In the blink of an eye, Aerea's body surged forward like a primordial beast utterly enraged.
The imperial guards who had surrounded the mother and daughters, intent on capturing them in one fell swoop, were instantly swept into a bloodbath as nightmarish as any vision of hell. Aerea's awakened form moved with such unfathomable speed it seemed ghostly—human eyes could not track even a trace of her movement.
Under the horrified stares of the imperial guards, deep craters erupted one after another across the ground. Each was carved by the crushing force of Aerea's reverse-jointed hooves. Earth blasted outward with each strike, dust billowing thick into the air, plunging the scene into chaos.
Some Awakened tried to fight back, swinging their weapons with all their might or unleashing their Skills in a desperate bid to halt her advance. Yet their actions looked painfully slow and feeble compared to her lightning-fast movements. Every attempt at resistance was useless, like a mantis trying to stop a cart—utterly futile, unable to hinder Aerea in the slightest.
...
Meanwhile, atop the high hill of Rhaenys, Tyanna led a group of Awakened, rushing toward Dragon Square like a stormwind. She planned to coordinate with the Awakened already in the square, forming a tight encirclement to trap Aerea and her kin completely.
But before Tyanna and her followers could even draw near, Aerea's storm-like figure appeared in their midst without warning.
At once, the square descended into carnage. Severed limbs and broken bodies of the Awakened flew through the air like scattered leaves, while violet blood spurted like uncontrolled fountains, spraying high into the sky. The pitch-black night was dyed a ghastly red-purple, and the air thickened with the nauseating stench of blood.
Aerea was now like a grim reaper lurking in the night—cold, ruthless, and terrifying. Wherever she passed, the lives of the Awakened fell like fragile stalks of wheat, swiftly and mercilessly harvested by the storm. One life after another was cut down in an instant.
Tyanna, seeing this, was seized by overwhelming terror. She knew the battle was lost. Desperate, she turned to flee.
But how could she possibly escape the overwhelming speed and power of Aerea's awakened body? And now that Rhaella's rational will controlled her sister's form, how could Tyanna—the very instigator of this chaos—be allowed to slip away?
Though Tyanna's leopard form was considered among the most agile of Awakened, compared to Aerea's terrifying might, the difference was like heaven and earth. They were not even close to being equals.
In the span of a heartbeat, a gleaming blade in Aerea's hands streaked across the night like lightning, slicing through Tyanna's retreating form.
A shrill scream tore through the air as Tyanna's body was cleaved clean in two. Blood erupted like a broken dam, drenching the ground in a spreading sea of crimson.
...
Though the three women had escaped the immediate danger, their situation was still dire.
Rhaena remained unconscious, sunk in a deep coma, while Aerea had fully awakened, her body transformed into the form of a demon. Rhaella looked on with sorrow, tears welling in her eyes. She fought to hold them back, her jaw clenched tight.
Using the flesh spikes embedded in Aerea's features, she gently extended her consciousness into her sister's mind. Her voice trembled as she whispered,
"Sister, what should we do now? Should we still leave the Red Keep?"
Aerea's voice answered clearly within her thoughts.
"Rhaella, Maegor's transformed dragon-beast is already heading toward Brother's army. You know he doesn't have an adult dragon with him. If they clash with Maegor, the outcome will be disastrous—he's in mortal danger.
So you must take my body and reach Brother as fast as possible. If Maegor wins this battle, then from this day forward, our only fate will be to flee endlessly, living as hunted fugitives."
"Yes, I understand, Sister!" Rhaella replied.
With careful movements, she lifted Rhaena onto Aerea's massive awakened body, then climbed onto her back herself. Guiding her sister's demon form, she sprinted toward the Dragonpit on Rhaenys Hill.
The wind roared past them as tension clawed at the air.
Rhaenys Hill lay in ruins. The brutal battle had devastated the Dragonkeepers; hardly a single figure still stood. Rhaella searched desperately through the carnage until she finally found one Dragonkeeper who had survived.
She rushed to him, pleading for help in finding Dreamfyre.
After much effort, they finally located the dragon.
Rhaella quickly roused her mother.
Rhaena stirred slowly, but the moment her eyes fell upon Aerea's monstrous awakened form, her expression twisted in horror. Tears welled instantly, spilling down her face.
She clutched Aerea tightly and broke down in tears. Her hands trembled as she gently stroked Aerea's face, pierced through by the Sharp Points, sobs escaping with every breath.
"Mother, there's no time! Have Dreamfyre take me and Sister to our brother's army. Maegor's dragon monstrosity is attacking him—he's in terrible danger!" Rhaella cried out to Rhaena, her face filled with urgency.
"Can we not fight anymore? Let's take Aegon and flee to Essos. I can't bear the pain of losing you again," Rhaena said, her voice trembling with grief.
Rhaella immediately shook her head, holding Rhaena tightly.
"Mother, that's impossible. If Maegor is determined to find us, he'll drag us out even if we flee to the ends of the earth.
And that madman might try to turn all of humanity into demons. He's completely insane—there's nothing so vile he wouldn't attempt.
Only by destroying Maegor completely can our family ever be safe."
Rhaena listened, slowly nodding. Though her eyes were still full of worry and reluctance, she understood there was no other choice left.
She softly called for Dreamfyre, and before long, the young dragon's massive body appeared before them. The three climbed onto its back.
Dreamfyre was still young, only a little over twenty years old and not yet fully grown. Carrying all three of them strained its strength—especially Aerea, whose awakened body stood nearly three meters tall, her metal-hard bone armor adding even more weight. Yet Dreamfyre pushed itself onward, wings beating as it wobbled into the air.
From the Dragonpit platform, it lifted into the cold moonlight, flying hard in the direction Maegor had gone.
...
Meanwhile, along the banks of the Blackwater Rush near King's Landing, Aegon's army had made camp. They were now only three days' march from the capital.
Late at night, Aegon was resting in his tent when suddenly, a series of heavy, thunderous booms shook the ground, shattering the silence.
Aegon snapped awake. He knew that sound all too well—the distinct rumble of a full-grown Dragon running across the land. His heart sank instantly.
In the current state of Westeros, only Maegor possessed a full-grown Dragon. But hadn't his mighty beast, the Cannibal, been crippled?
"This is bad. Maegor is coming! He's actually charging us on the crippled Cannibal!" Aegon muttered to himself as he sprang to his feet.
He rushed out of the royal tent just as Jaehaerys came running up. Rebel lords and advisers, roused by the noise, quickly gathered at Aegon's tent. Their faces were tense, eyes heavy with dread—everyone knew a mortal crisis was upon them.
"A Dragon! It has a gigantic human hand growing from its back, dragging a monstrous sword as it charges toward us!" a sentry shouted, his voice quivering with fear.
Aegon and Jaehaerys exchanged a grim glance, both shaken by what they heard.
Jaehaerys mounted Bronze Fury and took to the skies to scout. Though still only a juvenile and not yet fully grown, Bronze Fury could barely manage to carry him aloft. But in the pitch-black night, visibility was poor.
Aegon mounted a horse and galloped to a nearby hilltop.
By then, the rebel army had gone to full alert, soldiers seizing their weapons and forming ranks, ready for battle.
Before long, Jaehaerys returned, his expression grim.
"It is the Cannibal—but something is terribly wrong. Maegor seems to have altered it, twisted it into a mutation. I clearly saw a molten-gold vein running from its back, and a ghastly pale arm. Worse still—Maegor's face appeared on its neck!"
"This must be Maegor's molten gold power," Aegon said with a deep frown. "He can transform himself into molten gold, then attach himself to other living beings, bending them to his will."
He recalled how, back at the Red Keep, he had probed Maegor's dragonblood power with a chip. Even then, he had sensed its sinister, unnatural nature.
"The Cannibal is the size of a prime-aged dragon. Even if it can't fly, on land it's nearly invincible. With our current strength, we have no hope of defeating it," Lord Rogar said gravely, his face full of helplessness and anxiety.
Aegon listened in silence, sinking into deep thought.
Just then, the nobles standing on the high bank suddenly cried out in alarm.
"Look! Something's in the river!"
"He's coming," Jaehaerys said, his eyes narrowing, his tone heavy.
Aegon quickly turned his gaze toward the Blackwater Rush, gleaming faintly under the moonlight, and saw a terrifying monster—over ten meters tall—wading through the waters.
Normally, dragons had long, slender bodies, and their size wasn't overwhelming unless they reared upright. But now, the Cannibal's neck floated on the river's surface while its head remained submerged. On its back, a grotesque giant sword, woven from flesh and entrails, was cradled in the palm of a massive hand, radiating an aura of pure dread.
"The Cannibal is already dead!" Aegon's sharp gaze caught the truth at once. "Maegor's molten gold power isn't without cost. Any creature he possesses loses its will completely and becomes nothing more than his puppet."
The dragon-monster stepped heavily from the river onto the bank, torrents of water cascading down its immense body like a waterfall. Its long skeletal head dragged along the ground, screeching with a bone-chilling scrape, while the human face embedded in its neck stared toward the rebel host, loosing dreadful howls that pierced the night.
Some soldiers in the rebel ranks were the first to react. They drew their bows and loosed a rain of arrows at the abomination. Shafts clattered against its hide, but none could pierce its rock-hard scales.
Seeing this, the soldiers hastily rolled out heavy crossbows and loosed volley after volley. These siege engines packed great force, yet even they proved nearly useless. At most, a bolt might tear through a thinner patch of the Cannibal's skin, but none inflicted serious harm.
Aegon watched as the monster advanced step by step toward the camp. His heart grew heavy—this was the moment of life or death.
He drew Dark Sister from his hip, exhaled slowly, and said with unwavering resolve, "There's no choice left. We fight."
He turned to the knights of the Demon-Hunting Order. Every one of the Dragonkin met his gaze with iron resolve, their eyes burning with unshakable will. They had absolute trust in Aegon. Time and again, through countless battles, his leadership and strength had carried them to victory. To them, following Aegon meant triumph against all odds.
Jaehaerys too stood firm, drawing his steel blade. In an instant, a sheen of bronze patina seemed to come alive, crawling across the length of his sword, releasing an ancient and mysterious aura.
Beside him, Alysanne quietly drew her own steel sword, summoning the magic within her. From her body, peonies bloomed one after another, vibrant and fragrant, filling the air with an intoxicating sweetness.
Aegon gave her a faint nod. He knew her power had its place. The bewitching fragrance of her blossoms might become an unexpected weapon in the desperate battle that lay ahead.