The Sorcerer’s War

A Distant Awakening

The Black Ruins of Valyria had slept for centuries.

Once the beating heart of an empire, its mighty towers had crumbled into the sea, its streets swallowed by ash and fire. Even the bravest sailors refused to sail too close, whispering of curses, ghosts, and things that should have died long ago.

But now—

The ruins stirred.

Deep beneath the shattered remains of the Doomed City, in a cavern untouched by time, an ancient force awoke.

A heartbeat.

Not of a man. Not of a beast.

Something older.

Something that had slept beneath the ash since the fall of Valyria.

Something that had been waiting for the First King to fall.

And now, with his chains shattered, it opened its eyes.

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Winterfell – A Time for War

The great hall of Winterfell was heavy with silence.

A war council had been called, but no one wanted to speak.

The banners of House Stark, Targaryen, and the remaining northern lords hung above the stone walls. Soldiers, hardened from the battle against the White Walkers, lined the perimeter, their armor still bearing the scars of war.

At the center of the room stood Daenerys Targaryen.

Her silver hair fell in loose waves over her dark robes, her violet eyes burning as she stared at the table before her. A map of Westeros was spread out, its edges marked with blood and ash.

Beside her, Sansa Stark stood tall, her face unreadable. Arya sat in the shadows, her fingers tracing the edge of her Valyrian steel dagger. Harry Potter stood nearby, his wand resting on the table, exhaustion clear in his face.

"The First King is gone," Daenerys said finally. "But something worse is coming."

Sansa's jaw tightened. "How do you know?"

Harry exhaled, rubbing his temples. "Because the moment we sealed the First King, I felt it." His voice was tired, but certain. "Something in the world… shifted."

Arya's gaze flickered toward him. "Magic?"

"Not just magic," Harry said, his voice grim. "Something ancient. Something that has been waiting for centuries."

Tormund scoffed. "I thought sealing that bastard was supposed to end this madness."

"It didn't," Daenerys snapped. "We've only bought time."

Bran Stark, who had been silent until now, finally spoke. His voice was eerily calm.

"Something woke in Valyria."

The hall fell deathly still.

Sansa's fingers curled against the table. "What do you mean, Bran?"

Bran's gaze was distant, his pale eyes almost glowing in the dim light. "The Doom of Valyria was not the end. It was a prison. A prison that the First King's presence helped maintain. When we sealed him… the chains that held Valyria's secret broke."

Daenerys paled. "What secret?"

Bran's voice dropped to a whisper.

"The Shadow Wyrm."

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The Forgotten Threat

Harry felt a chill crawl up his spine.

He had read fragments of Valyrian lore during his studies at the Citadel. The Shadow Wyrm—a creature even the Valyrians had feared.

The legends said it was not a dragon but something worse.

Something that had devoured dragons.

A being that had existed before Valyria, before even the First King.

Daenerys' voice was sharp. "What is it?"

Bran blinked slowly. "A god of ash and hunger. A creature that feeds on fire. It was the reason Valyria was destroyed. The dragonlords thought they could control it. They were wrong."

Tormund crossed his arms. "So we fought an ice god, and now we have to fight a fire god?"

Harry clenched his fists. "Not just a fire god. A predator."

Arya frowned. "A predator?"

Harry swallowed. "It doesn't just kill. It absorbs." He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "Every dragon, every sorcerer, every flame it touches… it consumes their power."

A heavy silence fell over the room.

Daenerys' heart pounded in her chest. "And now it's awake."

Bran nodded.

"Yes."

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The War Begins Anew

Sansa pressed her hands against the table, breathing deeply. "So what do we do?"

Daenerys looked to Harry. "Can magic stop it?"

Harry hesitated. "Not the kind we know. The First King was bound by old magic, but this creature… it doesn't just use fire—it feeds on it."

Tormund scowled. "So that means dragons are useless?"

Daenerys' jaw tightened. Drogon. The last of her children. If this thing was truly a dragon-eater, then her greatest weapon was at risk.

She would not lose him.

"We need to learn more," Harry said. "The Citadel might have records. There may be spells, enchantments—"

"Or we go to Valyria," Arya interrupted.

Every head turned to her.

She met their gazes without hesitation. "If we wait, we give it time to grow stronger. We need to go there. Now."

Tormund snorted. "Girl, you're mad. No one who enters Valyria comes back alive."

Arya smirked. "No one who enters Valyria is me."

Sansa exhaled sharply. "You can't just run off—"

"She's right," Daenerys interrupted.

Sansa turned to her in shock. "What?"

Daenerys' face was set in stone.

"If we wait, we lose our advantage." She turned to Bran. "Can you see it?"

Bran closed his eyes, his breathing slow and deep. The fire flickered in the hall, casting his face in shadow.

Then—he stiffened.

His fingers clenched against the armrest.

The air crackled with unseen energy.

And then he gasped.

His eyes flew open.

"There's no time," Bran whispered. "It's already spreading."

Harry's stomach twisted. "Where?"

Bran's gaze locked onto Daenerys.

"Essos is burning."

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The Flames of War

Far across the sea, in the heart of Volantis, a city of a hundred thousand souls, the sky turned red.

The Temple of R'hllor, once the center of fire magic in the world, collapsed in a wave of black flame.

Priests screamed.

The air was suffocating, thick with the stench of burning flesh.

In the center of the destruction, standing amidst rivers of molten stone, was a shadow.

A shape that did not belong in this world.

A creature of hunger and fire.

The Shadow Wyrm had awakened.

And Valyria's curse was spreading.