"You've already lost," Euron Greyjoy's brother, Aeron, said to him.
"Oh? Is that so?" Euron replied lazily, standing on the shoreline, his gaze fixed on the distant battle. He appeared utterly indifferent to the sight of his fleet being obliterated by the Stormland ships' cannon fire, reduced to ash and debris.
"Yes," Aeron affirmed with certainty. Though he saw the newly arrived Braavosi fleet joining the fray, his tone remained unwavering. "Even with Braavos on your side, it won't change the outcome. The Stormlanders wield the power of fire—something neither we nor anyone else can hope to withstand."
"The power of fire?" Euron's lips curled in a faint, mocking smile.
"It must be the power of R'hllor, the Lord of Light," Aeron said, recalling rumors he'd heard in the past. "That is not a force mortals can oppose. Euron, if you wish to win, you must pray devoutly to the Drowned God. Beg him to grant you the power of the sea."
"The power of the sea? The Drowned God?" Euron laughed—a wild, unrestrained sound that rang across the rocky shore, utterly careless and devoid of fear.
"Yes! Only the faithful can find protection under the gods." Aeron's voice grew louder, as if he were addressing not only Euron but the Ironborn around them. "Repent! Pray! Before it's too late!"
But Euron's laughter drowned out Aeron's words, silencing him with its audacity.
Aeron's anger surged. He shouted at his brother:
"What are you laughing at? Our people are dying!"
"What is dead may never die!" Euron finally stopped laughing and turned to face his brother. His one visible eye locked onto Aeron with an unsettling intensity. "Have you forgotten the creed of your god?"
"Of course not—"
"What is dead may never die!" Euron spread his arms wide as though embracing the sea itself. Waves crashed against the rocks at his feet, sending up sprays of foam like snow. "Those who taste death will no longer fear it! Drowned in the sea, they rise again, fiercer than ever! They return with steel and vengeance! Ha ha ha!"
"What are you planning, Euron?" Aeron demanded. "Or are you truly mad?"
"It's not me who's mad. It's you. It's this world," Euron replied.
He took a few steps forward, standing shoulder to shoulder with Aeron, and handed him a goblet.
Aeron eyed the dark, viscous liquid in the cup, his wariness evident.
"Are you trying to poison me?"
"No." Euron smiled, his lips curling with eerie amusement. "I want you to see the truth of this world."
Aeron didn't move.
Euron seized his brother's matted hair, yanking his head back, and shoved the goblet to his lips, forcing him to drink.
Aeron struggled, but his arms and legs were bound.
The liquid wasn't wine—its taste defied description, shifting from bitter to rancid, to cloyingly sweet in an instant.
Aeron tried to spit it out, but Euron clamped his mouth shut, forcing him to swallow.
"Drink, my dear brother! Drink deeply! This is the sorcerer's wine, sweeter than your precious seawater. It holds truths greater than all the gods combined!"
When the goblet was empty, dark liquid dripped from Aeron's chin, staining his beard.
"I curse you, in the name of the Drowned God!"
"And I bless you, as your king," Euron sneered. "I've opened your eyes for you. Look now, look at the truth of this world!"
Aeron did see. He saw things no mortal should ever witness.
He saw his brother transformed—not a man, but a squid, a monster from the abyss.
Euron's face was covered with writhing tentacles, and his shadow loomed tall and menacing, hiding within it a blood-red, grotesque eye.
"Kneel, brother," Euron commanded. "I am your king. I am your god. Worship me. Pray to me, and I will make you my priest."
"You've gone mad, Euron! A mortal claiming to be a god will only bring the wrath of the Drowned God! You will be cursed!" Aeron shut his eyes, refusing to look at the horrific visions.
It was all because of that cursed wine, he thought. I must not succumb.
Yet the visions invaded his mind relentlessly, pouring through his senses. Even with his eyes closed, he "saw" the world as a nightmarish painting, its vibrant colors melting like wax under a scorching flame.
The sea burned. The forests wailed. The sky was choked with endless corpses.
Aeron screamed. His blood felt as though it were boiling, his brain a cauldron being stirred by an iron rod.
He fell to his knees.
But he would not submit.
Tears of blood streamed from his eyes. "Drowned God, save me."
"Your god has abandoned you," Euron said with a crazed laugh. "You should pray to me."
"Never!" Aeron shouted, his voice cracking. "Kill me, Euron! Kill me!"
"No, not yet, dear brother. You were brought back from the so-called god's watery palace, your veins flowing with sacred blood."
"Sacred blood?" Aeron recognized the mockery in Euron's tone—but also a chilling seriousness.
"What are you planning?" Aeron asked.
"You'll see soon enough." Euron seized his arm and dragged him forward.
The air grew hot, carrying the stench of sulfur and scorched flesh.
A piercing roar echoed nearby, freezing Aeron in place.
A dragon!
He opened his eyes and saw the golden beast chained to the cliffs by massive iron chains.
An enormous bolt protruded from the dragon's abdomen, and molten blood oozed from the wound, tracing a seven-pointed star across the ground.
In the star's center was a design of two crows holding up a black iron crown. Beneath the crown was a blood-red eye with a black pupil.
A terrifying eye.
Aeron glanced at it for only a moment before a sharp pain shot through his heart. He felt as though he might go mad.
Euron dragged him to the center of the seven-pointed star, where a woman stood.
She was naked, her swollen belly heavy with child, and tears of blood streaked her face.
Aeron knew who she was.
Desmera Redwyne.
Euron's wife.
He's going to kill his own wife! Aeron realized. No—not the wife. She means nothing to him.
It's the child.
He's going to kill his own child!
A child of royal blood!
Aeron's mind raced.
His sacred blood. The unborn child's royal blood. The dragon's blood…
"Euron! What are you doing?" Aeron screamed.
"The stars weep blood, burning everything to ashes! The apocalypse is approaching, the world will be reshaped in its destruction, and a new deity will be born from graves and corpses!"
"You've gone mad!"
"I'm not mad, dear brother." Euron's laughter echoed across the island, momentarily drowning out the crashing waves and the distant rumble of cannon fire.
"Bear witness, mortals!"
"Behold, mortals!"
"Pray! Kneel!"
Euron's voice grew sharper, slicing into Aeron's mind like a dagger.
In the next moment, Aeron felt no pain at all.
The flash of a blade, and his head was severed from his body.
(End of Chapter)