faded quickly, replaced by cold. He forced himself to the surface, gasping for air, before barely managing to steady himself on a piece of floating debris.
He swam his way to the shore of the river by some kind of miracle and crawled his way up. Then he saw it, the body of one of his Warlocks. He saw the small flask around him, which gave him hope for survival.
He crawled towards the body through pure desperation, and he came truly close, only to freeze as he saw the man who was once his target, standing casually with the same impassive expression on his face, staring down at him judgingly.
And just like that, Pyat Pree knew that he had lost everything and surrendered his fate to the man who had defeated him.
He never raised his voice; that was the worst thing. He did not yell, he did not boast. He just stayed in complete silence, which spoke more of his quiet fury than anything else he could have done.
And then, he understood why. Why this man, this creature, who had killed gods, who had shaken the world with his presence, had run away from them and not retaliated despite knowing that they were hunting him.
He was being kind. He was being merciful.
Pyat Pree had watched in silence as he drove the surviving pirates mad with just a look, likely using some kind of illusion, and they slaughtered one another. Not many had survived the ritual's collapse, though he thinks that the ones who perished had been the lucky ones.
His fellow warlocks had not fared better. There were more survivors, but he trapped them in an illusion, an endless dream. They would live forever in their own minds, while they drowned in the river, their bodies suffering, until they died of old age.
As for Pyat Pree, he stood frozen, his entire body suspended in time. The man enclosed him in a statue, which would stand vigil in front of the remains of Chroyane, completely severed from the Undying Ones, a remnant of his kind fury. However, his mind would remain, constantly seeing the world, yet not being able to act on it. Forever.
They wished to be truly undying, and the man made sure that they did.
As the man walked away from the carnage in silence, Pyat Pree had no doubt in his mind that the Undying Ones would be next to suffer his wrath, Death's wrath, and for the first time in his life, he doubted that they would survive it.
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AN: I've been saving that one for some time, and it was a lot harder to write than I expected. I sort of wanted the defeat to be a bit sudden, I guess. By that, I mean that I wished for Pyat Pree to be so confident before everything quickly spiralled out of control when Harry actually got serious. And let's be honest, the Warlocks of Qarth wouldn't have a chance at surviving if Harry even took them slightly seriously. As usual, please let me know what you think and if you have any suggestions.
[---]
If you want to support me, check out my patréon at https://www.patréon.com/athassprkr
I tend to upload drafts of early chapters on there to get people's opinions on them, so you can read up to 20 chapters ahead as a bonus.
Thank you guys for your support in these hard times.