After months of travel, the white and pure city-state finally appeared before Kerse and his group. Under the moonlight, it rose before them like a mirage born of the desert: silent, intact, beautiful in an unsettling way.
During those months, many things had changed.
The two dragons had grown at an alarming speed. They were no longer the fragile creatures that could fit in Daenerys's arms. Their wings, still clumsy, spread farther each day, and when fully extended, they could cover the entire back of a horse.
They had begun trying to fly.
Each attempt ended the same way: an awkward leap, a furious flapping of wings, and then the brutal impact against the ground. But they never gave up. They tried again and again, roaring in frustration, as if the sky owed them something.
The second thing was the death of Doreah.
One day she fell ill. The fever consumed her rapidly, just as it had in the books. At first the symptoms were minor: blood blisters on her lips, then on her hands. After that, her hair began to fall out in clumps.
In only three days, Doreah died, her body covered in pus, unrecognizable.
The one who suffered her death the most was Daenerys. That young woman from Lys had been more than a servant; she had been her guide, her teacher in the secrets of intimacy, the woman who had taught her how to please Kerse in the past.
But the one most surprised by her death was Kerse himself.
After all, in his memory, Doreah had not died like this. In the original story, Daenerys had locked her away together with Xaro Xhoan Daxos in a Valyrian stone vault, where she died of suffocation. Instead, here, it had been illness that claimed her, exactly as in the books.
"I tested Daenerys's ability after she managed to hatch the dragon eggs… and indeed, she possesses the 'Unburnt' ability, just like in the series," Kerse thought.
The test had been simple and brutal: direct fire. First, her hair.
In the series, even her hair was immune to the flames. In the books, on the other hand, Daenerys had been left bald; the miracle had happened only once.
Kerse could not help but wonder:
"Is this world a combination of the series and the books?"
…
When the khalasar approached Vaes Tolorro, a murmur of happiness ran through the crowd. However, that joy died almost immediately when they saw the truth.
The city was deserted.
There was no smoke, no voices, no movement of any kind. Only white ruins bathed in moonlight.
Molegro approached Kerse with a furrowed brow, uneasy.
"Khal, this city is deserted and has no owner. That means it is not blessed by the god Thor Horse-Head. It would be best to leave immediately."
Kerse cursed silently upon hearing that, but he could not allow fear to spread. Under the gaze of the entire khalasar, he pointed to the sand in front of them.
"There are horse hoofprints leading into the city. That means there are still people here."
The effect was immediate. The Dothraki began to murmur excitedly.
Ignoring Molegro's apologetic look, Kerse raised both arms and shouted:
"Let's go!"
The khalasar surged toward the ruined entrance of the city… until Kerse raised a hand.
"Stop!"
His voice cut through the air like a whip.
Everyone stopped, confused.
Then it happened.
A face appeared out of nowhere before them.
Skin pale as ash, lips an unnatural dark blue, and a twisted smile that seemed not to belong to a living being.
Maegor felt his skin crawl. He stepped back, pointing at the man as he screamed in panic:
"Ghost!"
Fear spread like a disease. The city had already been unsettling, but that apparition made it outright terrifying.
Maegor fell to the ground, seized by terror, though he managed to calm himself when he saw the firm, confident gaze of his father.
Molegro gripped his arakh with both hands, nearly dropping it from his nerves, and shouted without taking his eyes off the stranger:
"Warriors, prepare for battle!"
The soldiers obeyed instantly, surrounding the unknown man.
And in that tense silence, Kerse knew one thing with absolute certainty:
Vaes Tolorro was not empty.
And whatever inhabited it did not belong to this world.