The long wait was finally nearing its end. Valyria's "window period" was approaching. Meanwhile, Nahalo sent one of his confidants, a scrawny man named Old Gillian, who continuously brought new messages and urgings: "Those people from the Tiger Party have been restless lately, flirting with mercenary groups at the border. The Archon hopes Your Majesty can depart a day or two early, to avoid complications and trouble in the city."
Viserys adopted this suggestion.
At Dawn the next day, the shadow hunter was ready to set sail. Viserys stood at the bow, behind him Ser Arthur Dayne and one hundred eighty elite warriors, as well as an experienced captain and fifty sailors provided by Nahalo, and ten scholars. Marisus, on the other hand, was locked in a reinforced cabin.
The mooring lines were untied, and the sails rose in the heavy air. The lead-hulled ship slowly pulled away from the dock, heading east towards the sea eternally shrouded in mist and legend.
The initial voyage was oppressive. The lead-hulled ship was noticeably slower than ordinary vessels, and its turning was clumsy. Moreover, the color of the seawater gradually changed from dark green to a murky grey, and sometimes eerie, colorful oil slicks could even be seen on the surface.
According to the sea chart provided by Nahalo, the shadow hunter sailed northeast along a seemingly irregular zigzag path. The captain was a taciturn old Volantene sailor named Barze, hired by Nahalo, and it was said his ancestors were also Valyrian. He cautiously observed the currents, wind direction, and the faint stars occasionally peeking through the clouds, constantly adjusting the course.
On the seventh day of sailing, a clear dividing line appeared on the horizon ahead. On one side was the grey but relatively normal sea they were in, and on the other was a thick, yellowish-grey wall of mist, seemingly substantial, extending upwards into the clouds and stretching boundlessly left and right. That was the Smoking Sea, the eternal shroud of the Valyrian ruins.
Even several nautical miles away, a stronger, more intense smell, a mixture of sulfur, metal, and a certain sweet decay, could be felt emanating from it.
"This is it," Old Captain Barze said, his expression extremely serious. "According to our calculations, in a few days, the mist wall in this area will thin, and an undercurrent will form below, flowing northeast. Following it will allow us to pass through the outer smoke zone and enter the interior."
Waiting for the unknown made time seem exceptionally long. The crew's nerves were taut, and they stood guard in shifts. Marisus often made suppressed whimpering sounds and banged against the cabin walls.
Viserys would spend most of his time standing at the bow, activating his Green Sight, trying to perceive the energy field ahead. It was a chaotic, violent magical turbulence filled with destructive aura. But he could feel that at certain nodes, relatively "calm" passages seemed to be forming within it, like the tranquility at the eye of a typhoon.
On the evening of the fifth day, the change began. The mist wall ahead seemed to be stirred by an invisible hand, slowly rotating and thinning, revealing a deeper space behind it. Beneath the surface, an undercurrent, distinctly different from the surrounding water, began to surge, pushing the shadow hunter involuntarily eastward.
"Now is the time," Old Captain Barze stared intently at the sea. "Following this current, we can enter the relatively safe passage of the Smoking Sea."
"Full speed ahead," Viserys commanded.
The lead-hulled ship, carried by the undercurrent, plunged fiercely into the thinning mist wall.
In an instant, the world changed. Thick fog obscured the sky on both sides of the passage, with only this waterway clearly visible. Slowly, the seawater temperature gradually rose, and the ship's hull could even feel a slight warmth.
It was at this moment that the attack came.
Without warning, eight dark purple tentacles simultaneously broke out of the water on both sides of the ship, each as thick as a mainmast, covered with pale, writhing suckers. Viserys's perception had not detected it in advance; it seemed to be some kind of magical creature with a talent for concealment.
Ser Arthur and Ser Elissar's warning cries and the sound of the tentacles striking almost coincided.
The first tentacle slammed heavily into the port side railing, sending splinters flying. The second, the third... tentacles coiled around the hull like giant pythons, their suckers adhering to the ship's planks. Fortunately, the ship had been reinforced with lead plates earlier, otherwise it might have been torn apart directly.
"Arrows are useless!" an archer shouted. Arrows shot into the slimy tentacles had no effect.
Viserys drew his sword and rushed to the bow, "Everyone use swords!"
As his voice fell, Blackfyre also struck, and a tentacle was severed with a clang, spewing dark green, foul-smelling blood. However, the severed limb of the attacking creature continued to writhe, and more tentacles emerged from the sea.
Beneath the surface, a huge shadow slowly rose. It was an indescribable outline, covered with folds and nodular protrusions. In addition to the eight main arms, countless thinner tentacles writhed. It had no obvious head, and the "creature" had innumerable eyes, each filled with chaotic malice.
"Focus fire on one!" Ser Arthur's sword, Dawn, shone brilliantly, striking a thick tentacle. The wound it inflicted was deep enough to expose bone, but the tentacle showed no sign of retreating.
The ship began to list. Three large tentacles and countless smaller ones wrapped around the starboard side, dragging the ship sideways. The sailors desperately steered, and Old Captain Barze, veins bulging, shouted, "Cut them off quickly! Otherwise, the ship will capsize!"
Viserys rushed to the starboard side, Blackfyre striking repeatedly. But there were too many tentacles, and the soldiers' ordinary swords had minimal effect against the magical creature; the wounds they inflicted healed almost instantly. They caused less damage than Viserys and Arthur combined.
"Use fire!" he hoarsely ordered.
The soldiers obeyed, smashing burning pots at the tentacles, followed by rockets that set the tentacles ablaze. By this time, the ship's list was approaching thirty degrees, and unsecured items on deck began to slide. Several sailors were knocked into the sea, instantly swept away by fine tendrils, only a scream audible.
Soon, with everyone's concerted effort, more tentacles were set on fire. The sea monster finally began to retreat, releasing the suckers attached to the hull and slowly sinking into the sea.
The monster disappeared, leaving only churning waves on the sea and the burning tentacle remnants on the ship.
After counting the casualties, eighteen people were missing and twenty-three were seriously injured, and the ship also had multiple damages. It was a heavy loss, and they hadn't even entered Valyria yet. A shadow hung over the entire ship; although everyone had prepared themselves mentally before entering, they hadn't expected the journey to be so terrifying.
However, even if they wanted to retreat now, there was no way; the current would push them forward.
After sailing for another six days along the current, the outline of land finally appeared ahead. As they drew closer, they saw only towering obsidian cliffs.
"According to the previous plan, we will land at the Kiss of Astapor."
According to documents and information provided by Nahalo, the entrance to the Kiss of Astapor Strait should be located southwest of the Smoking Sea. It is marked by two towering black basalt columns, jagged like canine teeth, known as the "Gates of Sighs."
They searched along the coastline for an entire day, amidst nerve-wracking silence and bizarre sights. Finally, on the evening of the second day, through the gradually thickening mist, they saw the two menacing rock pillars.
They were even larger than imagined, their color a charred black from repeated scorching by fire. Between the two rock pillars, a dark waterway less than a hundred meters wide extended inland, where the seawater was an ominous dark red.
"This is it," Viserys said, looking at an ancient map in his hand, on which a similar estuary was marked with hasty handwriting. "The literature mentions that this river is called the 'Weeping Blood River,' named because its bottom is rich in red minerals, and the water appears dark red under certain light.
Traveling upstream about thirty li, one can reach a relatively gentle landing point, an area of ruins known as the 'Obsidian Plains'."
"Your Majesty, shall we enter now? It's getting dark," Arthur asked.
The light in the river channel was very dim, and with the thick fog, it was impossible to see more than a few dozen meters ahead with the naked eye.
Viserys hesitated. Entering unknown dangerous waters at night was a major navigational taboo. But staying overnight in the open periphery of the Smoking Sea was equally unsettling.
"No, we'll anchor outside the estuary tonight to rest and strengthen our vigilance," he commanded. "Arrange for double the watch, and pay attention to movements on the water and both banks. If anything unusual is spotted, raise the alarm immediately."
It was better to stay in a slightly more familiar environment than face unknown dangers.
The order was swiftly relayed. The ship anchored in a relatively safe area near the estuary. As night fell, the outline of the Valyrian Peninsula completely merged into the darkness, with only the bases of those few giant smoke columns faintly emitting a dark red glow.
The air was filled with an unsettling, eerie atmosphere. The sailors on watch clutched their weapons, their eyes wide, staring into the dark sea and the silent peninsula, as if something terrifying could emerge from there at any moment.
Viserys had no desire to sleep. He stood at the bow, feeling the breeze from the island, carrying heat and the scent of ash.
The image of the three giant dragons reappeared in his mind, their molten gold eyes seemingly watching him silently from the deepest parts of the Valyrian Peninsula.
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