TWL Chapter - 84

The Creator had entrusted her with a new task.

He had asked her to build his nest.

Not a simple shelter, but a monument that would pierce the heavens, rise above the clouds, and endure for eternity.

She accepted the honor without question.

And with it, he had granted her a gift.

An endless, tireless swarm, bound to her every whim. Creatures that could hollow out mountains in their sleep.

She wasted no time.

She commanded her swarm to scour the land, clearing vast expanses and multiplying in number. In just thirty doublings, they surpassed a billion. 

Any more, and her control would fray. But even those limits stretched, the longer she wielded them.

It was enough for now. Precision mattered more than excess.

In mere days, the foundations were complete.

Now the true work could begin.

She saw the monolith clearly, the vision planted in her mind by the Creator. She understood its purpose.

It was not merely a fortress. Not simply a home.

It was a symbol.

A defiant spire to cast its shadow across the realm.

She did not sleep. 

She did not tire.

She only built.

And when she was finished, the world would look up in awe and know to whom it belonged.

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I was double-checking every step of the ritual when I felt the teleportation array hum to life.
Freya.
She didn’t sound hurried, so I kept working.

“What happened?” I inquired as soon as she appeared.

“Nothing urgent,” she replied with a shrug. “Just thought you’d want to know Prince Joffrey stopped by the clinic looking for you.”

I blinked. “Did he cause a scene?”

“Oh, absolutely,” she remarked dryly. “Got quite unpleasant when I told him you weren’t there. Then he drew his sword.”

“Inside the clinic?” I deadpanned.

She nodded. “Waving it around like a spoiled child, right up until I took it from him. His guard dragged him back to the castle after that. You were right—he really is insufferable.”

I stared at her for a moment before laughing. “Told you.”

She smirked. “Try not to kill him.”

I stopped laughing. “Why not?”

“Because it’s going to be much harder to rally people for the bigger problem if you start by executing the crown prince while he’s here under guest rites.”

I raised a brow. “He was the one who broke guest rites, wasn’t he?”

“Yes, but no one was hurt, so technically it doesn’t count,” she insisted.

I scratched my head. “I’m not sure that’s how it works.”

“Don’t tell me how to interpret my own religion, El,” she retorted, arms folded.

I let it go. “Fine. But I still need to do something. He’s going to be king someday, and he’s not the type to forget insults.”

“I know,” she murmured, the edge in her voice softening. “I just don’t want to be the spark that starts a war. I came to tell you before the gossip got to you—better you hear it from me than some exaggerated version that makes you overreact.”

I gasped in mock offense. “You think I’d overreact?”

She just gave me a look.

“Okay, fine, spoilsport. I won’t go overboard. I’ll just… make him piss himself.”

“Well, Fenrir already made him do that, so I think we’re good,” she noted.

“No, no, it doesn’t count if it wasn’t my idea. I still need to do something that’ll keep him awake at night. But I won’t kill him, alright?”

“Great. That’s all I needed.” Her eyes drifted to the glowing arrays spread across the ritual floor. “Well, I’ll leave you to… whatever this is. I should get back before someone else does something stupid.”

“I’m sure Fenrir can handle anything that requires violence.”

“Gods, I hope not. Think of all the work that would fall in my lap trying to keep them alive.”

I gasped in mock outrage. “Wow. You’ve gotten jaded.”

“I blame you. How long are you going to be cooped up in here this time?”

“Probably a day or two at most. If I’m gone longer, you might need to come looking.”

Her head snapped up. “Is this not safe?”

“Well, of course it is… I was mainly joking. But, you know, just in case,” I admitted, a little sheepishly.

“Vaylara, is he telling the truth?” Freya called out.

“…we’ve done worse before,” came Vaylara’s dry reply.

“That is not the answer I was hoping to hear.”

Vaylara just shrugged.

Freya turned back to me, narrowing her eyes. “You’re infecting her with your bad habits.”

“How is that in any way my fault? She’s not a child.”

“True, but she hasn’t had anyone to talk to other than you for, what, three centuries? So yes, it’s completely your fault.”

I stood there slack-jawed, turning to Vaylara for backup.

“Don’t look at me for help,” she said with a smirk. “I totally blame you for everything as well.”

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Cersei stormed into the hall, silk skirts sweeping furiously across the stone, a pair of guards trailing in her wake and looking as if they’d much rather be anywhere else. 

Her eyes locked on Robert like a hawk sighting prey.

“You let that brute put his hands on my son?” she snapped, her voice sharp enough to cut glass.

Robert didn’t even glance up from his seat. He was slouched in the high chair, one hand curled loosely around his cup. “That brute kept him alive.”

Her lips parted, ready to unleash another tirade, but Robert lifted a hand to cut her off.

“He drew steel on the White Mage’s girl,” Robert said flatly. “Tried to take her head off.”

The color drained from her face, her voice faltering for the first time. “What…? Is she dead?”

Robert’s gaze finally rose to meet hers, his eyes hard as iron. “No. Apparently she’s immune to swords.” He gave a short, humorless laugh. “The only reason your precious boy isn’t wolf meat is because she told the beast to let him go… after he pissed himself.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line. “Where is Joffrey?”

“I’ve got him locked in his room,” Robert replied. “The men are getting ready to send him back to King’s Landing immediately. I’ve spoken to Ned, he’s going to try and smooth things over at the clinic.”

“Good,” she said without hesitation.

That made Robert pause, studying her. “Huh. I thought you’d be a bigger problem over this than the boy himself.”

Cersei’s eyes narrowed. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Just saying… you’ve changed, that’s all. Do you want to go with him?”

“No,” she replied almost too quickly. “It would only slow them down. I need to stay here.”

Robert grunted, not bothering to hide his skepticism. He reached for his wine again. “Suit yourself. You seem to know well enough not to cross the mage, so I’m hoping you’re not going to cause more trouble, especially with a war on the horizon.”

She scoffed. “You actually believe these White Walkers are real?”

“I’m hoping they’re not,” Robert admitted, swirling the wine in his cup. “But right now, they’re being treated as a threat. I’ll reserve my final judgment until the scouts return.”

“I think they’re just looking for an excuse to mobilize an army.”

Robert, of course, dismissed it, “That makes no sense. If someone wanted that, there are easier and quieter ways to do it. If there’s an angle here, I’m not seeing it.”

“Perhaps you’re not looking hard enough,” she said, letting the accusation drip like venom.

He looked at her then and actually laughed, the sound grating in her ears. “Then by all means, I’m open to any bright ideas you’ve got.”

Her nails bit into her palm beneath the silk of her gown. She didn’t have an answer, not yet, but she would be damned before she admitted that to him. 

Instead, she gave a sharp huff, turned on her heel, and left to see her son.

------------

I somehow managed to convince Freya the ritual was perfectly safe.

Did I forget to mention it was painful? Absolutely. 

But it was definitely safe.

I couldn’t numb my nerve endings too much as it risked interfering with the effectiveness of the ritual and I needed this to go flawlessly.

This ritual wasn’t about summoning someone from the beyond. 

Not exactly.

It technically worked by pulling from memory, stitching together fragments of what I knew, shaping them into something with enough memories of its own to exist.

The more intimately I knew the subject, their habits, traits, instincts the stronger the result.

Half baked knowledge? It would collapse before it even formed.

But knowledge was only one side of the equation.

The ritual also needed belief.

Not just facts, but faith. My interpretation had to be emotionally true. Their likability, temperament, instincts all of it mattered.

That was why I couldn’t just pull some obscure overpowered being from a half remembered fantasy. It would either fail entirely or worse wake up not happy in a world it didn’t belong to. 

Too risky.

Which was why I had started small.

Summoning Donkey had been more complicated in theory than what I was doing at the moment, and a lot safer.

What I was doing now was the same in essence but different in its execution.

I wasn’t naming someone else.

I was naming myself, which came with its own set of problems.

I couldn’t abandon my current name; I was too deeply tied to it. 

But people were complicated. They could have more than one name.

The name you wore day to day, that was your identity.

The other name bound you to something bigger—a bloodline.

I couldn’t change who I was.

But I could give myself a lineage.

So I filtered through every requirement, and when a clear winner emerged among the options… gods, it made me cringe.

Thankfully, no one here would know that.

But it was worth it.

The power it promised… the possibilities…

It was beyond divine.

And soon, it would be mine.

I turned to Vaylara, the arrays around us thrumming with a low, hungry anticipation. “It’s time.”

She tilted her head. “Sure. But I want to talk to you about something first.”

“What is it?”

“I think I’ve done enough for you to deserve payment.”

I arched a brow. “Oh, cool. But what would you even do with money?”

“It isn’t money I want, El. We already discussed this the first time we met.”

“Oh… right. A physical body.” My lips curved into a small smile. “Shouldn’t be too hard. Give me your list of specifications after this is done, and I’ll make it as close to perfect as I can.”

“Then we better get started.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I stepped into the heart of the ritual. The arrays blazed a deeper red beneath my feet, pulsing like a heartbeat.

The air thickened—oppressive, metallic—carrying the scent of fresh blood.

I closed my eyes, drawing in every scrap of memory, every thread of belief I had prepared for this moment.

When I spoke, the world itself shuddered.

By the fire that rages in the blood,

By the eyes that bring the death of worlds,

By the twisted love, hate, and power,

By the will that defies reality,

I name myself El Uchiha.