If the two dragons crashed in like this, even if they did not die, they would be wedged inside the narrow volcanic crater and eventually be burned alive or suffocate.
Vhagar sensed the danger.
And Aemond, on Vermithor's back, let out a grim laugh as he looked down at the crater below.
Was everything about to end here?
She gathered the last of her strength. Her claws dug deep into Vermithor's shoulder and the side of its neck. All four draconic limbs locked together. The two colossal dragons became completely entangled, dragging a tail of blood and fire as they plunged toward the crater.
Four hundred meters remained before the ground.
Just as the two dragons were about to crash into the crater, another sudden change occurred.
A black shadow burst out from the sky beside the Dragonmont.
It was Lothorne.
At that moment, Lothorne sensed Vhagar's peril.
Its wings beat rapidly as it glided toward the falling Vhagar and Vermithor.
Lothorne slammed fiercely into the two massive creatures that were falling while locked together.
The force was not great compared with the enormous bodies of those two dragons, but for them, who had already completely lost balance, that slight external push became decisive.
Struck by the impact, Vhagar's body began to tilt.
That collision altered the falling trajectory of both dragons.
Then the already half-dazed Lothorne reached out with its foreclaws. Those claws, twisted and deformed from the collision just now, seemed to have been fractured.
It hooked onto the saddle on Vermithor's back. It seized its master, Aemond!
The two dragons did not crash into the crater. Instead, they slammed into the rock wall along the crater's rim.
BOOM!!!!
The thunderous impact made the whole of Dragonstone tremble.
The black rock wall along the crater's edge was smashed into a massive pit fifty feet in diameter. Broken stones cascaded down like a torrential rain, while volcanic ash was blasted upward, forming a towering gray column of smoke.
The two giant dragons were embedded in the rock wall. Dragon blood flowed down the rock face like streams, evaporating into hissing white vapor on the surface of the scorching stone.
...
Moments earlier, Aemond, on Vermithor's back…
He saw Lothorne's rescue. He saw the black dragon's claw hooking onto the saddle.
At the instant the two dragons crashed into the rock wall, Aemond leapt forward, grabbing Lothorne's foreclaw with one hand while the other tightly held the sword Blackfyre.
The young black dragon Lothorne let out an excited hiss. Its wings began to beat slowly as it started to glide downward—not flying, but falling, though the angle of the descent was relatively gentle.
Aemond hung from the dragon's claw as Lothorne slid past the edge of the Dragonmont, past the shattered rock wall, gliding toward the relatively flat volcanic ash plain below.
The black dragon's belly scraped along the ground for several dozen feet before finally coming to a stop before a pile of black volcanic rocks.
Aemond leapt down from the dragon's claw. As he landed, he rolled with the momentum to disperse the impact.
He stroked the neck of his little dragon, his voice hoarse.
"Thank you, Lothorne."
Suddenly, Aemond saw the riderless giant dragon Seasmoke emerge from the mouth of the Dragonmont, letting out a roar as it spread its wings and flew eastward.
But now both sides were powerless. They could only watch it fly away.
Lothorne let out a roar and turned, flying toward Vhagar.
The battlefield had already shifted to the ground.
Or rather, the battlefield had expanded to encompass the entire Dragonmont.
Ninety meters to Aemond's left front, Vhagar and Vermithor were embedded in the rock wall, still struggling. The two giant dragons were covered in wounds and utterly exhausted.
Vermithor had already been pinned beneath Vhagar and was completely powerless.
Vhagar maintained the suppressing position as well. The flames gathering in her mouth could be unleashed at any moment.
But Vermithor was Vhagar's first offspring. Even in her rage, Vhagar did not strike.
The two giant dragons panted heavily.
The suppressed Vermithor let out a howl, calling to Silverwing in the sky.
Silverwing, controlled by her rider Saera, did not wish to leave Vermithor. She circled in the sky, letting out mournful cries.
Not far from them was another battlefield.
Sunfyre and Grey Ghost.
The two dragons that had been spewing fire at each other in the air and tangling as they fell had also crashed down in the end.
They landed on a relatively flat volcanic rock plain.
Sunfyre lay on top of Grey Ghost. The golden dragon's left wing was broken, and the wound in its abdomen had grown larger.
Grey Ghost was in a miserable state as well. Several bones in its chest had been broken by the impact, its right wing was fractured, and its dragon neck was clamped in Sunfyre's jaws. Though not severed, it was drenched in blood.
Both dragons were still alive. Both were still trying to attack each other, but their movements were as slow as dying old dragons.
Sunfyre tried to breathe fire, but only black smoke emerged from its throat.
Grey Ghost tried to tear with its claws, yet its forelimb fell weakly before it could finish raising it.
In the end, the two young giant dragons stopped attacking each other.
Sunfyre loosened its jaws, and Grey Ghost, riderless and unable to resist, let out a cry of pain.
And Aegon...
At the final moment of the fall, Sunfyre had shielded the rider on its back with its body.
The golden dragon had landed on its side. Aegon had been thrown off, but he landed in a relatively soft pile of volcanic ash.
At this moment he was struggling to stand, limping toward Sunfyre. His face was covered in blood and grime, and his right leg was clearly broken.
"Sunfyre… Sunfyre…" Aegon's voice was faint.
The golden dragon's molten-gold vertical pupils turned toward its rider, and it let out a low, almost whimpering hiss.
Sunfyre tried to raise its head, but the wound in its neck prevented it from completing the motion. It could only gently tap Aegon with its tail, as if trying to comfort him.
And Miraxes…
The bastard on Grey Ghost's back was not so fortunate.
During the fall he had been thrown off, smashing into a sharp piece of black volcanic rock.
Aemond could see that figure—silver hair soaked in blood, the body twisted and unmoving, clearly already dead.
Just then, another sudden change occurred.
From the depths of the Dragonmont came a sound.
Vhagar, who was still able to fight, sensed it first.
Vermithor sensed it as well.
The bronze giant dragon turned its head.
From the main mouth of the Dragonmont, a head slowly emerged.
A charcoal-black head, its entire body black as coal. The scales on its body were not smooth, but jagged like perilous peaks, their edges sharp as blades.
The shape of the head was even more ferocious, the snout longer, the jawbone wider. Its dragon teeth were not arranged neatly, but interlocked in irregular rows.
Then came the neck.
A neck as thick as a tower slowly extended from the cave mouth, its scales scraping against each other as it moved.
That neck was covered with scars—old scars from long ago. There were claw marks, bite marks, and twisted scars left by dragonflame.
They were proof of the countless years it had survived, and of the many battles it had fought by bullying the weak and fearing the strong.
Slowly it crawled out of the cave mouth, its two dragon claws digging into the rock wall. Each claw that fell caused the rock to crack apart.
It did not attack immediately. It simply raised its head. Those eyes were not amber, not molten gold, not crimson, but a murky dark yellow.
The Cannibal.
The oldest wild dragon on Dragonstone, never tamed, never ridden by any human.
Most of the time it slept in the deepest part of the Dragonmont. Occasionally it would awaken to hunt the island's wild goats, large fish, and even… other dragons, or dragon eggs.
Many of the wounds on its body had also come from battles with Vermithor.
The reason was that it had eaten Silverwing's dragon eggs, enraging Vermithor and provoking a battle.
But the cunning Cannibal would easily flee whenever it was outmatched.
Over the past century, three young wild dragons that had tried to nest in the Dragonmont had been cruelly killed and eaten by it.
This was the true dragon-eater, the cunning monster that lived in legend.
The Cannibal turned its head, its dark-yellow vertical pupils sweeping across the battlefield.
It saw Vhagar pinning Vermithor against the rock wall.
Though those two enormous creatures were wounded, it would not risk fighting them.
Cunning as it was, it set its sights on the heavily wounded Sunfyre and Grey Ghost on the plain—those two young dragons.
At last, its gaze fell upon Aemond, the silver-haired human, covered in blood and holding a greatsword.
The Cannibal stared at Aemond for several seconds.
Then it made its choice.
It began to walk toward the two young dragons.
Grey Ghost, already gravely wounded, had no way to resist and could only watch as the Cannibal approached.
Sunfyre sensed the mortal threat.
It struggled to stand, trying to protect Aegon, but its wounds were too severe. It could only barely raise its head and let out a weak, yet still dignified roar.
Those molten-gold vertical pupils stared fixedly at the charcoal-black giant dragon advancing step by step.
Aegon lay beside Sunfyre, both hands gripping the scales of the golden dragon's forelimb.
He looked up at that terrifying black dragon—at the murky dark-yellow glow in its eyes, at the slowly opening giant maw filled with sword-like fangs.
Death was not far from him.
Using all his strength, Aegon shouted hoarsely toward Aemond's direction: "Save Sunfyre!!!"
"Save us!!!"
Aemond heard him.
He hesitated for a moment.
Saving Aegon and Sunfyre meant facing the Cannibal head-on.
And Vhagar was still pinning Vermithor.
Could Vhagar, in her wounded state, fight the Cannibal?
But just now, Aegon had ridden Sunfyre and hurled himself toward Grey Ghost without hesitation, roaring as he tried to save him.
This brother he had always looked down upon—cowardly in his eyes—had burst forth with a courage he had never seen before at the crucial moment.
Perhaps the bond between brothers… was not so worthless after all.
He made his choice.
"Vhagar!"
"Release Vermithor! Come to my side! Now!"
Between the rock walls, Vhagar heard him.
In the end, Vhagar loosened her claws and released Vermithor.
The bronze giant dragon regained its freedom, but it did not immediately counterattack.
Vermithor heard a dragon's roar coming from the sky.
It was Silverwing.
Although Saera was riding her, the gentle she-dragon stubbornly disobeyed her commands, refusing to leave and continuing to circle nearby, crying mournfully.
Vermithor lifted its head and saw the silver she-dragon circling not far away.
Then it made its choice and roared.
Silverwing heard the roar and answered it.
The bronze giant dragon gathered the last of its strength and violently beat its wings, tearing itself free from the rock wall as shattered stones fell like rain.
Vermithor did not attack anyone. Instead, it flew to Vhagar's side and roared at the Cannibal.
The Cannibal looked at Vhagar and Vermithor. Though those two enormous creatures were wounded, if they worked together it would be easy for them to kill it.
It no longer dared to move and slowly began to retreat.
After a while, Aemond let out a breath.
Vermithor suddenly turned its head to look at Vhagar's rider, Aemond, lowering its head and letting out a hiss.
Aemond approached it and could sense its goodwill. Vermithor lowered its head and gently nudged him with its snout.
"What a pity," Aemond said, looking at Vermithor. "I cannot tame you."
Vermithor seemed unconcerned that Aemond had killed its rider and let out another hiss.
Aemond could feel its friendliness toward him.
Next, Vermithor roared at Vhagar, and Vhagar answered with a roar of her own.
Then Vermithor's whole body began to retreat upward into flight. Its body tilted unevenly as it rose. It was going to follow the direction in which Silverwing had gone.
Aemond sighed. If he tried to force Vermithor to stay, the only way would be to kill this giant dragon by force.
One must know that this was the Bronze Fury, one of the only two colossal dragons remaining among the Targaryens, now at the peak of its dragon age.
But as long as Silverwing was not by his side, the Bronze Fury Vermithor would not follow him.
Aemond glanced around. After this battle, only Grey Ghost remained.
Grey Ghost lay on the ground, letting out mournful cries.
Looking at the severely wounded young dragon, Aemond slowly approached.
Without its rider, Grey Ghost did not attack him and continued to lie there, crying out in pain.
Aemond suddenly used Blackfyre to cut the palm of his own hand, letting several drops of blood fall into Grey Ghost's mouth.
Since his blood could accelerate the rapid growth of dragons, it should also be able to heal its wounds, right?
After a moment, Grey Ghost stopped crying and began to fall into unconsciousness.
Sunfyre, Lothorne, and Vhagar saw this and let out roars toward Aemond, staring at him.
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