As the team continued to advance deeper into the silent ruins, the strange feeling in Aegon's heart grew stronger.
Initially, the outer perimeter of the ruins featured gateways and halls that, though dilapidated, were still large enough for dragons to pass through with heads held high.
Despite their daunting scale, they still bore traces of 'habitation,' offering glimpses into the past dimensions and life—even if it belonged to non-human Dragon Lords.
He had heard the legends of Harrenhal, but compared to this place, it would truly pale in comparison.
However, the deeper they went, a completely different, cold, and efficient order began to emerge menacingly, replacing the glory of old.
The ground seemed to have been completely hollowed out by an invisible giant hand, replaced by towering, eerie, and night-dark megalithic walls that carved out enormous, suffocating circular enclosures.
They were neatly arranged yet spaced apart, as if the earth had been sculpted into a cold and complex stone labyrinth, whose sole purpose seemed to be to divide and imprison vast spaces, transforming them into corrals.
Looking down from their current vantage point, the bottom of the enclosures was submerged in dense shadows that firelight struggled to dispel, making it difficult to ascertain their exact depth, only giving a sense of profoundness and dread as if they led straight to the earth's core.
On the ground within the enclosures, deep grooves were etched—bloodletting channels, winding like the last struggles of dying veins, ultimately converging and connecting to dark-colored pipes on the walls, as if dried for countless ages, leading to silent, perpetually open stone dragon heads higher up, seemingly still awaiting the next outpouring.
Amidst this unsettling grandeur, a few scattered human skeletons lay at the edges of the enclosures, where light barely reached, like forgotten debris. One posture was particularly striking—its finger bones deeply dug into the cracks of the stone wall, the entire skeleton still maintaining an upward-stretching, grasping pose, frozen in the last moment of life. It was as if, even after the flesh had melted away, that unwilling soul still wished to break free from this smooth, steep, seemingly endless precipice.
In this inhuman, cruel cage made of megaliths and abyss, that trace of a tiny individual's struggle was made to seem so insignificant, yet so profoundly shocking.
Only then did Aegon fully realize that the wide path beneath their feet, broad enough for several riders abreast, was not a thoroughfare at all, but rather the very top of these massive enclosure walls. They were walking on the 'ramparts' of an unprecedentedly vast prison.
"Boss, something's really off here," Karl muttered to Aegon, unconsciously rubbing his arms, trying to ward off the inexplicable chill. "It's as hot as a furnace outside, so why did it suddenly get so cool in here?"
"It's not that kind of biting cold," Henry said, hugging his great hammer, his voice somewhat low. "It's just... a wind that comes from nowhere, making your spine tingle and your heart uneasy."
"Oh, come on, you with all that blubber that could rival a hibernating mountain bear, and you're cold?" Karl habitually retorted, but the usual slickness on his face had receded considerably, his eyes filled with vigilance.
Henry's plump face flushed at the retort, but he didn't bicker as usual, merely gripping his hammer handle tighter.
Aegon's expression was calm, his gaze slowly sweeping over the deep prison cells on both sides.
Scenes from the murals flashed through his mind—tens of thousands of sacrifices were once confined here.
And now, it was empty and silent, leaving only this grand, despair-inducing stone structure, and the few skeletons that occasionally caught his eye beneath their feet.
Where those lives that once filled this place went, the answer was already written on the blood channels and pipes pointing towards the dragon heads. Eerie?
It was more than just eerie.
It was the lingering echo of the fear and resentment condensed from hundreds of thousands of desperate lives in their final moments, not fully dispersed even after millennia.
"Stay alert, speak less, and watch your step." Aegon said, reaching out to pull Henry, who seemed drawn by the sight below the railings and was trying to lean over the edge, back to the center of the path. "This place has been abandoned for who knows how many years; the stone is probably brittle by now. If you don't want to fall and be smashed into a pulp, keep your eyes and legs in check."
He paused, his expression growing even more solemn, and quickly glanced back at the team's formation.
Most of the men had already stepped onto this suspended 'city wall' path. The Mercenaries walked at the front, with Euron Greyjoy and his Ironborn maintaining an oppressive distance behind them.
As for Corleone, he had fallen far behind the team at some point, almost stopping at the very beginning of the passage, in the safe area seamlessly connected to the solid mountain rock wall, not taking another step forward.
Why was he staying so far back alone? The invisible alarm bell in Aegon's heart suddenly rang.
This did not seem like falling behind due to fear or exhaustion; that distance was calculated, a deliberately maintained, detached, absolutely safe observation distance.
Aegon's boot soles echoed clearly on the rough, uneven stone path in the vast chasm.
His gaze was sharp, like the most cautious pathfinder, carefully scrutinizing the unusually wide 'city wall' passage beneath his feet, and the bottomless enclosures on both sides that seemed to swallow even firelight, faintly emitting the scent of old blood and decay.
The entire team of nearly a thousand people stretched into a long line, like a slowly crawling giant snake. Under the inhuman architectural scale, even the light of the burning torches in their hands seemed faint and flickering, only illuminating a few steps ahead.
A sense of instability originating from the architecture itself, a premonition of structural fragility.
Like cold vines wrapping around his heart—this was not a path meant for walking, but rather the top of a giant gate spanning an abyss, its balance precise and perilous.
The team continued its difficult advance on this extremely unsettling 'city wall'.
The torchlight struggled valiantly but could never truly dispel the darkness below, thick as ink.
The wind, howling and swirling upwards from the invisible abyss below, brought more than just the chill of low temperature.
There was also... something else. Low, distorted, inhuman, and beast-like roars, carried, cut, and amplified by the airflow, mixing with the sound of the wind, appearing and disappearing intermittently.
The sound seemed to come from the painful groans of some ancient entity in the deepest part of the earth's crust, or like the ceaseless collective wails of countless tormented souls, trapped here at the end of time, climbing up the cold stone walls, drilling into everyone's ears, gnawing at their taut nerves.
In the deepest part of the earth's crust, or like the endless collective wails of countless tormented souls trapped here at the end of time, climbing up the cold stone walls, drilling into everyone's ears, gnawing at their taut nerves.
"Be... below! There's definitely something below!" A Mercenary walking on the edge of the team, unable to resist peering down, his voice suddenly changed pitch, filled with uncontrollable trembling.
He stared intently at the light-devouring darkness below, his pupils dilated, as if the darkness itself was writhing, and in the next second, countless pale, swollen arms would reach out and drag everything at the edge down.
This startled cry was like cold water dropped into boiling oil; the tension and fear instantly exploded, spreading like a plague through the crowd.
Everyone, whether Mercenaries or the robust Ironborn, instinctively and frantically huddled towards the center of the path, pressing against each other, their weapons gripped tightly by sweaty palms, knuckles white.
Henry and Karl almost simultaneously stepped forward, one on each side, like the most loyal bulwarks, tightly guarding Aegon, even holding their breath, their muscles tensed like iron.
In this moment of absolute silence, broken only by the terrifying howls of the wind and the booming of heartbeats, just as everyone's minds were firmly seized by the unspeakable sounds from the abyss below, and all their attention was focused on that darkness seemingly pregnant with monsters—
An extremely subtle sound, yet distinctly different from the whimpering wind and vague roars, suddenly pierced the noisy background like a cold steel needle, accurately drilling into Aegon's ears, which had become exceptionally sharp due to his full alertness.
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