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Viserys circled in the sky atop his dragon, but as the Warlock's bruised heart beat, he felt as if he were falling into an illusion.
The second Undying watched the Great Warlock's trembling heart in distress.
The best illusions were those cast within the House of the Undying in Qarth, the "City of the World," which was the key to why the Warlocks eked out their existence there.
They had forcibly stimulated the Great Warlock's heart within the ruins of blood and fire, and their magic was nearing exhaustion.
But if they could control Viserys and the dragon, the risk would be worth it.
The Undying were all on the verge of death, living as half-dead, walking corpses.
Hiding in the sunless House of the Undying and surviving by relying on the heart of the ancient Great Warlock, they craved the life and magic of blood and fire.
Were it not for this, these two Undying would not have taken such a bold risk.
The Undying saw it; they saw the True Dragon and the Dragonlord, true life, which made them salivate with greed.
Viserys saw himself frozen in a room with four doors, and the scene before him shifted.
Viserys's mind was deep within the sorcery; the walls were made of stone, dark and smoky.
The roar of the dragon echoed in his ears; it was a mental indulgence.
The images before him flowed rapidly, but the burning pain in his fingers and arms reminded Viserys to wake up and embrace the real world, not the illusion.
The first door opened, revealing the Red Keep, built of pink stone, the home of Viserys's childhood.
It smelled of summer, of grass and flowers, and of fire.
In the courtyard of the Red Keep, amidst the angry roars of King Aerys, the scene filled Viserys with terror.
King Aerys ordered the servants and the Cook who cared for Viserys to be killed because the King felt they were negligent.
Green wildfire burned upon the servants, the air filled with the stench of charred flesh and shrill wails.
The gifts sent by the lords were also completely consumed by fire, turning to ash, for The Mad King feared these gifts were harmful or poisonous.
At this moment, Queen Rhaella appeared with silver hair and purple eyes, dressed in fine robes and wearing that crown.
She had a pair of gentle hands, and her beautiful face was full of sorrow: "Come here," she said. "Come to me, my son. A True Dragon cannot fear fire; a True Dragon is brave. Come behind me; you will be safe."
She was dead, and Viserys retreated.
His kind and gentle mother had long since died. Viserys stepped back.
As for Daenerys, she had never known her parents.
Daenerys cherished the protection of William Dary and the Red Door.
But for Viserys, his childhood also held memories of the Red Keep and his mother.
Viserys did not have much affection for Aerys or Rhaegar; only his mother had protected his childhood.
Viserys heard the dragon roar, his ring burned, and the bracelet on his arm trembled violently.
Viserys saw the second door open, where the skulls of dead dragons watched him; the stone walls were terrifyingly high—it was the Throne Room.
Balerion, Vhagar, Meraxes, and others.
The pride of the ancient Dragonlords.
Dressed in fine robes, Aerys sat upon a high and prickly throne, his eyes dull, his hair silver-gray.
"Let me reign over charred bones and roasted flesh," he said to a man below. "Let me be the King of Ashes."
Viserys could not see the man's face, as if it were shrouded in mist. He could not tell if it was the Kingslayer Jaime Lannister or a Fire Mage.
This was a scene of the conspiracy in King's Landing, the plot of the fire.
Viserys entered the room behind the third door.
He saw a man, a silver-haired man, sturdier than the current Viserys, and just as tall—a young man in his prime.
His eyes were indigo, not the pale purple of Viserys.
It was Rhaegar Targaryen; Viserys recognized him as his brother, Rhaegar.
"Let us call him Aegon," Rhaegar said in a voice like steel to his wife, who was nursing a newborn infant on a large wooden bed. "Is that not the best name for a king?"
"Will you write a song for him?" the woman asked. "He already has a song," the man replied. "He is the prince that was promised, and his song is the song of ice and fire."
As he spoke, he looked up, his gaze meeting Viserys's as if he could see him outside the door.
Rhaegar continued to speak to his sickly wife on the bed, "The dragon has three heads."
He walked to the seat by the window, picked up a harp, and gently plucked the silver strings with his fingers.
Melancholy and sweet music filled the room, and Rhaegar, his wife, and the infant faded away like morning mist. The music lingered, urging Viserys to leave quickly.
But Viserys knew that was not the case; illusions could not be recreated, and the past would not return.
The remaining fourth room collapsed rapidly, and Viserys saw everything before him turn into a void and terror.
The indigo images shifted faster and faster, one after another, only to collapse quickly.
Shadows circled and danced in the palace, fleeting and terrifying.
Ice-blue roses withered in a girl's hand, blood-stained roses.
"Daenerys!" Viserys saw himself screaming in pain, molten gold flowing down his cheeks, filling his mouth.
But that face quickly tore and shattered; ruby-like blood sprayed from the chest of the dying Rhaegar as he knelt in the water, whispering a woman's name with his last breath: "Lyanna" ————
A silver-haired little boy walked toward a ship facing the wind and rain, heading for a dark, gloomy island; it was Viserys.
A black-haired little girl held the hand of a silver-haired little girl, running barefoot toward a mansion with a Red Door; it was Rhaenys and Daenerys.
"I do not want the void; I only want the present," Viserys shouted.
The images instantly dissipated, retreating into nothingness.
"How is this possible? A man with no future!" the second Undying roared, watching as Viserys quickly regained clarity, while the swollen heart trembled chaotically instead.
"What about your prophecy? No one can resist indulging in the future of destiny. No, you are the prince that was promised, the Dragonlord. The dragon has three heads, and you are the son of three."
The Unsullied remained silent; everything they had seen and heard here exceeded their worldview.
Those insects of flowing fire, the terrible plagues, and now, the True Dragon.
"I saw you ignite three types of flames: the flame of blood, the flame of Fire Magic, and the flame of water magic.
I saw you become the King of three: Westeros, the Andal, and the Rhoyne River," the Undying answered, trembling.
"I do not want the future; I only want the present. I do not want this bullshit future built on lies..." Viserys looked at the second Undying.
Viserys was not Rhaegar; he was just Viserys himself.
"I know you will succeed," the second Undying said hurriedly. "It was known as early as a thousand years ago, and we have waited until now. The comet will be the guidance we send forth."
What the Undying said was not entirely false; magic had actually always existed, it had just fallen into a trough.
After all, during the decline of magic, there were still seers like Bloodraven and the Ghost of High Heart.
The Undying felt it; they felt the rhythm of magic, long silent, beginning to rise.
High summer was the messenger of magic, so some of the Undying, burning their bridges, decided to try.
"I will share knowledge with you," the second Undying continued. "I will teach you to use magical weapons.
Come, hurry over. You have passed all the tests; just come to the House of the Undying and feast with us, and countless questions will finally be answered."
"Liar!"
"Lies!"
"I am the Fate-Reverser; only I am immortal, only the True Dragon is immortal," Viserys cursed, his tone like steel. "You are not worthy of being the Undying."
"Dragonflame!" The dragon roared in anger as well.
Sunfyre flapped its wings, and golden-red flames engulfed the beating black heart, turning it into nothingness; the black heart was completely destroyed.
"Unsullied! Protect me!" the second Undying shouted the name of the Unsullied.
The Unsullied bit the bullet and threw their spears at the sky, but they were all dodged.
The dragon's second burst of flame arrived, and the golden-red flames engulfed the second Undying.
The second Undying boiled and burned shrilly; many Unsullied who tried to protect him even rushed forward, only to be swept into the golden-red Dragonflame, until they died in agony.
It is said that the true Undying are as light as gas, merely empty shells that dissipate at a touch.
And these Undying who had ventured out were more like decaying, elderly men in their twilight years.
Viserys saw the Harpy's command whip, the golden whip of the Harpy used to command the Unsullied, also turn into nothingness amidst the flames.
The dragon circled and flew, and Viserys looked at the twelve remaining Unsullied and said to them, "You are free."
Now that even the whip that commanded them had been burned, they were indeed free.
"Free... we are willing to serve the True Dragon monarch, the great Dragonlord, unto death." The Unsullied leader's confused eyes became firm again, and the Unsullied offered Viserys the silver secret wine and the relics of the Undying.
"Drink these things yourselves," Viserys said.
Viserys smelled the Warlock's magic blocker; the effect was a bit weak.
It was the blood of the dead Great Warlock mixed with various potions; it was estimated that the Unsullied had suffered many casualties.
"We will remember this, we will remember this," the Unsullied knelt on the ground together.
"Were you originally subordinates of that rich merchant?" Viserys asked.
The Unsullied leader quickly replied, "We came from the Thirteen, the Ancient Guild of Spicers, and the Tourmaline Brotherhood; we were the merchants' subordinates, sent by them to the Undying for exploration."
Qarth had three major merchant guilds: the Thirteen, the Ancient Guild of Spicers, and the Tourmaline Brotherhood. They fought and schemed against the Qartheen royal family, and both sides despised each other.
Viserys knew that these three major guilds possessed at least eight hundred to over a thousand ships and were extremely wealthy.
It seemed the Warlock still held enough influence to shame them into providing aid, though the merchants were mainly afraid of the Warlock's subtle curses while simultaneously craving wealth.
Viserys's actions this time would inevitably mean offending the House of the Undying and the merchants of Qarth.
But that did not matter; Qarth relied on the Dothraki's ravaging of the grasslands to control the vital shipping lanes.
To put it bluntly, the Qartheen and the Dothraki shared the same interests.
For such adversaries, hostility was inevitable.
"There were about eighty or ninety of us when we came ashore, but now only a few remain. The silver wine cannot completely resist the curse," the Unsullied said indifferently.
Viserys looked at the other legacies left by the Undying: an ancient map of Valyria, a barrel of Nightshade that was almost depleted, and some other logistical supplies.
These Qartheen Warlocks had not come away empty-handed; there was an ancient valyrian steel silver-gray flail named Blazing Star.
A valyrian steel dragon-headed shield, adorned with patterns like ocean tides, named Tide of Wrath.
Apart from these, the Warlocks had basically come up empty.
Viserys finished packing; it was time to prepare to leave and first reunite with his own people.
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