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Lynn looked at Melisandre kneeling before him, ruby held high in both hands, and felt his thoughts twist into a knot.
Kill her, and he'd walk away with two divine skills.
Eternal youth. Resurrection.
Immortality. The power to bring anyone back from the dead, so long as the Lord of Light gave his blessing...
No matter what threats the future held, with those two skills, Lynn would never have to fear anything again. He could move through this world completely free.
The temptation was enormous.
But to just... snuff out a living, breathing beauty like this...
She wasn't only gorgeous, with a figure that defied description, full and flawless. She was also a rare commodity , an actual mage. Keep her around as a useful piece, and her value was practically limitless.
Lynn's mind was already running at full speed.
Wait.
A thought surfaced.
Melisandre was a servant of the Lord of Light , his agent in this world. If she died, surely her so-called god couldn't just stand by and watch, could he?
Which meant...
Could I exploit a bug?
First, decompose her gem and take the skills. Then, while she's still fresh , before her body has a chance to go cold , run her through with a sword. And immediately after, use the brand-new "Flame Rekindling" to pull her back.
Skills secured. Woman still alive.
I'll have it all.
Perfect. Absolutely perfect.
The more Lynn turned it over, the more airtight it seemed.
There was just one thing he needed to confirm first.
What were the actual limits of this resurrection spell? Because if he rushed ahead and Melisandre simply didn't come back, that would be spectacularly stupid. He wasn't going to let someone loyal to him die for nothing because he hadn't done his homework.
"Get up."
He didn't reach for the ruby.
Melisandre blinked, momentarily confused. She had offered her life, her loyalty, everything , and still he sat unmoved. Was he testing her?
"Put your clothes on."
He added, before she could speak.
"I have questions."
Melisandre didn't dare refuse. She rose from the floor and drew the red robe back around herself, covering that perfect body. The ruby, the one that held her life, remained clenched tight in her palm. It was her life , how could she not cling to it?
And yet if Lynn wanted it, she would hand it over. For the Lord of Light, she would.
Death would almost be a relief. She had lived far too long...
If giving it to him served some purpose, then let him take it.
"You said the gem around your neck is a gift from the Lord of Light," Lynn said, settling back into the throne, fingers tapping idly against the armrest. "That losing it would kill you."
He let a beat pass.
"Flame Rekindling. Tell me about it."
Melisandre's entire body jerked.
Her head snapped up. She stared at him with those red eyes, raw disbelief written across her face.
Flame Rekindling.
He , how did he know that name?
It was one of the highest divine arts the Lord of Light had ever bestowed upon her. In all of Westeros, there should not be a single other soul who knew it existed.
He truly was the Prince That Was Promised.
He truly knew everything.
The last thread of doubt in Melisandre's heart dissolved entirely. Her faith in this moment became something absolute.
"Yes, my lord." Her voice climbed with barely-contained excitement. "Flame Rekindling is the greatest miracle the Lord of Light has ever granted his servants! It can pull a chosen soul back from the realm of death itself. And whatever illness or affliction had been shortening their life — the Lord of Light erases it all during the resurrection."
So Melisandre's rapid aging could be reversed too.
"Oh?" Lynn raised an eyebrow with manufactured curiosity. "Anyone at all?"
"No." She shook her head. "The Lord of Light must first consent. Only those the Red God has recognized as defenders against the Long Night may be brought back. And resurrection demands a great price."
She paused, her voice dropping into something almost reverent.
"It requires a large quantity of... king's blood. As fuel."
King's blood.
Lynn's thoughts drifted to the books. Beric Dondarrion, the Lightning Lord, had been resurrected time and again, death after death failing to stick. But it wasn't free. Every time he came back, he lost something. Memories worn smooth. Emotions going dull. Humanity fading out like a candle burning down. He grew increasingly hollow, a shell shaped by purpose and nothing else. His wounds never healed properly either , the axe scar on his head, the rope burns on his neck, the persistent cold and exhaustion that never left him.
Except the first time. When Thoros of Myr had brought him back.
Thoros had used a Red God ritual called the last kiss , traditionally just a rite for comforting the dead. But grief-stricken and burning with belief, Thoros had prayed to R'hllor and breathed his own life force into Beric. A genuine transfer of living energy.
After that, though, the resurrections grew almost casual.
And that told Lynn everything he needed to know about the Lord of Light.
Useful people got resurrected for free. People of no particular value required the god to weigh whether the investment was worth it.
"So only someone carrying king's blood , or something like it — can serve as the fuel?"
"Yes." Her answer came without hesitation. "The power bound up in blood and fire is immense. The reason Stannis could conjure shadow assassins is because his veins carry the royal blood of both Baratheon and Targaryen."
Lynn nodded slowly.
So the definition of king's blood was broader than he'd assumed.
"Then take a look."
He stood and crossed to where she waited.
"Do I have it? King's blood?"
Being as strong as he was now, he figured he probably did.
Melisandre's breath caught. She swallowed, steadied herself, then closed her eyes and reached out one hand , carefully, tentatively , and began to read the power flowing through him.
The next second, her expression changed completely.
She felt it.
A force like a volcano tearing itself open , vast, almost too large to hold in her mind. Within it ran something pure and wild and ancient, carrying the deep breath of nature itself.
The Old Gods. Without question.
But then ,
Why?
Why, buried inside that same power, was there something else? A current of cold that made her stomach turn and her spine lock up.
Cold. Death. Eternal night.
The Lord of Light's oldest enemy. The Others. The power of the Great Other.
Melisandre went blank.
How?
How was this possible?
Two forces , not just opposite but incompatible, annihilating , living together in a single body?
What was he?
She felt her faith shudder for the first time in centuries. She almost asked it aloud: was the man standing in front of her truly the Prince That Was Promised? Or was he something worse than the Others , a monster without a name?
No.
He had to be.
The prophecy did not lie. The Lord of Light's word did not lie. The god himself had told her.
Yes. Yes, that had to be it.
The true prophesied one would command everything , even forces that should not coexist.
Melisandre crushed the fear down. She opened her eyes, and what filled those red pupils now was something more intense than anything Lynn had seen in her before. Pure, devouring worship.
"Yes!" Her voice shook, nearly breaking. "I felt it! Your bloodline is the most powerful, the purest royal blood I have ever encountered. It doesn't seem to come from anywhere in this world — I have never sensed anything like it." A breathless pause. "Stannis is barely a firefly beside you. You are a born king!"
Lynn blinked.
A bloodline not of this world.
Well. He had been born in Huaxia. His ancestors had produced extraordinary figures. Stretch the line far enough back, and he was a descendant of the Yellow Emperor himself.
Royal blood. It tracked.
He stopped thinking about it. He had the answer he needed.
"Good."
His face stayed perfectly neutral. And that calm, in Melisandre's eyes, only deepened her certainty , look at him, he'd known all along, he had never needed her confirmation, he didn't even register praise.
"You have proven your loyalty," Lynn said quietly.
Melisandre's whole face lit up. She began to lower herself toward the floor again, ready to renew her pledge ,
And then she looked down at her own hand.
The ruby was dimming. Rapidly. The deep red light guttering out like a dying ember.
An indescribable weakness crashed through her all at once, hollowing her out completely.
"No , no —"
Her eyes went wide with terror. She looked up at Lynn, uncomprehending, searching his face for an explanation.
[Ding! Decomposition successful!]
[Congratulations, Host! Skills acquired: Eternal Youth, Flame Rekindling!]
The system chimed in his mind. Lynn ignored it.
His gaze stayed on Melisandre's face.
Under her horror-stricken, bewildered stare, he slowly drew Longclaw from his hip.
"Don't worry," he said softly.
"You'll be back."
Thunk.
The blade slid through without resistance, clean and direct, straight through her heart.
Melisandre went rigid.
The light in her eyes died quickly. She never understood it , not in the seconds she had left. Why the master she had sworn herself to would be the one to drive the sword home.
Lynn pulled the blade free.
She crumpled, folding to the ground like something boneless, and lay still.
"Sorry," he said, looking down at her. "Bear with it a little longer."
No hesitation. He pressed his palm to her forehead.
Warmth gathered in his hand, then surged outward.
"Flame Rekindling!"
➤ Next: Revive, Melisandre
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