The wind sweeping across the Red Waste grew bone-chillingly cold at night.
Yet in the center of the camp, a suffocating, solemn, and fanatical atmosphere hung heavy in the air.
All day, Enoch Vance had been directing Jorah Mormont in the preparations.
Meanwhile, Viserys, worn down by his previous internal injuries and an infection in his leg, had finally drawn his last breath in these harsh surroundings.
Daenerys merely watched in silence as her brother’s corpse slowly grew cold, as though bidding farewell to her past self.
Jorah had gathered every piece of deadwood and dry brush he could find in the area, building a massive, sturdy pyre that resembled a small mountain according to Enoch Vance’s instructions.
At the center of the pyre lay Viserys’s corpse, resembling an altar prepared with an offering.
Daenerys, on the other hand, had been instructed to sit quietly all day.
Holding the three petrified dragon eggs tightly in her arms, she cleared her mind as Enoch Vance had guided her, attempting to form a final spiritual connection with the faint, ethereal consciousness inside them.
She could feel that the warmth within the shells was distinctly stronger than it had been yesterday.
Enoch Vance himself was making the final preparations.
He led Comet to a deserted corner and issued a series of commands through their mental link.
“Listen, buddy.
What we’re doing this time isn’t an explosion, nor is it breathing fire,” Enoch Vance’s thoughts echoed in Comet’s mind.
“I need you to channel your draconic energy in a sustained, directional stream.
Just like…
like when we used it to soften metal before, but lower in intensity, and absolutely steady.” “I’ll give you a set of coordinates.
All you need to do is project the energy precisely to that spot, continuously, until I tell you to stop.
Remember, it has to be a steady output of energy, not a single burst.
Think of it like…
blowing a very, very hot wind onto a block of ice until it melts completely.” Comet let out a half-understanding cry, but it fully grasped Enoch Vance’s intent regarding how to control the energy.
Afterward, Enoch Vance took several strangely glowing ores from his pack that he had brought back from Valyria.
Found deep within the furnaces of the Everburning Fire, these minerals possessed a peculiar resonance with draconic energy.
He quietly buried them at several key points at the base of the pyre.
They served as the focusing lenses and energy amplifiers for his magical spell.
When night fell once more and the red comet hung high in the center of the sky like a demonic eye, the ritual officially began.
With a solemn expression, Enoch Vance carefully took the three dragon eggs from Daenerys’s arms and placed them reverently on the stone pedestal reserved at the center of the pyre.
“The time has come, my Queen.” He looked at Daenerys and handed her a sharp obsidian dagger.
“The final key must be unlocked with your bloodline.” There was not a shred of hesitation on Daenerys’s face.
Accepting the dagger, she sliced a deep cut across her pale palm without a second thought.
Blood instantly welled forth.
She walked up to the pyre and reverently let her Targaryen royal blood—the blood of the dragon—drip onto the three cold dragon eggs, drop by drop.
As the blood touched the shells, it did not congeal; instead, as if endowed with life of its own, it rapidly seeped inside and vanished.
The moment the blood sacrifice was complete, Enoch Vance’s eyes flashed.
Through their mental link, he gave the final order to Comet, who was already poised and ready.
“Comet!
Now!” *Roar—!* Comet let out a resounding roar as its mouth burst open.
Yet what it expelled was neither fire nor dragon energy crystals.
It was a silent, visible beam of pure energy, distorting the air like heat waves shimmering off the ground on a midsummer afternoon.
The beam struck the ores Enoch Vance had buried at the base of the pyre with absolute precision.
There was no burst of fire, no thick smoke.
The giant pyre seemed to ignite from within.
Within mere seconds, the entire structure transformed into a colossal fireball radiating terrifying heat.
The surrounding air sizzled as it heated instantly, reaching temperatures so extreme that even the sand and stones began to melt slightly.
Yet this immense power was contained perfectly within the confines of the pyre, without leaking a single wave outward.
Daenerys and Jorah Mormont watched tensely, forgetting even to breathe.
Viserys, bound to a dead tree not far away, was watching everything with a venomous glare.
Time ticked by, minute by minute.
Half an hour passed, then an hour…
Under the searing heat of the draconic flame, the dragon eggs glowed crimson like white-hot iron, but nothing more happened.
Their cores remained as silent as dead stones, showing no sign of hatching.
Comet’s energy expenditure was immense, and its breathing grew heavy and labored.
“Liar!
I knew you were a liar!” Viserys’s harsh mockery rang out.
“You filthy Eastern sorcerer!
Are you trying to roast my sister’s dragon eggs?
Those belong to me!
Mine!” His words splashed like ice water over Daenerys’s fragile confidence.
Looking at the unresponsive eggs, the light in her eyes dimmed bit by bit.
The ritual was going to fail.
In that very instant, a sudden change erupted!
A miracle occurred.
A blinding, pure white light—as if drawn from the core of the sun—burst violently through the cracks of the pyre!
Jorah Mormont gasped, his mouth agape in shock at the miraculous sight before him, forgetting to breathe.
Never in his life had he witnessed such strange and terrifying flames.
Amidst the blinding white light hot enough to melt steel, fine spiderweb-like cracks began to spread across the surfaces of the three dragon eggs at the center.
*Crack…
crack…* A series of faint, shrill cries, bursting with a desperate yearning for life, echoed clearly from inside the shells!
Just then, Daenerys’s body trembled violently.
Her purple eyes instantly lost focus, turning distant and vacant, as if responding to a call from the deepest depths of her soul.
She stepped forward, walking slowly, step by step, toward the incandescent sphere of light that could reduce any living creature to ashes in an instant.
“Your Grace!
No!” Jorah finally snapped out of his shock.
With a terrified cry, he lunged forward to stop her.
A firm arm barred his path.
It was Enoch Vance.
He did not look at Jorah, keeping his gaze fixed calmly on the slight figure walking into the light.
His voice was as serene as timeless stars.
“Do not disturb her.” “She is welcoming her children.” Under Jorah’s shocked and uncomprehending gaze, Daenerys Targaryen’s slender form stepped resolutely into the incandescent white light.
There was no scream, no struggle.
Her figure, like a snowflake falling into a lake, was instantly swallowed whole by the pure, destructive light, vanishing without a trace.