Lead-grey waves churned beneath the dragon's wings, and the salty wind ruffled Viserys Targaryen's silver-gold hair.
He lay prone on Sunfyre's scales, warm as molten gold, feeling the powerful rhythm of the beast's flight beneath him, his gaze fixed on the eastern coast shrouded in strange mists—Qarth, the location of the City of the Undying.
Suddenly, the sea ahead calmed without warning, like smooth, inky glass, and even the wind eerily stilled.
Sunfyre let out a low growl, not a warning, but with a certain confusion.
In an instant, mist gathered out of thin air, not the common grey-white sea mist, but a pearlescent, iridescent haze.
In the center of this unnatural mist, a small boat woven from pale vines, without oars or rudder, floated silently on the water.
A woman stood in the boat, her face hidden beneath the golden mask of her hood, only her eyes, fixed firmly on Viserys Targaryen on the dragon's back.
"Quaithe?"
Viserys Targaryen was momentarily stunned.
This was the priestess of r'hllor, the lord of light, from the city-state of Qarth in the original story.
She was skilled at finding the lord of light's prophecies in fire and had once helped Jorah Mormont and Daenerys Targaryen in the original story find their three small dragons.
"The flames of fate will eventually collide with ice!"
A voice, ancient and hoarse, echoed directly in Viserys Targaryen's mind, "You pursue the ashes of Old Valyria's past, unaware that the true cold tide has surged from the other shore."
Hearing this, Viserys Targaryen's heart clenched, and he abruptly tightened the dragon reins, making Sunfyre circle and hover.
Ever since he obtained the dragonlord's horn from Old Valyria, he had indeed wanted to explore the ruins of Old Valyria's Doom.
However, thinking of the existence that could harm Balerion the Black Dread, an adult giant dragon, Viserys Targaryen ultimately abandoned his wishful thinking.
Otherwise, he would not have come to explore this City of the Undying!
"Who's speaking?"
He shouted loudly, his hand unconsciously resting on the hilt of his sword.
"I am Quaithe, a witness, and a harbinger."
The vine boat glided silently closer until Viserys Targaryen could clearly feel the heavy power contained within those starry eyes.
"You ride Sunfyre, pursuing Valyria's lost glory, eager to ignite the flames of war in Westeros with it. But do you know that the 'Doom' that consumed your ancestors' nation was not entirely the wrath of heaven and earth?"
"What do you mean?"
Viserys Targaryen frowned deeply.
Even as the last of Valyria's forty dragon families, successive Targaryen Family heads had remained silent about the Doom of Valyria.
The fall of the Valyrian Freehold had always been a fear buried deep in his heart.
"Earth-fire boiled, mountains collapsed," Quaithe's voice carried a chanting rhythm, "but in the abyss of that destruction, a cold will from the far north lurked. It guided that catastrophe, attempting to completely erase dragons and the bloodline that rode them, because this fire is the bane of the cold in that long night."
"The Night King?"
Viserys Targaryen whispered in disbelief.
He, of course, knew that fellow who only existed in the legends of the First Men of the North.
"He is no legend, Son of the Dragon. He gathers strength in the Lands of Always Winter beyond the Narrow Sea. His awakening is the continuation of an ancient war, a conspiracy to annihilate the descendants of true dragons!
Now, his shadow lengthens again, and armies of the dead walk in the cold mist. What meaning would the iron throne you desire have if it were placed atop a kingdom eternally frozen?"
These words pierced Viserys Targaryen's chest like an icicle.
Viserys Targaryen's heart skipped a beat and hung in suspense.
Having read the original story thoroughly, he knew that the Targaryen Family indeed rapidly declined after the Night King's defeat.
Even the last Jon Snow joined the Night's Watch, with no descendants.
Viserys Targaryen did not fear the Night King, but he was filled with terror at the Doom of Valyria!
What he wanted was the The Red Keep in King's Landing, the submission of the people of Westeros, the sweet taste of revenge, not to fight legendary Others and the Doom.
The next moment, Quaithe raised her withered hand, holding an ornament in her palm.
It was a golden dragon-shaped brooch, similar in size to the Hand of the King's badge, made of neither gold nor jade, but a dull deep red, like solidified dragon blood.
"Take the 'Dragon Soul's Protection,' Viserys Targaryen. It originates from the dragon descendant magic of the Valyrian Freehold, and perhaps it can buy you a glimmer of hope, awakening true power when your bloodline sleeps."
Viserys Targaryen gazed at the brooch.
He could feel the power within it, originating from the same bloodline as his own, a familiar and ancient call.
Viserys Targaryen urged Sunfyre closer, reached out, and carefully took the "Dragon Soul's Protection."
The moment his fingertips touched it, a gentle warmth spread up his arm, as if resonating with the dragon's blood within him, and even Sunfyre beneath him let out a soothing purr.
He clutched the emblem tightly in his hand and looked up at Quaithe: "I accept your warning and your gift, lady. Whether it is the warlocks of Qarth or the threat of the long night ahead, the Targaryen Family will not flinch."
As Viserys Targaryen nodded, Quaithe's figure began to blur, along with the vine boat, slowly dissipating into the iridescent mist, as if she had never existed.
"Remember, only when fire and ice become one can you defeat your enemies. Your path is longer than you think. The future of Valyria rests on you..."
The mist cleared, the sea breeze blew, and the waves surged.
Viserys Targaryen looked down at the dragon-shaped emblem in his palm and solemnly pinned it to his chest.
He patted Sunfyre's neck, pointing eastward to the already visible, dreamlike and dangerous shrine of the Undying.
"Let's go, let's meet those warlocks and see what they know."
The next moment, Sunfyre let out a sky-shattering dragon roar, flapped its wings forward, its golden figure cutting through the sky, rushing towards that city full of temptation and traps.
And the "Dragon Soul's Protection" on Viserys Targaryen's chest, under the strange light of the approaching Qarth, flashed with a subtle and mysterious glow.
Just as they were about to fly over that strange shrine, an invisible force suddenly seized them.
The air became viscous, the light twisted eerily, and Sunfyre let out a confused and wary growl, flapping its wings strenuously, but like an insect trapped in amber, its speed plummeted.
In a flash, Viserys Targaryen was forced to land in the center of a circular hall with a twisted star map painted on its dome.
A pair of ancient and weathered eyes emerged from the shadows, staring intently at him: "Welcome, Dragonlord,"