Night fell upon the camp like a heavy blanket. The air, laden with a silence too thick to be natural, seemed to crush every sound that tried to rise. The embers of the fire crackled timidly, as if afraid to break that silence. The tower rose in the distance, barely a jagged shadow against the horizon, lit by a pale moon that seemed to regard them with distrust.
Vaemor Xhaelarys stood at the edge of the camp, his gaze fixed on that black silhouette. It wasn't the first tower they had faced, but something about this one inspired a different kind of apprehension.
It wasn't fear... it was the feeling that something was already waiting for them.
"You haven't looked away since we arrived," Aerys Qhaedros murmured, approaching with silent steps.
"It's as if... it's staring back at me," Vaemor replied, without turning.
Behind them, Maekor Dravion and Zaryon Velqarys checked their weapons, sharpening blades that had already tasted the blood of impossible creatures. Rhaedor Vorys heated a cauldron of water and herbs, while Kaelyth Thalmyx, as always, paced in circles, listening for any noise. Daenyr Vhaelys stood apart, writing in a worn notebook, tracing symbols no one else understood.
The first sign came shortly before midnight.
A faint tremor ran through the ground. It wasn't a ground movement like the ones that sometimes shook the ruins, but a rhythmic vibration, as if something enormous were walking far below them. The embers of the fire stirred, and the water in Rhaedor cauldron began to form concentric ripples. No one spoke, but all sat up, hands on their weapons.
"Did you feel it?" Kaevor whispered.
"Yes," Maekor replied, "but it wasn't the wind or the rocks."
The second event was worse. From the direction of the tower, a deep, hollow sound began to be heard, like a wail dragged through stone. It wasn't a human voice, but there was something undeniably conscious about it. The vibration echoed in Vaemor chest, as if it were trying to tear out his heart. The fire flickered and nearly went out.
"The tower…" Zaryon whispered, his jaw clenching. "It's… singing."
No one laughed at the thought. Everyone knew that in Valyria, stone could hold memories and ancient voices. If that tower was "speaking," it was because what it held within was alive… or worse than alive.
The third and final event of the night was the most terrifying.
As the group tried to regroup, the shadows of the camp began to lengthen impossibly, projecting in directions opposite to the light of the fire. Vaemor was the first to notice: his shadow was moving behind him, like an image trapped in a different time. Aerys's shadow grew taller than the tower itself. And Daenyr shadow simply stopped imitating it and stared up at the tower.
"This isn't normal," Daenyr murmured with false calm, closing her notebook. "Whatever it is, it's watching us... right now."
The wind suddenly rose, extinguishing the fire. Darkness enveloped the group for a moment that felt eternal, and in that time, each heard something different whispered in their ears:
A lost name.
A broken promise.
A sealed fate.
When Kaelyth managed to relight the fire, everything returned to normal... or at least, to the normality they could expect in Valyria. The shadows returned, the ground stopped vibrating, and silence returned.
But none of them slept that night.
In the distance, the tower stood still, silent, as if it had never made a sound.
And yet, Vaemor couldn't help thinking that what they had heard... wasn't a song. It was a call.