They said the world had already seen its greatest horrors: Aerys’s madness. Robert’s rebellion. The fall of dragons.

They were wrong.

The true terror unfurled the day two daughters of Aerys Targaryen faced one another across the skies, each crowned by fire, each carrying the centuries-old fury of Valyria in their blood.

Dothraki horns howled across the plains before Casterly Rock, echoing like a storm come to devour the West. Daenerys Targaryen sat astride Drogon, black wings blotting the sun, her silver hair whipping like a comet’s tail. At her flanks roared Rhaegal and Viserion, their fire already licking the air in challenge.

Her voice broke across the battlefield: “Sister, come forth! Return what belongs to House Targaryen. Or I will take it in fire and blood.”

Her soldiers screamed her name— Mhysa! Khaleesi! Breaker of Chains.

And from the battlements, the Lannisters trembled. The sky itself seemed too small for her wrath.

But Casterly Rock remained silent. No reply. No sister.

Until the earth trembled. Until shadows darker than night stretched across the valley.

A roar like the cracking of the world. Then another. And another. And another— until twelve ancient voices shook mountains to their foundations.

The people gasped as the horizon itself lifted— twelve dragons, colossal, monstrous, mythic, wingspans large enough to eclipse a kingdom. Not beasts— Titans. Relics of an age before Valyria burned.

And at their head… the largest creature ever breathed into existence.

Her dragon. The one whispered in forbidden books as the Last Mountain, the Sky-Devourer, the Crown of Embers.

Bigger than Balerion the Dread. Bigger than every dragon Daenerys ever dreamed of. Its scales were molten white— shimmering like star-forged steel— and its eyes glowed amethyst, a mirror of its rider’s.

Upon its neck sat the girl the world had forgotten— Aerys’s firstborn daughter, Tywin Lannister’s moon-eyed wife. Silver-haired. Lilac-eyed. A queen in everything but name.

Her presence alone silenced armies.