The sky cracked open with dragonfire.
Rhazal darted through a burst of smoke, green wings slicing the air like blades. Drakaina roared behind him, slower but furious, trying to match his speed. Viserion spiraled beneath them, calm, calculating, shifting his position to avoid the chaos above. Vaedron watched from a stone perch far below, unmoved.
He didn't need to race.
He already knew he would win.
I stood beside Daenerys on the high balcony, our cloaks snapping in the wind. Below us, Dothraki warriors paused their drills to watch the dragons spar in the sky. Even now, even with three born and flying, they still treated each new breath of fire like a holy thing.
"I used to wonder if I'd ever see one," Dany murmured, voice half-lost in the wind. "Now we have four."
I didn't correct her. Not yet.
Vaedron rose from his perch. Quiet, massive now—his wings stretching longer than Drakaina's, his neck sleek and arched. He launched upward, and the others fell still midair.
Even Rhazal yielded.
Drakaina snarled but didn't challenge.
Viserion simply observed.
Vaedron rose above them all, wings spread like a shadow over the sun.
I smiled. "They're learning who leads."
"They still follow me," she said, but her voice was thoughtful now.
I turned to her, brushing a strand of silver hair behind her ear. "Of course they do. You're their mother."
"And you?"
I stepped close. "I'm the whisper in their blood."
That night, I met with Melyria in the undercroft. The space beneath the fortress was warm and damp, walls pulsing with low heat from the volcanic bedrock below. She had traced Valyrian glyphs in soot on the stone, symbols that glowed faintly in firelight.
"We have a ship ready," I said. "Small, fast. Ten crew. Silent."
She nodded. "It must be you alone."
"I'm not leaving without preparation."
"You won't find land. Only ruin and fire."
"I'm not looking for land," I said. "I'm looking for bones."
She knelt by the fire and poured oil over it. It flared green for a breath, then turned deep red.
"The Smoking Sea remembers. It will test you. But the dragons there will know your voice."
"How do you know?"
Melyria looked at me. "Because you are not like your sister. Her flame was written. Yours was forged."
I returned to Daenerys before dawn. She stood in the bathhouse, wrapped in a towel, water steaming around her skin.
"You're leaving," she said, not looking at me.
"For a few days."
"To Valyria."
I nodded.
She turned to me then. Her eyes were steady, unreadable.
"Don't die."
"I wasn't planning to."
"You have a bad habit of wandering off and returning with secrets."
"I have a worse habit of coming back stronger."
She stepped close, her towel slipping slightly. I caught it before it fell, but my hand stayed against her bare waist longer than it needed to.
"You're lucky I love you," she said quietly.
"I'm luckier you don't say it where others can hear."
"I might, one day."
"I hope not," I said, and kissed her.
The voyage began at dusk. No fanfare. No torches. No banners. Just me, a red priestess, ten quiet sailors, and one mission.
Vaedron watched from the cliff as we set sail. He could have flown beside us, but I'd commanded him to stay.
He obeyed—grudgingly.
The sea turned black as ink by midnight, and the stars vanished behind smoke.
Three days later, we saw it.
Valyria.
Not the empire it once was. Not the marvel of bridges and towers I'd read of in old scrolls. Just ruin—twisted stone half-sunk in the sea, jagged peaks that bled smoke, and a constant rumble beneath the waves.
But Melyria guided us to a narrow inlet, a hidden cove wreathed in ash. We disembarked in silence. Even the sailors didn't speak.
The air was heavy with magic. Every breath felt like drinking fire.
We followed a narrow path of cracked obsidian into a broken chamber.
And there I found them.
Three stone eggs. Covered in soot. Wedged beneath a shattered column. Forgotten for a hundred years or more.
But when I touched the nearest, it pulsed beneath my palm.
Alive.
I brought them back in secret.
Melyria helped conceal them in a sealed chamber beneath the stronghold. I told no one. Not even Daenerys.
Not yet.
The time would come.
But first, I needed to prepare them.
Feed them fire.
And whisper names they would remember.
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