"Quick, quick, the sound is coming from that direction—ah! Look, a sun has risen into the sky!"
The Upper Rhoyne was not entirely desolate. It connected the northern Andalos Hills with the great plains of the south, cutting through the Braavosi Strait, making it a crucial waterway.
What's more, ever since the Dragon Queen's matter at Ghozai, treasure seekers had been flocking here in great numbers over the past two days.
Thus, the clash of fire and water between the dragon and the crab spirit, with its booming sounds, blazing flames, and surging floods, caught the attention of mercenaries, sailors, and farmers for miles around.
However, only mercenaries—those who lived as if their heads hung from their belts—dared to venture close.
While the Dragon Queen was still negotiating with the Old Man of the River, a group of a dozen riders had already come down a birch-lined trail and arrived at the edge of the battlefield.
"Ah, it's a dragon! A black dragon—it's the Dragon Queen!"
From the eastern bank downstream, several hundred meters from the river, the mercenaries caught sight of the figures in the firelight: the Dragon Queen and her black dragon.
And there, a fireball as large as a cottage was held aloft by a slender arm!
The mercenaries trembled in terror, yanking hard on their reins, too afraid to go any closer.
"By the gods, a flood really did sweep through here!" one noticed the sodden, muddy ground beneath his horse's hooves.
"By the Demon Dragon, look there—the Old Man of the River!" another cried, pointing at the shell rising from the water like a hill.
"Old Man of the River, please wait!"
Dany noticed the mercenaries, but she was intent on keeping the old turtle from leaving, with no time to bother about such small fry.
"Ah, it really is the Old Man of the River!"
The mercenaries stared at one another, feeling as if they had stepped into a world of myth: the demon dragon was conversing with the Old Man of the River!
"Roooaaar!"
The giant turtle stopped diving and turned its van-sized head to bellow at the mercenaries on the embankment.
It was like ten thousand oxen lowing in unison.
Dany understood: the Old Man of the River was willing to speak with her, but he did not want outsiders watching.
"Begone!" Drogon roared at the mercenaries.
At the same time, Dany flipped her palm and hurled the blazing "sun" down into the forest.
Buzz—BOOOOM—Crash!
The mercenaries saw only searing red light. The ground quivered, a scorching wind screamed in their ears, and the raging airflow nearly flung them from their saddles.
Ahead, birch leaves turned to ash before their eyes, while tree trunks toppled outward in every direction.
Within a hundred meters, all was a sea of fire. Within two hundred, not a birch stood upright. Even four hundred meters away, the heat curled the mercenaries' hair.
"Ahhh!"
Their courage shattered, the mercenaries screamed mindlessly and spurred their horses in all directions like panicked flies.
Some even blundered straight into the area where Viserion was roasting the crab spirit, and saw the snarling green dragon spitting flames, the giant crab spirit scorched red, and the corpse of a knifefish dozens of meters long and as thick as a barrel.
Ordinary men stumbling into a realm of mythical beasts lost their wits entirely.
Fortunately, though the riders went mad, their horses did not. The steeds bolted into the woods, carrying their half-insane masters on their backs.
Only after they were gone did Dany circle around and approach the Old Man of the River from the bank.
She conjured another blazing white dragonflame sphere—not divine this time—and lowered it onto a rocky outcrop ten meters above the water.
"Dragon Queen, what do you wish to discuss?" The giant turtle, most of its body submerged, was clearly cautious.
"Old Man of the River, why do you believe I cannot slay the Crab King?" Dany asked.
The turtle was silent for a long time before sighing. "Because your dragon is only three years old, while the Crab King has lived for tens of thousands."
"That hardly counts as a reason," Dany said reluctantly.
The turtle shook its head. "The Crab King once heard the Mother's Song of Water. He should not be slain by dragonflame."
"The Mother of the Rhoyne possessed the Song of Water?" Dany was startled.
"So the Queen also knows of the Song of Law." The turtle nodded thoughtfully before explaining, "The Crab King was the Mother's most gifted child, my elder brother. He inherited at least thirty percent of her Song of Water.
Two thousand years ago, when the Valyrians destroyed Ghozai, a hundred dragons burned the Upper and Lower Rhoyne for hundreds of kilometers, yet they could not kill him. Only by sealing him within the Mother's lesser god-domain using two sphinx statues did they succeed."
"I see." Dany's expression grew strange.
"Perhaps the Valyrians' binding weakened his divine power. Three hundred years ago, when the horselords moved one of the statues, the seal weakened by at least thirty percent. Yet still he could not break free—until you melted the second sphinx."
"You call yourself a child of the Mother Rhoyne. Are you like the Celestial Emperor, born of the Night Lion of Yi Ti and the Daughter of Light?" Dany asked again.
"No. Every creature of the Rhoyne is the Mother's child. We were all born in her waters, we all grew in her waters. If not her children, then whose?" the turtle replied.
"That makes sense," Dany murmured.
After a pause, she asked, "You said the Crab King inherited thirty percent of the Mother's Song of Water. Does that mean the Mother herself has fallen into slumber?"
"The Mother is dead," the turtle said evenly.
Dany was shocked—both at the death of a true god and at the turtle's calm tone.
"Even true gods can die?" she asked, a foolish question.
Hadn't the God-on-the-Door perished as well?
"Many true gods have died—the Daughter of Light, the Night Lion, the Fisher Queen, the Centaur God. A great host of deities fell in the Long Night.
Who knows how many will die in this Long Night to come?"
"When the true god dies out, perhaps our world will completely fall into the abyss," the giant turtle sighed.
"Why would the true god die in the Long Night?" Dany asked in shock.
"I don't know for certain. I can only repeat my mother's words to you: the true god is rooted in the world, and its mission is to hold the world up.
It seems the true god bears the responsibility of sustaining the world's order.
Yet from the very beginning of creation, our world has always been in decline.
The so-called Long Night is only the surface of the world's calamity. In truth, the world falls from one energy level to another, lower one.
Like falling from the third floor to the second.And since the true god holds up the world, when the world collapses, the first to be crushed to death would naturally be the true god itself."
Dany's face shifted several times. The old man of the river revealed too much in his words—truths that were both overwhelming and terrifying.
Now, she faintly began to grasp the reality of the world.
"Why can you speak so calmly about the death of the Mother of the Rhoyne?" After a long pause, she asked.
"Your own mother has been dead for seventeen years. Do you still grieve now? Time heals all wounds and makes people numb. Besides, the death of a god is not the same as that of a mortal," the giant turtle said with a complicated tone.
You're not human!
Dany muttered inwardly, and the heaviness in her chest eased somewhat. She nodded in agreement, then asked again, "What is the truth about Azor Ahai ending the Long Night?"
"Dragon Queen, have you ever been to the Land of Always Winter, the Sunset Sea, the farthest reaches of the Far East, or Sothoryos?" the turtle asked in return.
"No. I'm too busy right now. Once I've freed all the slaves of the world and the Long Night is over, I'll ride my dragon to explore the ends of those four places one by one," Dany said with a smile.
The turtle grumbled, "There are no ends to those places at all."
"What do you mean by no ends?" Dany asked curiously.
"It means that if you fly north for a year, you'll still only find unknown continents or endless sea," said the turtle.
Dany smiled confidently. "You're a turtle, so you probably don't know how fast my dragon can fly. From the westernmost Westeros to the easternmost Asshai takes no more than three days and nights.
A year?Heh, that's enough for me to circle this world dozens of times."
When Dany spoke of circling the world, she naturally meant flying around the equator, like a globe-spanning journey. But in the turtle's ears, it sounded as if she meant circling only the known world.
So he did not argue with her and only sighed. "One day, you'll understand once you try it yourself.
I tell you this only to say that the White Walkers came from the far north, the Land of Always Winter, and they have never been completely destroyed.
Azor Ahai only slew the White Walker king who led the invasion into the known world back then and drove the rest back into the Land of Always Winter.
Humans do not have only one king, so of course the White Walkers would not have only one either. But for them, the birth of a new White Walker king is exceedingly difficult.
If you have the chance, you can ask the greenseers or the children of the forest. They know the White Walkers best, and it seems their appearance is connected to them.
Think carefully. If the White Walkers were truly extinct, why would the Wall need to exist?
But I can tell you this with certainty: killing a White Walker king cannot bring light back to the world. We must summon a new sun."
"If the White Walker king is killed, wouldn't the clouds disperse and the sun appear again?"
That was Dany's scientific understanding of the Long Night.
The Long Night was, at most, like a nuclear winter where sunlight was blocked. Why would a new sun need to be created?
"Your Grace, you asked what happened back then. That I can tell you. But if you want me to explain the reason why, that I cannot," the old turtle said bluntly.
"Very well, continue. How was the Long Night ended?"
"After slaying the White Walker king, Azor Ahai, as humanity's savior, demanded that my mother bring the sun back. She could not refuse—it was her duty.
But with her power alone, it was nearly impossible.
So she divided the Song of Water among us, her children, gathering the strength of every lesser god in the Rhoyne pantheon to sing one song together. At last, summer returned."
"And R'hllor? What about the other gods? Why didn't they step forward?" Dany asked in confusion.
"We alone were enough to bring summer back. If one person can finish the task, why trouble another? Besides, the others had their own duties to fulfill!"
"Why was Valyria destroyed?" Dany asked, changing the subject.
"They burned the glorious civilization of the Rhoynar and killed my mother. Shouldn't they have suffered retribution?"
The turtle lost his calm and serene demeanor. His face twisted in fury, his voice like the wail of ghosts.
"Of course they deserved punishment. The question is—who punished them?"
"Who else but the true god?" the turtle bellowed.
"Uh…" Dany was struck silent, yet at the same time, a mystery deep within her heart was finally resolved.
But a new doubt quickly arose: why would the true god destroy Valyria?It certainly could not have been to avenge the Mother of the Rhoyne.
Seeing the turtle so agitated, Dany dared not ask further about Valyria.
If this creature dove away, who would answer all the questions swirling in her mind?For instance—"Where is my ingot of Valyrian steel?"
"I don't know, but I can search the riverbed for you later," said the turtle.
"Why did the Crab King steal my Valyrian steel?" Dany asked curiously.
"Such a treasure lying at one's doorstep—only a fool wouldn't pick it up," the turtle grumbled.
"What could a crab possibly do with Valyrian steel? Forge armor?"
"He could keep it as a collection, hand it over to humans to be melted down, or trade it with other demigods. In short, Valyrian steel is valuable even to demigods," the turtle explained.
"That demigod knife-loach, it was very weak. Was it sealed away by a statue too?" Dany asked expectantly.
Though the knife-loach was far weaker than Qarth's Immortals, it was still a demigod.If there was one loach, why not another eel, a river clam, a snail, a carp, or a blackfish?
Dozens or even hundreds of river creatures in the Rhoyne. If each species had its own demigod…Dany was nearly drooling at the thought.
(End of Chapter)
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