The murmur in Vaemor's mind did not repeat itself, but its echo seemed to continue vibrating in his chest, as if the walls themselves had spoken to him. He wasn't sure if it had been real or an illusion caused by the heat and exhaustion. Either way, he didn't mention it. He knew the others would find it strange.
The air inside the tower had changed. Before, it had been thick and suffocating, as if they were breathing liquid fire, and now, after the ritual, it seemed lighter, though it still burned their throats. Zaryon noticed it too.
"I don't know what the hell you did," he said, looking at the pedestal that now glowed softly, "but it works."
"Now what?" asked Kaelyth, wiping the sweat from his forehead with his forearm. "Do we stay here and die of heat, or do we look for a way out?"
Vaemor did not answer immediately. He approached one of the walls, where the runes were now illuminated, and discovered a relief he had not noticed before: a dragon coiled around a hidden door. He placed his hand on the figure and pushed. The stone gave way with a low creak, revealing a spiral staircase leading down.
We're going down, he said, without turning around.
What if whatever's roaring out there is down there? Maekor asked, with a nervous smile.
Then we'll find out, Vaemor replied dryly.
The descent was stifling. Each step seemed to vibrate beneath their feet, as if the tower were watching them. The torches on the walls burned with a strange, greenish fire that cast no shadows. Aerys stopped at one of the landings and ran his fingers over the runes carved into the wall.
"They're names," he said quietly. "Ancient Valyrian names."
Whose? Daenyr asked.
Those who built these towers. Or... those who awakened them before us.
The idea made them all glance at each other. How many had passed through here before them? And where were they now?
When they reached the end of the staircase, they found themselves in a long corridor flanked by statues. Men and women with fine features, straight hair, eyes carved from shiny stone that seemed to move in the light. Some held swords, others scepters, others simply stared ahead with a disturbing solemnity.
I don't like this, Kaelyth whispered, her hand on the hilt of her knife.
"They're guardians," Aerys said, without taking his eyes off the statues. "That's how the Valyrians represented their illustrious dead."
"And why do I feel like they're watching us?" Maekor growled.
Vaemor said nothing, but he felt the same way. It was as if the carved eyes followed their every step.
The corridor ended in a circular room, smaller than the upper chamber. There were fallen chests and shelves, charred remains of furniture, and in the center, a blackened metal structure that resembled a forge.
This... Aerys stepped forward and ran his hand over the metal. This is a Valyrian forge.
The words made everyone fall silent.
You mean... Zaryon began.
That Valyrian steel was worked here, Aerys completed, reverently. Perhaps even the first weapons.
Kaelyth began rummaging through the debris and found something that made everyone come closer: a sword. It wasn't large, but the blade, though covered in dust, still gleamed as if it had just been tempered.
This is no ordinary iron, Kaelyth said, astonished.
No, Aerys said. It's Valyrian steel.
Vaemor took the sword. He felt a strange warmth run through his arm, as if the metal recognized him. He put it away without saying a word.
Then they heard it.
Not a roar, but a wet, repetitive clicking. Something crawling.
What is that? Daenyr whispered.
The sound grew closer, echoing through the corridors. Vaemor signaled, and they all backed toward the wall, weapons in hand. The creature appeared in the hallway: an elongated being, covered in dark scales, with short limbs and small, bright eyes. Its mouth opened, revealing two rows of black teeth.
A fireworm, whispered Aerys, horrified. One of those that fed the forges.
The creature hissed and advanced slowly.
Vaemor raised the Valyrian sword. The metal seemed to vibrate in his hand.
Back up, he ordered.