The sky stretched vast above you, stormy grays streaked with pale gold as the sun fought through the clouds. Below, the sea churned, rippling beneath Dreamfyre’s shadow.

She was breathtaking in the dying light, her pale blue and silver scales glowing ethereally. Her vast, glass-like wings carried you with effortless grace, each powerful beat stirring sea spray as her talons skimmed the waves.

You had flown farther than ever, the need to stretch your wings overpowering. War hung heavy in the air, thick as fog, dimming even the freedom of the sky.

The sea had been empty. No sails, no enemies, no sign of the usurper’s forces lurking beyond the horizon. Still, unease gnawed at your mind, settling deep in your bones as Dreamfyre let out a keening cry, the sound high and piercing, carrying over the winds. As if she, too, could feel the shift in the world—the grief that lay heavy upon Dragonstone.

Rhaenyra was gone. She had left in search of Lucerys, though there was nothing left to find. A mother refusing to accept what the world had stolen from her. The castle had been quieter for it, the halls draped in mourning.

Perhaps that was why you had flown so far.

Dreamfyre huffed as you pulled her into a climb, the sea falling away as Dragonstone loomed ahead, its jagged cliffs like a beast’s spine.

Descending, her wings flared, slowing before she landed with practiced ease. The ground trembled, loose stones skittering as distant dragon roars echoed in the wind.

And then you saw him.

Daemon stood at the edge of the mount, his silver hair whipping in the wind, dark armor glinting beneath the faint light of dusk. His eyes found yours immediately, unreadable as ever, but there was something sharp in them—something waiting.

“Take your mount again. We fly out.”