Rayder raised his hand. Just a little higher, and his fingertips would brush against the cold, ridged scales before him.
The massive form of Cannibal loomed like a living mountain, the air around the black behemoth thick with heat and a suffocating aura of death. Each second stretched endlessly, every heartbeat pounding like war drums in Rayder's chest.
His breathing quickened, but he forced himself to remain steady. Slowly. Calmly. No sudden movements. He clenched his jaw, his teeth grinding against each other, disciplining his body not to tremble even as instinct screamed at him to flee.
Cannibal's eyes—great molten pools of dark green fire—swiveled toward him. The dragon's gaze was cold, alien, ancient, and filled with a cruelty born of centuries of hunger and violence. Even the bravest Targaryens had feared this beast, branding it untamable, a nightmare given wings.
And yet, here was Rayder, closing the distance step by step.
From above, Daemon Targaryen watched. Perched on Caraxes's back, he held his breath as he witnessed the unthinkable.
Rayder—the mad foreigner who had already shocked Westeros by claiming dragons of his own—was now attempting the impossible: reaching out to Cannibal.
The great wild dragon, feared across generations, had never once borne rider nor chain. The Targaryens of old had tried, and all had failed. Some were torn apart, others devoured, a few roasted in dragonfire so hot their bones melted into ash.
Yet this outsider dared to try.
What unsettled Daemon most was not Rayder's audacity, but his progress. Cannibal had not struck. Its massive head tilted warily, its nostrils flaring as if trying to catch the scent of the man before it. Though its body was tense, it did not lash out—not yet.
He might actually succeed.
Daemon's stomach tightened. His face darkened into grim resolve.
"I absolutely cannot let him succeed."
The thought roared in his mind like thunder. If Rayder gained Cannibal, the balance of power in Westeros would tilt irreversibly. Daemon's claim, his very ambitions, would be crushed beneath that reality.
Yet direct action carried danger. If he openly struck Rayder now, the fragile thread restraining their enmity would snap. The conflict between them would spiral into all-out war, a blood-soaked struggle that might consume them both.
Even Daemon, bold as he was, could see that such destruction would benefit neither side.
Then I cannot strike him... but I can strike the dragon.
Leaning forward, Daemon whispered into Caraxes's ear. The red wyrm rumbled, its long serpentine body coiling with tension, understanding its master's intent.
In an instant, Caraxes shifted its wings, diving with startling speed.
The great beast descended from the clouds like a crimson thunderbolt, its wings slicing the air. When still some distance away, Caraxes opened its massive jaws wide.
With a thunderous roar, a torrent of searing black-red dragonfire erupted forth—aimed straight at Cannibal's broad back.
The flame struck.
Scales cracked. Flesh sizzled. The reek of burning hide spread through the air.
Cannibal bellowed, the sound shaking the cliffs of Dragonstone. A roar of pure hatred and pain tore free, echoing across sea and sky.
The fragile thread of tolerance it had been showing Rayder snapped instantly.
The behemoth's wrath ignited like a storm.
It whirled its colossal head, eyes blazing with murderous fury, fixing upon Caraxes and Daemon as the true enemy. Its roar was deafening, a challenge, a declaration of vengeance.
The chance Rayder had painstakingly carved, step by step, was gone in an instant.
"No!"
Rayder's shout was swallowed by the hurricane winds stirred by Cannibal's wings. His voice could not reach the beast, not through its fury, not above the cacophony of flame and thunder.
Cannibal surged forward, wings unfurling like titanic sails. With terrifying speed, the monster launched itself into the sky, its bulk defying its size as it pursued Caraxes.
Rayder could only watch as the chance to touch Cannibal vanished, carried away on a tide of fire and rage.
His fists clenched. His vision narrowed, blazing with venom.
"Daemon…" he hissed, his teeth grinding together.
Even if that fragile connection had not been true recognition, it had been something. A first step. An opening.
Daemon had destroyed it.
Rayder's chest heaved. The fury boiling inside him threatened to spill over. He wanted nothing more than to tear Daemon down from Caraxes's back and beat him bloody for his interference.
But he forced himself to swallow the rage—for now.
Quickly, he stowed away the dragon corpse remains scattered on the ground, slipping them into his system space. Then, with practiced agility, he mounted Black Dragon Im's broad, armored back.
Im rumbled low in his throat, sensing its rider's anger.
"Follow them," Rayder commanded in a cold voice. His eyes flashed. "Kidora, Yigen—stay with me!"
At his call, the other great dragons answered. Kidora's three heads hissed as one, their wings beating in unison. Yigen bellowed, its massive chest vibrating like rolling thunder.
The sky darkened as Rayder's beasts rose, shadows blotting out the clouds as they pursued.
Meanwhile, Daemon's heart pounded as he clung to Caraxes.
He knew the truth: Cannibal's fury was beyond measure. No single dragon could withstand its wrath, not even Caraxes. The only hope lay in strength of numbers.
"Back to the lair!" he urged.
Caraxes banked sharply, its body twisting with serpentine grace as it dove toward the gaping maw of Dragonstone's dragonpit.
The plan was simple—lure Cannibal into the lair, where Vhagar, Vermithor, and Silverwing dwelled. Together, the might of multiple great dragons could drive even Cannibal back.
It was a desperate gamble, but it was the only choice.
The red wyrm darted inside, wings folding as it skimmed through the narrow tunnels at reckless speed.
But Daemon had gravely miscalculated.
Cannibal was not merely fierce—it was relentless.
The black mountain roared, and with terrifying momentum it smashed into the entrance, clawing and forcing its enormous frame through the too-narrow passage.
Stone cracked. Dust rained down. Screams filled the cavern as Dragon Guards scrambled.
Those too slow to flee were obliterated. Claws the size of wagons trampled armored men flat, crushing both steel and flesh into a single grotesque paste. Blood splattered across the walls, sizzling where it touched lingering flame.
Even the cavern itself seemed to tremble beneath the beast's weight as it forced its colossal bulk deeper inside.
Its wings folded awkwardly, its body scraping the stone, yet still it pressed forward. Rage burned away hesitation. Pain did not exist. Only the need to kill.
Rayder arrived just in time to see the horror unfold.
From outside the lair, he gazed into the depths.
Within, the cavern was lit by two clashing infernos: one green, one red. Flames twisted around each other, hissing and snapping as they devoured stone. The heat was so intense that even the rock walls began to soften, molten rivulets dripping like candlewax.
The air reeked of scorched flesh and burning stone.
The roars of dragons collided, echoing in endless waves. The clash of titans reverberated, shaking the mountain itself.
Rayder sat astride Im at the entrance, listening to the chorus of violence within.
The snapping of jaws. The tearing of flesh. The thud of massive bodies colliding.
The song of fire and blood.
And the battle had only just begun.
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