Chapter 9: Soaring Beyond the Horizon
As Nightfurry and I ascended from the Dragonmont into the vast expanse of the sky, a curtain of clouds unfolded before us, concealing the island of Dragonstone below. The marcane snake nestled securely around my wrist, the gyrphin eagle soared beside us, and the Destrier horse, steadfast and regal, galloped with newfound energy beneath us.
The wind whispered tales of uncharted territories as Nightfurry's wings beat rhythmically against the currents. We became silhouettes against the canvas of the sky, disappearing from the gaze of those who remained grounded on Dragonstone. The island shrank beneath us, a speck in the vastness of the world.
Our departure remained unnoticed by those who roamed Dragonstone and beyond, for the sky concealed our journey, and the threads of destiny wove a tale that unfolded far beyond the horizon. Nightfurry, with the marcane snake and the gyrphin eagle, carried me into the unknown—a journey marked by the winds of change and the echoes of destiny yet to be unraveled.
Back on Dragonstone, the absence of Cannibal became a topic of discussion among those who observed the skies. Whispers of the dragon's flight circulated through the island, leaving a void that stirred both curiosity and concern. In taverns and marketplaces, tales were spun about the dragon's disappearance, each version colored by the storyteller's imagination.
Some speculated that Cannibal had reached the end of its majestic life, returning to the ancestral lands of Valyria for its final moments. The idea of a dragon's pilgrimage to its place of origin carried a sense of poetic inevitability, intertwining life and death in a dance that transcended the mortal coil.
Others whispered darker possibilities, suggesting that Cannibal, the ancient dragon of the Dragonmont, had been chased away by the looming presence of other formidable dragons—Vhagar and Vermithor, whose shadows cast a formidable aura over Dragonstone. The notion of dragon politics, of territorial disputes among the mighty creatures, fueled the imaginations of those who sought explanations for Cannibal's departure.
Meanwhile, in King's Landing, King Viserys grappled with thoughts that remained veiled to his courtiers. The news of Cannibal's absence reached the royal ears, and the implications of a dragon's flight carried weight in the corridors of power. Viserys, a ruler with an intricate understanding of the delicate balance between dragons and the Iron Throne, pondered the significance of this departure.
Was it a sign of shifting alliances among dragons, a prelude to a larger upheaval in the political landscape of Westeros? Or did it portend a deeper, more elusive truth—one that transcended the known boundaries of dragonkind?
The court buzzed with speculation, advisers offering their perspectives on the matter. Some urged patience, attributing Cannibal's flight to the enigmatic nature of dragons, creatures whose motives often eluded mortal comprehension. Others saw it as an omen, a harbinger of events yet to unfold.
As the chapter concluded, the sky above Dragonstone remained empty, the absence of Cannibal casting a shadow over the island and beyond. Unseen by those who speculated on the ground, Nightfurry and I continued our journey through the skies, leaving the questions and conjectures of Westeros behind—a lone silhouette against the ever-expanding canvas of the unknown.