"Awoooo~~~!"
The Razah Priestess wailed in the flames, her voice sharp and piercing, full of agony.
She wasn't as resilient as she had imagined.
Dany sat cross-legged beside Drogo, personally throwing the torch onto the pyre.
"Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!"
Tiny blue flames darted along the trails of scented oil, like swift snakes weaving through the pyre.
The oil first ignited the twigs and dry grass; within seconds, the wood began to crackle. Heat rose from the fire, spreading toward the onlookers around the funeral pyre. Initially, it felt like a lover's gentle caress—warm and soothing. But soon, the flames surged higher, transforming from fiery serpents into a blazing dragon, spiraling upward, baring its fangs and claws, extravagantly flaunting its light and heat.
Ser Jorah and the others stared at the fire, listening only to the crisp crackle of burning wood and the priestess's song.
At first, Mirri sang loudly to mask her fear and vent her pain. As the flames soared and the fire intensified, her singing grew louder and sharper. Then the smoke overcame her—she gasped for breath once, twice, over and over, her song turning into trembling sobs.
The smell wafted through the crowd with the heat waves, almost indistinguishable from the scent of roasted horse meat. Ser Jorah, catching a whiff, felt nauseated.
Could the scent carry traces of his princess?
The thought made him retch violently.
The cross-shaped funeral pyre was now fully ablaze, roaring like a colossal dragon. Its thunderous growl overpowered the priestess's fading screams.
The fire dragon lashed out tongues of flame in all directions, licking the belly of the night sky and searing the skin of the Dothraki people.
Thickening smoke engulfed the scene, forcing the horsefolk to retreat coughing, unable to endure the heat and suffocation.
The fire dragon roared furiously, unleashing a hellish wind that sent nearby banners flapping noisily. The wood hissed and cracked, glowing embers rising from the smoke, drifting into the boundless night like countless newborn fireflies.
Meanwhile, Dany seemed to have entered a strange realm within the sea of fire.
When her painted vest, silk trousers, and sandals began to smolder and burn, she silently mocked Mirri for using song to disguise her screams. But soon, her attention was drawn to the black dragon egg in her hands.
The egg radiated a heat even more intense than the flames, and she almost instinctively wanted to throw it away.
Dany immediately forced herself into a state of Dragon Dream.
The essence of the Dragon Dream was the fusion of Dany's soul with the dragon's.
Her soul alone was a complete "1." Together, "the black dragon's soul + Dany's soul" still equaled "1"—a more complete and unified "1."
(Note: Martin doesn't elaborate on the Dragon Dream, so this explanation draws from the Wolf Dream and wolf-spirit concepts.)
In the Dragon Dream state, she gained the black dragon's perspective and senses.
She found herself in a blood-red inferno, with her black dragon towering before her, as immense as before, blotting out the sky.
The black dragon opened its massive jaws, roaring toward the heavens. Countless specks of light, tiny as fireflies, flowed from the sky in a dazzling, multicolored river into its throat.
Gold, silver, green, purple, bright red—the lights came in so many colors that Dany couldn't count them all.
"This is…" Dany suddenly realized, "Hatching a dragon!"
She quickly connected this revelation to her innate abilities. Examining her status, she saw that beyond her titles of Unburnt and Dragon Dream, her Mother of Dragons bloodline carried the extraordinary trait of "Dragon Hatching."
—Dragon Hatching: Imbues dragon eggs with flames and spirit essence, enabling fossilized dragon eggs, dead eggs, or healthy eggs retaining their soul essence to hatch into young dragons.
"What is spirit essence?"
As the question formed, a stream of knowledge flowed into her consciousness. Dany inexplicably gained a deeper understanding of the Dragon Hatching ability tied to her identity as the Mother of Dragons.
The essence of a living soul, spirit essence exists wherever life thrives in the world, inhabiting the souls of all living beings.
In a world without reincarnation or underworlds, spirit essence gathers to create the miracle of life in organic matter.
For instance, a newborn baby comprises a body and a soul. The body is inherited from its parents, while the soul originates from the condensation of spirit essence within the body.
The three dragon eggs gifted to Dany by Illyrio, the governor of Pentos, had, through the passage of millennia, fossilized into stone. In theory, they were no different from diamonds or gemstones—beautiful yet lifeless objects.
Yet, fate brought these fossilized dragon eggs to Daenerys Targaryen, whose bloodline was exceedingly rare, representing the pinnacle of Valyrian dragon magic civilization.
Not even the Targaryen family—perhaps not even in the thousands of years of Valyria's history—had seen someone with her unique "Mother of Dragons" physiology.
Perhaps Dany was a mutant.
Her innate "Mother of Dragons" talent allowed her, even unconsciously, to infuse spirit essence from the heavens and earth into the dragon eggs.
The rebirth of fossilized dragon eggs was indeed miraculous, but dragons themselves were magical creatures embodying miracles, beyond the bounds of conventional logic.
The original Dany had only subconsciously hoped for her dragon eggs to hatch into baby dragons, with little effort to actively explore her gifts of Dragon Dream and Dragon Hatching.
But this new Dany understood that, at this critical moment, she needed to act.
"Black One, I'll help you," she called to the black dragon overhead.
In the next instant, her perspective shifted—from standing amidst the roaring flames on the ground to being atop the dragon's obsidian-scaled head.
She was now astride the dragon's neck.
It felt as though she had arrived at her destined place. In that moment, Dany experienced a new realization: she and the dragon were one, reborn together in the fire.
Suddenly, the specks of spirit essence above the black dragon's head grew denser, forming a colorful vortex above its gaping maw. To an unknowing observer, it might have looked like the unleashing of some mythical energy blast!
"Roar! Roar!"
After what seemed like ages, Dany's awareness extended beyond the black dragon. She felt the presence of the white and green dragons for the first time.
Even when holding their eggs before, she had never been able to establish a Dragon Dream connection with the white or green dragons as she had with the black one. But now, she could clearly "see" them flying toward her.
Riding the black dragon, Dany watched as the white and green dragons circled around her like loyal companions. The four of them soared together, freely traversing the multicolored ocean of light.
They were joyous, proud—masters of the sky, which now lay beneath their feet.
She was the Mother of Dragons, destined by her bloodline to be their parent. Perhaps fate had orchestrated her birth, but her gifts were uniquely hers, unrelated to any god or external force.
"Only death can pay for life," the witch Mirri Maz Duur had said, speaking as a servant of the shadows, a disciple of a devil.
The Lord of Shadows was an evil god, a demon, and also a facet of R'hllor, the other aspect of the "Lord of Light." Together, they formed the duality of R'hllor as a complete deity.
The Targaryens, however, belonged to the ancient Valyrian race, whose gods were Balerion, Meraxes, and Vhagar—not the Lord of Light or R'hllor.
During the Valyrian era, the civilization of dragons and magic had reached its peak, with no place for R'hllor.
Though the Lord of Light may have coveted dragons, there was no connection between them.
Dany's act of "birthing" dragons had nothing to do with the Lord of Light. Her "Mother of Dragons" traits stemmed from Valyria's unparalleled blood magic.
By midnight, the flames had died down to the point where they were no longer visible, but the glowing embers beneath the ashes still seared the earth and air.
When the cold mist of the night was dispelled by the morning light, Jorah Mormont, who had endured a sleepless and agonizing night, finally ventured onto the scorched ground.
At the heart of the cross-shaped ashes, he found Dany.
She crouched on the ground, surrounded by charred wood, glowing embers, and the scorched bones of humans and horses. She was completely naked, her lower body buried under nearly half a meter of ash. Only her bare arms and back were visible. Were it not for her striking silver hair, it would have been almost impossible to distinguish her soot-blackened body from the charred surroundings.
(Author's note: In A Song of Ice and Fire, Daenerys's hair is not immune to flames. However, in the Game of Thrones series, her silver hair remains untouched by fire. I can't bear the image of a bald Daenerys, so I'm following the show's depiction here.)
"Seven save us!" Jorah exclaimed with overwhelming joy, bending down to place his hand on her shoulder.
A glossy black "serpent's head" slithered out from Daenerys's hair, hissing as it exhaled faint wisps of white smoke from its nostrils.
Jorah's joy instantly turned to shock. He recoiled as though struck by lightning, pulling his hand back and locking eyes with the creature's glowing ember-red pupils.
"A dragon?!" he said hoarsely.
Though he struggled to believe it, the "serpent's head" had a long neck and a pair of wings that beat the ashes into the air. This was no snake—it was a dragon, a miracle born from the flames.
Speechless, the knight took a few steps back and dropped to one knee, his expression more reverent than ever before.
Daenerys, startled from her strange state, slowly raised her head. She glanced at Mormont, then scanned the gathered Khalasar behind him.
The Dothraki—men, women, children, and even the ten warriors of Khal Ogo held captive—without exception, laid down their weapons and pressed their faces to the smoldering ground, kneeling in awe.
Daenerys realized, in that moment, they had wholly submitted to her. Not out of fear of Drogo's power, but from genuine reverence and devotion to her. Today, tomorrow, and forever.
She stood up, unbothered by the ash clinging to her bare skin. None dared to lift their gaze from the ground.
"Irri, fetch my clothes. Doreah, Jhiqui, prepare hot water for my bath," she commanded her handmaidens.
The black dragon perched on her shoulder, its serpentine neck coiling almost completely around her throat. The other two dragons clung to her chest, their small bodies cradled in her arms.
Irri hurriedly brought a silk robe and carefully draped it over Daenerys. But as her eyes fell on the two suckling hatchlings, her expression changed dramatically. Stammering, she murmured, "Rider of the World's Stallion… This is the Rider of the World's Stallion! Khaleesi, you have truly birthed the Stallion Who Mounts the World. The prophecy has come true."
"You talk too much," Daenerys replied calmly.
"Hisssss—gaaaah!"
The black dragon turned its head sharply and roared at Irri. Its two siblings released Daenerys and joined in the hissing chorus.
"Ah!" The poor Dothraki girl clutched her mouth, on the verge of tears from fright.
(End of Chapter)
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