Three-Eyed Crow POV
Brynden, now bearing the title of The Three-Eyed Crow, found himself confronted with an enigma. A young man named Baldur, a member of the Free Folk, had undergone a remarkable transformation in the past few months. Change was a natural part of life, but the manner in which Baldur had evolved was anything but ordinary.
From a meek and unremarkable individual, Baldur had metamorphosed into a figure marked by a chilling demeanor and calculated actions. Delving into Baldur's history revealed that he lacked the opportunity to acquire the knowledge and skills he now possessed. It was clear that he wasn't the source of these ideas; such intelligence and inventiveness would have surfaced long ago had they originated from within him.
The rapid progression of Baldur's unnatural knowledge suggested an external influence. While mystical occurrences were not uncommon in Brynden's world, even by his standards, this was an anomaly that puzzled him.
Typically, Brynden concerned himself with matters that aligned with his grand purpose, leaving little room for contemplation of broader events. However, the magnitude of Baldur's impact compelled him to deviate from his usual path. The boy's emergence had caused significant ripples that demanded attention.
Could it be possible that Baldur had been bestowed with a divine blessing, despite its improbability? The gods had long slumbered, patiently awaiting the resurgence of magic in the world. Although their influence remained feeble, it still prevailed in regions where magic held greater prominence.
If indeed the boy had been graced by a deity, Brynden recognized the necessity of subjecting him to tests. The looming threat of the Long Night, with the Others poised to return and unleash their army of the undead, loomed ever closer. Brynden sensed its impending arrival.
Most of Brynden's preparations for the impending conflict were complete. Hidden throughout the North were crypts containing the trials he had devised. These crypts, filled with treasures, awaited those worthy enough to discover them and claim their power to wield in the upcoming battle.
Coincidentally, it appeared that Baldur was already on a path that led to one of these tests—a tomb once inhabited by a long-forgotten king. Brynden had claimed it for himself years ago, and the dormant trials within were now primed to be activated. It was there that Baldur would face his own trial.
The traps and puzzles meticulously arranged within the tomb served as tests of both perceptiveness and intellect. Brynden knew that the inheritor of his sword could not be impulsive or thoughtless. Only those with foresight and patience would prove worthy of wielding the weapon.
As Brynden's keen, three-eyed gaze surveyed the land, he felt a mix of apprehension and anticipation. The trials awaited, ready to unveil their challenges, and the fate of Baldur and the impending Long Night hung in the balance.
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Brynden found himself deeply disappointed by Baldur's reckless approach. The young man had stormed through the barrow, barely sparing a moment to observe his surroundings longer than a few minutes, and effortlessly circumvented the carefully laid traps and obstacles. To Brynden's surprise, Baldur reached the final chamber days earlier than anticipated.
Although Baldur's performance thus far had been lackluster—ignoring his magical gifts—it was in this ultimate test that Brynden placed his highest hopes. This trial would reveal if Baldur possessed the capacity for true transformative change, the willingness to sacrifice himself for the greater good. Seated upon a throne crafted from the ancient roots of a majestic weirwood tree, Brynden's puppet awaited, serving as a tenuous connection to the outside world that he rarely engaged with.
Through the puppet's eyes, Brynden observed Baldur's entry into the chamber. The moment the young man crossed the threshold, he paused, his eyes rolling back as he was thrust into the depths of his darkest memories. Only by emerging from this ordeal as a better person would he prove himself worthy. Failure meant he was not deserving.
Within seconds, Brynden watched in awe as roaring flames erupted from Baldur's motionless body. The inferno expanded, engulfing the boy completely until he was obscured by the blinding blaze.
"Azor Ahai?" Brynden pondered to himself, his eyes fixed on the fire that consumed Baldur. The intensity of the flames sent a surge of apprehension through him. "No, that cannot be right... His fury... it would scorch the world!"
The fiery figure, wielding his weapon, directed his wrath toward Brynden's puppet, his voice dripping with pain and anger, "You're going to regret subjecting me to those memories."
With a resigned sigh, Brynden manipulated the puppet, compelling it to rise and brandish its blade, preparing to strike down the unworthy youth. He believed that Baldur posed a grave threat to the world, a menace that had to be extinguished. Brynden sensed it in his core, an ominous foreboding that could not be ignored.
"You... are... not... worthy," Brynden's voice echoed weakly through the puppet, its tone raspy and feeble. As the puppet assumed a ready stance—a mere distraction—Brynden exerted his control over the weirwood roots within the chamber. Serpentine tendrils snaked towards Baldur, aiming to ensnare him and restrain his ferocity.
But as a tendril coiled around Baldur's form, the defiant young man unleashed a snort, his raging inferno intensifying and incinerating the encroaching appendage. A searing pain coursed through Brynden, and he watched helplessly as the weirwood roots around Baldur began to crumble to ash.
This turn of events was far from favorable, and a profound sense of unease settled upon Brynden.
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Baldur POV (a few hours ago)
Baldur couldn't shake off the feeling of being watched, haunted by the presence of the crows that seemed to follow his every move. Whenever he sought out the source of this unsettling sensation, he would discover a crow perched high on a nearby object, its penetrating gaze fixed upon him.
For an ordinary person, this might have seemed inconsequential, a mere coincidence of nature. But Baldur was no ordinary individual; he was a demigod. To him, these crows held significance, representing a symbol or familiar sent by someone to spy on him. Though it was bothersome, he doubted they would gather any truly valuable information. Nonetheless, upon his return, he made a mental note to prioritize developing anti-scrying measures.
Disregarding the persistent crow, Baldur diligently packed up his camp, ready to embark on his journey once again. The previous day, he had come across the fork in the river and decided to rest before venturing further in search of the tomb.
Munching on leftover elk meat, Baldur traversed the snowy landscape and crossed the frozen river. He was grateful for the powerful enchantment he had placed upon his boots, as the sheer amount of snow and ice surprised him. Without such magical aid, he would have been forced to trudge through the treacherous terrain, tripling the time it took to reach his destination. Opting to save the beauty of the valley for another occasion, Baldur hastened along the path parallel to the river until he reached the base of the mountain with its shattered peak.
Slowing his pace, Baldur carefully scanned the mountain's surface, searching for any signs of an entrance. Eventually, he spotted faint indications of a stone path carved into the mountainside. Clearing away the snow, Baldur discerned the weathered appearance of the quarried stone steps. While he couldn't pinpoint their exact age, it was evident that they had been placed there centuries ago.
Due to the relentless snowfall, it was impossible to determine if this path had been frequently traversed. However, the image of a group ascending the mountain barefoot sprang to Baldur's mind as a potential clue. Regardless of whether the path led him to his desired destination, Baldur resolved to follow it. Fortunately, the steps curved and ascended, leading him steadily toward the mountain's peak. By the time he reached the summit, he discovered a flat, open expanse that once marked the pinnacle.
The surroundings revealed a scene of desolation, with broken arches and mounds of snow shrouding everything except for a pair of imposing bronze double doors. Baldur proceeded cautiously, each step measured and deliberate, his heightened senses alert for any signs of traps or danger.
Upon reaching the doors, he marveled at their remarkable preservation. The surface of the doors was adorned with an array of runes, albeit ones that Baldur deemed inefficient. Nevertheless, their purpose was evident to him.
The enchantment upon the doors read 'unbreakable'—though it wasn't true invincibility, but rather an increase to their resistance to damage. Additionally, illusory wards were placed to conceal the door from those lacking magical aptitude, while a complex enchantment kept it securely locked until a worthy individual approached.
Since the door remained steadfastly shut upon his approach, Baldur decided to take matters into his own hands. He intended to unlock its secrets by studying the enchantments meticulously, striving to uncover their intricacies and vulnerabilities.
Running his gloved left hand over the runes, Baldur located a suitable spot and spun his metal ring beneath his touch. In an instant, his trusted tomahawk materialized in his grasp, poised for action. With his weapon ready, Baldur prepared to manipulate the runes to bend to his will, aiming to force the door open.
Yet, before he could strike, a creaking sound echoed through the air, causing Baldur to instinctively take a step back. The doors began to swing inward, gradually revealing what lay beyond. Baldur cautiously peered into the chamber, determined to avoid inhaling the stale air that billowed out from the barrow.
The entry room sprawled before him, a vast and open space adorned with four arches spread evenly along its length. Massive pillars rose from the center of each arch, providing structural support. Aware of the potential for traps, Baldur extended his senses, carefully surveying the area for any hidden dangers.
Sensing no immediate threats, Baldur confidently stepped forward, fully entering the room—half-expecting the doors to close behind him. However, as he explored further, he found that they remained open, allowing him to freely maneuver throughout the chamber. With a sense of curiosity and anticipation, he continued his exploration.
Along the right wall, Baldur noticed a raised platform, atop which stood an altar-like table. As he approached, he discovered it to be devoid of any items or objects of interest. Undeterred, he continued his circuitous path around the room, determined to uncover the secrets that lay within the barrow's depths.
The interior of the barrow revealed stone walls and floors crafted from the same quarried stone as the steps outside. However, unlike the sturdy door, the integrity of the walls seemed compromised. Massive ivory roots snaked their way throughout the tomb, entwining the floor and walls in a wild tangle of growth. It was an unusual sight for Baldur, who could not recall encountering trees with roots like these in the surrounding area. Intrigued, yet cautious, he opted to carefully step over the roots rather than risk disturbing them.
Having crossed to the other side of the chamber, Baldur's gaze fell upon a circular tunnel that beckoned him deeper into the barrow. As he walked along, he couldn't help but marvel at the colossal effort it must have taken to create a structure of this magnitude. The sheer size of the tomb, coupled with his intuition for traps, hinted at an even more expansive space that lay beyond.
This tomb was not simply carved into the side of the mountain; evidence of quarried stone suggested a construction process that surpassed Baldur's current modern technology. Contemplating the amount of labor required by people as primitive as those of the Bronze Age, Baldur found it difficult to fathom. A flicker of admiration crossed his features as he followed the winding path, which gradually descended and curved until he came upon yet another altar-like table.
Raising his lantern to inspect the surface, Baldur triggered the activation of a nearby brazier, casting its warm glow upon the hidden path ahead. Similar to its counterpart, this table bore no discernible objects, prompting Baldur to proceed forward into the newly revealed passageway.
Advancing past the brazier, Baldur discerned that the conjured flame was of a magical nature, likely employing runes both to detect presence and to summon forth light. Though it piqued his interest, he disregarded it, knowing he possessed superior means of illumination.
Turning left along the path, Baldur was surprised to encounter a flight of stairs instead of the expected sloping tunnel. Intrigued by this anomaly, he momentarily halted his progress to scrutinize the staircase. Finding no immediate signs of danger, he shrugged off his reservations and continued onward.
It didn't take long for Baldur to come upon a fork in the path he was following. Regrettably, the leftward passage appeared to have suffered a cave-in, rendering it impassable. Consequently, he opted to proceed to the right, embarking on another twisting and turning tunnel.
Expanding his senses, Baldur sensed the existence of something intricate and multifaceted. The air was charged with the presence of interconnected machinery, alluding to the existence of an elaborate trap. As he stepped into the next area, the truth of his intuition became evident before his eyes.
In a chamber that boasted a towering height—its vertical expanse surpassing its width—Baldur's gaze fixated on a magnificent bronze gate positioned directly opposite the tunnel from which he had emerged. Above the gate, embedded in the wall, three bronze plates adorned the space. Each plate showcased a meticulously carved image—an avian crow, a massive mammoth, and a mysterious feline creature—arranged from left to right.
To the left of Baldur, he noticed a series of smaller plates suspended above three levers. As he surveyed the scene before him, a realization struck him—this was undeniably a puzzle of some kind. Yet, his intuition warned him that failure to solve it accurately would trigger an arrow trap, unleashing a relentless volley of projectiles upon the chamber. Faced with this potential danger and uninterested in investing the time to decipher the intricate riddle, Baldur effortlessly exerted his mastery over machinery. Commanding the traps to disarm and the bronze gate to open, he bypassed the needlessly complex puzzle without hesitation.
Unfazed by the absence of the intellectual satisfaction that solving the puzzle might have provided, Baldur strolled leisurely through the now-accessible gate, stepping into a new area adorned with a profusion of self-illuminating braziers.