Game of Thrones: Rise of the Supreme Dragon Queen

"Why not move to Mataris?"

As Dany unloaded precious goods like white sugar, spices, silk, and Myrish lace from the dragon's back, she asked Jenny, whose eyes sparkled at the sight of the luxurious fabrics.

Knowing she would be dealing with the "demon" of Long Summer, Dany had naturally brought a large number of practical gifts.

"The environment here is indeed harsher, but it's closer to the southern ancient capital."

Closer to Balerion, perhaps?

It seemed the power of gods truly had distance limitations.

Dany signaled the two dragons to fly into the sky, then followed the High Priestess toward the spiral staircase of the Sky Tower.

The dark gray walls were adorned with ancient murals, faded banners, oiled swords, and pale beast skulls. The thick carpets underfoot felt like stepping on cotton, though they lacked intricate patterns, they were impeccably clean.

The wooden furniture in the hall was new, polished to a glossy sheen, though the bronze strips securing the oak doors were heavily corroded with green rust, betraying the passage of time.

Throughout the journey, aside from a few gray-clad maids with crooked eyes and twisted mouths who stopped their work to kneel in greeting, Dany saw no guards.

Descending the Sky Tower, Jenny glanced back at the towering structure with its peeling walls, and said sadly, "This place was once almost the center of the world, the brilliance of civilization. Every word of praise that mankind could create could be found here."

"I've heard 'prophecy' and 'breaking the cage' several times, as if referring to lifting the curse and returning to the glory of ancient Valyria?" Dany asked.

Jenny's eyes brightened, speaking with a devout fervor, "His Majesty Balerion foresaw the future and left us a prophecy: a descendant of an ancient and noble house would awaken the bloodline of the first Dragon King. He will help His Majesty break the shackles and return from the abyss to the world of men."

Dany frowned, "I see, I thought it referred to breaking the curse of the Long Summer."

"Hehe, once His Majesty returns, the curse will be nothing," the young priestess chuckled.

The road connecting the Sky Tower and the temple was old and decayed, yet not littered with garbage. Children played on the street, fighting over a wicker ball, their innocent laughter injecting vibrant color into the bleak black city.

Oros' "Deformed Population Relocation Plan" was well-implemented. Judging by their appearance, the children were almost normal.

"Greetings, High Priestess!" The sparse passersby stopped to bow to Jenny, casting curious glances at Dany in her silver armor and golden cloak.

Jenny smiled and nodded in return.

It was clear she was genuinely loved by the citizens and deeply cared for her people.

"Could the prophesied one be me?" Dany asked shamelessly.

"If it were you, I would have sent someone to find you long ago," Jenny laughed.

Dany deliberately showed a disappointed expression, protesting, "Why not? Isn't my bloodline noble enough? I hatched dragons!"

"You don't belong to the Fourteen Flames, nor do you carry the blood of the First Peak Lord."

Jenny glanced at Dany, her head tilted, "However, your bloodline is indeed pure. If I were a man, we might be able to produce the prophesied child."

A deformed baby?

Dany sneered inwardly, "What a pity."

"Valantis also has noble Balerion blood. You could marry into Valantis, resolving the current crisis in Slaver's Bay and enhancing the Targaryen bloodline."

After taking Valantis, I'll slaughter all the nobles behind the Black Wall.

Yes, I'll let my 'scholars' craft them.

"Why can only the Fourteen Flames families qualify?"

"The will of the gods."

But why would Balerion demand such a thing?

"What special traits does the bloodline of the first Dragon King possess?" Dany asked again.

"Only the true god knows."

As they approached, Dany saw that the temple had nearly collapsed into the sea. Half of its foundation lay on land, while the other half hung precariously over the cliff, the towering black stone spire leaning 30 degrees toward the ocean.

Ten times more exaggerated than the Leaning Tower of Pisa.

And it hadn't collapsed—what remarkable otherworldly architecture!

Dany could only marvel.

Like the roofless Sky Tower and Valyria Avenue, the black tower of the temple was also a monolithic structure, as if poured directly into molds with cement.

The seamless, massive walls exuded an overwhelming sense of security.

"My god, with such an angle, not a single crack—how is this possible?" Barristan, who had been silent, was stunned.

"Could the High Priestess teach me Valyrian construction techniques?" Dany looked at Jenny with longing.

"I cannot," the High Priestess shook her head.

The elderly, golden-haired priest beside them explained, "Like the forging methods of Valyrian steel, the enchanting techniques of Immortal Stone are strictly guarded in the ancestral treasure vaults."

"But I remember the Targaryens mastered the technique of crafting lesser Immortal Stone. Dragonstone is solid enough," the old priest looked at Dany in confusion.

"Immortal Stone, Dragonstone..." Dany pondered for a moment, then shook her head, "That was lost hundreds of years ago."

"Clatter—Whoosh—"

Beneath the cliff, the dark red seawater surged into towering ten-meter-high waves. The scalding spray, billowing with white steam, crashed against the black stone slanted tower, leaving behind a trail of dampness.

It was as if the lid of a steam boiler had been abruptly lifted—an intense wave of visible white vapor blew Dany's silver hair into a chaotic dance across the sky.

"Ser, are you alright?" Dany looked at the White Knight beside her with concern.

The seawater was boiling, and the mist rushing toward them must have been at least forty to fifty degrees Celsius—something an ordinary person could hardly endure.

Well, the only "ordinary person" here was Barristan. Every Valyrian was naturally resistant to high temperatures.

With a few loud taps, the old knight patted the crystal lenses of his helmet's eye slits and said in a steady voice, "Aside from the steam blurring my vision a little, everything is fine."

"Let's go inside," Jeyne said.

Dany looked at the crimson sky and smiled wryly. "Do you even have nighttime here? It looks like the sun has already set."

Looking up, there were no stars, no moon—only a layer of ominous dark red light hanging over the sky, resembling vast patches of clotted blood. It felt like a thick, blood-stained blanket pressing down on the sea, pressing down on their hearts.

Looking down, the depths of the dark sea flickered with unstable, glowing red spots—like scattered light bulbs submerged in water. The surface bubbled and frothed, carrying the pungent stench of sulfur, as if it had risen straight from the depths of hell.

Charred black reefs in the water occasionally flickered with tiny flames, only to be immediately doused by the rushing tides. When the waves receded, the rocks let out a sizzling sound, white steam rising from them. Then, with a sharp hiss, the eerie red flames flickered back to life, dancing wickedly atop the reefs once more.

F***!

There was an active volcano beneath them!

Dany's heart pounded violently.

"There's a volcano under the sea!" she shouted to Jeyne.

Jeyne glanced down at the water, her tone calm and unbothered. "Yes."

"It's an active volcano! Right beneath us—under the temple!"

Dany's voice wavered with disbelief, her face surely mirroring her alarm.

"Yes," Jeyne replied indifferently. The old priests behind her all wore expressions that seemed to say, Why are you making such a fuss?

"Aren't you afraid? If the volcano erupts, Oros will be doomed!" Dany growled in a low voice.

"A Valyrian, afraid of a volcano? Ha!"

Hearing the pride in Jeyne's voice—and the condescension toward her—Dany retorted indignantly, "Didn't Valyria perish because of volcanic eruptions?"

Jeyne stopped walking and turned to look at Dany seriously. "Do you really believe that? For six thousand years, we controlled the Fourteen Flames and the hundreds of surrounding volcanoes without a single major incident, because every pulse of the land beneath them was monitored by the Council of Sorcerers."

"You mean... the Doom wasn't natural?" Dany gasped.

"I don't know."

"Even if that were true, you no longer have the great Valyrian sorcerers who controlled the volcanoes, do you?"

"You'll understand soon enough." Jeyne smiled mysteriously and pushed open a towering, three-meter-high pale wooden door.

Barristan touched the door and exclaimed in shock, "Weirwood?!"

The young High Priestess nodded. "It is said that weirwood contains the power of the Old Gods. It is one of the finest materials for sorcery and is often used to craft furniture that lasts for millennia."

"Weirwood exists in Essos?" Dany asked curiously.

"It should be extinct now, but long before humans, the Children of the Forest and the Giants roamed this land for millions of years. Perhaps they lived here too. Perhaps, back then, the whole world had weirwood."

Creak

The heavy weirwood doors swung open, and a bright black light made Dany squint slightly.

In the center of the hundred-square-meter stone hall stood a twisted, elongated obsidian candle, its tip engulfed in an intense, blinding black flame.

The eerie black glow did not dispel the darkness but somehow illuminated everything in sight—casting a strange, grayish vision over the space.

"Glass candle!" Barristan exclaimed. "The flame is a hundred times larger than the one I saw in Qarth!"

The warlock, Erazon, had also lit a glass candle before, its glow as dazzling as sunlight reflecting off snow. But that was only a flame the size of an egg.

The glass candle inside Oros's temple was practically burning like a bonfire.

Dany examined the exquisite carvings on the walls and columns, all depicting scenes of the ancient Valyrian dragonlords conquering the world.

Among them, five murals clearly displayed harpy banners and warriors wielding spears beneath spiked helmets—undoubtedly scenes from the Five Ghiscari Wars.

Shifting her gaze, she looked at the glass candle and curiously asked, "Why does black fire illuminate without obstructing our vision?"

"What color do you think sunlight is?" the High Priestess asked.

"Colorless?" Dany replied.

Jeyne shot her a proud glance, as if regarding an ignorant commoner, and chuckled. "Try using a prism in the sunlight sometime."

Interesting. The Valyrians' understanding of the world far exceeded the scientific knowledge of this era.

"I'll try it," Dany said, keeping her expression neutral.

Barristan, ever vigilant, cautiously surveyed his surroundings. Suddenly, his expression stiffened. He looked down at the floor, then to his left and right, before gasping in shock. "We have no shadows!"

Dany looked down—sure enough, the green marble floor beneath them showed clear seams and patterns, but not a single shadow in sight.

"It must be an effect of the glass candle," she said, turning to Jeyne.

"Shadows are omens of misfortune," the High Priestess said solemnly.

"Laq—"

Before Dany could finish speaking, the four old priests hurriedly interrupted her. "This is sacred ground! Do not utter that name!"

Dany fell silent, nodding thoughtfully before asking, "Where is His Majesty Balerion's statue?"

(End of Chapter)

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