Game of Thrones: Rise of the Supreme Dragon Queen

Dany didn't immediately agree to Xaro's suggestion to meet Qarroth. That evening, she consulted Jorah, who advised her against dealing with such mysterious individuals.

"Ser Jorah, this isn't Westeros, a land devoid of magic. I'd also prefer to steer clear of warlocks, but you've walked the streets here—fire mages, warlocks, priests—they're everywhere. Avoiding them is impossible," she sighed.

Even in Westeros, bound by the faith of the Seven, magical events were now striking with unprecedented frequency.

Count Beric Dondarrion had been killed and resurrected multiple times. A red priestess assassinated with a shadow assassin. A water leech curse brought destruction. Even Lady Catelyn, drowned and rotting, had come back to life.

Prophecies, too, had proliferated. Almost every major event seemed to have been successfully predicted, as if foretelling the future were a skill accessible to any magician.

In such a fantastical world, the idea of ignoring or avoiding the supernatural was impractical—it simply couldn't be done.

Dany asked Jorah directly about Qarroth's personality and trustworthiness.

"Xaro wasn't lying," Jorah admitted. "Compared to pursuing the secrets of the universe, Qarroth is far more interested in living a comfortable life. He's much less dangerous than Pyat Pree. If he allows us to accompany you, it shouldn't be too perilous.

Of course, the safest option is not to go at all. Avoid any interaction with warlocks. Without contact—no blood or hair involved—it's difficult for sorcerers to harm anyone."

Despite Jorah's final plea, Dany didn't heed his advice. Her reasoning was simple: avoiding them wasn't an option.

Had Renly willingly sought out a sorcerer? No, yet the "shadow child" still slit his throat.

Even in Westeros, where the supernatural was suppressed, the threat of the White Walkers emerged in the North.

Lord Commander Mormont led the Night's Watch beyond the Wall to investigate, but only Samwell Tarly discovered that dragonglass could defeat the White Walkers. And even that knowledge came from a desperate, last-minute search through the Night's Watch library.

As the Mother of Dragons, armed with the ultimate weapon, Dany didn't need to master magic herself. However, she needed to understand it.

Meeting the Warlock

At the agreed time—around 8 PM—Dany and Xaro rode in an ox cart, escorted by Jorah and her Bloodriders. They passed through four streets and two bustling night markets before arriving at the small merchants' district in the western part of the city.

"Qarroth may be far more normal than most warlocks, but he's still eccentric by our standards," Xaro said as he clambered down from the cart, his stout body wobbling.

Laughing, he added, "He's rarely seen during the day. Yet after midnight, many have spotted him roaming the streets, fountains, and docks in his gray warlock robes."

"That's why they call me the Nightwalker," a voice interjected.

Dany blinked in surprise. The red-copper-bound purple wooden doors, firmly shut a moment ago, now stood wide open. In the doorway stood a middle-aged man with shoulder-length black hair.

He had the pale, milky complexion typical of Qarth, a long, horse-like face, and lips stained blue—the mark of a warlock. A black pearl pierced his nose, gleaming starkly against his pallid skin.

"When did you come out?" Dany asked, her mouth agape, startled.

Quick as she was, she had jumped down from the cart first and kept her eyes on the door. One moment it had been closed; the next, without a sound, the man stood there to greet them.

"Ha! Mother of Dragons, you are the source of miracles. You shouldn't be surprised by such a minor trick," Qarroth laughed.

"A simple warlock's parlor trick, nothing remarkable," Xaro said dismissively, shaking his head. "Compared to Pyat Pree's shadow child, this man isn't even an apprentice."

Though Xaro's words were blunt, Qarroth showed no anger. "In all of Qarth, who could claim to surpass Pyat Pree's power, save for the Undying Ones hidden within the Temple of Memory?"

"Welcome, Mother of Dragons. Your visit to my humble home is the greatest honor of my life," Qarroth said grandly, bowing deeply. "To show my gratitude, I will do my utmost tonight to demonstrate the power of magic."

With that, he clapped his hands three times. The sound echoed as Dany and the others exchanged puzzled glances.

"Please, follow me," Qarroth said, gesturing with an outstretched hand.

Still suspicious, Dany ascended the steps and crossed the threshold.

The Stunning Interior

"Oh, my! It's beautiful!" she gasped, unable to suppress her awe.

Behind the gate was a red stone path, two meters wide, flanked on either side by gardens filled with plants that resembled tall sorghum. These slender, over-two-meter-high plants had stems that looked like opaque white glass and brownish leaves at the top that emitted a faint bluish glow.

Walking along the path felt like stepping into a magical world. Dany was mesmerized by the strange beauty, her pace unconsciously slowing.

"Ghostgrass?!" Ser Jorah suddenly turned pale, exclaiming in alarm.

"Clang! Clang! Clang!" Her bloodriders froze momentarily before drawing their curved blades and forming a protective circle around Dany.

"Relax," the Nightwalker said with a faint smile. "This is the residence of a warlock. Ghostgrass is nothing more than an ornamental plant."

"This is a cursed place, Khaleesi. We must leave immediately. Everyone knows only cursed souls make ghostgrass glow," Aggo declared loudly.

"Everyone knows," Rakharo echoed.

"Ghostgrass is an omen of doom. When it spreads across the world, all other life will cease. Everyone knows," Jhogo added.

"Calm down. If ghostgrass were so dangerous, would the people of Qarth allow it to exist?" Dany brushed past Aggo and Rakharo and continued forward.

"Mother of Dragons, your wisdom is unparalleled," Qarroth flattered her, then explained, "The Dothraki fear ghostgrass because it is an aggressive plant. It leaves no room for other vegetation to grow, and neither cattle nor horses can eat it."

He chuckled. "Your savages also call seawater 'poison water.' To them, any water a horse cannot drink is poison, and any grass a horse cannot eat is cursed."

Though his reasoning was sound, Dany didn't appreciate the disdainful tone he used toward her bloodriders.

"If ghostgrass is just an ordinary plant, then why does the warlock keep it in his garden?" she asked.

"Hmm…" Qarroth gave her a long, meaningful look before nodding. "You're right. Ghostgrass is far from ordinary. It's a natural indicator of the magical tides of the world.

When magic surges, ghostgrass thrives. When magic ebbs, the grass withers and cannot sprout again.

Its growth is determined by the world's level of magical energy. The Dothraki's fear of it covering the world is unnecessary."

Curious, Dany reached out to touch one of the stems, which felt as smooth as white glass. She felt nothing unusual.

"What did you do when you clapped before opening the gate?" she asked.

"I infused them with the power of a curse," Qarroth replied with an unsettling smile. "Freshly departed souls make them glow."

"Uh…"

Without further ceremony, Qarroth led Dany and her entourage straight to his laboratory.

Jorah and the bloodriders looked upon the array of bottles and jars with a mix of awe and trepidation. Dany, however, wore an odd expression, feeling as though she had stumbled into a chemistry lab.

Glass beakers, graduated cylinders, volumetric flasks, amber reagent bottles, metal distillation racks, and strange heating lamps filled the room.

"What is that lamp?" she asked, pointing to a small heating device that resembled a miniature liquefied gas tank.

"Lesser wildfire reagent."

"Wildfire?!" Jorah shouted, instantly pulling Dany a few steps back. "By the Seven Hells! Are you mad? Keeping wildfire casually on a table? With Qarth's heat—"

Qarroth cut him off. "With Qarth's heat, it should have exploded long ago. Yet, as you can see, my alchemical laboratory remains intact."

"Have you discovered a more stable formula for wildfire?" Jorah asked, visibly shaken.

What exactly is wildfire?

Wildfire = a less potent version of Amaterasu.

Aside from requiring oxygen, it possesses the same ability as Amaterasu to burn on any surface until it consumes everything.

If not for its extreme flammability and its unstable nature during transportation—prone to explosions—the nature of warfare in the world of Ice and Fire would have already transformed.

Yes, the world would have entered the era of "hot" weapons.

If Qarroth had truly developed a wildfire that wouldn't combust in the sweltering summer heat, Qarth could very well dominate the world.

"The container is chilled with ice," Dany remarked, running her hand over the iron-gray tank.

"Exactly. Each time it's used, a portion is removed and placed into the burning dish," Qarroth replied casually. Then, with a spirited gleam in his eyes, he pointed to a milky-white glass rod atop a marble pedestal. "While wildfire production is indeed tied to magical tides, it is ultimately just a juggler's trick. Glass candles, on the other hand, are the true manifestation of a sorcerer's extraordinary power."

"Glass candles?"

It was a twisted glass rod over a meter long, milky-white and opaque, mounted on a square stone platform about half a meter high. From the outside, it appeared entirely unremarkable.

"What does it do?" Dany asked, puzzled.

"Watch closely," Qarroth said solemnly. He approached the glass rod and began chanting in a sharp, high-pitched voice, speaking words Dany couldn't understand—incantations from the language of warlocks.

"Wow!"

The dim laboratory suddenly lit up as though someone had switched on a 200-watt bulb. The glass candle unleashed an unrestrained brilliance, casting light as pure as fresh snow into the air.

The light streamed like threads and strands, resembling drifting willow fluff or goose feathers fluttering in the midday sun. It was dreamy and surreal, as though time and space had shifted, transporting them to a strange world of light.

"Try entering a state of void and serenity," Qarroth's voice echoed faintly.

The entranced Dany was startled awake by his words.

If you hadn't spoken, I might have actually entered that state, she thought, slightly annoyed.

Suddenly, Dany felt a tug at her soul, which reached out across several streets to locate her black dragon at the mansion.

"Whoosh!"

She entered a state of spiritual unity, merging her consciousness with the soul of the black dragon.

But as she turned her attention back to the radiant glass candle, there was a sudden "buzz!"

Her mind trembled, and the white curtain of light before her blurred momentarily before becoming clear again. A vivid image emerged: she was falling rapidly from the vast starry sky, plummeting to within ten meters of the ground before coming to an abrupt halt.

Below her stretched a vast grassland dotted with yurts, clustered like mushrooms after a rainstorm. Most campfires had dimmed, while a few glowed with warm orange light.

"Jango, my darling son, you've got quite the appetite."

A voice sounded in her ears, and the scene shifted instantly. She found herself in a spacious palace of woven grass, familiar and vivid. The palace, the voice, the silver-haired woman, and the chubby, white-haired baby—all familiar.

"Ah-ba!" The silver-haired baby boy, nursing from his mother, suddenly opened his eyes and locked gazes with Dany.

"Ah!"

A push on her shoulder jolted her back to reality. Startled, Dany turned her head and saw Jorah looking at her with concern.

(End of Chapter)

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