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Chapter 275: Ella and Yara
🕑 Added 2025-04-18 10:55:53 +0000 UTCMonstrous inhabitants of Oros. Though she had no right to call anyone a monster, there was no denying that some people were more monstrous than monsters themselves.
Ella and Yara were from Mantarys, a city to the north of the Lands of the Long Summer, nestled against the Sea of Sighs. It was said that hundreds of years ago, the city had been thriving—so prosperous that even now, elders in their family would often speak of its golden days, recalling the splendor of the Valyrian Dragonlords who once ruled it. Now, it was nothing but ruins—a crumbling city overrun with twisted and malformed creatures.
Like most Mantaryans, Ella and Yara made a living scavenging relics from the ruins of Valyria and selling them to passing caravans from Mantarys.
However, after centuries of scavenging, all the safe and valuable artifacts had long been taken. Now, they had no choice but to venture deep into Oros, along the northern shore of the Smoking Sea, in search of anything still worth something.
To do so, Ella and Yara had spent a month walking from Mantarys to Oros. Along the way, they encountered all manner of dangers: terrifying creatures with rotting flesh and the scorched earth wildlings who roamed the Lands of the Long Summer. Either threat could have been fatal.
Fortunately, the sisters were born with a powerful sense—an innate ability to detect danger before it arrived. That gift had saved them more than once, just as it was helping them now avoid the Abyssal Remnants wandering through the ruins of Oros.
The reason they risked such peril to come to Oros was because, not long ago, someone had discovered a petrified dragon egg here and sold it to a passing caravan for an enormous sum—enough to live a carefree life in Mantarys.
It was that lure of wealth that drew so many Mantaryans to risk the trek across the scorched Lands of the Long Summer, hoping to find treasure hidden in Oros, just as Ella and Yara had done.
But unlike the sisters, most lacked their abilities. Many never even made it to Oros, and those who did still faced the threat of being attacked by the people of Oros.
Just moments ago, the sisters had seen a seven-man treasure-hunting team ambushed and slaughtered by a group of Oros dwellers—bodies cracked open, oozing thick yellow pus, with eyes as red as blood.
They recognized some of the victims—among them were some of Mantarys's most skilled swordsmen. Even they had stood no chance once surrounded by the Oros dwellers. If warriors like that couldn’t survive, then Ella and Yara had no hope if they were discovered.
That was why the sisters had become even more cautious. At the first sign of danger, they wouldn’t so much as reach out for a valuable ancient artifact lying before them. They would hide, wait, and only move once the threat had passed.
It was through such caution that Ella and Yara had managed to push deeper into the inner city of Oros than anyone else ever had. They were getting closer and closer to their true goal.
Unlike others who came here searching blindly, the sisters had a plan. Before they even set out, they had already chosen their destination: the residence of the Magister of Oros. That estate had once belonged to a branch of the Valyrian Dragonlords. The sisters' ancestors had served as stewards to that Dragonlord and were noble Valyrians themselves, so they knew the estate well. Their ancestors had left behind journals, and in those notes were details about the Magister’s residence—including something of utmost importance to the sisters: a dragon’s nest hidden within, where dragon eggs were once stored.
The sense of danger soon faded, but the sisters didn’t emerge right away. They waited in silence a little longer, making absolutely sure the area was safe before crawling out from the pit beneath a collapsed stone pillar.
Ella and Yara were identical in appearance, both bearing the unmistakable traits of Valyria—purple eyes and silver hair. The only difference between them was that one had silver-blonde hair, the other silver-white.
In looks alone, the sisters were among the most beautiful women one could imagine—but there was one catch: they shared a single body.
Even in Mantarys, known as the City of Monsters, two-headed people were considered outcasts among outcasts, monsters among monsters. Just as humans discriminated against the deformed, the deformed scorned those even stranger than themselves. And because two-headed individuals were so rare, passing caravans were often willing to pay high prices to buy them.
After their parents died, their parents’ closest friend had tried to sell them to a Meereenese slave master. But the sisters had sensed his betrayal before it happened and killed him before he could act.
Since then, the only people they trusted were each other. Whether in Mantarys or in the Lands of the Long Summer, they moved alone, with no companions. Perhaps that was the reason they had survived this long.
One head kept watch for movement, while the other crept forward through the ruins. Before long, they reached the Magister’s estate and began to move silently along its edge, heading toward the cliff that overlooked the Smoking Sea.
According to their ancestors’ notes, the Dragon's Nest of the Magister’s residence was located right at the edge of the cliff. But when the sisters crept close to the area, they discovered a large number of Oros dwellers gathered there—at a glance, at least two to three hundred of them—making it impossible for them to approach the Dragon's Nest.
What felt even more bizarre was that, despite the sheer number of Oros people present, neither of them sensed any danger. In their perception, these Oros people were harmless.
“What do we do now?” Ella asked Yara directly through their mental link.
Though Yara was the younger of the two, she had always been the one to make decisions. Most of the time, it was her judgment they relied on—like now.
“Hide over there. They probably won’t stay long,” Yara answered quickly, pointing to a crumbling tower not far off.
Ella nodded in agreement.
The two carefully navigated a short stretch of ruins and made their way to the base of the broken tower. They found a small hole just big enough to squeeze through, entered the structure, and climbed the staircase to a shattered section higher up. There, they found an ideal hiding place—well concealed, yet offering a clear view of the surrounding area.
As always, one of them kept watch while the other scanned for danger.
From her vantage point, Yara saw that the Oros people seemed to be carrying out some kind of religious ritual. They had tied the captured treasure hunters—those who had made it to Oros only to be caught—to the stone pillars on the large platform outside the Dragon’s Nest. Beyond the platform lay the Smoking Sea, thick with its ever-present poisonous fumes.
Yara was no stranger to religion. In fact, both she and Ella were devout followers of the God of Calamity, and they had long dreamed of saving enough to make a pilgrimage to the Holy City of Calamity.
Years ago, during the outbreak of the Great Plague, both sisters had fallen gravely ill and nearly died. They were saved by a wandering ascetic of the God of Calamity, who had been traveling to Slaver’s Bay to combat the sickness and passed through Mantarys on the way.
From him, they learned of the Holy City of Calamity—a city of peace and joy, where everyone had food and shelter, and no one ever went hungry or cold. All of it, he said, was thanks to the protection of the God of Calamity. The sisters believed their survival had come from that divine mercy. What moved them even more was the look in the ascetic’s eyes—no revulsion, no judgment—just quiet acceptance, as though they were ordinary people. That was when their faith began.
Before he left, the ascetic gave them a necklace bearing the sacred emblem of the God of Calamity. He told them that as long as they wore it and made their way to the Holy City, they would be granted protection. They wouldn’t have to keep living like this—fearful, hiding, hunted.
Now, under Yara’s watch, the ritual seemed to be reaching its end. The Oros, who had been kneeling, now rose and shouted the same word in unison. The priestly figures among them turned from the Dragon’s Nest platform and withdrew to the outer edges.
As the chants grew more frenzied, a sharp, piercing screech rang out from the Smoking Sea—something in the toxic waters was answering the call.
The Oros people began shouting louder, their voices filled with fervor, as if trying to tear their throats apart in worship.
Then Yara saw the surface of the Smoking Sea begin to churn violently. Great gusts of wind swept away the thick, poisonous fumes hanging above the water. Something massive was rising from the depths.
The sea began to boil. A giant tentacle broke through the surface, slamming onto the cliffside. Its suction cups latched tightly onto the rock face. Then came a second, a third, followed by several more—seven, eight in total—each one latching onto the cliff wall.
Finally, a colossal sea beast, roughly the size of two elephants and covered in oozing pustules, emerged from the Smoking Sea and began climbing the sheer cliff toward the platform outside the Dragon's Nest.
In an instant, the Oros people fell silent, all eyes fixed anxiously on the sea monster that had climbed onto the platform. Among the sacrifices, some of the captured treasure hunters were still alive. The moment they laid eyes on the creature, they went completely mad, screaming and thrashing wildly in a desperate bid to break free.
But their frantic struggle only made it easier for the sea monster to find them. One of its massive tentacles swept over the captives with uncanny precision. The moment it touched them, their screams were cut off. When the tentacle pulled away, all that remained were shriveled husks—mummified corpses as if every drop of moisture had been drained from their bodies.
Yet the creature didn’t stop there. Unsatisfied, it turned its attention to the Oros people standing beyond the platform. Its tentacles lashed out toward them. They tried to scatter in panic, but the beast was faster. Several were instantly ensnared, and when the tentacles withdrew, those Oros people too had been reduced to dry, lifeless corpses.
However, compared to the sacrificed outsiders, the pus-covered Oros people seemed far less appetizing. The sea monster quickly shifted its focus to a new target: the sisters Ella and Yara, still hidden in the ruined tower, watching the scene unfold.
“Danger! Danger!” The warning surged through their minds—more intense than anything they had ever felt. Without hesitation, they abandoned cover, leapt down from the tower, and fled toward the interior, putting as much distance as they could between themselves and the shore.
But they weren’t fast enough.
The monster’s tentacles stretched with unnatural speed and length, extending hundreds of meters in an instant to block their path, curling inward as if to swallow them whole.
The overwhelming sense of danger hit them like a tidal wave. Their limbs went limp. They collapsed to the ground, powerless to move, forced to watch as the tentacles closed in around them.
Just as they thought it was the end, a deafening roar rolled down from the sky—a voice so mighty, so awe-inspiring, that everyone who heard it was overcome with reverence and a compulsion to kneel.
The sea monster froze.
It recoiled as if struck by terror, withdrawing its tentacles from the sisters and retreating in a panic. It slithered clumsily to the edge of the cliff and flung itself over, plummeting toward the sea in a desperate attempt to escape.
But lightning was faster.
A thick bolt of silver-blue lightning shot down from the heavens and struck the monster mid-fall. In an instant, it was cooked from the inside out. Even from where they lay, Ella and Yara could smell the sharp, unmistakable scent of grilled squid.
Then, from the clouds of toxic smoke above, a strange, monstrous dragon emerged—four wings, four legs, crackling with arcs of lightning that danced along its body like it was lightning itself.
The poisonous clouds around it were torn apart by the storm it carried. As the darkness was ripped away, sunlight broke through—golden rays falling on the ruins of Oros, which hadn’t seen daylight in years. The dragon glowed with a holy brilliance under the sun.
It hovered in the sky for a moment, then dove sharply, landing on the sea’s surface. Its claws gripped the charred sea monster with ease, despite it being far larger than itself. Its four wings beat with a low hum, lifting both dragon and prey into the air before it soared back toward the platform of the Dragon's Nest atop the Magister’s residence.
The Oros people were paralyzed in fear. Their god—slain so effortlessly—and now seemingly nothing more than food for the dragon. Their minds blanked, as if their very souls had been ripped away.
Only a handful of the Oros people, those who still remembered their lineage, could recall ancient stories of dragons. And when they saw a knight in full armor leap down from the dragon’s back, their thoughts turned immediately to the long-lost Dragonlords of Valyria—once the rulers of this very city.
The armored knight looked straight at the Oros people and began walking toward them. A creeping terror took hold in their hearts. It wasn’t a man they saw approaching—it was fear incarnate.
They broke.
Some fled screaming in all directions. Others, in their panic, ran blindly off the edge of the cliff, plummeting into the sea below—fate unknown.
Within moments, the area around the Dragon's Nest was deserted. Only the dragon, the knight, and the distant, watching two-headed sisters remained.
