There is an old saying in Westeros: "Dark wings, dark words."
But they had never seen my ravens.
The Flame-Scribed Scrolls
Atop the Tower of the Skyforge — a needle-like spire grown from obsidian by my own hand — I stood with arms outstretched. Around me, a dozen black-feathered ravens circled, their wings shimmering faintly with crimson markings.
These were not ordinary birds.
Their eyes burned faintly orange.
Their talons carried more than ink.
[Custom Unit Created: Flameborn Ravens][Trait: Spell-Sealed Intelligence, Firebonded Scrolls, Loyalty: Absolute]
Each raven bore a scroll sealed with wax and branded with my sigil: Three dragons, the black one flying above the red and white.
But unlike ink-and-quill nonsense, my messages could only be read by those attuned to me — or burned if intercepted.
And today… I sent the first of them out.
"To Casterly Rock," I said aloud. "To Riverrun. To Sunspear. Let the great houses hear the heartbeat of the storm to come."
Lucien stepped beside me. "And what do they read?"
I smiled.
"They read truth. That the world has changed. And gods walk again."
Letters to Lords
To House Martell, I offered a vision of unity and flame-kissed fertility — a future where Dorne's fire was not ignored but elevated.
To House Arryn, I promised skies without end and protection in exchange for quiet loyalty.
To House Stark, I offered winter steel shaped in fire — and warned them that when the South rose, those without dragons would freeze in history.
Each letter ended the same:
"Bend your knee not to a king, but to the fire of creation.The Dragonflame Creed rises — and with it, the only empire that shall ever matter."
Not all would answer.
But all would read.
In Oldtown...
The High Septon sat rigid in his marble chair as the raven landed.
His wrinkled hands broke the wax, expecting another heretic confession.
Instead, fire licked the edges of the scroll as he opened it.
It whispered to him.
It whispered his death.
By the time the words finished, the fire was gone — and so was the scroll.
[Secret Trigger: Terror +100 Activated in High Septon][Faith of the Seven Alignment Shift: 2% toward "Militant Crusade"]
"We must end this child," he gasped.
But even his voice trembled.
Because somewhere deep inside, he knew…
No god he worshipped could protect him now.
The Shadow Court Moves
That night, Lucien stood in the Hall of Whispers with Shade.
Below them were maps marked in blood and flame. Dots where my creed had sprouted in secret.
Oldtown. Gulltown. Lannisport. Fairmarket. Duskendale.
"Within two years," Lucien said calmly, "half the continent will have heard of you through whisper or wonder."
"And when the armies march," Shade added, "their wives will already kneel to your sigil."
[Religious Influence: +4,500][Political Tension Level: Moderate][Hidden Followers in Great Houses: 6/7]
The Faith thought to kill me.
They hadn't yet realized…
They were already mine.
A Dragon's Insight
That evening, I sat alone with Balerion beneath the stars, the sea below us molten with reflected light.
"Do you think they'll listen?" I asked him.
He blinked slowly.
"They will burn."
"Not yet."
"But they will."
I closed my eyes.
The fire of the world beat beneath my skin like a second heart.
And I saw them — the High Septon praying in terror, Tywin Lannister reading my message with scorn, Doran Martell weighing the words with careful silence.
Soon…
I would not need to write.
My presence would be enough.
Ending Note
The last raven flew that night — toward the east, past the sea, toward Braavos.
It carried no scroll.
Only fire.
And the Iron Bank would learn the same truth as the rest:
The dragon had awakened.
And his wings were black and crimson