"Ah!"
Lo Quen heard Janice cry out like a startled fawn. At the same time, he noticed the strange looks from Jaelena and the warriors. Only then did he realize that his [Blazing Inferno] had burned his hastily woven feather skirt to ash.
Now standing naked among piles of corpses, Janice's gasp and the soldiers' stares made him feel deeply awkward.
It wasn't until Jaelena tossed him a robe that he managed to cover himself.
Once dressed, Lo Quen stepped toward Janice.
Since he couldn't understand High Valyrian, he had to rely on her to pass on his words.
But his simple approach instantly raised the soldiers' guard.
As soon as he moved closer, they lifted their swords, eyes beneath bronze helms filled with suspicion and distrust—even after fighting side by side with him moments ago.
Luckily, Janice reacted quickly. "Sister, let him come. He won't hurt me. You know I can always tell if someone's intentions are good or evil."
Jaelena knew her sister was right.
Yet Lo Quen's display of fire sorcery had been too overwhelming. The thought of him harboring designs on Janice filled her with unease.
After a moment's hesitation, she yielded to her sister's plea and allowed him to approach.
When Janice saw Lo Quen safe and sound, her face lit up with joy. "Lo Quen, I'm so glad you escaped that chimera! I thought..."
She cut herself short, afraid her tongue might bring misfortune.
Lo Quen looked at her—thick, silver-bright hair veiled the disfigured half of her face, leaving only the beautiful left side exposed.
"Maybe I was just lucky," he said. "I ran into the dead forest, fleeing for my life. Perhaps that beast grew tired of chasing me."
He had no intention of admitting he had slain the chimera.
Janice relayed his words to Jaelena, only to meet her sharp gaze.
"Chimeras usually dwell near the Fourteen Flames," Jaelena said. "They rarely come here to hunt. Something in this place must have drawn its interest."
Lo Quen's heart sank. Could that purple-feathered monster have come for him?
He hid his unease and shifted the subject.
"Wait—you called it a chimera?"
Jaelena didn't press the earlier point and instead had Janice translate her explanation:
"Chimeras were created by Valyria's sorcerers through blood magic. They're usually stitched together from parts of different creatures, but their natures are so violent they can't be controlled. In ancient times, the sorcerers kept them locked away in their laboratories on the Fourteen Flames. When the Doom struck, these horrors were released along with the other unstable products of blood magic."
Lo Quen's thoughts clicked into place.
From his knowledge of the world of Ice and Fire, he knew Valyrian sorcerers hadn't just tamed dragons—they were obsessed with blood magic, flesh-crafting, and darker arts.
They forced humans to breed with beasts, producing abominations, and combined traits of different creatures to create monsters for their use.
Some even claimed that dragons themselves were born of Valyrian blood sorcery.
Many of Lo Quen's doubts unraveled with Jaelena's words.
The face-maggots that burrowed into sailors and cooked them alive had to be modified Firewyrms.
And the scales Janice had mentioned—the ones growing on the people of Tyria from birth until their bodies were covered—must have come from some blood magic specimen the sorcerers had once kept.
Lo Quen thanked his fortune he hadn't gone to Valyria City with Gerion, and even more that he'd escaped along the way.
His suspicions were right: Valyria City was riddled with danger, the Fourteen Flames looming nearby, devastated in the Doom.
He could picture it clearly—the peaks and the city crawling with horrors—while that madman Gerion still dreamed of plundering Valyria's treasures. Utter folly.
"Who are these people?"
Lo Quen's gaze lingered on the disciplined soldiers around him.
Jaelena answered without hesitation. "They are my warriors, the champions of Tyria. We came here to harvest ghost grass and bring it back to Tyria."
"Is ghost grass that important to you?" Lo Quen pressed.
"Ghost grass is the key ingredient our Bloodmages use to brew potions that slow the growth of scales. Of course it's important."
As Janice relayed his endless questions, Jaelena explained patiently.
The word "mage" stirred Lo Quen's curiosity. So Tyria still had Bloodmages? Had the Doom really not wiped out those madmen?
He hesitated.
He had planned to travel with the sisters to Tyria—partly to uncover the secrets of Valyria's Doom, partly to search for dragon eggs and Valyrian steel.
But what Jaelena had just revealed made him reconsider.
True, his strength now was far beyond what it had been when he first arrived in the ruins.
He had just absorbed a massive haul of Dragon's Soul, pushing his bloodline purity to 3%.
Yet facing Valyria's Bloodmages, he could hardly claim absolute confidence in escaping unscathed.
One path meant staying in the withered forest, continuing to kill Scaled Claw Monsters to raise his purity. The other meant entering Tyria, risking danger for greater rewards.
He thought for a moment, then made his decision.
Hunting monsters in the forest would indeed strengthen him.
But as Jaelena said, chimeras rarely strayed far from Valyria City.
Lo Quen couldn't shake the feeling that the purple-feathered beast had come for him specifically.
If there was one, more would surely follow. Without Jaelena crippling one of its heads with her arrow, and his own desperate strike to its hindquarters, he doubted he would have slain it so easily.
The wilds were simply too perilous.
Tyria, at least, was a city he knew still had people.
There he could search for dragon eggs.
Even if he found none, he could always leave and return later to hunt again.
And this might be his only legitimate chance to enter Tyria.
When he voiced his wish to go, Jaelena surprised him by offering no objection.
She explained, "The Bloodmage Lord of Tyria has always commanded us to bring any outsiders who wander into Valyria back with us. Tyria's population is dwindling—we need outsiders to labor for us. It's tradition."
"And what becomes of those people?" Lo Quen asked.
He didn't care much about the prospect of free labor. He simply wanted an excuse to enter Tyria.
Jaelena gave him a steady look. "They all die. No one can survive long in the ruins of Valyria. The land is crawling with the spawn of blood magic. Tyria's blackstone walls can keep out all beasts—except parasites. Those who stumble into Tyria are eventually killed by parasitic creatures. Only residents like us, already infected, are immune."
Lo Quen's chest tightened. The memory of the face-maggots still haunted him. He had no wish to die in such misery.
Then a thought struck him. He had survived this long without infection. Could his Dragon Bloodline be shielding him?
He let the thought drop and asked cautiously, "Aren't you afraid I might cause trouble for you in Tyria? I am a mage, after all."
Having witnessed his power, Jaelena frowned. "I advise you not to overstep in Tyria. The Bloodmage Lord rules there. No one stirs trouble under his gaze—not even an Eastern sorcerer like you."
Lo Quen smiled faintly at the warning.
Was Tyria's Bloodmage truly as formidable as she claimed? He doubted it.
If so, why hadn't he already restored Valyria's lost glory instead of hiding behind walls, clinging to survival?
Still, caution wouldn't hurt.
He glanced at Jaelena, who was directing her soldiers to clear the field, carrying away the bodies of Tyria's fallen warriors.
Once the work was done, the company set out for Tyria.