The night before the wedding
Maekar sat in his chamber, riffling through the pages of a rare book from the Citadel. He had asked Archmaester Vaegon by letter if texts of this sort were available; Vaegon had sent them a week ago with the Hightower contingent that had come for the wedding.
The tome was bound in black leather, heavy and cold to the touch, its spine stamped with the title Magics of a Bygone Era. It collected stories of magical happenings—folklore and witness accounts gathered over centuries. Marginal notes, added by maesters over time, dismissed much of it as preposterous or laughable.
Still, Maekar noticed that the maesters offered no definitive proof that magic was extinct, nor that it had never existed. After all, the mere existence of flying, fire-breathing lizards argued against such certainty.
He turned to the section on Asshai. The passage read:
"It is rumored that spellsingers, aeromancers, and warlocks practice their arts openly in Asshai. Asshai is open to all sorts of practitioners of the 'higher mysteries' such as godswives, alchemists, necromancers, night-walkers, pyromancers, bloodmages, as well as inquisitors, torturers, and poisoners, and even worshippers of the Black Goat and Bakkalon and the Lion of Night. No practice is forbidden in the city, however depraved."
Maekar's lips twitched. 'This lines up with what I know,' he thought.
'Were it not for the looming war, I might have dabbled in the arts myself. Who knows—perhaps I still might.'
-----
A pale, sweating Helaena lay restless in her chamber, her body shivering beneath damp nightclothes. Her brow furrowed, lips twisting in discomfort, her face turned side to side against the pillow as though searching for comfort she could not find.
Helaena's POV:
'Once again, I find myself in this black space,' she thought.
'For weeks, my dreams have carried me here—this endless void. Neither hot nor cold. Though it is black, I feel as though I can still see, as if the darkness itself is a vision.'
But tonight was different.
A creeping chill of dread wrapped around her, sinking into her skin. She hugged her arms close, kneeling into nothingness, teeth clattering against the oppressive silence.
Then came the sound.
"Krrrch… ssssss…"
Faint at first, uneven and jagged, like a beast dragging broken claws across stone. It was the most unsettling noise she had ever heard, and still it grew louder. A shiver ran up her spine, her breath shallow—until the roar struck.
"BRWWWRAAAAAAGH!"
The screech was monstrous, core-shaking. The void itself trembled with it, as if the roar had cracked the very foundation of this dream.
Her head snapped upward in terror—and for the first time in weeks, the scenery shifted.
Before her stretched a city cloaked in shadows. Buildings stood like jagged teeth, drenched in black ink that seemed to feed on the darkness itself. A place unreal, yet unmistakably a city—alive with something foul, as though the void had birthed it.
However, the city only held my gaze for a moment.
Something greater—something monstrous—stirred above it. A vast shadow loomed, darker even than the inky veil that cloaked the city. It was impossible for anything to cast such a shadow in this black void, yet I could feel it, drawing closer, pressing down upon the city below.
Then I saw it.
A colossal head emerged from the mist, horned and cruel. The horns curved in every direction—forward, backward, and upward like a crown of jagged bone. Its eyes burned red with madness, the only different color in this endless darkness.
The beast's maw opened wide, revealing a nightmare of fangs upon fangs, jagged rows layered cruelly within its jaws. Too many to belong to any creature of this world. And then came the roar once more—
"BRWWWRAAAAAAGH!"
The sound tore through the void, shaking the blackened city beneath it.
And then it descended.
The rest of its body unfurled—an endless mountain of scaled horror, wings blotting out what little sense of sky I thought there was—across its scaled, horned hide burned countless red dots, like bleeding wounds or windows into some infernal hell.
When its maw opened again, fire poured forth—no, not fire, but a torrent vast enough to swallow castles whole. The city screamed as one, the cries of thousands rising in terror as stone and flesh melted together in the blaze. The inky towers sagged like wax, and the bodies of innocents shriveled in the storm.
I clutched my head, trembling violently, trying to block out the sound. Yet the screams only grew, unbearable—until, all at once, they stopped.
The silence was worse.
Slowly, I dared to lift my gaze. The city was gone. Nothing remained—only the beast. It hung in the air, vast and still, as though time itself had frozen around it.
I let out a ragged breath, trying to crawl backward on my knees. But I had not moved more than an inch before the beast's massive head snapped toward me.
Its eyes locked onto mine.
A predator's gaze, fixed on prey.
A pit of pure terror opened within my very soul, freezing me where I knelt. I could not breathe, could not move.
Then the maw split wide once more.
And the great fire came for me.
Two guards stood like sentinels before the princess's chambers, their stares fixed ahead, bored yet vigilant. They had been placed there by order of the Hand himself, and both knew well that any mistake on their part could mean their end.
The stillness of the night was both comforting and strange—until it shattered with a terrible, terrified scream.
"AAHHHHH!"
The guards jerked upright, shock flashing in their eyes before training took over. One slammed the door open, hand on his sword, while the other barreled inside, blade already raised.
"Princess!" the charging guard cried, his voice cutting the silence as he searched the shadows for danger.
The one at the door rushed forward until he reached the bed. There he found Princess Helaena, clutching her knees tight to her chest, head buried, her whole body shaking terribly.
Moments later,
The entire royal family gathered in her chamber.
Queen Alicent sat on the bed, cradling her daughter against her chest, stroking her hair and whispering tenderly, "It's just a dream, darling… just a dream."
The king, pale and hunched with age and sickness, exhaled deeply in relief. "Thank the gods it was only that. I feared the worst."
Otto, who stood at his side like a shadow, inclined his head. "The gods are merciful, Your Grace."
Aegon, the groom-to-be, was nowhere to be found—deep in his cups, lost to wine. Aemond stood silent near the bed, his eyes troubled as he watched his sister tremble.
The king sighed once more. "Since nothing happened, I must retire. I can barely stand on these legs." He turned with a slow, weary motion. Alicent opened her mouth to argue but thought better of it, holding her daughter close instead.
Maekar entered last. He had been delayed, caught up in his chamber pot. His footsteps echoed strangely against the stone, drawing Helaena's attention at once—weird since she was not one to notice such things usually.
Alicent, holding her daughter, felt her stiffen at once. Helaena's shaking worsened the moment her gaze fell on Maekar. She ducked her face deeper into her mother's embrace, arms tightening desperately around her waist.
Maekar, seeing his sister so distraught, stepped closer to the bed. His voice softened. "Helaena… What's wrong?"
He reached out, trying to lay a hand upon her shoulder.
----
Support me on Patreon and enjoy early access to more chapters with a faster update schedule
p-atreon.com/magus123