The whispers led him to a sunken temple beneath the sea cliffs. There, in a tomb sealed by magic and time, lay the remnants of his house—Nocthoris, the Lost Flame.
The armor called to him.
Black Valyrian steel shaped like fire-fused shadow, pauldrons carved with snarling dragons, a breastplate that shimmered gold and red like molten metal. When he donned it, the air thickened. The very stone beneath him trembled.
In a final chamber, he found a mural. It depicted a warrior of flame beside a woman of silver, both astride dragons, fire and blood falling from the sky.
He knew her name before he saw her.
Daenerys.