Ember stood in the sunlight and gave itself a full-body shake.
Its scales rattled like metal plates knocking together. The wings spread wide—the two wrinkled membranes opened bigger in the sun than they had underground, thin enough to show every fine vein and bone.
It flapped twice.
Nothing. It didn't leave the ground.
Too heavy.
Limpick watched the big wings whoosh back and forth, kicking up dust clouds that stung his eyes. Ember kept flapping for a while, four claws still planted firm.
"Knock it off," Limpick said, pinching his nose. "You're choking me out."
Ember stopped, turned its head, and rumbled low in its throat, clearly annoyed.
Limpick ignored it and walked to the hall entrance to check outside.
Sun straight overhead. Midday. He'd come out in the afternoon, gone down… he wasn't sure how long, but at least a full night had passed. His stomach growled loud enough to echo. His mouth felt like it was packed with sand.
"Need food," he said. "And water."
Ember followed, claws clicking on the stone floor. It paused by the scattered dragon bones, sniffed once, sneezed, and kept walking.
Limpick glanced at the bones. They were gray-white like chalk, crumbling in the breeze. Unlike the one underground, this skeleton had been dead for ages—nothing left.
He remembered the system's note about "32% integrity."
The underground one was only a third intact and still turned a rat into a dog-sized dragon. What if they ever found a complete skeleton?
His stomach growled again before he could finish the thought.
Harrenhal felt quieter than when they first arrived.
Yesterday the place had been alive with rat sounds—scratching, squeaking, claws on stone. Today nothing. Even the wind seemed softer.
It took Limpick a minute to realize why.
No rats.
Not one.
The whole castle was empty except for them. Old paw prints and droppings dotted the floor here and there, but nothing fresh.
Ember walked ahead at an easy pace, claws clicking on the flagstones. Everywhere it passed, the lingering rat scent—Limpick couldn't smell it but could feel it—simply vanished.
"You scared them all off, huh?" Limpick said.
Ember didn't turn around, just flicked its tail tip.
They found a small side room off the hall—old kitchen or storeroom, no door, no windows. A pile of rotten wood and rags sat in the corner, along with a cracked clay jar.
Limpick rummaged. No food. But the jar still held a little water—half full, muddy at the bottom, dust floating on top.
He sniffed it.
Drinkable.
He blew the dust aside, took a small sip, swallowed, then took another and set the jar down.
Ember walked over and shoved its head inside.
The opening was too small. It got stuck.
Ember shook its head twice. The jar rattled but stayed on. Frustrated, it backed up and slammed its head against the wall. The jar shattered, pieces scattering everywhere.
Ember stood there with pottery shards stuck to its scales, water dripping down its neck. It shook its head hard and hissed at Limpick.
Limpick looked at it and burst out laughing.
Ember got pissed, turned away, and whipped its tail across his shin with a loud smack.
It didn't hurt, but it was loud.
"Okay, okay," Limpick rubbed his leg, still grinning. "No more laughing."
Ember ignored him and crouched by the wall, licking its paw.
The licking motion was exactly the same as before—just the tongue was bigger now, making loud slurping sounds like a dog lapping water.
Limpick leaned against the wall and watched.
Sunlight poured through the empty window, making every black, red, and gray scale gleam. Ember licked its paws, then its tail, then its wings, slow and serious, the way a cat washes its face.
Limpick suddenly remembered: back in Riverrun, Ember used to do this every morning—lick itself clean before heading out.
Back then it had been a palm-sized gray rat, sitting at his feet, licking with tiny squeaks.
Now?
A black-dog-sized dragon crouched in front of him, licking its wings with loud whooshes.
Nothing had changed.
Everything had changed.
"Number One," Limpick called.
Ember stopped and looked over.
"You can't keep being called Number One," he said.
Ember tilted its head.
"With your size now," Limpick gestured, "Number One sounds pathetic. You need a real name."
Ember's ears twitched—they'd changed too, from round rat ears to hard triangular plates like cut metal, still movable but stiff.
Limpick thought for a long moment.
"You started as a rat," he said, "and now you've got wings. Rat with wings… bat?"
Ember stared at him.
"Batwing?" he muttered. "Nah, too fancy."
He thought some more.
"Gray?" He looked at the colors. "No, you're not all gray. Blackish, red, black, gray… like burned charcoal…"
He stopped.
Burned charcoal.
Harrenhal.
Dragonfire.
"Ember," Limpick said. "Like the embers left after the fire."
Ember's ears twitched again, and it rumbled softly in its throat.
"Ember it is," Limpick said. "You good with that?"
Ember stood, walked over, and rested its head on his knee.
Just like it had in the cavern.
Limpick stroked its head, fingers gliding over the cool, hard, smooth scales.
"Ember," he said again.
Ember rumbled low, purring.
Limpick leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes.
Sunlight streamed through the window, warm on his skin. Ember's head rested heavy on his knee, making his leg a little numb. He didn't move.
Harrenhal was still huge, empty, and quiet. Wind whistled through the broken window like someone crying.
But Limpick wasn't scared anymore.
He had a dragon the size of a dog. Couldn't fly, couldn't breathe fire—just one that smashed stones and scared off rats.
But it was his.
Seven days from the base of Riverrun's wall to Harrenhal's underground cavern. Three hungry days. Half a roasted rat. Totally worth it.
Limpick opened his eyes and looked down at Ember.
Ember was asleep, head still on his knee, breathing steady, still purring softly.
He ran his hand over the scales from head to neck to back. They felt faintly warm under his fingers, alive, rising and falling, cool then warm.
"Ember," Limpick whispered. "Where do we go next?"
Ember didn't answer, just kept purring.
Limpick rested his head against the wall and closed his eyes.
The sun was sliding west. Long Summer days lasted forever—hours until dark. Plenty of time to figure it out.
For now—
He'd take a nap.