In the study at Storm's End, Lo Quen met Maester Qyburn, who had just returned from Oldtown, travel-worn and dust-covered.
Qyburn's face was alight with a scholar's unmistakable excitement. "Your Grace, over the past few months, my assistants and I have successfully produced roughly a thousand undead warriors using the abundant materials available in Oldtown."
Lo Quen nodded in approval. "Well done, Maester Qyburn. I intend to transfer this force to Moat Cailin during the future eastern campaign, to strengthen the defenses of the North."
Qyburn looked slightly taken aback. "Your Grace plans to go east?"
"Yes."
Lo Quen's expression grew solemn. "You must have heard what the red priestess said. Melisandre's words are not without reason. If the threat of the Others truly spreads to Yi Ti, then hundreds of millions of people there would become soldiers of the Cold God. We must stop that from happening."
Qyburn fell silent for a moment, then said, "Your Grace, while organizing the archives in Oldtown, I came across some intriguing records that may be related to Yi Ti."
He took out an ancient-looking tome. "The records of House Hightower indicate that their ancestors came from Yi Ti, and that they were very likely involved in orchestrating the decline of House Targaryen and the extinction of dragons. From inciting the Dance of the Dragons to later working through the Maesters of the Citadel, their apparent goal was to create a world without magic. They… seem to fear magic."
Lo Quen accepted the book and flipped through it, his brow knitting tightly. "Fear magic? Why?"
At that moment, Archmaester Marwyn pushed the door open and spoke up, "Their fear likely has something to do with the Black Stone."
He glanced at Qyburn. "Maester Qyburn and I have reached similar conclusions."
"Your Grace, do you remember the process of awakening the Black Stone? When you infused it with Magic, you not only activated it but also summoned the Red Comet, which led to the return of Magic. Magic never truly disappeared; it was merely 'sealed' or 'suppressed' by some means. The Black Stone functions like a source or amplifier of Magic. Euron's blood sacrifice in Oldtown also increased the world's overall magical concentration."
Lo Quen recalled how rapidly the dragons had grown after the Battle of Oldtown and nodded in agreement.
Qyburn continued, "Therefore, we have reason to suspect that all magic, including Valyrian blood magic, the ice magic of the Others, and even the power of the Lord of Light, originates from the Black Stone. The Valyrians may have discovered its secret and used it to create dragons, and the power of the Cold God likely comes from a particular Black Stone as well."
Lo Quen felt his heart jolt. "Ice and fire share the same origin? Then why has there been an eternal conflict? And why did House Hightower go to such lengths to destroy the Targaryens, who represent 'fire'?"
Marwyn rubbed his temples. "That is the key question. The Bloodstone Emperor worshipped an otherworldly Black Stone and founded the Star in Place faith. The 'Black Stone' mentioned in historical records is very likely the same thing we have encountered. But how many Black Stones exist in the world, and how they are connected to one another, remains unknown."
Lo Quen's expression darkened as he thought of Euron's transformation. "If the Cold God's power also comes from the Black Stone, then if someone were to obtain one and abuse blood sacrifice the way Euron did, the consequences would be unimaginable."
Qyburn nodded. "That is highly likely. The way the Others control wights bears similarities to the necromancy I have studied, which suggests that their powers may share the same underlying nature. Ice and fire appear opposed, but they may well come from the same source."
Those words sent a shockwave through Lo Quen's mind.
If all magic shared a common origin, then behind the Long Night, the Others, and even the struggles of the gods themselves, there might be a far greater secret tied to the Black Stone.
Had House Hightower gone to such extremes to eradicate magic because they knew some terrifying truth?
"We must find more clues."
Lo Quen spoke decisively. "If all magic in the world comes from the Black Stone, then the Children of the Forest in the North, who worship the Old Gods and are most deeply connected to nature and ancient magic, may hold the key."
Marwyn exclaimed in surprise, "Your Grace, do you know where the Children of the Forest are?"
"I will seek the answers Beyond the Wall."
Lo Quen's gaze was firm and unyielding.
"Beyond the Wall? That's far too dangerous! What if you encounter Ice Dragons again—"
"The me I am now does not fear Ice Dragons."
Confidence flickered in Lo Quen's eyes. "I must uncover the truth of the Black Stone. The fate of the entire world depends on it. I have a feeling that what awaits us may be far more terrifying than the Others."
He looked north, his gaze seeming to pierce through the stone walls and reach that mysterious land buried beneath ice and snow.
Whether the Three-Eyed Crow Brynden Rivers and Bran Stark were alive or dead, he was determined to uncover that ultimate secret.
...
The following morning, before the main gates of the castle keep.
Lo Quen bid farewell to his Queen and his children.
After last night's heart-to-heart, Daenerys's eyes still held a trace of reluctance, but there was far more understanding and support.
Lynesse and Roslin cradled their young son, murmuring soft reminders for him to stay safe.
Ynys, Sansa, and the others all looked openly worried.
Even the young dragons seemed to sense the farewell, letting out faint, uneasy trills.
"Don't worry. I'll be back soon."
Lo Quen hugged each of them in turn. He said little else before turning toward Blooddancer, who was already waiting in the castle square.
The massive red dragon lowered its head affectionately and nudged its master's palm with its snout.
Lo Quen swung up onto its back and patted Blooddancer's thick neck.
Blooddancer answered with a sky-shaking roar, spread its vast wings, and launched itself with a powerful push, rising into the air on a screaming gust. In moments, it became a tiny red speck, swallowed by the sullen northern sky.
Blooddancer was blisteringly fast.
The land streamed away beneath them: first the Stormlands, then the Crownlands, then the Riverlands, scorched in places but steadily returning to life. After that came the Neck, and the Moat Cailin stronghold, still in disarray after the recent bloodshed.
When Blooddancer flew over Moat Cailin, Lo Quen could clearly make out soldiers below raising new walls, and frost giants standing like mountains beside them.
But just as Lo Quen tried to urge Blooddancer farther north, the great dragon rumbled with unease, just as it had the last time.
Its speed dropped sharply. It circled in the air, hesitant, and even began resisting the command to advance that came through their mental link.
That enormous head kept turning back, dark red eyes showing unmistakable fear, as though something worse than death lay hidden deep in the northern snowfields.
No matter how Lo Quen soothed it or pressed his will, Blooddancer only beat its wings in agitated bursts and refused to move another step north. At last, it even tried to turn back toward Moat Cailin.
Lo Quen's brow tightened. He stopped forcing the issue.
"Fine. Stay here."
He sent the command through his mind, then leapt from the dragon's back.
As he fell, a blinding burst of golden light erupted around him.
His body swelled and shifted in midair, scales spreading across skin as claws formed.
In the blink of an eye, a golden dragon far larger than Blooddancer replaced the human figure, hovering steadily in the storm-tossed air.
In his golden dragon form, Lo Quen glanced back at Blooddancer, still circling low, looking as if a weight had been lifted from it. He released a low, soothing roar, then beat his powerful wings and flew without hesitation toward the wilderness Beyond the Wall, a place even dragons would not willingly enter.
As a golden dragon, Lo Quen was much faster than Blooddancer.
Magic thundered through him, carrying him at speed through the brutal cold and roaring winds of the high sky.
The world below quickly turned barren and dead. Ruins of a collapsed Great Wall sprawled across the land like a carcass, and beyond it stretched an endless white expanse.
Ice and snow covered everything.
Mountains, forests, river valleys, all reduced to pale outlines under a single, merciless color. There was no sign of life anywhere.
Even the wind sounded hollow.
He flew for hours, eyes sweeping the vast snowfields, yet found no trace of an army of the Others, and no attack from Ice Dragons as he had expected.
There was only the shriek of wind and snow, and a terrifying emptiness.
That unnatural "calm" made Lo Quen's heart sink, inch by inch.
Melisandre had been right.
The true threat may already have shifted east.
The main force of the Others, and especially their possible leader, might indeed have set out from the depths of the Land of Always Winter, making for Essos.
Forcing down the heaviness in his chest, Lo Quen dropped lower, searching carefully through the near-zero visibility of the blizzard.
He was looking for weirwoods.
Those sacred trees with blood-red leaves, pale trunks, and faces carved into their bark.
At last, on the edge of a valley buried in ice and snow, he spotted one, towering and unmistakable even through the storm.
Golden Dragon Lo Quen adjusted his course, drew in his wings, and descended slowly toward the weirwood.