Game of Thrones: Rise of the Supreme Dragon Queen

"The Undying Ones… have granted your wish, teaching you the ancient Valyrian spells. Now, you must fulfill our… demand… demand… demand…" A multitude of low voices echoed, dripping with mockery. As they merged into one, accompanied by the powerful "thump-thump" of a decayed heart, the voice declared, "I need your body. After a thousand years of waiting, I have finally found—Ah—!"

The voice, brimming with smug satisfaction, twisted into a sharp, agonized scream. Billowing black smoke was engulfed by dark red dragonfire, surging like high-pressure water from a firehose, instantly extinguishing the Undying Ones' burning ambitions.

Bathed in searing flames, Daenys felt the heat washing over her skin. Her heart began to beat again—wildly, furiously. The ghostly hands clutching at her vanished in an instant.

The "zombies" were consumed by dragonfire, crackling and burning. Their blue, withered skin ignited like oiled paper, and their bones melted like candles in the inferno.

They staggered and twisted, writhing as they burned, crying out in long-lost languages. Their high-pitched wails were as thin as threads of cowhair.

Ignoring the ghostly illusions, Daenys strode purposefully toward the center of the long stone table.

She walked through them as though they were nothing more than vapor or dreams, dispersing at her touch.

Approaching the black heart, dripping blue blood, Daenys called out, "Blackfyre!"

"Graaah—!" With a lightning-fast strike, the black dragon's long neck darted forward, snatching the rotting flesh from the stone table.

As he prepared to tear it apart and discard it, Daenys shouted, "Swallow it! This is a god—Quaithe's warlock deity, formed from the collective consciousness of countless Undying Ones over thousands of years."

"Graaah—!" The black dragon hesitated, the throbbing heart clutched in his jaws, and glanced back at her in confusion.

"I know you can't digest it, but I can help you," Daenys said, her eyes glowing with a determined, spectral light. She urged him, "Swallow it, then burn it with dragonfire."

Blackfyre raised his head, swallowed the lump of decayed flesh whole, and then—"Whoomph—!"

A torrent of dragonfire erupted from his maw like a rocket blast, blasting apart the ceiling and exposing the daylight outside.

Bloodline Gift: Dragon Hatching – Imbuing dragon eggs with flame and spiritual essence to hatch young dragons, whether from fossilized eggs, dead eggs, or healthy ones.

Through her mortal senses, Daenys perceived the room as an illusion: countless corpses crowding her, tearing at her flesh.

But in the draconic spirit state, viewing the world through Blackfyre's eyes, she saw the truth. The black heart extended tendrils of blue energy—each tendril a grotesquely elongated Undying One—wrapping around her like an octopus and siphoning her essence, even attempting to seize her soul.

In this state, Daenys also saw the black heart's immense spiritual energy. Though it was no true god—dismissed as "trash" by the Valyrian archmages—it was still a deity of collective faith. She didn't fully understand the concept of a faith spirit yet.

Perhaps due to the treasure in her mind, or her habit of roasting herself with fire, Daenys had somehow learned to channel spiritual energy into dragon eggs.

Now, she discovered that if the energy density was high enough, even a living dragon could absorb it.

The black heart's spiritual energy was incredibly dense. Wasting it would be a pity—it might as well enhance her Blackfyre.

The decaying heart burned in dragonfire, releasing a flood of multicolored glowing motes, scattering as if returning to nature.

But as Daenys opened her mouth wide and inhaled forcefully, the glowing "fireflies" formed a vortex like a draining pool. At the vortex's bottom was Blackfyre's maw.

In their shared draconic state, Daenys and Blackfyre were one soul, one body—a dragon's body.

In the physical world, Daenys appeared deep in thought, her eyes closed, oblivious to the crumbling debris and the spreading flames. Blackfyre stood still, head raised, dragonfire burning in his mouth like a dragon-shaped torch.

For over ten minutes, the diminishing motes scattered beyond Daenys' reach, too thin to be absorbed further.

Snapping out of her strange trance, Daenys removed her charred backpack and discarded the tattered cloth, leaving only a palm-sized metal plaque hanging over her chest.

It was the Valyrian Dragonlord identity plaque she had found on the Red Wastes, repurposed to protect her heart.

With her medical skills, she could mend most injuries, but a pierced heart? Not even the gods could save her from that. And in this world, nothing was tougher than Valyrian steel.

"Let's go, Blackfyre," Daenys said, beckoning the black dragon standing atop the stone table.

As they exited the Undying Ones' chamber, a dark corridor stretched before them, illuminated only by the hissing serpent of flames behind them.

Daenys glanced around and noticed the corridor littered with slumped corpses. Some wore luxurious garments, others slave rags. Some bore Quaithe's distinct robes, while others donned foreign attire.

It seemed they had tried to flee but ultimately collapsed, their souls drained and bodies lifeless.

Daenys recalled the chilling legends of the Hall of Dust: many had entered, but no one had ever emerged.

She also remembered the great warlock Pyat Pree's reverence for this sacred hall, his refusal to accompany her into its depths.

Finally, Daenys murmured the archmage's words, "The true bloodline of Valyria's dragons inspires awe... but also tempts the ambitious hearts of mages."

Each corpse was emaciated, drained of vitality and soul. The remaining mummified husks had not rotted, though some had crumbled into fragile dust with time. Only a few garments survived, preserved by chance.

Dany wrapped herself in a gold-embroidered robe she found nearby, then followed behind Black One, sprinting down the corridor.

Unlike the hours it had taken to arrive, the return journey only lasted thirty minutes before a door appeared ahead, with sunlight filtering through the cracks.

Stepping out, she was once again bathed in warm sunlight and a breeze carrying the scent of flowers.

"You've destroyed the Hall of the Undying!" the High Warlock Pyat Pree roared at Dany in fury.

"It wasn't me—it was the choice of the Undying themselves!" Without hesitation, a perfectly crafted lie rolled off her tongue. "They said they had waited for me for a thousand years and were weary of their immortal yet dull existence. After meeting me, they decided to incinerate their mortal remains and ascend to the Astral Realm."

The situation was tense and strange. Without the Undying's magic sustaining the structure, the once-decaying ruins collapsed like a domino chain, with the Black Heart Chamber at the epicenter. Stone walls crumbled, wooden beams and floors caught fire with rapid intensity, as if doused in oil.

Since the Hall of the Undying was located within the city, the collapsing structure and billowing black smoke quickly drew the attention of many Qarth residents. A small detachment of camel-mounted soldiers gathered near the blackwood grove, trying to maintain order.

If Pyat Pree had been alone, Dany might have ordered her Bloodriders to decapitate him in front of Xaro. But under so many watchful eyes, Dany not only had to refrain from taking revenge but also had to pin the blame for the fire on the Undying themselves.

"You're lying! It was your dragon that set the hall on fire!"

The warlock lunged at her with a snarl, but two burly black-skinned servants of Xaro intercepted him. They acted on a subtle signal from their master, who sought to avoid chaos.

Meanwhile, Dany's Bloodrider Aggo had already drawn his gleaming arakh. Xaro, as host, felt compelled to protect his guest and ensure Pyat Pree wasn't accidentally killed in self-defense.

"Let me go! I'll kill that wretch!" Pyat Pree struggled furiously, his feet kicking in the air like a petulant child.

Dany allowed herself a small, triumphant smile. Her tension eased as she noticed something critical: while Pyat Pree yelled for her death, he discreetly reached for a dagger at his waist.

His intentions were clear—he wanted to kill her.

However, he didn't resort to magic but chose a dagger instead.

"I didn't lie," Dany said, projecting an air of aggrieved innocence. She added a dash of performative distress for good measure. "If it were dragonfire, how could the flames spread so quickly?

"Everyone saw it. My dragon flew through the corridor while I ran behind. The fire was far from us, spreading on its own. Only magic could cause such a blaze. I don't know magic. Everyone knows that."

"Khaleesi isn't a sorceress. Everyone knows that," Aggo nodded solemnly, his expression unusually serious.

"If dragonfire had ignited the hall, the flames would have spread in a straight line—following the dragon's flight path," Ser Jorah explained. "That doesn't align with the facts."

His logical argument swayed both Xaro and the camel-mounted soldiers, their trust tipping ever so slightly in Dany's favor.

"You—" Pyat Pree glared at her, his expression a mix of rage and disbelief.

The warlock could no longer sense the presence of the Undying.

Dany was alive, and the Undying were gone.

The conclusion was clear: their plan had failed. But how?

Dany couldn't even utter a single spell. Pyat Pree was shaken to his core.

"What did you do? Why did the Undying set fire to the hall?" he demanded.

"What did I do? Isn't it obvious? I sought wisdom from the Undying," Dany said confidently, pointing to the crumbling ruins. "This place was called the Hall of Dust for a reason. Now that the Undying have ascended to the Astral Realm, of course, the hall must be torn down.

"Even if you don't build a new 'True Hall of the Undying,' the land could at least be used for real estate development. Leaving such a large plot unused is a waste!"

Real estate development?

The warlock nearly choked on his anger.

Fuming, he asked, "What is the Astral Realm?"

Dany's face briefly betrayed a flash of disdain before she explained with an air of superiority, "Remember this: it's wisdom from the Undying. Gods and mortals live in different realms. We exist in the mortal world, while gods reside in a higher-dimensional spiritual plane—the Astral Realm.

"Mortals can only gaze upon the Astral Realm, and only through devout faith can they communicate with the gods there.

"High Warlock Pyat Pree, the time has come to test your faith. If you revere the Undying as gods, you may soon establish contact with them. If not..."

If not, it would prove his lack of devotion. And if he had no true faith in the Undying, he had no right to trouble her under the guise of seeking vengeance.

To Dany's surprise and delight, most onlookers seemed convinced by her explanation. Even Xaro and the skeptical Jorah appeared hesitant. Everyone knew Dany was a novice in mysticism, so for her to articulate such intricate lore, she must have learned it from someone.

And who could that be?

The Undying, of course!

"Let's go!" Dany called to her followers, knowing it was time to leave while she was ahead.

(End of Chapter)

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