One month later,
POV: Jon Stark, The Arbor, Reach.
The fire had died to glowing coals, casting shadows over my new companions.
They didn't resemble monsters stitched together by those blood mages at all. Instead, they seemed natural, almost as if horses were meant to have the heads and talons of eagles all along. There were eleven of these magnificent creatures... hippogriffs.
But it was Ghost who truly commanded their respect; whenever he moved, all eleven beasts would crouch in fear.
He sat along the edge of the trees. He was bigger than before with jet-black fur. His shoulders were thick with muscle, built to carry the leathery dragon wings of Balerion folded against his back.
He turned his head toward me and huffed out a cloud of steam in the cold air.
"I've walked the melted roads of Valyria." Oberyn stood beside one of the hippogriffs. He ran his hand over the creature's side, feeling the feathers. "I've seen strange things in Essos… This is power the world forgot existed."
"Not forgotten," Marwyn corrected him. The Mage stood near Ghost, close enough to see but far enough to stay safe. "Just sleeping. And the Wolf woke it up."
"We're wasting time," Obara said. She was already checking her saddle. "Redwyne patrols aren't blind. Just slow."
"She's right," I said. 'Even if she just wants to go back to the sky,' I thought.
I walked over to Ghost. He lowered his massive head so I could scratch the scales on his neck. The flesh was real. His body had accepted the changes completely. He was perfect. The wolf and the dragon, who were the greatest of their time, combined.
"Up," I said quietly.
Ghost rose and opened his black wings; the force pushed down the grass and sent dead leaves spinning into the dark.
"Check your straps," I told the others. "The winds over the Whispering Sound will be instant."
My six maids moved together, climbing onto the hippogriff saddles. They looked like something from an old story. Warriors with silver hair shining against dark feathers.
I climbed onto Ghost's back and gripped the leather harness.
"To Oldtown."
Ghost crouched first, then jumped straight up. When he was about to fall, he flapped his wings… we were flying.
"Fucking hell…" I heard Oberyn shouting as the hippogriff took flight. It turned out Oberyn didn't like the flight or the fact that the beast he was riding wasn't under his control.
But his daughters were enjoying it, and so was Marwyn, who had a crazy expression on his face.
We flew above the Whispering Sound. Below, the water was black, reflecting stars. Up here, the cold bit at my skin.
To my right, the hippogriffs flew in formation. I saw Obara laughing, her cloak snapping behind her.
Those hippogriffs were swift, especially during their dives, but Ghost was quicker.
In just two hours, I watched The Hightower emerge from the foggy night like a white spear.
The wind was fierce and icy. Below us, Oldtown stretched out with its amber lights and cobblestone streets shrouded in mist from the Honeywine River.
"There," Oberyn shouted over the howling wind. He pointed downward toward the wealthy district, which had slightly thinner mist. "The one with the copper roof. Aim for the courtyard."
"Dive," I commanded.
Ghost tucked his wings and fell. The city rushed up at us. A blur of roofs and chimneys.
Behind me, the eleven hippogriffs followed in one straight line.
The ground came fast.
"Break!"
Ghost snapped his wings open. The sudden drag hit my chest hard.
THUD
We hit the garden. Ghost's claws tore into the lawn as he landed near the fountain.
The hippogriffs landed around us, turning the flower bed into mud.
I saw a raven landing on a nearby tree. It didn't caw or flinch from the sudden chaos.
It simply stared directly into my eyes.
Normally, all animals kept their distance, especially from Ghost. This one seemed to be waiting.
I scooped up a small pebble nearby and flung it toward the branch. The bird dipped its head just an inch, allowing the stone to pass harmlessly, then flew away.
'Three-eyed raven?'
I sent a small hummingbird that was inside Ghost's saddle after it.
Then I waited. When I was sure no one was watching, I commanded the hippogriffs and Ghost to change back.
Ghost's massive dragon wings melted. The leathery membrane flashed black, then dissolved into a cold, acrid smoke that coiled and streamed back into his shoulder blades.
The heavy, obsidian scales along his spine softened, collapsing into a dark liquid that was instantly absorbed, replaced by thick, growing white fur.
The horns on his head pulled back, vanishing into his skull. The reptile's tail shortened, the thick hide replaced by a shock of white fluff, becoming the familiar wolf's tail. The jet-black color of his fur changed to familiar white.
In three heartbeats, the dragon-wolf was gone. In his place stood Ghost. White as fresh snow. Silent.
It had taken me weeks to perfect the transformation, but I had done it. Now, whenever my bonds transform, they don't feel any pain, discomfort, or fatigue.
I even rewarded that rat; it's now a direwolf with golden eagle blood, like those hippogriffs.
Around us, the other transformations were finishing; eleven hippogriffs were changing.
I walked over to Ghost, burying my hand in his thick white fur.
"Let's go inside," I said, looking at the dark windows of the house. "We already had one spectator."
…
In just two hours my maids cleaned the whole house using water catalyst.
It was a good house, hidden behind high walls covered with ivy. Perfect for dark work.
Oberyn had taken the Sand Snakes into the city to drink, and that was fine with me. What I had to do next required precision.
I stood in the center of the room. My six maids... Vala, Vorena, and the others, lined up before me. They looked like porcelain dolls, beautiful and fragile, but they were anything but that.
"I want the Conclave," I said.
I walked over to the table where I had laid out a map of the Citadel. I tapped the tower where ravens were kept, then the massive dome of the Library.
"All Archmaesters," I said.
Vala tilted her head. "Kill them?"
"No," I said. "Bring them to me… Start with Walgrave."
They moved like smoke, slipping out of door in to night. I was left alone in the quiet house, waiting for the first Archmaester.
I couldn't just sit there, I warged into the hummingbird that I sent behind that raven.
The transition was violent.
My heart was beating a thousand times a minute, and I was still following that raven.
We flew over the sleeping city, past the great dome of the Starry Sept, toward the island where the tower stood like a spear thrust into the sky.
The raven didn't go to the rookery. It flew higher, past the clouds, toward the private rooms near the beacon itself.
It slipped through an open window.
I followed, hovering just outside the stone edge, peering into the darkness.
The room was a mess of scrolls, jars, and dried herbs hanging from the ceiling like dead bats.
And in the center of the room sat a woman.
Malora Hightower. The Mad Maid.
She didn't look mad. She looked tired. Her grey hair was tangled, and her robes were stained with ink, but she sat straight.
She was staring into a glass candle.
The raven landed on the back of her chair. It didn't caw. It opened its beak and spoke in a voice that sounded like grinding stones.
"Wings in the dark," the bird rasped. "Beast with wings of Dragon"
Malora didn't turn around, she kept staring at the black flame. "I know, I saw them." she whispered,
...