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With a low shout, Lynn released a surge of warm power from his palm. It swept outward and enveloped Melisandre's still-warm corpse in an instant.
The next second.
He felt something pull at him from the inside , a thread of blood drawn away by an invisible hand.
It wasn't much. But the sensation of life leaving his body was unmistakable.
So that was the price of resurrection.
King's Blood as fuel. The fire of life demanding something to burn.
If you had it yourself, it took from you. If you didn't, it took from someone else. Simple as that.
Lynn's brow furrowed slightly.
This resurrection wasn't something to throw around carelessly. And the more he thought about it, the more it felt less like a divine gift and more like dark sorcery.
Why King's Blood specifically? Why that particular kind?
He felt like he was on the edge of something , some understanding just out of reach.
A faint wave of weakness moved through him. Nothing that would slow him down in a fight, but uncomfortable all the same.
"Someone."
He called toward the door without turning.
"Go find me some restorative herbs."
"Yes, my lord!"
The Gold Cloak outside didn't waste a breath. He turned and ran.
And just then, rapid footsteps from the far end of the corridor.
"Lord Lann!"
Cersei, Liana, and Sansa came rushing in, all three of them pale with worry.
The commotion from the Hand's Tower had carried. They'd feared the worst.
They got the hall. They got the scene inside it. And all three of them stopped dead.
A woman in red robes lay on the floor.
A bloody hole had been punched through her chest. Blood had spread across the stones beneath her.
Lynn stood beside the body. His expression gave nothing away.
None of them were strangers to death.
Their minds turned it over once, quickly, and filled in the rest on their own. Some red-robed woman had shown up uninvited, hadn't known who she was dealing with, and paid for it on the spot.
A flicker of recognition crossed Cersei's face. She had seen too many self-important fools end the same way.
Liana and Sansa pressed instinctively closer to Lynn, keeping him between themselves and the body.
"Are you... are you alright?" Cersei asked carefully, breaking the silence.
Lynn didn't answer.
His attention was elsewhere , fixed entirely on Melisandre's corpse.
Because a soft red light had begun to gather around it, shifting and breathing like something alive.
It didn't sting the eyes. If anything, it carried warmth. Something almost peaceful.
"What is..." Liana's voice caught. She pressed her hand over her mouth, eyes wide. "What is that?"
Cersei and Sansa stared.
Beneath that red glow, the ragged wound in Melisandre's chest was closing.
They could see it. Right in front of them, in plain sight , flesh knitting back together, skin drawing shut, the evidence of death being unmade.
This was beyond anything the Citadel's finest maester could have done. Beyond anything any of them had a framework to understand.
A miracle. There was no other word for it.
None of the three women breathed.
They watched without blinking, afraid to miss a single moment.
The light deepened. And the pallor of blood loss that had drained Melisandre's skin slowly gave way to warmth, to color, to life.
Then.
Her chest lurched upward.
A breath. A real one.
"Cough , cough —"
With a fit of violent, wracking coughs, Melisandre pushed herself upright from the floor.
She looked around, disoriented, then dropped her gaze to her own chest , at the scar where the wound had been.
She remembered.
Lynn had stripped the power from her gem. Then he'd driven a sword through her heart.
She had died.
And yet here she was.
Melisandre snapped her head up and found Lynn standing over her.
Fear. Confusion. Shock. Something beyond all three. Every emotion crowded into her eyes at once.
She was lost. She was afraid.
What was he doing? Was this some game? Was he toying with her?
In the hall behind her, Cersei, Liana, and Sansa stood like they'd been turned to stone.
A dead woman.
A woman they had watched die , heart punctured, blood emptied onto the floor.
And now she was sitting up and coughing.
Kings, they understood. Power, they understood. Magic. Even dragons. All of that lived within the boundaries of the world they knew.
But this ,
Raising the dead was not something that lived within any boundary. It belonged to something else entirely. Something beyond mortal reach.
This was the domain of gods.
Cersei's body began to shake. She couldn't stop it.
Her mind raced through everything , every moment since she had first known Lynn. His arrival in King's Landing, as though he had descended from somewhere above. The dragons that could unmake armies. The way he always seemed to already know what was in your heart. The ease with which he held the king's life and death in his hands.
All of it.
Today, it finally made sense.
He wasn't mortal.
He was a god. A god walking the earth in a man's skin.
THUD!
Cersei Lannister's legs gave out, and she went down , straight to the floor, hard.
Not from fear. Not from submission.
From something that rose out of the deepest part of her , reverence. True reverence, the kind that doesn't ask permission and doesn't calculate.
"My lord..."
Her voice shook. Her hands shook. Something inside her shook.
She lowered her head , that proud, unbending head , and pressed her forehead flat against the cold stone floor.
Liana and Sansa watched her go down and came back to themselves like sleepers waking mid-fall.
They looked at the man standing at the center of the hall. Tall. Still. Immovable as a mountain.
Whatever had lived in their eyes before — the warmth, the affection, the need , it was gone now. Replaced by something purer and more absolute. Worship. Faith with no conditions attached.
They knelt, one after the other, THUD, THUD.
Lynn looked at the three of them on the floor, trembling.
He had barely done anything. And this was the response?
He cleared his throat.
"Get up. All of you."
His voice was quiet. Even.
But to the four women in that room, it landed like a decree handed down from somewhere above the clouds , carrying a weight that left no room for question.
Cersei and the others rose on unsteady legs, heads still bowed, not quite able to meet his eyes.
Lynn turned his attention to Melisandre, still crouched on the floor.
"Come to my room shortly. I have things to say to you. Privately."
Then he looked back toward Cersei and the others.
At that moment, the Gold Cloak came back through the door with an armful of herbs. He took one look at the room , three noblewomen kneeling, a dead woman sitting up breathing , and his hands jerked so hard he nearly scattered herbs across the floor.
He set the bundle on the table with great care. Then he knelt too.
L... Lord Lann... he can... he can raise the dead.
He's a god.
Lynn didn't spare him a glance. He picked up the herbs and turned to find somewhere quiet to deal with them.
He could feel it already , the Gold Cloaks posted outside the tower, peering in through whatever gaps they could find, eyes wide with the kind of awe that doesn't stay quiet for long.
The whispers drifted in from outside, low but carrying.
"Did you see her? The woman in red — she was dead. She came back."
"Gods. Lord Lann... is he... is he actually a god?"
"Has to be. Nothing else explains it. Only a god could do that."
Lynn exhaled slowly.
Wonderful. Another title to add to the list.
➤ Next: Poaching from the Lord of Light
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