Game of Thrones: Rise of the Supreme Dragon Queen

"Your Highness, are you alright?" Jorah asked with concern.

Upon re-entering the dragon dream, the white glow enveloped Dany once more. Irritated, she replied, "Not really! Now I can't see anything."

"See what?" Jorah asked, confused.

"What did you see?" Euron asked urgently.

Dany glanced around and asked, puzzled, "How long was I out?"

"You've been staring blankly at that candle for a quarter of an hour. I was worried—"

Euron cut Jorah off, pulling him aside. Leaning closer to Dany, he said, "I told him not to worry, but he insisted on disrupting your focus. Mother of Dragons, tell me—did you see something unusual?"

Gathering herself, Dany began to piece together the situation.

"In the candle's white light, I saw a starry sky, the Dothraki Sea... and then I felt someone punch my shoulder hard. That's when I woke up," she said, her face tinged with confusion.

"I didn't hit you hard, just tapped you lightly," Jorah protested.

"To her, that's a punch," Euron snapped, glaring at Jorah. "The Mother of Dragons isn't ordinary. Through the glass candle, her sight can pierce mountains, seas, and plains, seeing places thousands of miles away. She might even glimpse the future or penetrate someone's mind to see their thoughts and dreams."

The corner of Dany's mouth twitched slightly. Feigning skepticism, she said, "That sounds far-fetched. To me, it felt more like a hallucination."

"It's true. How else do you think the ancient Valyrian Empire's mere twenty dragonlord families ruled such a vast world? It was all thanks to the glass candles. Their sorcerers used them to communicate across half the world," Euron explained earnestly.

"If they could see the future, then why did the Valyrian dragonlords perish in the Doom?" Jorah countered mockingly.

"Who is she?" Euron pointed at Dany. "And why did the Targaryens sell off all their possessions and leave Valyria with their entire family just before the Doom?"

Dany recalled the fairy tales Viserys used to tell and said, "It's said that the maiden Daenys was a 'dreamer.' She foresaw the Doom in her dreams, not through a glass candle."

"The principle is similar," Euron waved dismissively. "The glass candle is just a tool. If you have a spoon, you can eat with it. Without one, you can still use your hands to shove food into your mouth."

"What fuels the glass candle? Its light is so peculiar," Dany asked.

"It's made of obsidian, a solid object. Look closely—there are no pipes or fuel connections."

Euron pulled the twisted glass rod from the stone pedestal and waved it around. No oil or any other substance dripped out.

Shit. A perpetual motion machine?

The laws of thermodynamics—broken?

A series of questions flashed through Dany's mind.

"It likely draws magic from the world's source. Dragons have returned!" Xaro, who had been silent until now, finally spoke, his tone calm. "I'm not entirely ignorant. These glass candles haven't been lit for over a century. That coincides with the Targaryens' 'Dance of the Dragons.' That bunch of lunatics shattered the very foundation of their rule."

The Dance of the Dragons was the bloodiest and most brutal civil war in the history of the Targaryen dynasty.

Two Targaryen siblings fought for the Iron Throne's succession, forming factions and battling with their dragons for over a decade. The war nearly wiped out both the Targaryens and their dragons. Within a few years, dragons became extinct.

Dany didn't comment on the Dance of the Dragons. Instead, she asked the warlock, "Can you see the future through the glass candle?"

"No, I lack the talent. All I can do is light it," Euron said dejectedly.

Recognizing his limits, he wasn't overly obsessed with the mysteries of magic.

"What other magic can you perform?" Dany asked.

"Curses," Euron replied in a chilling tone. The single word seemed to drop the temperature in the room.

"Have you heard of Kathi of the Malorwen family?" he asked.

"No," Dany shook her head.

"Kathi? The wife of Massos, the West Quarter Administrator of Qarth?" Jorah's face turned pale as he looked at the blue-lipped warlock with growing wariness. "She's the laughingstock of Qarth now. A few days ago, she stripped completely naked on a crowded street. They say even the softest silk feels like knives and insects against her skin."

"Exactly. I cursed her," Euron admitted with a nod. "It was a minor punishment; she only needed to strip to relieve herself."

"Kathi mocked his warlock robes, calling them outdated, ugly, and far from luxurious," Xaro explained to Dany.

"How can one protect themselves from such mysterious powers?" Dany asked, finally broaching the main reason for her visit.

"Mother of Dragons, what price are you willing to pay?" Euron asked with a sly, merchant-like smile. "Every step in a warlock's pursuit of knowledge comes at a great cost."

Xaro gave Dany a subtle signal, reminding her of their agreement.

"Aggo," Dany commanded her bloodrider.

Aggo loosened a soft leather pouch from his waist, roughly the size of a water bladder, full and heavy. With a thud, he placed it on the stone pedestal where the glass candle had stood earlier.

Euron glanced at the pouch, quickly estimating its contents, and smiled in satisfaction. "Blood is the most vital medium for casting spells, and demons lurking in shadows are the most powerful offensive tools.

Blood and shadow—be wary of these two elements, and you can avoid more than eighty percent of magical attacks.

As for the strongest warlocks, I can't say for sure. But in most cases, the methods of mysterious individuals are less effective than a warrior's blade.

A sword is far more direct and reliable. A warlock might toil in the shadows for days without causing even a scratch to an ordinary person.

Ultimately, witchcraft, magic, and rituals are just forms of applied knowledge, no different in essence from a blacksmith's forging or a weaver's craft. Using them to harm others is a mere side path."

"That's it?" Dany was dissatisfied.

She had just paid 200 gold honors for "advice," but this so-called "expert" sounded like a fraud.

"I've heard that the priests of R'hllor can create shadow children—killing in silence with mere shadows," she said.

"That..." Euron hesitated, his expression wavering. "I've heard of such blood magic, but only in ancient legends. It's said that such spells require centuries of magical mastery. But how can a human live for hundreds of years? Unless—"

"Unless what?" Dany pressed.

"It's just a rumor," Euron said reluctantly, his tone a mix of doubt and fear. "Legends speak of ancient warlocks who could freeze time, hiding in the Hall of Immortals to achieve eternal life."

"The legends of the Undying?" Xaro scoffed. "The so-called Hall of Immortals has crumbled into the Hall of Dust. How could immortals exist? These so-called immortal tales are just tricks used by warlocks to make others believe they possess eternal power, fostering awe."

"You doubt the power of warlocks?" Euron asked coldly.

"No, don't misunderstand!" Xaro quickly waved his hands in defense, flattering him. "I am here, bringing the most distinguished guest to this place, which already proves my respect for the power of warlocks. But as for the immortals... Euron, have you, as a warlock, ever seen them?"

Euron lowered his gaze, murmuring, "Only the Great Warlock, Pyat Pree."

"Everyone who entered the Hall of Dust never returned. Except for Pyat Pree, no one can prove the existence of the Undying," Xaro said, shaking his head.

"Aside from the legendary Undying, are there any other warlocks who have lived for centuries?" Dany shifted back to the earlier topic.

"No," Euron replied with certainty. "The power of magic has been absent for over a century and has only recently resurfaced. If someone truly achieved immortality during the age of magical drought, they must be a deity."

That made sense. But what about Melisandre?

It seemed this warlock, paid handsomely to provide answers, was little more than a second-rate fraud.

"What exactly is a deity?" Dany asked again.

"A deity is a deity. What else could it be?" Euron looked at her, baffled.

Dany rolled her eyes, utterly disappointed.

Euron's so-called wisdom was far from answering her questions about the mysteries of this world.

"Thank you for your gracious hospitality, Warlock. It's getting late, so we won't disturb your rest any longer," Dany said politely before signaling Jorah and the others to leave.

The night had grown deep. Under the murky glow of the lanterns, the street appeared tranquil and serene. Apart from the clip-clop of hooves and the rumbling of wheels, only the distant hum of the night market broke the silence.

As they left the upscale residential area of the western district, the streets narrowed. Tall wooden and stone buildings with tightly shuttered windows loomed on both sides, leaning against each other like lovers. The passage grew darker and more oppressive.

The moon, like a mischievous child, followed them along the way, occasionally peeking through gaps in the chimneys to catch a glimpse of the caravan moving through the dim night.

"What's that?" Suddenly, Rakharo drew his curved blade and pointed to a shadowy alley on their left, cloaked in dense darkness.

Dany leaned out to look, exclaiming in surprise, "Is that... a turtle? A glowing, flying turtle? Could it be a spirit turtle?"

A turtle, about the size of a rice cooker, hovered two meters off the ground. Its body radiated an ethereal dark blue glow, flickering as it darted through the shadows of the alley as fast as a galloping horse. It was both striking and eerie.

"No need to be alarmed. It's a Phantom Turtle—a warlock's pet. Like ravens, it's used for communication," Xaro said casually, glancing at it before reclining back in his seat.

Dany stretched her neck to watch, only relaxing when the Phantom Turtle phased effortlessly through a stone wall. "A pet? It doesn't even have wings. How does it fly? And it can pass through walls?"

Xaro shrugged indifferently. "A spirit summoned through sorcery, perhaps? I'm not entirely sure.

With the resurgence of magical tides, warlocks are beginning to recover their legendary powers.

Recently, people have often spotted Phantom Turtles darting between the windowless houses on Warlock Street. It's become a common sight.

Warlock Street is just a block over—not every warlock lives in a grand, standalone mansion like Euron.

Sigh, I grew up hearing stories about Phantom Turtles. I never thought I'd live to see one with my own eyes."

"Isn't that a bit exaggerated?" Dany muttered, unsure how to respond.

"How far can a Phantom Turtle travel? Could it reach Westeros?" Jorah asked curiously.

As a native of this fantastical world, Jorah had been raised on the maesters' teachings of a world without gods or magic. Yet, after witnessing it himself, he found it surprisingly easy to accept these magical phenomena.

"Only short distances. Otherwise, why would warlocks still keep ravens?"

(Chapter End)

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