Oldtown.
Once the most prosperous city in the Seven Kingdoms, it had now fallen into hell.
The waters of Whispering Sound shimmered with an ominous dark red hue. The Honeywine River was choked with floating corpses and ash, and the streets were littered everywhere with the aftermath of slaughter.
At the center of it all, the High Tower rose like a blood-soaked greatsword, stabbing into a sky roiling with filthy, crimson clouds. From its summit, a dark red pillar of light surged upward, linking heaven and earth and radiating a terrifying power that twisted the mind.
At that moment, a silver figure burst through the clouds in the east and sped straight toward the High Tower.
It was a dragon.
Roughly ten feet in length, its scales gleamed with a cold silver light. It was Orys, Stannis's silver dragon, the one that had mysteriously vanished at Bronzegate.
As if tugged by some unseen force, it let out an agitated hiss before landing atop the platform at the High Tower's summit, a place shrouded in sinister energy. It crouched low, clearly uneasy.
"Ha ha ha!"
Euron's wild laughter echoed across the tower top.
Standing at the edge of the platform, his exposed blood-red crow's eye greedily fixed on the newly arrived silver dragon, his face lit with exhilaration.
"Look! Victarion, my loyal brother, do you see it? This is power! This is a miracle! The magic dragons come obediently to kneel before their king!"
Victarion stared at the dragon in shock. Its savage appearance stood in stark contrast to its current, slightly dazed and docile posture.
Disbelief filled his rugged face.
"This… this is a dragon? It… it really answers the horn's call?"
"Call? No, it's far more than a call!"
Euron turned with a wicked grin, spreading his arms as if embracing the entire world.
"The dragon horn is a bridle. It is a branding iron. It forces these beasts into submission. Soon, every dragon in the world, including all the dragons ridden by the Easterner, will be just like this one, flying obediently to me and lowering their proud heads. And I… I need only stand here, at the top of the world, to receive this gift. Then…"
Madness flashed in his single eye.
"I will ride them and burn every city that dares defy me. All of Westeros—no, the entire world—will tremble beneath the Ironborn's feet. Dragons? They are nothing more than stronger longships! Hahahahaha!"
Victarion looked at his brother's unhinged expression, then at the silver dragon lying subdued under the horn's magic, and a massive shock surged through his heart.
Euron said nothing more. He strode straight toward the silver dragon, Orys.
Orys let out a low growl, but under the omnipresent suppression of the horn's magic, it did not attack.
Grinning savagely, Euron climbed easily onto the dragon's back and grabbed the scales at the nape of its neck.
"Up! You beast!"
He yanked hard as he shouted.
Orys released an unwilling hiss, but still spread its wings and rose into the air, carrying its new master with it.
Riding atop the dragon, Euron felt a sense of power unlike anything he had ever known.
He guided the silver dragon in wide circles over Oldtown, looking down upon the land he had trampled.
"Burn it all!"
He screamed hysterically, venting his brutality without restraint.
A bright glow flared in Orys's throat, and a torrent of silver-white flames poured downward.
Fire cascaded over Oldtown's tightly packed rooftops. Wooden houses ignited instantly, while even stone buildings cracked under the searing heat.
Screams, explosions, and the thunderous collapse of buildings rang without end.
Many survivors who had hidden in the corners of ruins or in cellars, barely escaping the initial massacre, were now forced out.
They screamed as they tried to flee the inferno, only to find themselves exposed in the open streets.
"Look, more rats crawling out!"
Euron cackled madly in the sky, directing the silver dragon into a diving sweep, chasing the tiny fleeing figures with dragonfire.
Flames swallowed them whole, leaving behind only blackened remains.
Those who escaped the dragonfire were spotted by Ironborn patrols on the ground. With savage grins, they closed in, hacking down these desperate civilians with axes and spears.
The streets of Oldtown were completely soaked in blood and fire.
Next, Euron turned his gaze toward one of Oldtown's great symbols, the Great Starry Sept.
The magnificent temple of the Seven lay in deathly silence, looking pale and helpless beneath the blood-red sky.
"Den of false gods!"
Euron spat as he drove the silver dragon straight through the Sept's massive stained-glass windows, crashing inside. Within the holy hall, he urged the dragon to unleash torrents of dragonfire, burning everything in sight.
In the dark corners of the Sept, a handful of septons and civilians were still hiding. They had evaded the Ironborn searches led by Victarion and now prayed in silence for the Seven's protection.
When they saw a silver dragon smash through the dome, prowling through the Sept and raining down annihilating flames, despairing screams erupted.
"Burn it all, you damned beast!" Euron roared.
Orys let out a mournful cry, powerless to resist as searing dragonfire poured from his jaws.
The ornate pulpit, the tapestries depicting the deeds of the Seven, the pews where the faithful once prayed, even the seven towering statues of the gods…
Everything burned and melted under the extreme heat before collapsing.
Septon hiding behind the statues were burned alive. A noble lady trying to flee through a side door was crushed beneath a falling, blazing beam.
In an instant, the Great Starry Sept became a massive crematorium, its sacred halls transformed into a living hell.
Euron burst out from the blazing ruins atop the silver dragon. Looking back at the towering flames and thick smoke, he let out a satisfied, cruel laugh.
He reveled in the feeling of holding life and death in his grasp, of trampling everything beneath him.
Just as Euron immersed himself in the thrill of destruction, a crimson figure appeared on the distant horizon, racing closer at astonishing speed.
Lo Quen rode atop Blooddancer, and the closer he drew to Oldtown, the greater his shock grew.
The sight before him was far more horrific than he had imagined.
The entire city was burning. Streets were dyed red with blood. The Honeywine River and Whispering Sound looked as though they had become pools of gore.
What truly made his heart tighten, however, was the slab of black stone submerged in the sea of blood at the base of the High Tower, and the Tower itself, wrapped in dark red energy and blasting a terrifying pillar of light into the sky.
That black stone!
Lo Quen's heart sank.
Could this be the black stone hidden by House Hightower?
He possessed one. The yellow-robed sorcerer of Carcosa had another. And now there was one here in Oldtown. Just how many black stones existed in this world?
That madman Euron… what had he done?
Lo Quen knew all too well how eerie and dangerous these stones were. They were linked to unspeakable horrors and deeply tied to the return of magic.
The mental shock from unsealing one before, along with the vision of the red comet, was still vivid in his memory.
If not for the system, that strange, terrifying voice would have driven him completely insane.
Afterward, both Marwyn and Qyburn had agreed that the immense magic of Valyria and the Great Empire of the Dawn likely originated from the black stones.
And whatever lay behind them was probably beyond imagination.
Euron's actions were opening a door that should never be opened.
Euron, still burning the streets below, also noticed the red dragon flying toward him at speed.
He froze for a brief moment, then burst into ecstatic laughter.
"Ha! Another one! The Dragon Horn really is unstoppable, summoning another so quickly… hm?"