At the edge of the Dothraki Sea, the wind swept across the plains, raising clouds of dust that twisted and churned like restless spirits.
Ma Zhuo tightened his grip on the reins, his gaze scanning the horizon. Behind him, armored warriors stretched like a living steel forest, their mass extending to the very end of sight. One hundred and thirty thousand warriors, accompanied by countless horses, women, and children, moved as a single, unstoppable torrent—an army capable of obliterating any city-state foolish enough to oppose it.
Since the departure of the Lusheng Kao, Ma Zhuo had followed orders without question. Every Kas who resisted the Kao's will had their heads crushed beneath the hooves of his relentless horsemen. The grasslands had been tamed with iron and blood, and any who dared defy the orders paid the ultimate price.
Ahead, faintly visible, loomed the Kaiser Pass. A rare flicker of relief softened the lines of Ma Zhuo's exhausted face.
"Finally… I will reunite with Kaa," he whispered, almost reverently.
He had managed to maintain order across the sprawling army, aided by a handful of newly promoted officers and occasional remote commands from the khal. But Ma Zhuo knew he was nearing his breaking point. He was a warrior, not a steward, and the endless logistical burdens had nearly drained all his energy.
Meanwhile, far away on the Narrow Sea, a fleet of troop transports cut through the waves, heading toward Volantis.
The air aboard the ships was heavy with a sour, metallic stench.
Dakkar lay prostrate on the deck, pale and trembling, retching violently over the rolling waves. Around him, Dothraki warriors who had once dominated the grasslands were equally unsteady, their faces drained of color. Even schools of fish trailed the fleet eagerly, sensing the sudden abundance of easy prey thrown into the water.
Seasickness was only part of the torment. For warriors who had never known the sea, the endless, swaying expanse beneath them was itself a profound psychological torture.
"In this life…" Dakkar moaned, collapsing onto the deck once more, his gaze vacant as he stared at the sky. "I… never want to ride on a boat again."
He knew it would take at least half a month after reaching Volantis for his warriors to recover from this ordeal.
High above the clouds, Damian Thorne streaked through the sky like a bolt of black lightning. His eyes scanned the fleet below, taking in every detail. The suffering aboard the ships—the pale faces, the staggering warriors—made his expression tighten.
Non-combat casualties are far too high, he thought grimly.
He made a decision. After this escort mission concluded, he would personally lead Ma Zhuo's massive army along the Demonic Road. Nothing like this would ever happen again.
As Damian concentrated, his sharp perception caught movement at the edge of his awareness. A massive, slithering figure approached at incredible speed.
Bloodworms? he thought, raising an eyebrow.
Hovering above the clouds, he studied the creature with interest. The blood-red dragon below had a conspicuous weakness on its back, one that Damian's mind cataloged immediately.
Meanwhile, Damon Targaryen's patience was wearing thin. He had been patrolling this route for days, searching for the so-called Dragon King. He had intended to teach this interloper a lesson in true Valyrian might. Yet, the Dragon King remained elusive.
Just as Damon considered abandoning the hunt, Korakxiu, the crimson dragon beneath him, tensed suddenly and let out a low, guttural roar. Every muscle in the dragon's body coiled like a spring.
Damon scanned the empty sky vigilantly, but saw nothing. Still, Korakxiu's instincts were rarely wrong.
A sudden, sharp whistling sound tore through the air above.
Damon reacted instinctively, pulling the reins sharply to the right.
"Roar!"
Korakxiu twisted its massive body, narrowly avoiding a blazing platinum pillar of fire that streaked past its wing. The heat was instantaneous—Damon felt it on his face, scorching the ends of his long silver-gold hair.
"Damn it!" he cursed, urging Korakxiu upward to seize the high ground.
But something strange occurred. Despite flapping furiously, Korakxiu's ascent was painfully slow, as if invisible chains pressed against its wings.
Damon's blood ran cold. This was no mere dragonpower—it was magic.
"Return! Korakxiu! Head back to the Stepstones immediately!" he commanded sharply.
Korakxiu roared in protest, turning reluctantly. Damon's eyes scanned the sky for the source of the attack. Then, a shadow shot from the side at incomprehensible speed, hurtling toward him like a living missile.
The speed was terrifying. Even Korakxiu's wings seemed to freeze midair in the face of it.
A colossal black dragon emerged from the shadows, blocking the sunlight. Its massive head fixed on them like a predator eyeing its prey.
Damian opened his mouth, channeling his own fire. A torrent of platinum flame surged forth.
"No!" Damon's scream cut through the air. Bloodshot eyes stared in disbelief as his dragon, Korakxiu, retaliated. Crimson fire erupted from its maw in a desperate counterattack.
The two flames collided, a clash of absolute destruction. Yet, it was a one-sided annihilation. Korakxiu's crimson fire was gradually consumed by the unstoppable platinum torrent, each breath of fire devoured, until finally the platinum flame struck Korakxiu's face directly.
"Ouch!"
The roar that followed was horrifying. Korakxiu's massive head was engulfed in flames, its scales blistered, flesh scorched. From above, a shadow dove like a deadly meteor toward Damon.
Damon raised a black gauntleted hand instinctively. The gauntlet, designed to withstand swords and knives alike, shredded like paper under the shadow's force.
"Aaaaahhh!" Damon's cry merged with a terrifying, almost inhuman scream as the Dark Sister sliced through the air, erasing the shadow in a flash of steel.
Korakxiu struggled in agony, fleeing desperately across the sky, hugging the ocean surface as it tried to recover.
Damian's gaze, cold and merciless, scanned the air. With a flick of his wings, he accelerated, cutting through the currents as he closed in on the fleeing dragon. Shadows loomed overhead; his claws stretched out, aiming to capture Korakxiu alive.
From a distance, another crimson dragon appeared, roaring violently, streaking toward Damian's flank.
With a swift manipulation of airflow, Damian propelled himself vertically, defying physics, and easily dodged the attack. His gaze sharpened, piercing the horizon.
Two legendary dragons were closing in. One was agile, fierce—the Red Queen. The other, ancient and terrifying, the largest beast in legend: Vhagar.
The storm of wings, teeth, and fire was about to erupt.
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