Draezell said nothing, merely smiling as he looked at the motionless "raven" within the ring of fire.
The raven tried to struggle, but quickly realized something had firmly bound it within this tiny body—it could not break free and return to nature. All it could do was stare helplessly at Draezell, who watched it with an unmoving smile.
At last, it let out a deflated "caw" and began to speak patiently.
"Caw... Your Highness, this wasn't the agreement. Caw... Brynden Rivers, my successor—caw—he was supposed to grow up among the highborn bastards—caw—not including Daemon Waters' bastards. Caw... Time would teach him to wield the magical talent granted by fate and guide him onto the destined path. He would naturally grow close to your House—caw—because he would learn ruthless cunning and how to choose allies. Caw... You shouldn't have taken him back to Dragon's Nest for training."
Draezell quietly gazed at the Three-Eyed Raven cloaked in raven feathers, saying nothing. Yet that silence caused the crow's hoarse, grating voice in the ancient tongue to slowly trail off.
"Your Highness, let me speak plainly. The tide of fate and the finale of the great symphony are inevitable, irresistible—for it is the will of the world. This world was born of the Song of Water and Earth, and it will perish and be reborn in the Song of Ice and Fire, again and again, an endless cycle. Even if you delay the fall of dragons and the fading of magic, that only means the retaliation of the Ice Chapter will be more ferocious. In an age where dragons have vanished, when the Ice Chapter resounds and the Long Night comes, perhaps only hundreds of Ice-Eyed Kings will awaken, their allies merely ice-spiders and corpse-horses. But now, with dragons still alive, with the glass candles in the Eternal Hall of the Immortal still burning, the sacred flame of the Red God's great temple unextinguished, and the magical capital of Asshai still sunless—"
The raven slowly stood up, letting the flames consume its feathers. Draezell flicked a finger, and the fire radiating with the glow of blood surged along the feathers, devouring the raven in the blink of an eye.
Yet the ordinary raven did not turn to ash. Flames flowed between the feathers; the flesh gradually carbonized, revealing bones of icy blue, gleaming like gemstones. Its skull cracked open in the flames, and a single blood-colored eyeball rolled out, spinning and twisting, reflecting Draezell's face within its shifting gaze.
The old man's face constantly transformed—from a normal human, to blazing silver fire, to a roaring dragon, and finally back to his original human form.
"If magic still exists, then when the red omen streaks across the sky, the final symphony will sound far more fiercely—perhaps even more dangerous than the Long Night brought by the Bloodstone Emperor. When that time comes, tens of thousands of Ice-Eyed Kings will awaken. The ice dragons slumbering beneath the Frozen Sea will rise, bringing winter to the oceans, and devilgrass will devour everything in the East—be it centaurs or desert."
"What are you trying to say, Three-Eyed Raven?" Draezell asked calmly. "If you're hoping I'll help you cull the dragons, then I must decline." He picked up a warm drink prepared in advance by a servant and took a sip. "As an Old God—or rather, a relic of the previous age—you should know that magic is also a fundamental pillar of this world. Dragons were born of magic. They are creations of the Song of Ice and Fire and symbols of the Song of Fire. Perhaps reducing the number of dragons weakens the fire, but it also affects the strength of the ice."
He straightened his posture. "But why should we?" His deep purple eyes locked on the crow's blood-red third eye as he spoke with steady calm.
"When the dragons fall—when that red dragon plummets from the heavens—the final symphony will begin. Dragons will be reborn. Perhaps the Long Night won't be as intense at first, and the world might have more time. But can you guarantee that people will understand this?"
He pushed the warm drink toward the flaming raven, though it clearly couldn't drink. "They won't. House Stark has nearly forgotten the Others. Even if Lord Cregan remembers the duty and the legend, that's only because he is Cregan Stark. No one can guarantee his successors will continue to believe."
"As for the southern lords—" Draezell let out a cold laugh. "They'll only keep playing their game of thrones."
"You've already won, Your Highness," the Three-Eyed Raven interrupted. "You've already gained power and strength."
"I remember—and so do my children, and my children's children," Draezell said, ignoring the interruption. "The birth of new dragons symbolizes the return of magic, and that in turn strengthens the Song of Ice. It's only a matter of time. Do you understand that, Three-Eyed Raven?"
"But… but—"
The Three-Eyed Raven grew anxious, wanting to say more, but Draezell gave it no opportunity. The crow could only swallow its unspoken words.
As the greatest sorcerer beyond the Wall, the Three-Eyed Raven—or rather, the figure it represented, the leader of the Greenseers—understood Draezell's meaning all too well.
The final chapter of the Song of Ice and Fire is the climax of the Song of Ice. The Long Night descends, the end of the world begins, ancient heroes return, and the forging of the Sword of Kings is reenacted.
Azor Ahai sacrificed his wife to forge "Lightbringer" and end the last Long Night.
This time, the outcome was supposed to be the same.
Whatever "Lightbringer" actually is, the ending was meant to follow that script.
The plan of the Three-Eyed Raven and its kind was to make the dragons—symbols of the Song of Fire's magical system—vanish, thereby weakening the arrival of the Song of Ice and buying enough time for the rebirth of the prophesied hero. That hero would end the terrifying Long Night.
But Draezell's arrival, and the thriving of dragons, had disrupted that old plan.
Worse still, the Three-Eyed Raven and its kind had no way to influence him.
How could such beings—who had worked in the shadows to influence the world for countless centuries—not find that utterly maddening?
After all, the Red Mountains were not the Fourteen Fires; they weren't so easily manipulated.
"Three-Eyed Raven," Draezell sighed, opening his palm and extending it toward the burning crow, "go back and tell your kind, the proxies of these fragmented forces, to stop doing pointless things."
"Even if dragons fall again in the future because of this tiresome game, it won't truly weaken the forces of life."
He paused.
"Even if I'm no longer here, my sons and grandsons will remain." He continued, "I'll make sure my children respond to the prophecy. After all, it's the very reason I came here."
The raven—now reduced to only icy-blue bones and a spinning third eye—let out a caw and hopped onto Draezell's palm.
"Draezell, at first we thought you were the agent of the Song of Fire's will. The fools who believe in so-called 'gods' thought you were the Red God's avatar—caw. But we old ones, who see more clearly, knew better." The Three-Eyed Raven cawed again, its icy blue bones disintegrating, turning into dust. "Later, we realized what you really are. Fine. You win. Do whatever you want, as long as you're willing to carry this burden. Then we old ones can finally rest easy."
"Oh, and one more thing." The now-resigned crow gave a final caw. "Don't forget to go to Sothoryos. There's a gift from the previous age waiting for you there."
Draezell nodded, looking at the patch of blue dust on his palm.
"That's Dan's task. That child has been dying to go."
Draezell suddenly smiled.