Game of Thrones: I Created the Weave

A cold, clear white light shone down from above.

All the assistants and apprentices looked up in awe, the King behind the pure white sphere of light was so dazzling, yet his face was indistinct, as if he were an angel that mortals could not look directly upon.

Hallyne and several wise men who had descended to the hall also couldn't help but look around.

Under the illumination of the light, the stone walls, pillars, and figures were clearly visible, as were the narrow tunnels connecting various areas, the mysterious patterns carved on the panels, the heavy ancient wooden and iron doors, and the dark stone platforms that resembled altars.

What a magnificent and beautiful hall, a glorious masterpiece of the Guild's predecessors. Hallyne excitedly and proudly recorded everything he saw.

It had been decades, and this was the first time he had seen the full view of this hall so clearly.

Although this hall was still some distance from where the wildfire was stored, the heat from the flames should not ignite the wildfire deep underground.

However, out of caution, and coupled with long-standing habits and traditions, everyone in the Guild had always used sealed oil lamps for lighting, and braziers or torches had never been used.

Even the Iron Torch Corridor, which was closer to the surface, usually had no exposed open flames, except for extremely important moments, such as welcoming the King.

Hallyne raised his head to look at King Joffrey, the bright white light blurring the King's face, like looking directly at the sun.

Fortunately, he finally discerned that the King had nodded.

Receiving the command, Hallyne turned to look at the black stone altar in the center of the hall; the sacrifices were already in place.

It was today, it was now, the rise of the Guild, the revival of the Alchemists, as long as the Son of Fire was successfully born.

Hallyne checked the setup at the scene with unease.

The outer wall of the altar was inscribed with a magic array recorded in ancient texts, the ink mixed with fresh blood, sulfur, silver powder, and wildfire.

On the platform of the altar were nine wooden crosses, and the sacrifices were locked onto the crosses, motionless.

Three sacrifices had been slaughtered early, their blood gradually flowing into the incised patterns on the altar.

Three sacrifices were wearing nooses, waiting only for the fire to start, and the assistants waiting nearby would immediately hang the sacrifices, offering their souls and death to the ritual.

The last three sacrifices were deeply asleep, unharmed.

The sacrifices were surrounding a full vat of lamp oil.

Hallyne then took out the scroll from his怀, examining the ancient incantations transcribed on it word by word, ensuring there were no errors, lest all their efforts be in vain.

This incantation needed to be recited nine times, rotating through three languages three times. Hallyne and the wise men had spent several days determining its specific meaning, and then a long time practicing the recitation until they were fluent without any pauses.

Finally, he looked at the ground.

The crystals bestowed by the King outlined a Six-Pointed Star array two zhang long on the ground. In the center of the Six-Pointed Star was the black stone altar where the sacrifices were located. Hallyne himself and the other five wise men each stood at a corner.

This Six-Pointed Star array was not a requirement of the ritual recorded in the texts.

But Hallyne's greatest confidence came precisely from this extra magic array, or rather, the crystals containing the power of Divine Grace.

Records of ancient rituals were not uncommon, and Hallyne believed that their predecessors must have made many attempts. The results were predictable; the lost spells had still not taken effect.

The ancestors had many conjectures about this. Dragons, magic, and even gods.

Hallyne once didn't know which explanation to believe. But now, with just a few crystals, the production of wildfire could be greatly accelerated, without even needing more incantations or magic arrays.

Hallyne seemed to know the reason why those spells had failed. It wasn't dragons, it was the power behind the crystals.

The Son of Fire, would it like crystals?

Hallyne took a deep breath, the damp, cold air filling his nostrils and chest, calming his restless thoughts slightly.

Then, he looked at the other five wise men one by one.

Through their exchanged glances, the mysterious ritual, lost for countless years, quietly began.

The six wise men slowly unfolded the scrolls in their hands.

The first recitation of the incantation was in the Common Tongue brought to Westeros by the Andals. Hallyne and the others chanted loudly together.

"Great Master of Flame and Life, You are...

Your followers here pray, ..., accept the sacrifices we devoutly offer, respond to the call of the ritual...

Spirits of the leaping flame, ..."

The voices of the wise men echoed continuously within the vast hall, trembling, intense, and fervent, as if calling upon the god they believed in.

The second recitation was in High Valyrian, which sounded more fluid and beautiful, like a poem.

The third recitation was in Asshai'i, the words short and connected, even more mysterious and profound, completely an obscure magic incantation.

Joffrey watched quietly from the high platform.

The incantation sounded very ordinary, just some words and phrases in several languages, seemingly very easy to copy.

But Joffrey had conducted a large number of experiments.

Melisandre and the Alchemists' dances and incantations did not work for everyone.

Even if someone completely replicated them, and provided sufficient Source Energy around, there was still no guarantee that the corresponding magic could be used.

The source of the magic's power, the high-level runes that suddenly appeared, were likely backed by multiple powerful beings, and they would also perform some kind of selection on those who sought power.

How was this response mechanism achieved?

What was their, or Their, state?

Do they possess human-like thoughts, wisdom, or emotions?

Joffrey only knew that they had not revealed themselves. As for the reason or motive, it remained a complete mystery.

"Great Master of Flame and Life..." The six wise men within the magic array chanted the second round.

Master of Flame and Life. Joffrey pondered this title.

Does this refer to the Lord of Light?

Another being?

Or merely a meaningless, exaggerated name, solely to make the spell appear more mysterious?

"Great Master of Flame and Life..."

The wise men chanted the third round, and began to strike strange poses, moving faster and faster, gradually dancing, like a ball of fire.

Bang~

The magic array on the outer wall of the altar suddenly ignited, deep green flames snaking upwards, clinging to every black stone they reached, scorching the entire altar.

The assistants, who had been waiting for a long time, quickly tightened the nooses, ending the lives of the three sacrifices.

The souls of the three sacrifices slowly dissipated into the air.

Joffrey looked towards the top of the altar.

Two intricate patterns were drawing Source Energy from the crystals, transforming it into dense starlight, which sprinkled down onto the altar.

A vat of lamp oil on the altar quickly glowed green.

The wise men gradually retreated, their incantations and dances still ongoing.

The fire snakes on the outer wall of the altar climbed onto the platform, advancing towards the vat of Wildfire in the center.

The wise men stopped chanting and ran outwards frantically.

Boom~

The Wildfire exploded and shattered, the emerald green flames instantly engulfing the entire altar.

The Wildfire consumed the three unconscious sacrifices; they awoke in intense pain, but the only thing they could do was shriek in despair, until their throats were destroyed and their bones turned to ash.

Hallyne climbed onto the high platform, panting, and came to the King's side.

Joffrey focused on observing the altar.

The Wildfire leaped incessantly, the emerald green flames shooting up several feet high. All nine sacrifices were burned to ash, leaving behind only six formless souls.

Silver starlight entangled the souls, dragging them towards the intensely dancing Wildfire.

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