The air within the second vault was thick — stale, heavy, and yet alive with something unseen.No wind stirred here, no light intruded. The silence was ancient, broken only by the faint hum of lingering power that clung to every surface.
The Nameless One stepped through the fractured doorway, his boots echoing against the black stone. He glanced around — not with curiosity, but recognition.
"Ah," he murmured, a faint smirk touching his lips. "So this is where you tried to play gods."
The vault was a monument to Valyria's ambition — long tables warped by heat, glass flasks fused into shapeless lumps, and tomes written in the curling runes of Dragon-lords. Strange symbols glowed faintly on the walls, pulsing in uneven rhythm, like a dying heartbeat.
He moved slowly, eyes sweeping across the room. "Alchemy, blood magic, fire sorcery… all chasing the same truth. Creation. Control. And yet—"
He brushed his fingers across a cracked tome. The cover disintegrated into dust. "—you never learned the cost."
But then he saw it — and his words faded.
In the heart of the room, upon a dais of black stone carved with runes older than empires, lay a single egg. Its shell gleamed faintly in the darkness — obsidian threaded with veins of molten red that pulsed ever so weakly, like embers refusing to die.
He approached slowly, the faint heat brushing against his skin. The deeper he stepped into the chamber, the more the shadows seemed to bend toward him.
When he reached the dais, he crouched beside the egg, tilting his head like a scholar examining a forgotten artifact.
"So," he said softly. "You endured."
He placed his hand on the surface. The egg was warm — barely — and beneath his palm, something stirred. A faint, fragile rhythm. A heartbeat trapped between life and death.
The Nameless One closed his eyes, listening to it.
"How long have you been waiting?" he whispered. "How many centuries have passed while your fire faded, unheard?"
The shell pulsed once, faintly — almost in answer.
He smiled faintly. "Still defiant, even after all this time. I can respect that."
He stood and looked around the room. His gaze settled on a nearby table where twisted metal glimmered faintly. He walked over, moving aside scraps of bone and glass until he found what he was looking for — a dagger.
The blade, dark and fluid, caught the faint light like rippling smoke. Valyrian steel. Untouched by age.
He lifted it, testing its weight, admiring the craftsmanship. "You used it to bind dragons to your will… How fitting I should use it to unbind one."
Returning to the egg, he looked down at it — the dim crimson glow reflecting in his eyes.
"You've waited long enough," he said. "Let's see if the fire still remembers."
Without hesitation, he drew the blade across his wrist.
Blood spilled freely, dark as ink. It dripped onto the egg, then began to spread — crawling through the cracks, filling the veins of crimson light until the entire shell pulsed with life.
The air grew heavy. The temperature shifted — heat and chill rippling across the room in waves. The Nameless One said nothing. His expression remained still, almost serene, as his blood flowed without end.
He watched the shell drink greedily, the rhythm beneath growing stronger.
"You feel it, don't you?" he said quietly. "Something ancient, something… boundless."
His gaze softened. "I've seen your kind before — in other worlds, under other skies. Some burned the heavens. Others fell to ash. But you…" He tilted his head. "You're older than them all. You remember the First Fire."
The runes beneath the dais flickered to life, bathing the vault in a glow of molten red. The walls shook, dust falling in soft clouds. Still, he did not move.
Then he began to whisper.
The words were not Valyrian. They were far older, spoken in the tongue of creation — a language that made the air vibrate, that stirred the silence itself to listen.
"I offer you a choice," he said, his voice echoing across the stone. "Awaken and rule this world, unchallenged — let all who live here bow beneath your wings."
He paused, letting the words settle, his tone shifting into a calm invitation.
"Or follow me. Leave this cage of a world behind… and soar beyond all things. Beyond stars. Beyond gods. Beyond death itself."
The room fell silent. The blood on the shell pulsed — once, twice — then stilled.
He smiled faintly, as if hearing a reply only he could perceive."I thought so," he said.
The egg began to shake violently. The cracks widened, light spilling through like the breath of a newborn sun.
Outside, the sky over Valyria darkened — not with smoke, but with something deeper. The clouds turned black, shot through with violet fire. The earth trembled from Essos to the Narrow Sea.
And within the vault, flame and darkness became one.
The shell split apart. A blast of energy swept through the chamber, scattering the remains of Valyrian brilliance into dust. When the light dimmed, The Nameless One stood unmoved, blood still dripping from his wrist, his expression calm — almost pleased.
Before him, the creature stirred.
A hatchling — enormous by any standard — unfurled itself from the ruin of its shell. Scales of deepest black shimmered with starlight; its wings glowed faintly at the edges, as if woven from shadow and flame.
Its eyes opened — molten gold rimmed with void. It fixed its gaze upon him, unblinking.
The Nameless One met its stare, tilting his head."You see me, don't you?" he said softly. "Not what I am… but what I've done."
The dragon let out a low, resonant sound — not a roar, but a hum that vibrated through the stone itself.
He smiled faintly. "You were not meant to serve. And yet…"He took a single step closer, the shadows bending around his form. "You chose."
The hatchling blinked once, slow and deliberate. Then, without a sound, it lowered its massive head.
The Nameless One looked down at it — this being of fire and void, reborn in a world long dead — and said quietly,
"Even after the world has burned… life still kneels to death."