Wright cast a Silence spell, instantly muting the small area where Melisandre stood.
Melisandre observed the distant battlefield and the crowd running around her. Apart from Wright speaking in front of her, she couldn't hear anything else. She carefully sensed the changes around her. "A few years ago, I experienced your healing magic, and now another fascinating effect."
R'hllor and the Dragon Cult were at war. Melisandre had briefly attempted to distance herself from the Volantene followers, but Wright wasn't convinced.
She posed no direct threat to him, but her large-scale magic and shadow spells for escape made her unpredictable. Wright stepped sideways, shielding Sansa behind him, wary that Melisandre might massacre members of the Dragon Cult and flee. "Let's get to the point. Where did you hear that name?"
Melisandre made no attempt to explain Wright's protective gesture. Instead, she lifted a hand, brushing her long hair aside to reveal a deep, pale cleavage. Smiling, she said, "Your soul is unique. When I prophesied about you, I saw your soul standing against that wicked entity."
"Seductress!" Sansa murmured behind Wright. Northerners were accustomed to wrapping themselves in layers of thick clothing, and even in the heat of the South, they stuck to lighter fabrics without revealing too much. Other than in Tyroshi taverns, Sansa had never seen a woman with a neckline plunging to her navel.
Melisandre turned to her. "Children should not interrupt when adults are speaking. You're fifteen now, of marriageable age. If you cannot handle the brutality of battle, go home and bear children."
"You—!" Sansa was about to retort when Wright stopped her.
"She's just a girl full of dreams. Who didn't, as a child, wish to become a knight and meet a prince or a fair princess? We all grow up the same way. Sansa, just listen quietly. Remember, today's conversation is of great importance to the Dragon Cult. Do not speak of this to anyone without my permission."
"Yes, Lord Wright!" Wright's solemn tone made Sansa abandon the idea of arguing with the enemy.
"You attempted to divine my future but instead glimpsed into the depths of my soul, something even I was unaware of. Your magic is interesting. What else did you see?" Wright knew she had come for the Daedric Prince, so he intended to probe into her magic first.
Melisandre locked eyes with him. "You are not human."
"Go on." If she were saying this now, it wasn't meant as an insult.
"The entity you stand against radiates evil at all times. And you—dragon soul in a human body—are you a god or a demon?" As she spoke, she stepped forward, scrutinizing every part of Wright.
A dragon soul in a human body? Had she just uncovered an unthinkable secret? Sansa's heartbeat quickened.
Wright replied flatly, "Without a dragon soul, how could one summon a dragon? The ancestors of the Valyrian Empire were the same as me."
"There are all kinds of strange beings. Why not one with a dragon soul in a human body? Right, Dragonborn?" Melisandre's body radiated heat, her breath warm against Wright's face as she spoke.
Wright grabbed her shoulders and pushed her back. "Let's talk about that wicked tentacled abomination. That thing is a Daedric Prince, an existence beyond both of us."
"A Daedric Prince?" Melisandre's flirtatious demeanor vanished, replaced by solemnity. "In many prophecies, this term has both positive and negative interpretations. Does it seek the light or embrace the darkness?"
"It is called a Prince because it is truly a 'child' of the gods—almost immortal, nearly indestructible. It is called a demon because it seeks to control all knowledge and fate by any means necessary. Life itself is meaningless to it. That is why it is counted among the evil Daedric Princes."
Melisandre's expression hardened. "So it possesses endless knowledge and can glimpse into fate? No wonder it detected my prophecy spell."
Wright tightened his grip on his greatsword. "Do not even think about pursuing it! Even dragonborn far stronger than me have become its slaves! Not even the ancient Valyrian forebears could escape its grasp—they had no choice but to take their own lives and become spirits. The Daedric Prince's greed knows no bounds. Becoming its servant will only bring disaster to humanity! I wasn't careless—I simply learned a single spell it created, and its consciousness began invading me."
Melisandre continued her questioning. "By your account, it must be an incredibly ancient existence. Why, then, has it taken an interest in you?"
Wright replied, "The Daedric Princes dwell in their own realms. To them, our world is just one among countless insignificant choices. Yet even such a place, it seeks to devour. I intend to kill it!"
Melisandre raised an eyebrow. "Didn't you just say that Daedric Princes are immortal?"
"For us, yes. But for other Daedric Princes—" Wright stopped midway through his sentence, then pulled out the dagger gifted to him by Dagon. Holding the blade between his fingers, he turned the hilt toward her. "Take it."
The dagger was simple in design, unadorned and unremarkable. Without hesitation, Melisandre reached out and grasped the hilt.
The moment her fingers tightened around it, her gaze lost focus. Less than a second later, clarity returned to her eyes.
"So, that's how it is!" For the first time, the ever-composed priestess broke into a cold sweat.
Dagon had spoken to her. What was said, or if any agreement had been made, Wright did not care. Compared to Dagon's straightforward strategy of deploying demonic armies for open conquest, the insidious infiltration of the Eyed One was far more troubling.
"You understand now, don't you? Our world may be small, but some Daedric Princes will never overlook it. And it's not just that monstrous eye—others have already sent their minions to the North of Westeros."
Melisandre did not respond to Wright's statement. Instead, she muttered to herself.
Wright slid the dagger back into his belt. "Now that you understand the nature of the Daedric Princes, will you fight them with me?"
"And what of the Lord of Light?" Melisandre ignored his question entirely.
Sansa noticed her odd behavior. "What's wrong with her?"
"A deity fabricated to build a faith—one that has been mercilessly trampled by a real Daedric Prince. This has shaken her beliefs. I doubt she'll recover anytime soon."
There was no point in continuing the conversation in her state. Wright dispelled the Silence spell and left a few members of the Dragon Cult to keep an eye on her. Then, he led Sansa toward the battle raging on the Long Bridge.
"Sansa, I know you have many questions. When this battle is over and we return to the Tyroshi ship, I'll have plenty of time to answer them. For now, what you must learn is how to endure the harsh realities of war."
"Understood, Lord Wright!"
The daughter of Robert's old companion, the first official apprentice of Renly, the younger sister of Wright's three disciples—Sansa, well-connected as she was, received Wright's personal instruction.
As they moved, he continuously explained the application of magic and martial techniques in combat, why certain warriors had fallen, and how to avoid their fates.
At fifteen, Sansa stayed close behind Wright. She saw many Dragon Cultists younger than herself fighting, some who had laughed and joked with her just the day before now lying lifeless on the ground. Her once-gentle, dream-filled heart began to change.