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When Yuan slipped off the cliff and into the sea, the noise was louder than Limpick expected. All eight tentacles hit the water at once, throwing up a spray taller than the castle towers. The splash came down like a rainstorm. Then the whole body slid off the rock and dropped in. The sea parted around it, shoving up a wave that slammed into the cliff with a boom that shook the entire mountain. After that, Yuan was gone—sinking straight down into the black, past where sunlight could reach, down into the dragon-glass veins that ran deep beneath the island.
Limpick stood on the cliff top and watched the murky trail spread across the surface, then slowly fade and disappear. Yuan had listened. He had told it to go back to the sea, and it had gone. It needed time to get used to the new body, time to learn how to move those heavy scales and tentacles, time to figure out how to live in the deep. But it would come back. He knew it would.
He turned and started toward the castle. He hadn't gone far when he saw Melisandre coming down the stone steps, red robe flapping in the wind, hair loose, face tight with alert caution rather than anger.
"You heard it?" Limpick asked.
"The whole island heard it," she said, stopping in front of him. She looked him over. "You were by the sea. What did you see?"
Limpick pointed toward the water. "Out there. Something came up from the deep. Huge. I didn't get a clear look—maybe a sea monster. The old fishermen always talked about them in Blackwater Bay. I thought it was just stories, but today…" He shook his head. "The water went crazy. Waves slamming the cliffs hard enough to shake the whole island. I was in the cove. Almost got swept away."
Melisandre stared at the sea for a long time. Her red eyes glowed in the twilight like two lanterns. She couldn't see Yuan anymore—it had already dropped into the deep—but she could feel something. Limpick saw it in her face: that cold, deep-ocean chill that had nothing to do with the warm fire beneath Dragonstone.
"Sea monsters," she repeated, tone flat but not disbelieving. "The old Targaryen records do mention them. Giant things in Blackwater Bay, bigger than dragons, bigger than ships. They'd surface once in a while and drag entire vessels under. But that was centuries ago. No one has actually seen one."
"Someone saw one today," Limpick said. "Me. I didn't catch the full shape, but the noise, the waves—that wasn't a whale."
Melisandre studied him another moment, then nodded. "I'll double the watch on the coastline. Stay away from the sea alone for the next few days."
"Understood."
They walked back up the steps together. Melisandre moved slowly, red robe dragging behind her, clearly thinking. Halfway up she stopped without turning around.
"You smell different today," she said. "Not just the sea. Something deeper. Dragon glass. A lot of it. Did you go into the mines?"
Limpick's pulse jumped, but his face stayed calm. "I was sitting in the cove when a piece washed up. Bigger than any you've given me. I put it in my robe."
"Show me."
He pulled out one of the larger pieces he already carried—one of the six he kept hidden. It was the size of both his fists. Melisandre took it, turned it over, ran her thumb across the surface, then sniffed it.
"High purity," she said. "Higher than most we mine here. If the waves brought it up, there must be a vein underwater too."
"Maybe," Limpick said.
She handed it back. "Keep it safe. It is R'hllor's gift."
Limpick slipped the stone back into his robe with the rest—seven pieces of dragon glass and one dragon bone. He wondered how much of the sea-monster story she actually bought. She had brought it up first; he had only nodded. People always trusted ideas they came up with themselves.
By the time they reached the castle, full night had fallen. The brazier in the great hall burned bright. Most of the faithful had already left; only a few priests were cleaning the altar. Melisandre stepped up to the flames, raised her hands, and began the evening prayer. Limpick stood behind her and joined in. His voice was steady, every High Valyrian syllable clear. His mind, though, was somewhere else—wondering where Yuan was right now, how deep it had gone, whether the new scales and horns would help or hinder it in the dark water, whether anything down there would dare attack it.
When the prayer ended, Melisandre turned to him. Firelight from below carved her face in sharp light and shadow, but her red eyes stayed bright and burning.
"You spent a long time by the sea today," she said. "Longer than usual."
"Yeah."
"What were you thinking about?"
Limpick thought for a second. "The fire. The things I saw inside it—King's Landing, the woods to the north, the blue light. I keep wondering what it means."
Melisandre watched him. Something moved behind those red eyes. "Omens take time. They don't reveal themselves in a day or two. You need patience."
"I have patience."
She nodded once, then turned and walked away. Her red robe whispered across the stone and disappeared down the corridor. Limpick stayed in the hall a moment longer, watching the normal orange firelight throw ordinary shadows on the walls. Then he left and went to his room.
He shut the door, pulled out the seven pieces of dragon glass and the dragon bone, and laid them on the bed. The bone sat in the center, pulsing dark red brighter and faster than ever before. He rested his hand on it and felt the heat—hotter than it had ever been. The surface light throbbed hard and quick, like it was about to burst.
He knew why.
Yuan was in the deep. Dragonstone's dragon-glass veins ran from the mountain all the way down into the sea floor. When Yuan had sunk into the abyss, it had found the root of the vein—the deepest part of the volcano, the mother source of every piece of dragon glass on the island. It was drinking that power now, growing stronger, merging with the fire of the mountain itself. The dragon bone felt it. That was why it was jumping.
Limpick closed his fist around the bone, feeling its rhythm. Thud… thud… thud. It matched his own heartbeat. It matched Ember's breathing hundreds of miles away in the northern woods. It matched Yuan's pulse far below in the black water.
He lay back on the bed and stared at the dragons carved into the ceiling. They moved in the moonlight like living things. He closed his eyes, hand still pressed over the dragon bone, and listened to the three heartbeats beating together—his, Ember's, and Yuan's—miles and miles apart, but connected.
Just a little longer. Almost time. Just wait a little longer.