Viserys suppressed his surprise. "Ghidorah?" He tentatively gathered his will and sent out the name.
All three of the dragon's heads seemed to raise an eyebrow. "Ghidorah—is that what your kind calls our race? Have you met others of my kin? Your 'background' is more interesting than I thought. Still, you may use the name."
Its answer sent a shock through Viserys's heart. Kin? Earth's Ghidorah was a titan from the depths of the cosmos; he hadn't expected such a being to exist in this world of ice and fire.
"You needn't be astonished. The universe is boundless; the shapes and journeys of life far exceed the imagination of you short-lived carbon folk." Ghidorah sensed his rippling thoughts and explained, "By your reckoning, I arrived in this world several epochs ago."
In the mental conversation that followed, Ghidorah unfurled a long and brutal tapestry for Viserys.
This Ghidorah had come from a distant star-system; her race were the apex predators and energy-wielders there, blessed with near-immortal vitality.
Yet even such a mighty race had a nemesis: a terrifying entity they called the Void Star-Eater.
A war swept the entire system; her people lost, their homeland teetered on ruin. Countless kin scattered, seeking new havens. She, gravely wounded, had fled here to this world of ice and fire only by virtue of her race's formidable gifts.
"When I first crashed into this world, I was on the verge of death." Ghidorah's mind carried a pain and exhaustion still sharp. "The energy here is active, the rules amusing. This land of boiling earth-fire, in particular, holds a power I can absorb—thin, but enough to let me sink into deep slumber and slowly mend my wounds."
That sleep lasted countless ages. The world turned upside-down; races rose and fell, bringing strife and civilization. She would occasionally sense the clamor and silence of life outside, yet never truly woke—until roughly ten thousand years ago.
"A ripple of energy—a unique individual—discovered me." Ghidorah's consciousness seemed to pierce time, recalling the past. "She was called the Maiden of Light, a being whose magical talent, in your words, was peerless. She sensed the faint, alien energy I unconsciously exuded—different from this world's arcane source—and glimpsed a chance to transcend."
At that time the Maiden of Light was already one of the mightiest human mages of her age, active within the powerful empire known as the Upper Kingdom of Dawn.
She yearned to break life's fetters and attain true immortality and supremacy. The high-dimensional energy leaking from Ghidorah opened a door she had never seen.
"She was bold and clever." Ghidorah's mind carried a note that might have been praise or indifference.
"She did not disturb my body directly. While I slept, she traced the fringe of my dissipating energy field and laid cunning rituals, stealing and converting the power I shed, blending it with this world's rules. She succeeded in breaking the boundary humans call 'godhood,' igniting her own divine spark. Though she escaped the shackles of life, she became bound by this world's rules and could no longer intervene directly among mortals. Thus she styled herself R'hllor, Lord of Light, and spread faith in the red god to tighten her grip upon the world."
Understanding dawned on Viserys: so the red god faith, the revered Lord of Light, had begun in this way.
Yet the lure of godhood is irresistible. Another mighty mage, the Night Lion, sensed the Maiden's breakthrough and craved that same eternity. But the newly ascended Maiden would not share, and feared potential rivals even more.
Conflict was inevitable.
"The Night Lion's power leaned toward shadow, cold, and death—fundamentally opposed to the Maiden's flame, light, and life." Ghidorah continued recounting these ancient secrets. "The Maiden had become a 'god' and could not act directly, especially while still consolidating her divinity. The Night Lion seized that moment."
The Night Lion launched a war. Using his mastery of shadow and cold, he unleashed the Long Night across the world. Eternal winter shrouded the land; darkness and frost devoured life. First to fall was the heartland of the Maiden's faith: the Upper Kingdom of Dawn. That prosperous empire perished beneath the Long Night; countless lives withered.
"Though the Maiden could not intervene directly, she could guide." Ghidorah's mind held a detached regard for mortal fate. "She chose a human, Azor Ahai, granting him visions and guiding him to forge a blade capable of carrying her divine power—the fabled Lightbringer. But forging that sword demanded the most extreme emotion and sacrifice: Azor drove the blade through the heart of his beloved wife, Nissa Nissa, offering her life to complete the final rite."
Thus Azor Ahai, wielding Lightbringer and bolstered by the Maiden's might, finally defeated the Night Lion in the Battle for the Dawn and was hailed a hero—though Viserys sensed a touch of mockery in Ghidorah's thoughts.
"The Night Lion was cunning. He was not wholly destroyed. Badly wounded, he fled to the far side of the world—what you now call Westeros—where he met another native, naturally magic-wielding folk: the Children of the Forest."
At that time the Children were at war with the First Men and losing ground, having forfeited most of their homeland. They needed a power far beyond the ordinary to turn the tide, while the Night Lion desperately needed a vessel to keep him alive. Each saw utility in the other.
They performed a dangerous, forbidden fusion of magics, using captive First Men as test subjects. The result was the first White Walker—human in outline yet stripped of warmth and emotion, an incarnation of moving ice and death.
Thus the Night Lion gained a different sort of immortality: though he lost his original form and strength, he survived in another guise—nothing more than a false god.
Viserys listened, his mind reeling. This diverged from the memories of his previous life.
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