The distant roar of a dragon echoed through the air, setting an almost divine atmosphere. Beneath the sprawling canopy of the ancient weirwood tree, Baelon sat cross-legged, fully absorbed as if traversing a vast sea of knowledge — a kingdom of gods and legends unfolding in his mind.
Vhagar, the great dragon, lay beside him on the soft ground. She lifted her massive eyelids lazily, casting a brief glance at her rider. Baelon had been still for a long time, lost in thought, his expression calm and focused. Finding nothing amiss, Vhagar settled back down with a yawn, a flicker of boredom creeping in.
Despite her apparent disinterest, Vhagar could sense something different about Baelon's mood — an unusual happiness, as if some good fortune had befallen him.
From the thick red leaves overhead, a single drop of sap hardened into a tiny crystal and then slowly fell, landing precisely on a candle's flame nearby. The candle flickered and went out with a small pop, smoke curling up into the cool air.
Vhagar lifted her head again, unbothered by the dark, for the shadows could never obscure the sharp vision of a dragon's eyes.
Around them, the leaves rustled softly, but the forest was otherwise still — so still, in fact, that it seemed as though every living creature had vanished, save for Baelon and his mighty dragon.
Stretching her long neck, Vhagar admired her own wings, now fully healed and restored to their former glory. Then she fixed her unblinking gaze on Baelon, her new rider — and already her favorite.
Baelon was unlike any rider she had known before, having earned her favor in less than a day by feeding and caring for her in a way that spoke of genuine trust and respect.
For the first time in centuries, Vhagar felt content and understood.
Suddenly, the thick darkness around the island seemed to writhe and stir. The wind picked up, rustling the leaves with increasing urgency.
A black, human-shaped ink shadow writhed violently in the darkness, breaking free from its misty prison. With a sudden burst of speed, it lunged directly at Baelon.
Vhagar's eyes snapped open, a fierce fire blazing within them. Without hesitation, she unleashed a torrent of dragonfire, striking the shadow with a scream as it melted away into a wisp of smoke.
Centuries of battle experience surged through Vhagar. She rose to full alertness, wings spreading wide, protecting Baelon beneath her great frame.
But the darkness was not done.
More than a dozen shadowy figures surged from the gloom, a tide of dark shapes advancing relentlessly.
Vhagar roared, flames bursting forth again in a dazzling display that lit up the fish-beam trees surrounding them.
The shadows writhed and screamed, vulnerable to the searing heat. Each blackened figure burned into a mass of twisting human faces before collapsing into ash.
Still, Vhagar remained vigilant, the fire in her throat ready to ignite once more.
Finally, the darkness receded, silence returned, and the island fell back into an uneasy calm.
Vhagar slowly relaxed, laying her great head before the heart tree.
The rustling leaves whispered a lullaby, and the dragon's heavy eyelids drooped.
She cast one last glance at Baelon, sitting peacefully beneath the tree, before drifting off into a deep sleep.
But as the island sank into darkness, so too did a creeping evil return.
From the shadows emerged a monstrous figure, its black fangs pressing cruelly against Baelon's neck.
Baelon remained calm, eyes closed, accepting his fate.
Suddenly, the rustling leaves grew louder, and a nimble figure burst forth, voice sharp yet low: "Stop!"
The shadow creature hesitated.
"You swore to deliver him to the Great Wall!" the figure commanded firmly.
At that moment, the heart tree's thick roots came alive, rapidly growing to encase Baelon's body.
The roots twisted tightly, crawling up his legs and shoulders, their thorny tips piercing his skin.
The leaves darkened, stained as if soaked in blood.
Baelon's eyes closed slowly as his skin turned pale and gray.
He began to merge with the weirwood forest, becoming almost one with the ancient tree itself.
---
Spiritual World
Baelon found himself adrift in a vast starry sky, his consciousness floating far above the mortal realm.
He watched as mighty mountains transformed into endless seas, and oceans dried up, becoming vast deserts.
Below, the Children of the Forest roamed free across the continent, living in harmony with the land, their lives untouched by mortal strife.
The world was full of vitality and fierce competition for survival.
Then, Baelon saw the First Men arriving from Essos.
They marched across Westeros, cutting down the sacred weirwood trees on a massive scale.
The Children of the Forest fought back, waging war against these newcomers who dared defile their sacred groves.
Baelon's face darkened with anger and sorrow.
He felt a deep connection with the weirwoods — the ancient gods of the forest — and could not bear to watch them being destroyed.
He wished to protect the trees and punish those who dared to harm them.
Yet, no matter how fiercely he attacked, his powers were ineffective against the ancestors of Westeros.
The First Men continued to fell the fish-beam trees, building their homes with little regard for the old magic.
Time passed.
The Children of the Forest and the First Men clashed in brutal wars.
Later, the Andals arrived, adding yet another wave of change.
A faint whisper echoed in Baelon's mind, "Everything is arranged by fate. Just let it be."
The voice lingered like a fog, slowly eroding Baelon's will until it began to dissolve quietly.
Tears of blood welled in his eyes as he gazed upon the undisturbed ancestors and the felled weirwood trees.
He realized the limits of his power — omniscient and omnipotent in the spiritual world, but powerless to affect the real world.
The spiritual realm was vast, but without a strong body in the material world, it meant nothing.
---
Suddenly, Baelon's eyes snapped open.
The fog in his mind cleared, and his memories flooded back.
He remembered the dragon, and the thing he desired most: the system.
He was not one to seek adventure blindly.
Even before taming Vhagar, he knew he first had to feed her, gain her trust, and then ride her.
He had long suspected the magic of the weirwood trees, symbols of the Old Gods.
How could he dare sit beneath one without being affected?
Perhaps it had influenced his thoughts from the start.
Or maybe even earlier, when he had Harrenhal before him, he had ordered Vhagar to fly to the Isle of Faces.
He glanced at the system panel — his spirit value had returned to zero.
More troubling was the flashing red warning:
[Spiritual Penetration...]
Baelon laughed bitterly at himself.
It seemed his spirit was still useful after all.
He took a deep breath, eyes burning with determination.
A vast mirror of starry skies shattered in his mind, revealing the endless forest of weirwood trees.
---
His body remained bound tightly by vines and tree trunks, immobile.
But Baelon only chuckled calmly.
"No matter how powerful the spiritual world may be, if your body is weak and vulnerable, it's useless."
He called out in a low but commanding voice, "Vhagar, dragon flame!"
---
In the darkness, Vhagar's dark green eyes snapped open, pupils narrowing to vertical slits.
Though her eyes were closed moments ago, she had already sensed her master's call.
Without hesitation, the dragon unleashed a torrent of searing flames toward the weirwood forest.
The fire roared along the tree trunks, twisting the carved faces on the bark into expressions of agony under the burning heat.
Vhagar scanned the forest carefully but could not find Baelon.
He had vanished from beneath the tree.
Her roars of anger echoed across the sky, startling flocks of birds into flight.
---
Meanwhile, the flames engulfed the weirwood forest.
Baelon, still bound, looked at the spreading inferno with a strange sense of emotion.
"Set the mountain on fire," he murmured quietly.
The fire consumed the roots imprisoning him, turning thick vines into ash.
A scream rang out — old and filled with pain.
The world crumbled around him like quicksand.
At the very last moment, Baelon smiled faintly and waved his hand.
"Cherish your last moments. See you next time. You will surely die beneath the dragon's flame."
---
The sounds of wind and breaking grass grew closer, more alive than the rigid spiritual world he had just escaped.
Baelon found himself not beneath the heart tree, but inside a woven bag.
The bag jolted and swayed violently.
The sharp scent of sulfur was absent.
He was being kidnapped.
Fortunately, Baelon and Vhagar shared a deep connection, sensing each other's locations even across distance.
Princess Vhagar was already rushing to rescue her prince, kidnapped by the dreaded Demon King.
Baelon quietly opened his eyes and peered through a gap in the woven sack.
They were moving fast, bouncing between tree branches.
No human could move so quickly and lightly through the treetops.
Suddenly, a shadowy humanoid figure appeared in the distance.
Shadow monsters — creatures born of the system's rules.
---
On the journey to the dragon's lair, Baelon had been tense, wary not only of disturbing Vhagar but also on guard against sudden shadow attacks.
Yet, the journey to Thousand Faces Island had been eerily quiet, unsettling Baelon.
From Vhagar's mind, Baelon learned what had happened.
After the heart tree's sap fell and extinguished the candle, the shadow monster appeared from the darkness and attacked.
Though born from system rules, these shadow monsters had formed a strange alliance with the native creatures of this world.
---
Then, a strange realization hit Baelon: On Dragonstone Island, the system could not detect objects dropped by the shadow monsters.
Something was wrong.
Something was deeply wrong with the system here.
---
To be continued...
---
End of Chapter 30