The vast fleet cut through the leaden-gray sea, slowly approaching the easternmost shores of the continent of Essos.
What came into view was an endless, deathly expanse of towering shadows.
This was the legendary Asshai by the Shadow.
The sheer scale of the city was staggering.
Its outline was formed by massive stone structures of bizarre shapes, along with a surrounding wall. Every building, without exception, was constructed from a dull, lightless black stone. It looked very much like an imitation of the black stone in Lo Quen's possession, exuding an unmistakably ominous aura.
No seabirds wheeled overhead, and the harbor lacked the usual shouts of dockworkers or the cries of vendors.
The streets were almost completely empty. From time to time, a figure in a dark robe with a hood drawn low would slip past in silence, only to melt quickly into the shadows cast by the buildings.
Only the occasional furtive glance from behind the windows of tall towers proved that living beings still existed here.
Even light itself seemed distorted and miserly.
Sunlight struggled to pierce the perpetual gray haze, leaving the city forever shrouded in a dim, unnatural gloom.
When Lo Quen's immense fleet, banners flying, appeared off the coast of Asshai, the long-standing stillness was finally broken.
Movement stirred near the harbor, where shadowy figures could be seen rushing about the docks.
Clearly, this city, long accustomed to hiding behind a veil of mystery, felt an unprecedented sense of unease at such an open and forceful display of power.
Lo Quen wasted no time on tedious diplomatic overtures.
He immediately ordered his army to begin landing and secure the harbor.
As for himself, he leapt straight onto the back of Blooddancer.
With a dragon's roar that tore through the silence, the great beast surged into the air, easily clearing Asshai's towering land walls before circling the vast city.
Seen from above, Asshai was even more awe-inspiring.
The city sprawled chaotically, its layout vast and disordered. Temples of wildly different styles, devoted to countless gods, were packed together in a confusing jumble.
He spotted the Temple of R'hllor, the Lord of Light, with its flame-shaped spires, along with many other religious structures he could not identify.
After several circuits, Lo Quen gained a more concrete sense of Asshai's immense scale and eerie nature.
Guiding Blooddancer downward, he dove toward the most prominent Temple of the Lord of Light and landed steadily in the broad yet deserted plaza before it.
The moment he jumped down from the dragon's back, a figure emerged from the temple's darkened entrance.
A striking crimson robe, hair like living flame, and a gem at her throat that glimmered faintly.
It was Melisandre.
Lo Quen spoke with mild surprise. "Lady Melisandre, I never expected to encounter you here. I thought you had already set out in search of the prophesied prince."
Melisandre's red eyes lingered briefly on Lo Quen and on Blooddancer behind him before she replied, "Your Grace, R'hllor's guidance is like reflections dancing in fire, sometimes clear, sometimes blurred. I am still interpreting the mission the Lord of Light has given me. Regrettably, I have yet to accurately determine Jon Snow's whereabouts."
A smile curved at the corner of Lo Quen's mouth. "In that case, Lady Melisandre, I am preparing to venture deep into the Shadow Lands, to Stygai. It is said that even the Shadowbinders of Asshai dare not tread there lightly. Would you be willing to accompany me? Perhaps in such a place, you may find clearer signs."
"Stygai?!"
Melisandre's crimson eyes constricted sharply, a flash of alarm crossing her face.
"Your Grace, that is the realm of death, a place even shadows fear…"
Her words cut off abruptly. Her gaze swept over Blooddancer once more, and she recalled the inhuman power the Dragonlord had displayed when he transformed into a golden dragon and an ice dragon to battle at Moat Cailin.
For a fleeting instant, she even felt a faint tremor in her unshakable faith in R'hllor.
Could such overwhelming power truly exist entirely outside the Lord of Light?
She quickly steadied herself, banishing the unwelcome doubt and restoring the firm resolve of a red priestess.
"I'm afraid I cannot accompany you, Your Grace. The mission R'hllor has entrusted to me is of the utmost importance. I must remain here and await the flames to reveal the true path."
"No matter."
Lo Quen seemed to have expected her refusal. His tone shifted abruptly. "You may stay behind, but within Asshai, certain people, or rather, some of your peers, have been less than well-behaved. They've colluded with my enemies, the Faceless Men. Shouldn't the servants of the Lord of Light give me an explanation?"
Melisandre showed no sign of surprise. She inclined her head slightly, her voice calm. "Your Grace, it is true that some have been blinded by power. They turned away from R'hllor's true light and consorted with assassins who worship death. Unable to recognize their true calling, their fall was inevitable."
Lo Quen nodded in satisfaction. "I don't care about the process. I only want results. Tell me where they are."
"As you wish, Your Grace."
Melisandre answered without hesitation. She felt no moral burden in betraying those Shadowbinders who had strayed from the so-called "right path."
She quickly and clearly gave an exact location near the Temple of the Moonsingers, naming a specific black Topless Tower.
With the information in hand, Lo Quen did not delay. He immediately mounted Blooddancer once more and shot into the sky, racing toward the direction Melisandre had indicated.
The black Topless Tower soon came into view. Like the other structures of Asshai, it was built from that shadow-drinking black stone, tall and foreboding.
At the top of the tower, Shadowbinders had clearly noticed the dragon's approach, and a commotion broke out at once.
Several of them attempted to resist.
They stood on the rooftop platform, arms waving as they chanted under their breath, clearly preparing to unleash some foul sorcery against Lo Quen.
Lo Quen's gaze turned icy. He did not hesitate.
"Blooddancer, Dracarys!"
Blooddancer let out an earth-shaking roar, and a sweep of crimson dragonfire washed over the tower's summit.
The Shadowbinders who were still chanting did not even have time to scream before they were reduced to ash in the searing heat.
At the same time, deep beneath the tower, in a secret chamber buried far underground...
Several Faceless Men who had fled all the way from Braavos stood clustered around a flaming pit, each of them looking more grim than the last.
Inside the pit, three fossilized dragon eggs lay amid the flames, yet there was still no sign of hatching.
Standing at the front were the priest known as "the Kindly Man" and another priest, "the Waif."
The remaining Faceless Men, including "the Handsome Man," "the Stern Face," "the Fat Fellow," "the Squinter," "the Lord," and Jaqen H'ghar, who leaned against the wall with a trace of cynical nonchalance, stood to either side.
"We never should have tried to assassinate that walking disaster!"
The Handsome Man's face was livid, his voice thick with regret and fear. "Now look at us. He's chased us halfway across the world!"
He shot an irritated glance at the Kindly Man. From the beginning, he had sensed how dangerous the assassination would be. The consequences now were far worse than he had ever imagined.
The Kindly Man's expression was dark as still water.
He had been the one to make the decision, the one who struck the deal with Illyrio to trade dragon eggs for Lo Quen's life. Now, he had led the entire order into a dead end.
The Stern Face kept his expression rigid and blank, his voice dry and flat. "He'll be here soon. His army will land soon. Asshai won't be able to stop him. We have nowhere left to run."