POV: Jon Stark, At Sea Near Pentos
I knelt beside the seventeenth woman, my hands resting on her chest.
I had already repaired the physical damage, but I had not revived her yet.
I reached into her right arm and start building the water catalyst into the tissue.
As the catalyst took shape, her fingertips began to change color. The flesh darkened to an unnatural gray, then changed to blue, as if dyed by ink that had soaked through from within. A large blue circle appeared on her palm, perfectly round, with fine blue lines radiating from it to each fingertip like the spokes of a wheel.
Water magic. She could now generate and control water with the same precision I had given my enhanced birds.
I moved to her left arm and repeated the process with the fire catalyst. As it formed, her fingertips turned red, and a matching red circle appeared on her left palm.
Next came the Faceless Man. I built a simplified version into the back of her right hand, a small dark circle no larger than a coin.
Then I moved to her brain.
Loyalty was not something that could be trusted to chance or persuasion. I reached into the neural pathways that governed trust, allegiance, identity. I dissolved the old connections and built new ones.
I also modified her reproductive system, giving her conscious control over her menstrual cycle. A practical adjustment that would make her life easier.
Finally, I created the secondary brain.
This was the most delicate work. I built it near her heart, a smaller cluster of neural tissue connected to the primary brain by specialized pathways. This secondary brain would control all the magical catalysts, manage the enhancements, process the complex calculations needed for precise magic use.
And it would serve as a warging anchor.
I wove the warging capability into its structure, creating a silent communication link that connected her to the other sixteen women. A hive mind of sorts, though each woman retained her individual consciousness and free will. They could share information instantly, coordinate without speaking, act as a single unit when needed.
I pulled my hands away and took a breath. The work had drained me, but not as much as it would have weeks ago.
My life force had grown. Expanded. Each time I drain it to revive someone, to spark life where there had been none, I felt it strengthen. In the past few days alone, I estimated my biological energy had increased by twenty percent.
Eventually, once I had enough data, I would modify myself. Optimize my own body the way I had optimized Ghost and the birds and these women.
But I'm not making any changes now, because there is definitely more powerful catalyst then fire and water, if they had some requirement I don't…
I placed my hands on the woman's chest again and injected my life force. Her heart began to beat on its own. Her lungs drew breath. Her eyes opened, violet and clear.
She looked at me with absolute devotion.
"Welcome back," I said quietly.
I waited a moment to ensure she was stable, then implanted the mana node near her heart.
Another woman stepped forward from the shadows. She looked identical to the one I had just revived, down to the smallest detail. A clone, created from the same genetic template. She held a set of simple clothing.
"Move your fingers," I said to the newly revived woman.
She flexed her hands. The blue and red circles on her palms glowed faintly.
"Water. Just a small jet."
She extended her right hand. A thin stream of water erupted from one of her blue fingertips, arcing through the air before dissipating.
"Fire."
Her left hand rose. A brief burst of flame shot from her red fingertips, controlled and precise.
"Good." I looked at the second woman. "Test her. Make sure she is stable."
The second woman approached and began a physical examination, checking joints, reflexes, balance. The newly revived woman stood patiently, allowing herself to be inspected.
Satisfied, I left the hold and climbed to the deck. This ship was separate from the main fleet, smaller and faster, hidden among the captured Golden Company vessels.
I walked to the hull where the other fifteen trained.
They moved in perfect synchronization.
Five of them stood in a line, their right hands extended. Jets of water erupted from their blue fingertips, the streams cutting through the air with lethal precision. They manipulated the jets like tools, crossing and weaving them, creating patterns in the air.
Another group stood with their palms facing upward. Blue circles glowed. Orbs of water formed above their hands, hovering, spinning slowly. One woman brought her orb down to a suspended piece of wood and used the pressurized water within it to cut. The wood fell away in shavings, revealing an intricate carving beneath.
I walked closer and examined it.
A life sized bust of my own face, carved with terrifying precision. Every detail was perfect. The curve of my jaw, even facial hairs!
The woman who had carved it looked at me and smiled.
Others practiced fire magic, creating controlled flames that danced across their fingertips. A few were sparring with swords.
Fire, water, Faceless, warging. Four types of magic, all integrated into one body.
They were perfect. Deadly and loyal.
I called ghost, who was on main ship, in few moments it landed in front of me.
I climbed onto his back, gripping his fur. He leaped from the deck of the smaller ship, crossing the gap between vessels with ease.
….
POV: Oberyn Martell, Pentos
The manse was grand, far grander than anything the Golden Company had earned through honest work. High ceilings, imported marble, furnishings from Volantis and Yi Ti. All of it seized now, claimed by Jon Snow as spoils of war.
I sat at a long table in the dining hall, picking at roasted lamb and olives. Jon sat across from me, eating methodically, his mind clearly elsewhere. Ghost lay near the door, massive and watchful. A few of my daughters were present, along with Ellaria, who smiled at me over her wine cup.
My thoughts drifted to Young Griff.
Aegon, he had called himself. The lost prince. Rhaegar's son, miraculously saved from the sack of King's Landing.
A lie. A well crafted, carefully maintained lie.
When I first discovered the truth, that this boy was an imposter groomed by Illyrio Mopatis to play the role of my dead nephew, I had wanted to kill him myself. Slowly. With great care and attention to detail.
But Jon had stopped me. He had explained, with infuriating logic, that the boy was merely a pawn. Illyrio was the one who had orchestrated the deception. The boy had been raised to believe his own lie, trained from childhood to be someone he was not.
So I had settled for a different kind of revenge.
A week. Seven glorious nights. Ellaria and I had used that wooden chest as our bed, and we had made certain it shook. Violently. Enthusiastically. For hours at a time.
The corners of the chest had grown wet by the third night. Whether from sweat or tears or piss, I neither knew nor cared.
It had been satisfying in a petty, cruel way. Not the vengeance I truly wanted, but enough to soothe the wound.
The chest had been moved two days ago. A servant responsible for feeding the prisoner had complained to Jon about its condition. He had ordered the chest removed immediately and transferred to a different ship.
I had not asked which ship. I suspected Jon had plans for the boy that went beyond my simple cruelties.
Now, sitting in this captured manse, eating food paid for with stolen gold, I found my focus shifting.
The petty revenge was over. The real work was beginning.
One of the servants approached Jon. She was beautiful in that striking Valyrian way, silver gold hair, violet eyes, skin like pale silk. She moved with grace and confidence, her posture perfect.
She stopped beside Jon's chair and spoke, her voice low and inviting. "My lord, have you finally decided, would you like us to serve you tonight?"
The other servants, all of them watching Jon with open interest, they were offering themselves.
Jon did not look up from his plate. "I have a different task for you."
The woman's smile did not falter. "Of course, my lord. What do you require?"
"You will prepare dinner at Illyrio's manse, I will have supper with him."
She blinked once, surprised, but nodded immediately. "As you command, my lord."
She turned to leave. Jon's voice stopped her.
"It will be a test of your ability," he said, his tone flat and final. "I will be observing."
The woman paused, then bowed slightly. "We will not disappoint you, my lord."
…..
(A/N: I will upload extra chapters according to the power stones received.)