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White Castle, the King's Tower. Viserys's bedchamber.
Viserys gently pulled back the heavy curtains, letting the pale light of early morning filter into the room. It was another early start.
Ever since his Spirit attribute had increased, Viserys found his energy levels far surpassed those of ordinary men. His senses were sharper, his mind clearer, and his stamina seemingly endless.
He turned his attention to the black obsidian tablet. Light and shadow flowed across its surface like liquid, revealing the ancient secrets of the Valyrian Dragonlords' binding spells.
Viserys gathered the faint fire elements lingering in the air at his fingertips and gently infused them into the stone. The tablet drank the magic like a starving beast, devouring the fire essence greedily.
After a while, Viserys felt a dull throb in his head.
Practicing magic in this mundane environment was exponentially harder than it had been in the ruins of Valyria. Comparing his memories of the ruins to now, it felt like he had been dragged from a High Magic Era straight into an Age of Magic's Decline.
Viserys himself was merely a vessel for water and fire, using his spirit and bloodline to summon and gather the elements—he was not the element itself. His goal was to expand this vessel from the size of a minnow to that of a whale, capable of inhaling and exhaling massive amounts of power.
But in the current world, that road was long.
Magic elements were like an ocean; they gathered most densely at the "poles." Just as a planet has a hot equator and cold poles, magic had its extremes. The ice elements that created the White Walkers were most potent at the Heart of Winter, while fire elements were most abundant in the ruins of Valyria. Even after the Doom and the extinction of the dragons, Valyria remained a magical wasteland where the elemental density far exceeded the rest of the world.
Viserys watched the shifting shadows on the glass tablet, unwilling to miss a single frame.
He saw a Dragonlord offering his own blood. The Dragonlord gathered his life-fire, and the dragon spewed its own flame. The blood, the dragonfire, and the Dragonlord's essence merged, swirled, and separated again—a pact between man and beast.
The ancient Dragonlords of Valyria used binding spells and dragon horns to control their mounts, but the first step was always establishing a spiritual contract.
A pact of heart and mind, signed in blood and fire. This bond was far superior to the brute force used to break horses or train common pets.
Viserys watched with intense focus, absorbing the knowledge. However, given his current mastery of fire and the thin magical environment, he only managed to memorize a fragment: the section on the Heart Spell.
Even so, it was priceless.
The subsequent Fire Spells, Blood Spells, and Sky Spells would have to wait for another activation. Judging by the division between the Blood and Fire Factions, the Blood Faction likely prioritized Blood Spells, while the Fire Faction specialized in Fire Magic.
The Targaryens of recent history had controlled their dragons through mutual understanding and steel-tipped whips. Viserys intended to forge a new, deeper bond with Sunblaze using this Heart Spell.
He turned to the other black glass tablet—the one representing the Craftsman—but it remained inert. It seemed to require far more mana than the Flame Tablet, so Viserys set it aside. He had hoped to learn some high-end Valyrian engineering, like how to build Dragonroads or the fused black stone fortresses, but that would have to wait.
Viserys then turned to the artifacts left by Aurion: the glass candle and the broken gold-glass mirror.
The golden glass candle stood about three feet tall. Viserys examined it closely. It was slender as a sword, with spiraled edges sharp as a knife, shimmering with a faint golden light.
"It burns, but is not consumed."
Viserys attempted to wake the candle using his own blood and fire magic. Eventually, a flame appeared atop the glass—white as fresh snow, yellow as molten gold, red as a blazing fire. Yet, the shadow it cast was pitch black, like a hole in reality.
But before he could study it further, the flame flickered and died. The ambient magic was too thin to keep the candle awake. Viserys sighed; another project for later.
Finally, he picked up the last item: the shard of Aurion's glass. The original round mirror had shattered into two pieces; this one was shaped like a half-moon.
This was no ordinary shard; Aurion wouldn't have treasured trash.
Viserys sat on the sofa, letting black-red flames flow from his fingertips into the mirror.
Slowly, the surface of the glass began to ripple, pulling his attention in completely. It was like being drawn into a mirror dimension, a new dream coalescing around him.
This wasn't a vague dragon dream; it was a mirror projection, an immersive simulation.
"Where the hell am I?"
Viserys was startled to find himself transformed. He was now a dragonrider clad in black scale armor, soaring through the sky atop a massive, ferocious purple-gold dragon. The beast was enormous, comparable in size to The Bronze Fury, Vermithor.
The vision was incredibly clear and realistic. The wind bit at his face, cold and harsh. Below lay a vast landscape of mountains and plains. The sky was heavy with dark clouds, and the sunlight was pale and dim.
Nestled among the mountains was an ancient city-state. Dense black forests of beech, oak, and pine surrounded it, teeming with wildlife. Closer to the city, terraced fields climbed the slopes, and people lived in manors and villages protected by wooden palisades.
"It's Norvos," Viserys realized. Of all the Free Cities in Essos, only Norvos fit this description.
But the city was under siege. A massive army, perhaps a hundred thousand strong, surrounded it. The soldiers below had blonde hair and blue eyes, and the seven-pointed star was plastered everywhere—on their faces, on their banners, on their shields.
Viserys recognized them immediately: Ancient Andals. These were the fanatical warriors of old, tall and fair-skinned, driven by religious zeal.
This was a war from a thousand years ago. The army of the Andal King, Qarlon the Great.
Qarlon was a legendary warrior who had united the Lorath islands and sought to become the "King of All Andals."
The elite Andal warriors wore iron plate and mail. But as they looked up and saw the dragons, their blue eyes filled with endless terror.
Viserys heard the roar of dragons echoing through the clouds, the sound of leathery wings beating the air like thunder.
It wasn't just one dragon. It was a hundred.
A hundred Dragonlords had come to obliterate the Andal army besieging their colony.
Many of the dragons were as massive as the Bronze Fury. Others were smaller but just as vicious. The sky was filled with dragons of every color—purple-gold, blood-red, silver-purple—like a multi-colored firestorm consuming the heavens.
Viserys looked around for a Targaryen banner but didn't see one. The formation was strict: the elite Dragonlords of the Fire and Blood Factions held the center, while the lesser families—those who didn't master blood or fire magic—flanked the wings.
Viserys seemed to be inhabiting the body of a knight from House Belaerys, flying perfectly in the center formation.
Woooooo—!
An ancient horn sounded. The leader, a towering Dragonlord general, rode a purple-gold monster twice the size of the Bronze Fury—a floating island of scales and muscle.
The purple-gold dragons of the Fire Faction and the blood-red dragons of the Blood Faction were the undisputed masters of this battlefield.
That sound... it wasn't a simple Dragonbinder. It was a true Dragon Horn.
When the horn blew, the dragons reacted as if hearing the sweetest music. It triggered their bloodlust and aggression, acting like a super-stimulant.
"Combat! This is exhilarating!" Viserys didn't have time to think. He obeyed the call of the horn and joined the dive.
He tucked his dragon's wings and plunged with the others, aiming straight for the heart of the Andal army.
"Dracarys!"
As if on command, a tidal wave of dragonfire washed over the earth.
The magic of a hundred dragons unleashed at once was like a hundred suns exploding. The wall of fire was unstoppable.
Viserys felt only the grandeur, the heat, and the thrill of the kill.
The Fire Faction Dragonlords chanted spells, and fireballs erupted in the sky like a meteor shower, raining destruction.
The Blood Faction was not to be outdone. Their dragons spewed a blood-colored flame that carried a terrible curse; soldiers touched by it didn't just burn—they withered instantly, their life-fire drained away.
The Andal trebuchets, longbowmen, and scorpion bolts screamed in defiance. Arrows and bolts filled the air, aiming for the Dragonlords.
But it was futile. It only made the dragons angrier. Aside from a few unlucky, lower-tier Dragonlords on the flanks who got scratched, the main force was untouched.
Viserys felt as though he had downloaded the experience of an ancient veteran. He maneuvered smoothly through the chaos, bathing the Andal army in fire.
In an instant, thousands of humans were reduced to ash. The flames of the oldest dragons melted the very rocks of the earth, let alone Andal steel.
Viserys pulled up, soaring high until the army looked like ants, then dove again for a strafing run.
The most dangerous part was the low-altitude dive, where arrows and scorpions were a threat. But Viserys found he knew exactly how to dodge, his body reacting instinctively.
His Valyrian steel armor glowed, deflecting stray arrows. His dragon climbed rapidly, obeying the Heart Spell, while a protective layer of fire magic—fueled by the dragon's own breath—wrapped around the beast, shielding its vulnerable eyes.
Boom! Viserys fought tirelessly until the Dragon Horn sounded the retreat. The Dragonlords returned to the high sky.
Below, Qarlon the Great and his army had been incinerated outside the walls of Norvos.
Viserys looked down at the devastated landscape. An army of hundreds of thousands, gone in a day.
Woooooo... The horn sounded again, harsher this time. It was a true binding call. Some dragons shifted uncomfortably.
But as the sound faded, the slave armies brought by the Dragonlords began to march in to clean up the mess. The Dragonlords, however, were not done. They turned their mounts toward the Lorath islands to destroy Qarlon's stronghold.
Viserys realized what the glass shard was. It was an ancient Dragon Tamer's Simulation—a way to experience the legendary battles of old firsthand.