The Sorcerer’s War

Hey Guys You can support me at : buymeacoffee.com/scoldeyjod

A Battlefield in Silence

The creature was gone.

Its final words still echoed in Harry's mind, a whisper of dread carried on the wind. The battlefield was eerily quiet, as if even the war itself had paused to acknowledge the magnitude of what had just transpired.

Jon Snow stood panting, Longclaw slick with blood, his gaze flicking across the war-torn land. Bodies lay scattered—some burned beyond recognition, others twisted into unnatural shapes by dark magic. Smoke rose in thin columns, mixing with the morning mist.

Harry lowered his wand, his hand trembling. The celestial magic had taken more out of him than he had expected. He felt light-headed, his vision swimming for a moment before he steadied himself. The air was still thick with residual energy, but the presence of the Shadowborn's beast had faded.

Daenerys landed Drogon near the ridge, her silver hair singed at the ends from the battle's heat. She slid off the dragon's back, her violet eyes scanning the field.

"What… was that thing?" she asked, her voice controlled but laced with unease.

"A nightmare given form," Harry replied, his voice hoarse. "But it's gone."

Davos Seaworth sheathed his sword, wiping sweat from his brow. "Aye, gone. But at what cost?"

All around them, the cost of victory was visible. Hundreds of bodies lay motionless—Northern soldiers, Dothraki warriors, Unsullied, and even some of their closest allies.

And yet, the enemy had not been completely destroyed.

Tyrion Lannister approached, his golden hair streaked with dirt and dried blood. "They've pulled back," he reported. "Vaelor's army has retreated beyond the ridge. They've taken heavy losses, but…"

"But they're not beaten," Jon finished grimly.

---

Scouting the Ruins

Arya Stark emerged from the shadows, silent as death. Her dagger dripped with the blood of fallen sorcerers, but her face remained impassive.

"We took down three of their necromancers," she reported. "The dead stopped rising after that. But there were more. Too many."

Jon nodded. "Did you find anything?"

Arya hesitated for a moment before pulling something from her cloak—a blackened scroll, its edges curling with dark energy.

"This was on one of them," she said, handing it to Harry.

Harry unrolled the parchment, his brow furrowing as he tried to decipher the runes scrawled across it.

Tyrion peered over his shoulder. "Can you read it?"

Harry shook his head. "Not yet. But this isn't like the usual necromantic spells. This is something older… and more dangerous."

Daenerys crossed her arms. "Then we take no chances. We destroy it."

Harry hesitated. "No. Not yet. If we can understand their magic, we can find a way to stop it for good."

Tyrion sighed. "Fine. But keep it away from any fools who might think reading it is a good idea."

Davos snorted. "Aye. The last thing we need is someone accidentally summoning another one of those things."

Harry tucked the scroll into his robes, feeling the lingering magic pulse against his fingers. He didn't like this—not one bit.

---

A King's Decision

That evening, the war council gathered in the ruined great hall of an abandoned keep near the battlefield. The walls were cracked, the ceiling partially collapsed, but it was the only shelter they had.

Jon stood at the head of the long wooden table, Daenerys beside him. Harry, Tyrion, Arya, Davos, and the other commanders took their seats, their faces weary.

Tyrion poured himself a goblet of wine. "So, what's our next move?"

Jon exhaled slowly. "Vaelor's army has retreated for now, but they won't stay away. They were testing us. And next time, they'll come prepared."

Davos nodded. "Aye. They saw what we could do, and they'll be planning their next attack. We can't wait for them to strike first."

"We have to take the fight to them," Daenerys said, her voice firm.

Harry frowned. "That's exactly what they want. They lured us into battle with their dark mages, and now they're waiting for us to make a reckless move."

Arya leaned forward. "Then we don't attack blindly. We hunt. We find their commanders, their sorcerers—cut the head off the snake before it can strike again."

Jon nodded. "Agreed. But we also need to reinforce our defenses. If another one of those creatures appears, we need to be ready."

Harry looked down at the blackened scroll he had taken from the necromancer. His instincts told him that whatever knowledge it contained was dangerous, but it might also hold the key to stopping the Shadowborn's magic.

Slowly, he made his decision.

"I need time to study this," he said. "If we understand their magic, we can counter it before they summon something worse."

Tyrion arched an eyebrow. "Worse than that thing?"

Harry met his gaze. "Yes."

Jon exchanged a glance with Daenerys, then nodded. "Then we'll hold position for now. We recover, we strategize… and we prepare for the next battle."

---

The Unseen Threat

Far beyond the battlefield, in the heart of the enemy's encampment, a lone figure stood inside a darkened tent, watching the events unfold through the eyes of shadows.

A deep, unsettling voice spoke from the darkness.

"The beast has fallen. But the wizard… he is stronger than we anticipated."

Another voice, quieter but no less dangerous, replied.

"He is not from this world. His power is foreign to us. But all magic has limits."

The first figure turned, their eyes glowing violet in the darkness.

"Then we will find his limit. And we will break him."

The shadows deepened, curling around the tent like a living thing.

"Let the true war begin."