In the vicinity of the ancient city of Braavos, alone on a small island in the nearby lagoon, there used to stand a monument to death itself—the House of Black and White. A colossal structure, its black and white facade loomed over the city, casting an ominous shadow on those who dared to approach. Its history was shrouded in mystery, its roots reaching back through the annals of time, and its very existence struck fear into the hearts of all who knew of it.
The House of Black and White, with its cryptic architecture, a testament to the enigmatic powers of the Many-Faced God. Legends whispered of the Faceless Men, an order of assassins who called this place home. It was said that they possessed the ability to change their appearance at will, becoming anyone they chose. The feats of the Faceless Men were spoken of in hushed tones, their skills unmatched and their methods unparalleled.
The unknown powers that dwelled within the Temple of Death instilled terror in the hearts of those who crossed its threshold. Whispers of the god's divine judgment and the unyielding will of the Faceless Men echoed through the city, striking fear into the superstitious and the skeptical alike. The mere mention of the House invoked a sense of dread, as if the very air around it carried the weight of centuries of whispered secrets.
The House of Black and White stood as an unyielding monument to death, an indomitable force in the city of Braavos. Its history, a tapestry woven with threads of shadow and intrigue, remained an unsolved puzzle for those who dared to contemplate its mysteries. As the sun set beyond the city, the black and white facade of the House loomed in eternal silence, a sentinel watching over the realm of the dead...
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Indeed, if you were to inquire of a well-informed denizen of Braavos which monumental edifice seemed impervious to the whims of fate, the resounding response would undoubtedly have been the House of Black and White. It stood as the epitome of enduring strength, a formidable institution seemingly immune to the ebb and flow of time. The very idea that this structure could crumble and vanish was, to the knowledgeable citizen, as unfathomable as it was unexpected...
And so, of course the people now stood in stunned disbelief, their mouths agape as they beheld the unimaginable spectacle unfolding before them...
Eyes widened, they struggled to comprehend the surreal destruction of the once-untouchable temple.
Flickering greenish flames painted expressions of shock and confusion on the faces of the onlookers, who grappled with the inconceivable sight that defied both reason and expectation.
Gathered in silent masses, the citizens watched as the formidable structure succumbed to the relentless onslaught of the otherworldly inferno. And some could swear they could hear echoes of distant screams mingled with the crackling of the flames, creating an eerie symphony that resonated through the air, all the way from the small island where it used to stand.
As the glow of the fire cast an unsettling radiance over the city, the people remained transfixed, caught between awe and horror. The once-sturdy edifice lay crumbled, its black and white exterior now a silhouette of destruction against the night sky. The voracious greenish flames, hungry and insatiable, wrapped around the temple with an almost sentient intent. The stone that had weathered centuries began to succumb to the fiery embrace, its formidable façade crumbling like ancient parchment exposed to flame.The intricate carvings and symbols etched into the walls lost their definition, blending into a chaotic dance of molten stone. Pillars, once standing tall and unyielding, bent and twisted like tortured souls. The very essence of the structure seemed to be devoured by the ethereal flames, reducing it to spectral ruins.
Yet despite the relentless onslaught, an eerie phenomenon unfolded—the flames appeared contained, as if their singular purpose was to erase the House of Black and White from existence...
And within the inferno's heart, concealed by the veils of greenish flames, there was a silhouette. Cloaked in shadows, it stood defiant amidst the chaotic dance of fire. With an unwavering gaze, the figure looked toward the heavens, at the crimson star that gleamed overhead...
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Negary pov :
(5 hours earlier )
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*Knock Knock*
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*Knock Knock Knock*
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"..."
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"Alright then... Let's try another method" I spoke as I started condensing a few strands of mana from the tip of my fingers.
I stood indifferent to the grandeur of the temple looming before me. The heavy wooden door, draped in black and white, seemed almost fragile. With a nonchalant air, I raised my hand toward the door, as if reaching forward to grasp it.
My hand met the cold, unyielding surface of the door, fingers tracing a path through both Weirwood and Ebony as if slicing through air. The once-imposing barrier yielded effortlessly to my touch, succumbing to an unseen force. And as it did so, I felt my mana reserves dwindling slightly. I had been training a lot, but my efficiency was still shit, and my only saving grace was that I could afford working harder instead of smarter...
*Boom*
Soon after, a human-sized chunk of the door crashed onto the inner floor tiles of the temple, a deafening clamor reverberating through the place. The echo of destruction lingered, disrupting the hallowed silence within.
'Well, it's not like I intended to be stealthy in the first place' I thought as I entered the home of the Many Faced God.
My objective was quite simple...to kill everything that moved and take their souls...
A bit edgy sounding, but what can I do. While the other half of my soul was tasked with maintaining my energy supply, soul refining and training, I came here to this continent to farm skills.
Assassins, warlocks, shadow binders, red Priests, alchemists, you name it. They would all be consumed...for the greater good....𝗠𝘆 𝗴𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗴𝗼𝗼𝗱...
The only problem with this strategy was risking offending someone stronger than myself, but even if some God came to fuck with me from wherever the hell he was hidden, I could always run away. And if that didn't work either...this was only half of my soul. It would hurt losing it, but I wouldn't die... probably.
Best not to test that theory though, which is why I intended to move from city to city while hidden from view, borrowing skills from anyone who catched my interest...for a while.
I had other plans in this magical Asia after this was said and done.
But for now, I had some nobodies to send to their god...or not, since their souls would be confiscated...
My steps echoed through the dimly lit temple, the silence broken only by the faint hum of the flames. Unfazed by the eerie drawings on the walls, I moved forward, the crisp sounds of my footsteps resonating in the stillness. There was a reason why I was so brazen, of course.
To make the assassins angry and prone to attacking me instead of running away. I knew both from the show and Illyrio's memories that the Faceless were complete nutjobs. They worshipped their god with a fervour which was probably caused by the brainwashing they perpetuated in this temple. The same temple I was now trespassing into, breaking the fucking door and dirtying the floor with my dirty boots.
'Oh, they are gonna be so pissed' I smirked internally as I continued to walk through the semi-darkness, my soul sense guiding me easily.
As I descended down sets of stairs, I traversed through eerily empty chambers, the only company being the echoes of my footsteps. And lo and behold the soul energy in the surroundings grew more pronounced, seemingly emanating from deeper down still.
'Oh gee, I can't possibly imagine why that would be the case' I thought as I rolled my eyes.
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Third person pov :
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The Hall of Faces was shrouded in an eerie silence, its stone pillars standing as silent sentinels within the vast vault. A central sanctuary, marred by a poisoned pool, cast distorted reflections of the surrounding statues that loomed in judgment. These statues, an assembly of death gods from various realms, guarded the atrium with a collective gaze that seemed to pierce through the very essence of mortality.
The Stranger from the Faith of the Seven stood solemnly, its countenance embodying the uncertainty of the unknown. A weirwood face, reminiscent of heart trees venerating the Old Gods of the Forest, gazed with eyes that seemed to see beyond the veil of reality. The Drowned God of the Iron Islands, the Fiery Heart of the Lord of Light, the Black Goat of Qohor, the Lion of Night from Yi Ti, and the Weeping Lady of Lys all stood as grim representations of the diverse facets of death.
The Hall of Faces, a chilling chamber within the House of Black and White, was steeped in darkness and an unforgiving cold that seemed to permeate the very air. As the intruder navigated its shadowy expanse, the silence was broken only by the soft echoes of each step, creating an unsettling symphony in the vast, stone vault.
The dim light barely penetrated the veil of shadows, casting an eerie dance of darkness that played tricks on the eyes. The air itself held a frigid touch, as if the essence of death clung to the cold currents that swept through the chamber. Every footfall echoed through the space, accompanied by creaks and whispers that seemed to emanate from the very walls.
This was clearly not a place for humans to be in...And yet, in the enveloping darkness of the Hall of Faces, another silhouette knelt in somber prayer by the poisonous fountain. The soft, melodious voice of the figure resonated through the vast expanse, creating an ethereal harmony that echoed within the cold stone walls.
The intruder moved through the shadows, coming to a halt behind the kneeling silhouette. Patiently, they awaited the completion of the prayer, a spectral presence in the dimly lit chamber. The cold air hung heavy with anticipation as the intruder observed, veiled in darkness, until the last echoes of the haunting melody faded into the stillness of the Hall of Faces.
The once unknown figure gracefully ascended from her prayer, a quiet pirouette that defied the weight of the somber hall. As she turned, a cascade of golden hair framed her face, seemingly imbued with a soft, otherworldly glow even in the shadows. Beauty emanated from her like a subtle aura, a stark contrast to the cold and eerie ambiance of the hall.
Her lips curved into a gentle smile, and her voice, soft and melodious, flowed through the air like a soothing melody as she spoke in High Valyrian to the unknown man in front of her.
"Greetings, venerable Warlock, to the sacred abode of Black and White. Pray, may I inquire as to the purpose of your presence within these sacred halls?" The woman asked kindly, her face conveying nothing but calmness.
At this, the plain man if front of her merely smiled...conjuring forth an ethereal emerald flame within the cradle of his palm...
Instantly, a myriad of knives, arrows, and needles erupted into motion from within the darkness of the hall, hurtling through the air with a glint that danced in the eerie light cast by the conjured fire.
And the smile on the woman's face didn't change a single bit...
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A.N :
"'A serene mind brings about the greatest of perceptions. One can never understand the world around them if they are too caught up in it.' That was a concept that Enel lived by for the longest time.
To view the world as an outsider, unperturbed by anger and sadness, the point of view of the neutral observer was bound to always be the cleanest."
-Reborn as Enel (VeganMaster)