A Dothraki warrior suddenly clutched his throat as blood slowly seeped through his fingers. Pyat Pree stood behind him, gripping a dagger.
"Pfft!" Not far from the warrior, Rakharo's dagger struck Pyat Pree square in the back, but the stabbed Pyat Pree showed no change in expression. As Rakharo pulled out the dagger, a pile of grey robes slumped to the ground. Only then did everyone realize that Pyat Pree remained standing where he was, unmoved.
Drogon poured a blast of Dragonfire down from above, but it only burned a single garment.
"Your dragon has quite a temper. Won't you go now?" Pyat Pree's annoying voice rang out again from beneath the scorched courtyard gate.
Glancing in shock at the warrior with the slit throat, then at Pyat Pree and Jorah, Daenerys spoke with difficulty: "Your methods are truly inconceivable. I will head to The House of the Undying immediately to meet The Immortal."
"You are most welcome!" Having said that, Pyat Pree did not linger. He took a few steps out the gate and quickly vanished.
Everyone, including Drogon, looked in the direction Pyat Pree had disappeared with faces full of shock.
Was it an avatar or teleportation? Drogon hadn't expected the Sorcerer's methods to be so eerie and unpredictable.
He knew this world had old gods, New Gods, the God of Light, the Many-Faced God... and many other little-known, strange powers. The one that left the deepest impression on him was the Red Woman Melisandre, who served the lord of light. She gave birth to a Shadow Assassin to assassinate King Robert's brother Renly, used Leeches to curse and kill the Three False Kings, and resurrected Jon.
There was also that little expert at seeking death who was resurrected seven times by a priest of the lord of light, the Nights Watch Shapeshifters, the Greenseer Bran... and now this Sorcerer.
Thinking of them, Drogon suddenly felt that being a future dragon wasn't as safe as he had assumed. If the Sorcerer had used that dagger against him just now, could he have handled it?
"Khal Drogo, are you really going? I've heard that very few who enter The House of the Undying ever come out." Jorah's question interrupted Drogon's thoughts.
"I can't just stand by and watch you all be slaughtered," Daenerys said helplessly.
Although the warrior's flesh had only been nicked just now, no one doubted that Pyat Pree could have slit his throat, and they were powerless against it.
"I'll go with you," Jorah said.
"No! You guard the little dragons. It's enough for Rakharo to accompany me." Daenerys was afraid she would never see the little dragons again if she returned.
"But I'm really worried about you." Jorah insisted on going.
[I'm going.] After saying this in his mind, Daenerys's shoulder suddenly dipped. Drogon landed on her shoulder, his black claws nearly slipping.
[I've grown up!] Drogon felt a bit nostalgic for the feeling of standing on Dragon Mother's shoulder at the very beginning. Perhaps this was the trouble of growing up.
"Let Drogon come with me!" Daenerys said, straightening her back.
"I suppose that's the only way." Jorah stayed behind to direct the Dothraki in quickly reinforcing the courtyard, while Daenerys, Drogon, and Rakharo headed toward The House of the Undying.
More than half an hour later... "Is this The House of the Undying?" Daenerys muttered to herself, looking at the tall, chimney-shaped building surrounded by a low earthen wall.
Treading on worn steps and withered leaves, Daenerys walked inside the low wall.
"Where is the door?" Daenerys walked around The House of the Undying once but couldn't find an entrance. She couldn't help but feel a bit anxious. The other two dragons and Jorah were waiting for her back at the estate, and she didn't want to waste too much time here.
Her pace grew more hurried, and Rakharo, following behind, couldn't help but speed up as well.
As they kept moving, Daenerys and Drogon suddenly felt a flash before their eyes. They entered the pitch-black and silent interior of The House of the Undying, and the panicked shouts of Rakharo outside could no longer be heard.
In the darkness, Daenerys fumbled for a torch and lit it with a flint. She discovered that the hall was empty, with almost nothing inside except for several closed doors on the walls.
Holding the torch and moving forward slowly, she gently pushed open one of the doors. Inside was a ruined hall with thick pillars leaning precariously. A large hole was torn in the vaulted ceiling, and snowflakes drifted down from it.
After walking a few steps inside, she noticed that the snowflakes showed no sign of melting. Looking closer, she realized they weren't snowflakes at all, but ashes.
Walking further in, a seat forged from sharp longswords stood in the middle of the hall, covered in ash. Reaching out to brush the ash from the armrest, Daenerys desperately wanted to go up and experience it, but she forced herself to resist.
She knew this was the iron throne she dreamed of, but she wanted to fight for the real iron throne, not one that was like a fleeting illusion.
Turning away resolutely, she pushed open another door. Inside, a bitter wind howled and snow swirled. A towering wall made of ice stood between heaven and earth, ancient and eternal.
Through the blizzard, she seemed to see a small tent standing in the wind and snow. Passing through the storm, the inside of the tent was as warm as spring. Khal Drogo held a blonde-haired, blue-eyed infant with a tenderness he had never shown before.
Daenerys rushed over and hugged them tightly, tears falling silently. After a moment of warmth, she resolutely left the tent.
Tearfully pushing open another door, what she saw was a feast of corpses. The hall was filled with severed limbs and broken bodies, chairs were overturned, wine cups on the table were toppled, and fine wine mixed with blood on the floor.
On one seat sat a man with a wolf's head on a human body, his throat slit and blood gurgling out.
Exiting the hall, she continued to search for the exit... While Daenerys was experiencing the illusions, Drogon wasn't idle either. In the first room, he saw dozens of giant dragons fighting wildly in the sky; in the second door, he saw Viserion turn into an ice dragon; and in the third door, Rhaegal fell.
At this moment, Daenerys pushed open the fourth door... Drogon found himself in a green forest, surrounded by green mountains and tinkling springs. On the grass, Dragon Mother's eyes were closed, the blood on her chest dried.
Drogon gently bit Dragon Mother and placed her softly by the stream. His giant wings scooped up the clear spring water to slowly pour over her chest, washing away the dried blood.
"Thrum!"
A giant arrow suddenly pinned itself into the green grass by the stream, vibrating loudly. Drogon let out a roar and flew into the sky. Just as he ascended, countless giant arrows whistled through the air. Despite dodging left and right, he was still hit by two of them.
Ignoring his injuries, he flapped his wings violently and flew over a Scorpion, breathing Dragonfire. The Scorpion was instantly destroyed in the flames. Roaring, he flew toward another row of Scorpions.
But just as he spat out a blast of Dragonfire, a large net was suddenly shot from beside a Scorpion, almost covering him entirely. He struggled while breathing Dragonfire, but was hit in the chest and abdomen by more giant arrows.
The net woven of steel melted very slowly under the Dragonfire. Before he could break free, he was dragged to the ground. After landing, the giant arrows still didn't stop. He was eventually riddled with holes, dying a final death.
"Whew, whew..." Drogon woke up abruptly, gasping for breath. He had actually been killed... At the end of the original story, Drogon took Dragon Mother's body and left King's Landing for parts unknown, never being killed. So what was that illusion just now?
A sequel? Or had his arrival created a butterfly effect that got him killed?
Reborn as a dragon and possessing the Devouring Talent, Drogon originally thought he could lead a carefree life. He never expected there would be a day he'd be shot to death. He would never allow this. After killing Dragon Mother, they wanted to kill him too—who exactly wanted to drive him to a dead end?
[Who on earth is it...? ] Drogon roared frequently in his heart.