Bloodstone.
Jorah gazed north from the window of his lodgings. Beneath the heavy clouds, the sea churned dark and chaotic.
A storm was coming.
Varys' little bird had told him the fleet of the Seven Kingdoms would arrive at Bloodstone today.
Not yet?
His brow furrowed tightly, his rough fingers unconsciously scraping the cold stone sill.
For months he had lived like a trapped beast. Every attempt to approach the stone house where Lynesse was held ended the same way—the silent Dragon Soul Guards turning him back.
They were no mere pirates. Well-armed and deadly, they were masters of the blade. Jorah might best one in a duel, but under the cold stares of several, he never stood a chance.
The torment of being so close yet out of reach drove him nearly mad. He prayed for the Seven Kingdoms' fleet to come soon, to free them both.
But the instant he pushed open his door, it was like striking a wall of iron. Seven Dragon Soul Guards stood in the narrow, dim corridor, barring his way without a word.
Jorah's heart dropped into a frozen pit. Almost by instinct, he drew his sword. A thin gleam of steel flashed in the gloom.
The moment the blade lifted—
A wet thud split the silence.
Agonizing pain burst from his left calf, sharp as fire lancing into his bone. Before he could react, his vision spun. A scream tore from his throat, raw and uncontrollable.
"AAAH—!!!"
He tried to twist, to strike back, but the guards closed in like wraiths. One seized his wrist with unerring precision.
Agony forced the sword from his grasp.
Clang! It struck the stone floor.
More hands pressed him down, pinning his shoulders and back to the cold, rough ground. His cheek ground into the stone. He could smell dust—and the thick reek of his own blood pouring from the wound.
Through the pain and humiliation, he managed to turn his head, his bloodshot eyes lifting. Lo Quen stood before him.
The black-haired, black-eyed Easterner wore a cold, mocking smile. At his side stood Chai Yiq, clad in Valyrian armor.
Lo Quen's grin widened.
"Forgive the rough welcome, Ser Jorah."
Jorah's mind went blank, horror washing through him, stronger even than the pain in his leg.
Weren't they supposed to be on Broken Spear Isle?!
Questions stabbed through his mind like shards of ice. But when he saw the sneer twisting Lo Quen's lips, the cruel amusement in his eyes, everything became clear.
"Don't glare at me like that. You were the one who betrayed us first."
As though reading his thoughts, Lo Quen raised the bloodied spear still dripping at its tip.
Jorah clenched his jaw against the pain, voice ragged with defiance.
"When did you find out?"
Lo Quen's smile turned sly.
"From the very start. When you began feeding information to King's Landing, we already knew. My apologies for letting you suffer—I suppose my act wasn't very convincing..."
Jorah's face flushed a dark, ugly red. His secret had been exposed all along. Shame and despair crashed over him. He had been nothing but a fool.
He roared,
"Don't... think you've won. The Seven Kingdoms' fleet will soon land on Bloodstone! Even if you've uncovered the plan, you can't stop their army!"
Lo Quen arched a brow.
"Oh? Is that so? Seems you still don't grasp the situation. But you will. Lock him up."
The Dragon Soul Guards obeyed. Cold, iron-hard hands dragged Jorah up, his vision going black from the pain.
The thought of the plan ruined, of Bloodstone becoming a slaughterhouse, of Lynesse caught in the flames—rage flared one last time.
"Release Lynesse! If anything happens to her here, I swear I'll tear you apart!"
His cries echoed down the stone corridor as the guards dragged his mangled leg mercilessly along the floor, until the darkness swallowed his voice.
When the last sound faded, Chai Yiq's brows knit.
"But isn't Lady Lynesse in the Torturer's Deep? How could anything happen to her here?"
Lo Quen smiled faintly.
"Who says it couldn't? And that ruby you borrowed—return it. I'll need it soon."
Chai Yiq handed him the gem, puzzled.
"Need it for what?"
Lo Quen did not answer. He stepped to the tower's narrow window, staring past the curtain of rain toward the raging sea beyond.
The gale hurled raindrops the size of beans against the stone walls, pounding out a dull, heavy rhythm.
He nodded.
"It should be time. Roro and Hal will be in position by now."
He had ordered Roro and Hal to hide their warships near the reefs, while Jaelena and Chai Yiq led the soldiers lying in wait at Prince's Harbor.
Chai Yiq's violet eyes flickered with unease.
"Lord, the Seven Kingdoms' army is nearly here. Can we really defeat them?"
Lo Quen's reply was calm and certain.
"Of course. I'll see to it they never return."
Chai Yiq couldn't understand his confidence. She searched his face for answers, her violet eyes fixed on him.
But under her startled gaze, Lo Quen began unfastening his robe.
"Lord, you... you..."
She froze, her eyes going wide.
Without a word, Lo Quen stripped off his clothes, one by one, until he stood naked. He shoved the discarded garments into her stiff hands.
Then, as she stared in disbelief, he stepped barefoot onto the cold stone sill and leaned forward.
"Lord!"
Chai Yiq's cry was instantly ripped apart by the violent gale.
Boom—!
A deep, thunderous roar split through the storm raging above Bloodstone Island. A pure, blinding golden light burst outside the tower, so fierce it instantly dispelled the gloom around the stone window and forced Chai Yiq to squeeze her eyes shut.
When she opened them again, her pupils shrank violently in shock.
Outside, a colossal creature stretched its wings wide enough to blot out the sky.
Golden scales gleamed with a sacred, awe-inspiring radiance against the backdrop of leaden rain and swirling storm clouds, each one shining like molten gold. Its vast, fluid body circled through the air with effortless power, its very presence radiating a soul-shaking pressure.
A dragon.
Chai Yiq's lips parted, but no sound came. Her mind had gone completely blank.
The golden beast raised its regal head and loosed a roar across the sea of storm clouds—a roar filled with ancient majesty and the raw power of a god returned.
Since leaving the ruins of Valyria and cut off from a source of magic, this was the first time he had invoked his ultimate skill—True Dragon's Descent.
Lo Quen, now a golden dragon, spread his immense wings and climbed into the heavy sky.
With a bloodline purity of 22.3%, the golden dragon Lo Quen measured a terrifying sixty-seven meters—over two hundred and twenty feet—placing him among the largest dragons of House Targaryen.
Rising above the clouds, his burning golden eyes pierced the dense storm, scanning the ink-dark sea below for any trace of the Seven Kingdoms' fleet.
According to Meizo's intelligence, they had sailed from Dragonstone days ago. By now, they should be nearing Bloodstone Island.
Circling higher, Lo Quen beat his massive wings with a force that churned the air into violent currents, scattering the sheets of rain around him.
Like a bolt of golden lightning ripping through the heavens, he plunged into the higher, thicker clouds, hiding his enormous body behind the roiling curtain of darkness. Only now and then did a glint of golden scales flicker through a gap, watching the world below.
Crack—!!!
A jagged bolt of sickly purple-black lightning slashed open the thick clouds.
An instant later, thunder exploded with a deafening roar, enough to tear the eardrums.
Rain poured in torrents, each drop like hailstones hammering the sea, raising froth in endless bursts of white.
The gale drove the waves into towering walls of water, as though the entire Narrow Sea were about to be overturned.
...
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