Lancel had always known his path was too smooth to be chance.
But hearing Malach confirm it still stirred something uneasy in his chest.
Whether R’hllor existed or not.
Whether the great “will” Malach’s heresy worshipped behind the god’s mask existed or not.
His father Cleorius had probably understood it all during his years of obsessive magical study.
And still he had prepared everything, then left those preparations to his son.
The gods gave gifts.
They always demanded payment.
That was the truth of magic.
The old gods of Westeros shielded the First Men, but they demanded bloody sacrifice.
The Black Goat of Qohor supposedly held vast power, but its altars ran red.
The Lord of Light commanded fire itself, yet he too demanded blood and life.
The gods had given Lancel powerful magic.
A mind that matured too fast.
A Valyrian expedition laid out almost perfectly.
When he sought revelation in the flames, the gods had practically pointed him toward Westeros, whatever dangers waited there.
The prophecy Malach had just chanted was ancient, known from Asshai to the far corners of the east.
The hero Azor Ahai, who ended the Long Night, had paid with his wife’s life to forge the sword Lightbringer and defeat the dark god of endless winter.
But the dark god could not die.
It would return, bringing a cold more terrible than before.
The Wall in the far north of Westeros.
The Five Forts at the edge of the Golden Empire.
Both were said to be watchtowers against it.
But towers and walls could not truly stop the dark god’s return.
Only the hero reborn could save the world.
Lancel knew he was not that hero.
But the gods seemed to be hinting that his presence would make the prophecy unfold in a way that suited them better.
So they had invested in him.
And the gods who used the mortal world as a game board would have to pay more.
Malach saw Lancel’s expression and smiled.
“Lord Lancel.
You understand at last.” He jumped down from the black stone and spread his arms wide, as if to embrace something.
“Do you hear it?
The moment you resolved to join this chaotic music, the Lord of Light made his investment.”
A sharp pain stabbed through Lancel’s mind.
Two dragon shapes seemed to sweep across his thoughts.
“Master Malach.” Valar saw the red priest’s strange state and edged closer to Lancel with Argo and Lynn, keeping Raymond shielded behind them.
“What is this?” He had seen the five dragon eggs and the bone horn too.
“The stone coffins that seal flame have appeared.” Malach’s voice rose.
“And the horn that summons the dragon has come as well.”
He bent and picked up the horn.
Lancel moved to stop him, but flames were already kindling across the red priest’s body.
“A hatchling cannot support the lord’s great work.” The red priest raised the horn.
“What are you doing?” Lancel reached out with his magic, trying to seize control of the blood he had left inside Malach’s body, to stop the spell by force.
He failed.
The fire was burning blood from the start.
Not his blood.
The red priest’s blood.
Which meant Malach was, in effect, another version of himself right now.
“What are you trying to do?” Lancel’s voice went sharp.
“The horn of the Valyrian dragonlords.
You think I don’t know what that is?
The family records say the dragonlords forced slaves to blow it with their lives, to call the dragons together.
It was never a taming horn.
It’s a beacon.”
“I know.” Malach’s tongue began to burn, but his voice stayed clear.
“Because the Lord of Light has guided me to point the way for you.” His voice climbed higher.
“Blood for fire.
Fire for blood.
Blood is the coin of magic.
But life is worth more.” Malach brought the horn to his lips.
Lancel could feel it clearly now.
The blood that belonged to Malach himself had burned away completely.
What still flowed through his body was Lancel’s own blood.
“For the eternal dawn!”
Malach blew the horn.
No sound came out.
But Malach’s burning body began to decay at terrible speed.
His throat glowed red as magma. Follow the newest chapters on g.com.
His skin split.
His eyes crumbled to ash in a heartbeat.
Lancel understood what Malach had done.
He was a seeker.
And a martyr.
A heretic the red faith’s priests mostly shunned.
Yet he was the one who, after speaking with his mentor and Cleorius, had found the red god’s revelation in the flames.
So he had come here.
First he gave one life to buy a clearer prophecy.
Now he gave his death.
Using his life to ignite what the gods had left behind.
No one could hear the horn’s sound.
But Lancel, Valar, and Raymond all felt the same dread grip their hearts.
“Brother, I don’t feel well.” Raymond crouched down, face pale.
Valar fought his own nausea and pulled his younger brother against his chest.
Lancel watched Malach and the horn dissolve into ash.
He let out a long breath.
A flicker of light passed through the five fossilized dragon eggs.
Something inside them was stirring.
The stone shells began to crack, fine lines spreading across their surfaces.
No one noticed.
Every eye was fixed on something else.
As Malach and the horn vanished completely into the ruins, the ground began to tremble.
Something beneath the earth was waking.
“Damn.” Lancel understood instantly.
He slashed his finger open and cast a sensing spell.
Below them, countless blazing things were stirring to life.
“Call everyone.
We’re leaving.
Now.”
Lynn sprinted for the camp without a word.
Argo and Valar lifted the bronze vessel and ran after him.
Then the black haze above them churned.
A piercing dragon cry tore through the smoke and descended.
The dragon had answered the call.