They circled the fallen giant in a swarm of dust and shouting. Some spat; others, bolder or more foolish, dismounted to press calloused palms against the strange, radiating heat of the flesh. They jerked back with hissed curses, skin reddened by the steam.
One rider scrambled up the slope of the Titan's neck. His arakh caught the light before he buried it deep into the nape.
The reaction was instant. A hiss of pressurized vapor erupted from the wound, sharp with the metallic tang of blood and hot iron. The rider tumbled backward, blinded by the spray, as the muscle beneath him began to twitch with a grotesque, dying life.
They hacked deeper.
Tendons snapped with the wet thwack of a bowstring. As the steam billowed in thick, blinding clouds, the horses caught the scent—something primal and wrong—and began to scream, straining against their reins.
Then the blade hit something that wasn't Titan.
A man.
He was pale and shockingly small amidst the ruin of meat, fused to the center of the giant by a network of pulsing, steaming cords. His chest rose and fell in a slow, agonizing rhythm.
The Dothraki went silent. This wasn't prey. This wasn't a beast of the grass. One rider traced a sign against the evil eye; another broke for the water skins. They didn't kill him—not because of mercy, but because the strangeness of it felt like a curse they didn't want to touch. They bound the wound with rough leather, posted a guard, and sent riders screaming across the plains to find their Khal.
The giant grew cold under a shifting sun.
Cade's world became a series of sensory fragments. The creak of leather. The dry snort of a horse. He felt himself being moved—a slow, rocking motion that felt like drifting through deep, dark water.
When he finally clawed his way back to consciousness, he felt fragile. The world was too big, the air too cold. Every breath felt like inhaling embers, and his shoulder wasn't just aching—it was screaming.
He tried to shift, but his wrists caught. Ropes.
He opened his eyes to a canopy of lashed wood and hide. A wagon. The air inside was a stagnant soup of dust and horse sweat.
I reverted, he realized, the thought settling heavily in his gut. And I'm still breathing. I'll take it.
He turned his head gingerly. His shoulder had been packed with a bitter-smelling resin and cinched tight. Crude work, but effective. Outside the wagon, voices rose in a fast, harsh tongue.
Dothraki.
The shock hit him harder than the physical pain: he understood every word. The grammar, the inflection, the guttural stops—it all sat in his mind as if he'd been born to it.
They were arguing about him. To some, he was a demon vomited up by a dying god; to others, a sign from the Great Stallion. One man spat, his voice low and jagged, saying they should have slit his throat while he was still buried in the meat.
The wagon groaned to a halt.
A shadow stretched across Cade's legs. A man leaned into the wagon, bronze-skinned and scarred, his long braid heavy with bells that chimed with a mocking lightness. He stared at Cade as if waiting for his skin to turn to stone or his eyes to catch fire.
"Are you a trick of the Great Stallion," the man demanded, "or a man?"
Cade's throat felt like it had been scraped with glass. He forced the words out in their own tongue. "I am a man. I bleed. I hurt. I can die."
The rider froze. The bells went silent.
Shouts erupted outside, a chaotic scramble of feet and steel. Faces crowded the back of the wagon, eyes wide with a mixture of awe and murderous intent.
"You cut me from the giant," Cade continued, his voice cracking but steady. "You bound my wounds. If I were a demon, would I be lying in my own filth in the back of a cart?"
A short, sharp laugh broke the tension. The man with the bells looked back at his companions. "He speaks. And he knows the talk of the people."
That changed the air. The hostility didn't vanish, but it shifted into a wary curiosity. Over the next few days, they treated him like a holy relic that might explode—they gave him water and tightened his bandages, but the woman who tended him refused to meet his eyes, muttering prayers under her breath.
Through the gaps in the canvas, Cade watched the Great Grass Sea flow by.
Then, on the fifth day, the rhythm broke. Horns blared. The scent of roasting meat replaced the smell of dust. The name Drogo began to hum through the camp like a fever.
They crested a rise, and there it was: Pentos. A sprawling city of stone and faded color sitting against the bruised blue of the sea.
The wagon stopped for the last time. Cade was hauled out, the ropes sliced from his wrists. He stumbled, his legs like water, but a pair of scarred hands caught him. They didn't tie him back up. Instead, they pushed him toward the sea of silk tents and painted shields blooming outside the city walls.
His mind was buzzing. A blue flicker danced at the edge of his vision.
SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: INITIAL TRANSFORMATION COMPLETE.
Integration Phase 1: Successful.
Founder abilities unlocked.
Cade didn't need the text. He felt the change. It was a pressure behind his eyes, a tether extending from his consciousness into the world around him. He looked at the guard—the one who'd pulled him from the wagon. The man was big, his chest a map of old scars, but his eyes were jumping with fear.
Cade didn't speak aloud. He reached out and brushed against the man's mind.
Give me your water.
The guard flinched as if he'd been struck. His hand trembled violently as he unhooked the waterskin and pressed it into Cade's hand.
Cade drank. The water was warm and tasted of goat, but it was life. He looked down at the jagged scar on his palm—the key to the Titan. It wasn't just a mark of what he was; it was leverage. One drop of blood. One command. He could have an army, or he could have a massacre.
He looked toward the center of the camp, where the largest tents stood like silken mountains.
Khal Drogo. The Khaleesi.
He exhaled, the weight of the task settling on him. He wasn't sure if he was a player or a piece on the board yet, but he knew one thing.
"The wedding," he said, his voice now a rasping command that made the guards jump. "Take me to the Khal. I have a gift for his bride."