The echo of the ritual still throbbed in their bodies, a quiet murmur that clung to their blood and bones. At first, no one spoke. They remained in the circular chamber of the fourth tower, leaning against the cold, ancient walls, listening to their own breathing. Outside, twilight filtered its golden light through the cracks in the stone, staining the air with an almost liquid glow.
Vaemor, sitting with his back against an obsidian column, felt for the first time the true weight of what they had done. The dragon-shaped tattoo etched into his skin had spread a little further, as if it had grown during the brief sleep that had taken them after the ritual. His new features—burning violet eyes, smooth skin, platinum-gold hair—made him feel strange... and powerful.
"One more day here and we'll forget what it was like outside," Zaryon murmured, breaking the silence.
"The fresh air of Valyria isn't always a relief," Daenyr replied, still staring at the door. They stayed a while longer, long enough to share a piece of salted meat and take a sip of metallic-tasting water. The rest was brief, almost an enforced truce. The invisible pulse of the towers, that call only they could feel now, didn't allow them to remain still for long.
As they stood, the silence was replaced by a low hum that seemed to emanate from the stone itself. Vaemor recognized it: not a direct threat, but a reminder that the tower recognized them... and that their duty was not over.
They went outside.
The air was colder than they remembered, and an easterly wind carried the acrid smell of nearby lava flows. From the top of the hill where the fourth tower stood, they could see the broken horizon of Valyria: ruined towers, suspension bridges still standing over black chasms, and far away, through a reddish mist, the silhouette of what could only be the fifth tower. It was slimmer than the previous ones, and its summit seemed split in two, as if struck by lightning. "That is our next step," Aerys said gravely.
"And perhaps the most dangerous," Zaryon added. "From here, it feels... different."
It wasn't just the distance that impeded them. The mist that covered the ground between them and the tower was no ordinary mist: it twisted, formed shapes, dispersed, and closed their way again. It was unnatural, and they all knew it.
They descended the slope, avoiding the dry bed of an ancient lava flow. Twilight was fading, and soon the sky took on a violet hue that made their eyes shine more brightly than ever. With each step, the sense of danger grew. It wasn't just the hostility of the land... it was something else, something watching them from an unseen point.
Halfway there, Vaemor stopped.
"You feel it, don't you?" he asked quietly.
"Yes," Kaelyth replied, not looking at him. "We are not alone... and it is not one of the wild beasts we have seen before. This thinks. This studies us."
There were no more words. The march continued, each step more careful, hands close to weapons and senses heightened. The horizon didn't seem to draw near, but the weight of the fifth tower was already felt upon them, as if each successive tower knew more about its bearers... and awaited something more difficult than the final challenge.
Dusk melted into night, and in the sky, the stars were reflected in the rivers of lava that wound in the distance, as if the earth itself wanted to remind them that beneath their feet the heart of Valyria still burned.