#daemon as a shadowbinder... cool right??

[eschercaine]

Daemon of Asshai-by-the-Shadow

A lone shadowbinder answers the priestess’ summon.

𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚋𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 - 𝚊 𝚙𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚌 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚋𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕.

As night fell, the river Ash glimmered with a faint green luminescence and long white bands of mist filled the air, creating a tranquil yet mysterious ambiance. Its black walls that sprawl for leagues across both sides of the river could contain Volantis, Qarth, King’s Landing, and Oldtown combined.

The man drew the shadowy curtains away to get a glimpse outside of the palanquin lugged on the quivering backs of slaves. Bazaars and hovels are nearly devoid of inhabitants. Save for a single person wearing a wooden mask and peering out, the windows of numerous abodes were sealed. He could sense its gaze from afar, causing a certain degree of discomfort.

He stepped out of the palanquin when the slaves came to a halt in front of the red temple. The man drew his hood forward and ascended the stairs, stopping right by the entrance.

He waited and waited, and then the massive doors opened. A beautiful woman with long hair the color of deep burnished copper, unsettling red eyes, and pale, unblemished skin stands before him. “Despite your reluctance to respond to my summons, I saw your arrival in the flames,” the priestess says, her deep voice tinged with the music of the Jade Sea. “I have several matters to share with you.”

The red priestess invited him in. The temple is a grand labyrinth of columns, steps, abutments, spans, cupolas, and turrets that blend together as if hewn from a single colossal stone. A plethora of various hues of red, yellow, gold, and orange come together and converge on the temple walls, dissipating into one another like the skies at sundown. She conveyed him to an inconspicuous, vacant room with a prodigious stone bowl in the middle that had a hissing fire.

Both of them were quiet for a considerable length of time prior to him inquiring, “What is the purpose of my presence here, priestess? What news do you wish to share with me?”

“R’hllor has shown me a prophecy,” she says, her gaze fixed on the flames. “You, too, have a role to play.”

The man nearly rolled his eyes. Another prophecy again, he thought. “What exactly do you mean?”

“When the Blood Betrayal of the Bloodstone Emperor began an age of darkness, a great warrior wielding a burning sword rose to fight this darkness lying over the world. And that sword was Lightbringer.”

The man was nonplussed in regards to her ultimate objective, yet he chose to go along with it. “The Azor Ahai,” he says. “I’ve heard that story countless of times.”

“The red comet heralded the arrival of our savior. Bosys bantis amazis, se morghor zijomy amazis. Meri kivio darilaros oz maghagon kostas.”

The long night is coming, and the dead come with it. Only the prince who was promised can bring the dawn.

“Darilaros,” he drawls. “That noun has no gender in High Valyrian. The proper translation for that prophecy would be, ‘The prince or princess who was promised will bring the dawn.’”

“Impressive,” says the red priestess, smirking.

The man only shrugged, ignoring her praise. “How is this relevant to me?”

She shifts her eyes to meet his. “I see a girl in the flames, surrounded by traitors in every nook and cranny.”

The man’s expression hardened, his eyebrows narrowing and his lips pressing together. A spark of vexation flares in his eyes as he hated repeating himself. With a motion, he pushed his hood away — unveiling his shoulder-length silver hair and dark purple eyes — the latter of which fixed a fierce gaze upon her. “And I implore you once more, priestess, how is this relevant to me?”

“The girl, a princess of royal blood, calls to you… shadowbinder,” she countered. There was ice in her voice that made his magic recoils in fear. The red priestess returns her gaze to the fire. “Her death will result in the extinction of dragons, leaving humanity defenseless against a long night that never ends.” The ruby at her throat gleamed red. “This girl bears a weight on her shoulders, and that’s where you step in. She needs your stalwart assistance as the vipers plot their devious stratagems. Blood, I see, and dragonfire threatening to consume everything it touches. Sail to Westeros to find the girl… for your destiny is intertwined with hers.”

For a brief moment, the man remained silent before cocking his head to the side and letting out a small, mirthless laugh. His actions do not appear to amuse or offend the red priestess. “I’m not a dog that you can summon with a shrill whistle, priestess,” he snarled. “I might have engaged in sorcery, but do not anticipate me to hold faith in capricious matters such as destiny, visions, or auguries, for that is a completely disparate matter.”

She cocked her brow. “Do you not believe in it?”

“No, I do not,” the man says emphatically. “The very concept of it helps people believe that all unfortunate things happen for a reason, yet there is none.”

The priestess only hums. Her lips twitch again, this time into a small smile, before returning to her blank expression.

He steps closer to her, looming over her. “And you want me to sail west in search of this girl?” he harrumphed. “What if your fires are wrong, and this journey you want me to take turns out to be a fool’s errand that will cost me my life?”

She stood unflinching before him. “I can comprehend your disbelief. Although I admit that my readings may have been false on several occasions, my vision in the fire was true. I am as mortal as you, shadowbinder. All mortals err,” the priestess reassured him. “And, no matter what your personal beliefs are, you will be swept up in the forces of destiny inevitably.”

When she was finished, two acolytes escorted him out, and the doors shut behind him. And with a defeated sigh, he pulls his hood up and fades into the night, returning to his humble abode illuminated by the glistening river. While he considers whether the red priestess’ words should be taken seriously, he kept himself busy by returning several scrolls and books to their proper places.

During his youth, he had already journeyed around much of the east and the other parts of the known world, but he chose to return to Asshai. But before he can contemplate rejecting the notion of traveling to Westeros, his body acts instinctively as he began stuffing his belongings in a burlap sack.

Daemon hopes the priestess’ prediction proves right this time, otherwise he won’t hesitate to kill her.