The sky above Dragonstone burned with the crimson glow of sunset, yet all Rayder could see was the thrilling dance of wings and flame unfolding before him.
A massive, coal-black dragon cut through the clouds like a falling mountain, its roar shaking the heavens. Its size alone dwarfed most of Dragonstone's brood, and its savage aura rolled over the sea like a storm. Rayder's eyes widened, not with fear, but with exhilaration.
"This one," he whispered, lips curling into a hungry smile. "This is no ordinary beast…"
The black leviathan was unlike the others he had encountered. Its presence alone screamed of an apex predator—untamable, indomitable. The hairs on Rayder's arms stood on end, his blood surging with excitement. He urged Kidora forward with a nudge, and the three-headed dragon answered with a thunderous beat of its wings. His other companions, Im and Yigen, flanked him, their shadows dancing across the restless sea.
Rayder needed to see more.
But he was not the only one who had recognized the new arrival. Far behind him, Daemon Targaryen tightened his grip on Caraxes' reins, his expression grim. The Prince's usual smirk was gone, replaced by a rare solemnity.
He knew that dragon.
Cannibal.
The name alone was enough to chill even the boldest of dragonriders. The beast was infamous across Dragonstone—a shadow whispered of in training yards and feasting halls, a legend carved not from victories in battle but from horror. For centuries, it had feasted on dragon eggs, hatchlings, even the bones of the dead. Many ambitious Targaryens had sought to tame it, each believing themselves strong enough, destined enough.
None succeeded.
The lucky ones crawled away broken, scarred for life. The unlucky ones… became nothing more than smoldering bones in the shadow of its flame.
Daemon's jaw tightened. He remembered well the story of Ser Helaen Targaryen, a cousin who once sought to master Cannibal. She returned with only one arm, the stump still seared black from fire, her spirit forever shattered. Since then, no one dared challenge the beast.
And now, Cannibal was here—descending upon a green sub-adult dragon like a hawk striking a rabbit.
Daemon swore under his breath. The green one… it will not survive this.
But as his sharp eyes flicked toward Rayder, riding boldly after the hunt, another thought struck him—one that chilled him more than Cannibal's arrival.
If Rayder had succeeded in subduing the green dragon, his strength would have grown unbearable. Already he possessed three mighty beasts—Kidora, Im, and Yigen—each one bound to him through strange, unnatural means. He was no Targaryen, no son of Old Valyria, yet he bent dragons to his will.
It was wrong. Dangerous. A threat not only to House Targaryen but perhaps to the entire realm.
If that man is allowed to gain another… if he tames a sub-adult nearly grown… the balance of power will tip beyond recovery.
Daemon's decision hardened like steel. He could not, would not, allow Rayder another victory. Even if Cannibal slaughtered the green dragon, it was preferable to Rayder gaining it.
He dug his heels into Caraxes' flanks. "Fly, my beast. We must be ready."
The chase in the skies turned into a desperate, heart-stopping spectacle.
The green sub-adult dragon—its scales still bearing the sheen of youth—twisted and rolled in the air, terror gleaming in its amber eyes. Each beat of its wings was fueled not by confidence but by raw desperation, as Cannibal's shadow loomed ever closer. The black monster snapped its jaws, the sound echoing like thunder, and each time, its teeth missed by a breath's width.
Rayder leaned forward in his saddle, eyes fixed on the hunt. Excitement coursed through his veins, but also something more dangerous—greed. His system hummed within him, that cheating gift whispering promises. If he could even touch the green dragon's heart for a moment—earn even a flicker of trust—it would become his, bound forever.
But Cannibal had no intention of sharing.
The chase ended swiftly. The green dragon, straining for escape, attempted to wedge itself into a narrow canyon crevice along the cliffs of Dragonstone. Its slender body slipped halfway in, but its tail and hind leg caught on the jagged rock.
A fatal mistake.
Cannibal struck with terrifying speed, jaws clamping down on the exposed limb. With a savage pull, the black titan ripped the smaller dragon free, shattering stone and scattering dust into the wind.
A scream—half roar, half wail—tore from the green dragon's throat, echoing across the island. Birds fled the cliffs in panicked flocks.
Then came the crunch.
The sound of bones splintering beneath merciless jaws, of sinew tearing like parchment. The smaller dragon writhed, unleashing a desperate blast of green flame. The fire splashed across Cannibal's obsidian scales, but it might as well have been rain. The dark armor of the monster barely smoked, absorbing the weak heat without flinching.
Rayder's eyes narrowed. Its flame is too young, too weak… not hot enough to pierce him.
Cannibal slammed its prey onto the beach with earth-shaking force. The impact cracked stone and churned sand, leaving the green dragon sprawled in a broken heap. Blood sprayed across the shore, sizzling where it touched the damp ground. The once-proud creature flailed weakly, its breath ragged, life spilling from its wounds.
Rayder could hear it—the pitiful rasp, the fading heartbeat of a beast that had never known defeat until this moment.
And Cannibal… showed no mercy.
The black dragon lowered its monstrous head and bit down upon the green one's neck. A sharp crack echoed like snapping timber, followed by the sickening tear of flesh and tendon. Blood gushed in a crimson fountain, steam rising as it met the heated sands.
The struggle ended. The green dragon went limp, its light extinguished.
Rayder's breath caught—not from grief, but from awe. He had seen dragons fight, but this… this was slaughter.
Cannibal did not immediately feast. Instead, it reared back, inhaled deeply, and unleashed a torrent of pure, searing flame. The corpse of the green dragon was engulfed instantly, roasted to blackened perfection. Even the sand beneath melted into glass, hissing and cracking under the unbearable heat.
Only then did Cannibal lower its head and begin to feed.
The sound of tearing flesh, of bones ground to powder between massive jaws, echoed across the empty shore. It was not a meal. It was a proclamation—that no dragon on this island was beyond its hunger.
Rayder stared, dumbfounded, his earlier excitement replaced by something far more complex.
He murmured under his breath, almost laughing, "It roasts the meat first… tender on the inside, crisp on the outside. A monster with taste."
The words sounded absurd, yet they barely masked the storm raging in his chest.
He had wanted the green dragon. He had nearly claimed it. Yet Cannibal's arrival had snatched his prize away, devouring not only flesh but also his ambition.
Still, Rayder could not look away. His eyes lingered on Cannibal, drinking in every detail—the sheer size, the brutal efficiency, the way its flames consumed not only prey but the very earth itself.
And deep within him, a dangerous thought began to take root.
What if I could claim even this one…?
But for the first time in a long while, doubt flickered in Rayder's heart.
Cannibal was no ordinary dragon. It was a beast that even Targaryens feared to approach, a creature that had made Dragonstone itself its feeding ground. Its savagery was legend, its strength unmatched.
Yet for Rayder—for the man who had bent three dragons already—impossible was nothing but a challenge.
Behind him, Daemon's gaze never left the black beast. His heart was torn between fear and grim satisfaction. Cannibal had robbed Rayder of his prize. That alone was victory enough.
But even he could not escape the dread whisper lingering in the salt-heavy air.
What if Rayder tried?
What if he succeeded?
The thought chilled Daemon more than Cannibal's roar ever could.
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àvàilàble óñ pàtreøn (Gk31)