The barrel-shaped hall was divided into four directions by four stout stone pillars. Behind each pillar hewn from blackstone, a small wooden door stood. In the center of this chamber lay a low, round platform, elevated by half a meter. At its heart stood a twisted black crystal, soaring two meters high.

But that was it.

No Idol graced the chamber, no altar adorned its space, not even a single incense candle, nor the familiar nave one might expect in a sept.

Dany regarded this barren scene with a furrowed brow. "This isn't what I expected, Lady Jaen."

Jaen, the High Priest, offered her a weary look, as though she had heard this lament many times before. "You know little, Dragonlord. Valyrians are a people of the sky, their feet seldom touch the earth. In Valyria, the grand hall lies atop the tower. Were I a dragon rider, I'd have taken you directly to the summit."

Now, do you comprehend?

"The top floor of the tower is the main hall. If I also had a Dragon, I'd escort you directly to the tower's pinnacle."

But alas, you lack a Dragon, a Valyrian noble without such a magnificent beast. How then do you look down at the world's sole female Dragonlord?

Dany's response was a coquettish smile. She ventured to ask, "What of the High Priest's legacy?"

The High Priest's gaze turned severe. "Aren't you here to venerate God?"

"Your High Priest," Dany sighed, "my thoughts are preoccupied with the mystical sorceries of Valyria. I cannot find the serenity to pay homage to Balerion in this state."

Jaen's eyes betrayed a flicker of displeasure, yet she contained her anger. She pointed toward the wooden door to the south, stating, "I cannot assure you of the revelations behind that door. It depends solely on your lineage."

The High Priest's eyes remained tainted with dissatisfaction. The sept's black tower sloped sharply to the south, almost forming a small incline. Dany descended a few steps, clutching the Blackstone pillar before the wooden door. "May I enter?"

"Very well," Jaen nodded slowly.

As she gazed upward, she noticed the stone pillar she leaned on was etched with war etchings. Countless Dragons dominated the sky, while a giant tortoise floated amidst a colossal wave in the clouds. The city below appeared as small as a child's building block when compared to the vast waves and colossal spectacle above.

Dany halted her steps and circled around the stone pillar. "Is this the war that conquered Rhoynar two thousand years ago?"

"Yes," Jaen affirmed, directing her attention to the most prominent Dragon amidst the carved battle scenes. "Observe the Dragonslayer Horn!"

She couldn't help but acknowledge the exquisite artistry of the stone carving. The depiction of the tragic atmosphere on the battlefield was not only vivid but teemed with intricate details. The horn, hanging from the "minuscule" Dragonlord's waist as he rode a Dragon, left an impression. The Dragon was no larger than a hand, and the Dragonlord who commanded it appeared as slender as a fingernail. The arc-shaped horn merely spanned the length of the Dragonlord's forearm.

Dany questioned with a raised eyebrow, "Why is the Dragonslayer horn so diminutive? 'Dragonbinder' is taller than me. Could it be that the 'Dragonslayer horn' wasn't fashioned from a Dragon's horn?"

Jaen shrugged, uncertainty in her response. "I can't say for certain. The size of the Dragon's horn might not be the determining factor."

Dany couldn't help but look down on Jaen. She appeared ignorant of the Dragon's soul bound within the Horn.

There stood a wooden door behind the column, crafted from ebony. Upon it, a symbol that Dany found somewhat familiar: a white, positive spiral vortex.

"What symbol is this?" she inquired.

"The foundation of sorcery, the representation of the Soul," Jaen replied.

Dany's brow furrowed in confusion. "Could you elaborate? I lack understanding of its magical implications."

Jaen Belaerys drummed her foot impatiently. "In constructing a building, one must first lay a firm foundation. The stability of the foundation determines the height of the tower. Take this black tower, for example. Half of it extends into the air, yet it remains steadfast, slanting towards the sea at such an angle. The path of a Sorcerer mirrors the construction of a house, and it commences with establishing a solid 'foundation' – the basics of magic."

She grumbled inwardly, wishing she would simply teach her tricks rather than subject her to a barrage of cryptic metaphors.

Despite her vexation, Dany maintained a look of rapt attention on her face. "If one possesses the potential to become a Sorcerer, they can open their 'Soul Lake', a source of strength, much like a lake reflecting the stars."

However, Dany couldn't help but express her own predicament. "Apologies, but we don't possess a Soul Lake; it's more akin to a boundless ocean."

Her eyes shimmered with admiration as she continued in a respectful tone, "I now understand, High Priest, the way is clear."

Jaen, who was at most a few years Dany's elder, appeared somewhat overwhelmed by her compliments. She continued, "Basic meditation doesn't bestow extraordinary powers; it primarily gathers the mental strength dispersed within your Soul, akin to deriving the force of a punch from countless minuscule components."

Jaen faltered for a moment, and an elderly priest nearby offered a whispered reminder, "Genes."

"Yes," Jaen continued, undeterred. "Just as we perceive our bodies as unified wholes, they are, in reality, composed of countless tiny genes. The execution of power hinges on the unity and cooperation of these genes. Sorcery, as it's known, is the 'clenched fist' and the 'blow' on the spiritual plane. Basic meditation aims to unite these dispersed mental 'genes' into a singular entity."

Dany's eyes were on the verge of popping out of their sockets as she tried to fathom these intricate notions. Jaen sighed, a veneer of condescension on her face as she waved her hand dismissively. "Ah, your comprehension is of no consequence. It's not necessary for you to understand the theoretical principles of genes. The world may be obtuse, but you can still become a swordsman without grasping the intricacies of gene theory."

Dany snapped back to reality after the initial shock and couldn't resist posing another question: "High Priest, may I inquire about how you discovered... oh, no, genes? How did you stumble upon genes?"

She couldn't help but think that Jaen was attempting to appear extraordinary.

Jaen chuckled at her unending queries. "You seem to have more and more questions. How am I to expound on the principles of light to you? You've probably never laid eyes on a lens, have you?"

Dany couldn't suppress a smirk as she retorted, "Is that what these are?" She pointed to the binocular telescopes hanging from Barristan's neck.

Jaen Belaerys hesitated for a moment, then nodded stiffly and proudly. "Myr's glass factory, Qohor's steel factory – they all employ Valyrian technology. We even pioneered the nautical telescope and the grand star-gazing mirror. Through similar principles, we can create Sorcerer's Lenses for examining human organs. The smallest discovered components within these organs are termed 'genes.'"

"It's the Sorcerer's Lens!" Barristan exclaimed, his voice filled with amazement.

Dany turned her curious gaze towards him. "You're familiar with the Sorcerer's Lens?"

Barristan responded with measured words, "The Citadel has conducted experiments involving humans and has been striving to create the legendary Sorcerer's Lens. For this purpose, the Citadel's Archmaesters have made multiple entreaties to King Aerys, seeking increased investment in the Citadel and a reduction in import duties on Myr lenses – they require vast quantities of glass and lenses."

One of the elderly priests scoffed, "The Citadel of the Sunset Lands – those Andals are merely attempting to emulate us."

Barristan blushed but found himself unable to offer a rebuttal. Dany's eyes glistened with fascination as she mused, "How magnificent was the Valyrian civilization?"

"I wish to know the answer to that question as well," the Maiden High Priest chimed in with a wry smile.

"Come, after you've learned meditation, a Sorcerer glyph will be etched into your Soul. It's represented by this symbol." She gestured to the white-painted vortex on the sandalwood door.

Beyond the door lay a dark stone chamber measuring twenty square meters. A dim, reddish light emanated from a skylight situated three meters above, casting a faint glow over the empty azure slate. Within the chamber, a slender, twisted obsidian candle was visible.

Dany questioned, "Is this just a glass candle?" She looked back toward the young priestess for confirmation.

The priestess replied, "Glass candles are the finest conductors of the mystical elements. most of all magic can be harnessed through them."

Dany's curiosity persisted as she inquired further, "What about the blue magic sphere atop the Sorcerer Tower?"

Jaen was taken aback, "You're familiar with the magic sphere?"

"My second brother, Viserys, once told me that Grand Sorcerers can govern the world using magic spheres the size of a house."

Her second brother, Viserys, once again served as a shield against Jaen's assumptions of ignorance.

Jaen explained, "The magic sphere is an advanced iteration of the glass candle, akin to the difference between a bonfire and a candle."

Dany found the methodology of the Sorcerers to be somewhat one-dimensional and sought guidance. "What should I do next?"

"Kindle that glass candle, and within its flames, you shall find the knowledge you seek," Jaen directed.

Barristan added an interesting tidbit, "The night before an Acolyte at the Citadel swears to become a Maester, they must undertake a Vigil in a cellar with only an obsidian candle. If they manage to light it, they're allowed to depart early."

It was widely believed that no one had ever managed to light the candle at the Citadel.

Pycelle, the Grand Maester, asserted that this tradition served as a warning to new Maesters. It aimed to remind them that despite their knowledge, they were not all-knowing.

A silver-haired old priest couldn't resist a snide comment. "Grand Maester Pycelle must be a foolish pig. He claims that the power of an organization's leader determines the upper limit of the organization's capabilities."

White Cloak inquired, "Why would you say that?"

The old priest clarified, "The four glass candles at the Citadel all originate from Valyria. They were gifted a thousand years ago to the Maesters who served for fifty years and are associated with four basic paths of magic. It's absurd that the wisdom passed down from our ancestors at such a high price is considered a jest by them."

Dany contemplated the implications. "So, the final test for the Maesters was essentially an assessment of their magical qualities? It may have been relevant in the past, but it's been over a century of the Weak Tide, and no one has managed to light the candle, so it has gradually become but a ceremony."

She turned to the young priestess and asked, "High Priest, are you familiar with the Magic Tide? An Asshai Sorcerer once told me that the emergence of Dragons brings Magic to the world."

The question seemed to disconcert the young priestess, who glanced hesitantly at the silver-haired old man who had earlier mocked the Citadel.

The old priest pondered for a moment before responding, "The statement itself is not incorrect. Dragons represent the limits of the world's power, and the substantial energy gap between Dragons and mortals is the domain of mysterious forces.

However, in addition to the Dragons in our world, there are also Gods. Gods increase the limit of the levels of individual life forces in the world. Therefore, the activity of Magic, in reality, involves other factors and is sufficient to give rise to Sorcery."

Dany probed further, "But if there are Gods in this world, why has there been over a century of Weak Tides?"

"Gods exist beyond the mortal plane; they are far removed from reality and can only influence a very limited area, such as the Asshai in the Shadow Lands. Dragons, on the other hand, exist in the mortal world, in a tangible way."

After providing these explanations, whether or not Dany fully comprehended them, the elderly priest hurriedly urged her to enter the chamber. "You've already delayed our afternoon prayers, and you have evening lessons to attend."

Dany complied, but not before inquiring, "What do I need to do?"

"Simply concentrate on the top of the candle, or merely gaze at it. You'll have ample time for the night," the priestess advised.

Once the door to the room was closed, High Priest Jaen ascended with the elderly priests to conduct their evening prayers, leaving the White Cloak standing alone at the door.