Volantis – The Inner City
The Red Temple of Volantis was the largest in the world.
Older than the Doom. A monolithic structure carved in black stone and burning with the fire of the Lord of Light. It sat like a second palace at the heart of the eastern city, its staircases wide enough for twenty men across, its bell-towers always lit with flame. Priests clad in crimson robes moved like blood through the streets, their chants echoing through the stonework.
It had not burned during the siege.
Daenerys stood at the foot of its stairs now, her white hair uncovered, her dragons distant shadows above the clouds.
"I did not set fire to this temple," she said to Kael beside her. "Not out of mercy—but out of curiosity."
Kael's gaze lingered on the flame-slick spires. "They worship R'hllor—the Lord of Light. Some say he is the one god. Others say… he is only a shadow."
Daenerys gave him a sideways glance. "And what do you say?"
He didn't answer.
Inside the Temple
The High Priestess of Volantis, Malora Mael, was younger than expected—no crone veiled in incense, but a sharp-eyed woman in her thirties with auburn hair and amber eyes that seemed to flicker when she spoke.
She welcomed Daenerys with measured reverence, lips brushing the queen's hand.
"We have long awaited your coming," Malora said. "The flames showed us your face long before the war reached our walls. The Breaker of Chains. The Unburnt. The Mother of Dragons."
"And now?" Daenerys asked, voice cool. "Now that your gates are broken and your Triarchs are gone—what do the flames say?"
Malora smiled.
"They say you are one flame in a greater fire. That your coming is part of the Lord's will. And that you must be tested."
The chamber tensed. The Unsullied flanking the queen stepped forward, hands on spears.
But Kael raised one hand in silence, and the room fell still again.
Malora's gaze lingered on him next. "And you. You are not named in the flames. You walk beside the queen, but the fire sees no past… and no future."
"I do not belong to your god," Kael replied evenly.
Malora's smile did not waver. "No. You belong to something older."
Later That Night – The Queen's Chambers
Daenerys paced the stone floor of the old Triarch palace, stripped now of its silks and adorned instead in black banners bearing her sigil. Her eyes burned not with fire—but calculation.
"They mean to test me," she said aloud. "Publicly. Through signs and prophecy. Perhaps blood. And if I fail, they will stir the faithful against me."
Kael sat on the edge of the balcony, watching the flames from the distant temple flicker across the rooftops. "They're a force more dangerous than swords. Belief cannot be negotiated—it must be earned, or broken."
Daenerys paused, voice low. "I could have them all executed. Let the flames choke on their own ash."
Kael turned to her slowly. "That is what a conqueror would do. Not a queen."
She looked at him, brow furrowed. "I've been both."
"Yes," he said. "But one burns cities. The other builds them."
Her silence stretched.
Then: "So how do I win them?"
Kael's expression turned distant. "Faith bends for those who embody the myth. Let them test you. Let them see the truth with their own eyes."
Daenerys crossed the room slowly, placing her hand against his chest. "And if they demand more?"
"Then you show them what true fire looks like."
The Temple Gathering – Two Days Later
Thousands gathered in the square before the Red Temple. Red priests stood atop balconies with torches raised. Banners of the Lord of Light rippled beside sigils of old Volantis.
Daenerys stood alone upon the high stone platform, arms bare, dressed in a deep crimson robe that caught the wind like flame. Her hair gleamed silver in the light. She looked every inch a goddess.
Malora stepped forward and called to the crowd.
"This is Daenerys Stormborn. R'hllor's flame has touched her. But is she of the fire—or a pretender?"
The crowd murmured.
A brazier was brought forward. A chained slave, trembling, was dragged beside it. Malora raised a blade.
"In ancient rites, the flames choose truth. Will you share the fire with him, Queen?"
Gasps followed.
Kael appeared beside the platform, unnoticed by all save Daenerys. Their eyes locked.
"You don't have to do this," he whispered.
"Yes, I do."
Without waiting, Daenerys stepped forward.
"Let him go," she said.
Malora narrowed her eyes. "Then you will burn in his place?"
"No," Daenerys said. "I will burn with him."
The Trial by Fire
The crowd held its breath as the flames roared.
Daenerys and the man stood before the pyre. The slave wept, murmuring thanks to her under his breath.
Kael's hand twitched at his side—but he remained still.
The fire ignited with oil. Flames rose in a sudden torrent. The heat warped the air.
And then…
Daenerys walked through it.
Untouched. Unburned.
Her robe turned to ash, revealing bare skin beneath—but her flesh remained perfect, unscarred. Her hair flowed like silk in the updraft. The man beside her screamed, flinching—
—and then, nothing. The fire stopped short, like it had met an invisible wall.
Gasps turned to kneeling.
A miracle.
Kael let out a long, slow breath. He had not intervened.
She had done it alone.
Or perhaps… not alone. A flicker of golden light had passed between them the night they'd become one.
She had absorbed another shard.
She was no longer just of Valyria.
She was something more.
Aftermath – Temple Steps
Malora knelt before her now, head bowed. "You are the fire made flesh," she whispered. "The flames were wrong. You are beyond them."
Daenerys looked down on her. "Then rise. And follow."
The crowd chanted her name—not as a queen.
But as a chosen.
And Kael, watching from the shadows, realized that something fundamental had shifted in the world.
She was ascending.
And soon, she would stand on a ledge where even he would hesitate to follow.