Daeranyx's POV
A black ring of flames erupted from the earth, materializing with an almost supernatural speed. It expanded outward from our side, encircling the Crowl forces before they could retreat into the valley. Those unfortunate enough to have reached the gap before the flames completed their enclosure were reduced to nothing—not even ash remained. The sheer ferocity of the flames left no doubt about their deadly nature.
Lord Crowl and his men recoiled in terror, instinctively stepping back from the twenty-foot-high wall of fire. Their faces betrayed a mix of fear and hopelessness. Some fell to their knees, praying to the Old Gods for deliverance, while others stood frozen, their expressions etched with sheer horror.
"By the gods," I heard Lord Magnar mutter under his breath, his voice barely audible.
Lord Stane, usually composed, stood awestruck, his gaze fixed on the flames, his eyes brimming with a mixture of wonder and trepidation. Our own forces were no different, their wide eyes and slackened jaws betraying their disbelief at the sight before them.
I funneled more magic into the spell, and the flames roared in response, their intensity increasing. The heat became unbearable, scorching the air within the fiery barrier.
"King Daeranyx," Lord Stane said cautiously, his voice carefully measured, "I never knew you wielded such formidable power."
His tone betrayed a cautious respect, but I detected the subtle undercurrent of fear. Lord Magnar, snapping out of his stunned silence, shifted his attention to me, waiting for my response.
"One must always keep a few cards hidden," I replied with a faint, teasing smile.
Lord Stane shook his head, though his wary gaze lingered. Ignoring their unease, I conjured a second ring of flames within the first, forming a barrier that radiated deadly heat and magic. Amplifying my voice with a charm, I addressed the Crowl forces, ensuring all could hear me clearly.
"Your lord has refused to bend the knee, even after I promised him the prosperity of Skagos and its people," I declared, my voice carrying over the battlefield. "Instead, he allied with wildlings who have raided your lands and slain your kin. To what end? To kill me—the one who offers you protection from those who threaten your lives, the one willing to provide food and resources in exchange for your loyalty?"
I paused, letting my words sink in. The fear and unease among their ranks were palpable.
"He claims to value freedom above life itself, but what about you? Does your life mean nothing to him? If it did, would he not have at least heard my terms?"
My gaze swept over the field, noting the anger and betrayal beginning to replace fear in the eyes of Crowl's men.
"Now, none of that matters," I continued, my tone softening just slightly. "Here and now, I give you the right to choose your fate. Cross the second ring of flames with loyalty in your heart and the desire to see Skagos prosper, and you will live. Remain where you are, or approach the flames with ill intent, and you will perish."
The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the crackling of the flames.
"I doubt anyone in their right mind wo—" Lord Stane began, but his words faltered as one of the Crowl men dropped his weapon and hesitantly stepped forward.
He paused just before the ring of flames, looking toward me with tear-filled eyes. I nodded in reassurance. Steeling himself, he closed his eyes and stepped into the fire.
Gasps filled the air as he emerged unscathed on the other side. The man fell to his knees, sobbing, and began to pray—not to the Old Gods, but to me.
I suppressed the discomfort rising within me and kept my gaze steady. His survival sparked a ripple effect. Encouraged by his success, others followed, crossing the flames with trembling steps.
One of the wildlings attempted to do the same, but the flames devoured him instantly. His death served as a grim reminder of my earlier warning.
"Crossing with deceit or betrayal in your heart will only lead to death," I announced, my voice unwavering.
Over the next half-hour, the Crowl forces dwindled as men made their choices. Many attempted to cross, but not all succeeded. By the end, the number of those who joined us matched our own forces when we arrived.
"To those who have come to our side," I said, addressing the survivors, "know that you have made a wise choice—one you will never regret. I swear to you that your loyalty will be rewarded, and your lives will flourish under my rule."
I turned my attention to Lord Crowl and the wildling leader, who were both standing helpless amid the flames, their faces etched with anger and desperation.
"Lord Stane," I said, my tone calm but firm, "would you like to see what real unicorns look like?" I asked the lord beside me, who was observing everything with an indifferent expression.
Lord Stane hesitated briefly confusion clear in his eyes, then nodded, a newfound respect—and fear—shining in his eyes.
With a heavy heart, I prepared for what was to come. Extending my will, I commanded the black flames to take the shape of a massive unicorn. The fiery beast, both majestic and terrifying, reared on its hind legs before charging into the remaining Crowl forces.
The screams of the doomed echoed briefly before the flames consumed them utterly, leaving nothing behind—not even ash.
When the last of the flames flickered out, the unicorn neighed loudly, its cry hauntingly beautiful. The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the occasional, audible gulps of Lords Stane and Magnar.
"I trust you will ensure the remaining men are well cared for," I said to Lord Stane, whose conflicted expression softened into reluctant resolve.
He nodded.
As I turned my mount toward the camp, I glanced at the barren battlefield, a sigh escaping my lips. "I hope I never have to do that again," I muttered, casting a brief, pointed glance at Lord Magnar.
Thoughts of constructing keeps and castles swirled in my mind as I rode away, determined to build a future worthy of the sacrifices made today.
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One and a half Moons later
Daeranyx POV
I entered the grand hall of my newly constructed keep, my steps echoing off the polished black stone walls. The sheer magnitude of the castle is inspired by the grandeur of Hogwarts—a fortress capable of housing a thriving community and exuding an air of magic and power.
After Lord Magnar bent the knee, I began scouting Skagos for a location worthy of my vision. It didn't take long to find the perfect spot: a hill near the dormant volcano. The site was ideal, not only for its strategic vantage point but also because the volcano is home to Anarion, my dragon. With the use of magic, I planned to harness the volcano's heat to keep the keep warm during the brutal winters, much like Winterfell's geothermal warmth but much warmer than that.
The throne room was the heart of the keep, its opulence designed to awe and inspire. The black stone throne sat atop a raised dais, its armrests carved with intricate depictions of magical creatures—griffins, wyverns, phoenixes, and more. At the crown of the throne stood a ferocious dragon, its maw open in a silent roar that seemed to challenge any who dared look upon it.
As I climbed the steps and took my place on the throne, I turned my gaze toward Lord Stane and Magnar. Both men regarded me with newfound respect. They had seen my commitment to my promises—promises of prosperity and protection for Skagos. Behind them stood the first visible step toward that goal: The Shield.
The Shield was a newly formed force of disciplined, well-equipped men, trained to defend Skagos from any who might threaten it. For now, it served as a protective army, but I envisioned something greater—a network akin to the City Watch of King's Landing, though far more efficient and far-reaching. With the right magical enhancements, The Shield would have the ability to mobilize swiftly across all of Skagos, ensuring safety and order across the entire island.
While Anarion alone could deter most threats, Skagos needs a strong foundation to grow and flourish. For that, they must be capable of protecting themselves when we are not present in Skagos.
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