Samwell soared through the stormy skies of King's Landing astride his white dragon, gazing down at the sea of fire consuming the undead below. Yet, despite this temporary victory on the eastern walls, his heart remained heavy.
Though the East Gate had been secured for now, the South Gate, the Mud Gate, had already been breached. The wights were spilling into the city, flooding the residential areas. Even if Samwell rode his dragon to intervene, the close quarters of the city made it nearly impossible to strike effectively.
The dragon's fire was not infinite, and his white dragon would eventually tire. Meanwhile, the wights seemed limitless, an unending tide of death.
If the situation persisted, the tens of thousands of soldiers and the half-million civilians within King's Landing were doomed to join the ranks of the undead.
If that happened, who in Westeros could possibly stand against such an unstoppable army of wights?
Winter had not yet fully arrived, and yet the wights had already appeared. This was far worse than Samwell had anticipated.
He knew the weaknesses of the wights: Valyrian steel and dragonglass weapons.
Valyrian steel was rare, but dragonglass was not.
Long before, in preparation for the coming of the White Walkers, Samwell had begun stockpiling dragonglass and manufacturing weapons on a large scale.
Unfortunately, all those weapons were stored at Storm's End.
Never had he imagined he would face such creatures in King's Landing, so he hadn't brought dragonglass weapons with his army.
Sending someone back to retrieve them was out of the question.
The only solution now was to end this storm at its source.
The wights were reanimated by some dark magic. If the spellcaster controlling them could be eliminated, the wights would stop multiplying, and the battle would become far more manageable.
With this thought, Samwell guided his dragon toward Blackwater Bay.
He could feel the storm's origin emanating from the sea.
Recalling the lack of communication from the Stormlands fleet, he suspected this might be the work of the madman Euron Greyjoy.
Above Blackwater Bay, the skies were equally dark. The occasional flashes of lightning offered little guidance, but Samwell followed the powerful magical energy he sensed, using it as his beacon.
As he drew closer to the source, the air grew thick with the stench of blood and decay.
A faint, eerie whispering sound surrounded him, like an inescapable shadow. It clawed at his mind, filling him with unease.
The sound reminded him of the voices he had once heard emanating from the Elemental Sea, a consequence of his high spirit value.
Samwell had no time to dwell on its implications. The white dragon flew swiftly, and soon he arrived above an island shrouded in crimson mist.
"Descend."
At his command, the dragon dove toward the ground.
At that very moment, Euron Greyjoy, standing at the center of a blood-red ritual circle, looked up and noticed the approaching dragon.
Euron stood clad in a strange black-scaled armor. It shimmered like smoke yet gleamed like silk, its edges trimmed with crimson gold. Strange symbols and patterns—hieroglyphs, spirals, and glyphs—glowed faintly on its surface.
One of his eyes was covered by a patch, but his uncovered blue eye fixed on the dragon's silhouette in the storm-filled sky.
A piercing dragon roar shattered the air, followed by a cascade of fiery breath unleashed from above.
But as the flames rained down, the ritual circle beneath Euron's feet glowed with intense red light. A translucent barrier materialized, shielding him from the dragonfire.
"Caesar!" Euron burst into raucous laughter, spreading his arms wide as if welcoming an old friend. "You've finally come! I've been waiting for you!"
Realizing that his dragonfire was ineffective, Samwell guided his dragon to land on a seaside cliff, overlooking Euron from above.
His gaze lingered on the blood-red circle, noting the two corpses within it and the golden dragon lying on its last breath—Viserion.
"I've wanted to meet you too," Samwell said, his voice cutting through the storm. "Pity it took so long."
"What a pity indeed."
"Yes, because if I'd met you earlier, I would've killed you and saved myself a lot of trouble."
Euron laughed louder. "Caesar, you're mistaken. We are not enemies. We never were."
Samwell chuckled. "Really? As I recall, the first time we met, you tried to rob my ships. Later, you stole one of my dragons. Now, you're raising an undead army to attack my city. Is this your idea of friendship?"
"Misunderstandings, nothing more." Euron waved dismissively. "I say we're friends because we share a common enemy."
"A common enemy?"
"Yes. The so-called gods."
Samwell's expression tightened. He probed cautiously, "And how much do you know about these gods?"
"Oh, I know them well," Euron declared. "They are lies incarnate. Prisoners of their own power. The true enemies of all mortals!"
"Explain yourself."
Euron smirked knowingly. "You know this already, Caesar. Think about what R'hllor did to you. Don't tell me you still consider yourself a follower of the Red God."
"Of course not."
"Then you understand. The gods are no saviors. They are parasites, feeding on us to sustain their power."
"What do they want?"
"I want to know that too!" Euron bellowed with laughter. "That's why I recreated this ancient ritual from the lost arts of Asshai."
"Recreated?"
"Yes, Caesar. Have you heard of the Great Empire of the Dawn?"
Samwell nodded.
The Great Empire of the Dawn was a legendary ancient civilization located in Essos. Its vast domain stretched from the Bones in the west to the Grey Waste in the east, and from the Shivering Sea to the Jade Sea. It was the precursor to the Golden Empire of Yi Ti.
The tale of Azor Ahai, known in Yi Ti as Yi Tiar, also originated there.
The empire's first ruler, the Dawn Emperor, was said to be the child of Lion of Night and Maiden-Made-of-Light. The empire thrived until the Bloodstone Emperor ascended the throne. Practicing dark sorcery and defying the gods, his reign ended in disaster when a black stone fell from the sky, heralding the Long Night.
"Those stories are lies! Propaganda!" Euron screamed. "Caesar, I know you don't want to become Azor Ahai. That's their trap! A trap set by the gods!
The Lion of Night? The Maiden of Light? They think they can fool us by changing their names?
Look at the Great Empire's fate. Remember the horrors of the Shadowlands.
These gods are not saviors! They are the source of all calamities!"
"Why?" Samwell demanded. "What's their goal?"
"To unlock the secrets of true power hidden in the apocalypse," Euron shouted. "Join me, Caesar! If we unleash destruction ourselves, we can seize that power before they do. Together, we'll become new gods!"
"You're insane," Samwell said coldly.
"Fools call genius madness! Caesar, you should understand me!"
Samwell responded by urging his dragon forward.
"Dragon Flame!"
(End of Chapter)