Time stretched out excruciatingly long in that moment.
Ser Jorah Mormont, an exiled knight well-accustomed to life and death, was now consumed by unbearable agitation.
Pacing back and forth a hundred paces from the light, his weathered face was etched with pain and torment.
His reason told him that no flesh and blood could endure even a single second in temperatures capable of melting steel.
His queen, Daenerys, the last scion of House Targaryen, had been reduced to ashes, scattered across this cursed wasteland.
A flood of complex emotions washed over him like frigid sea water, slowly submerging his mind.
Enoch Vance, meanwhile, stood quietly on the other side alongside Comet.
Showing neither anxiety nor grief, he merely gazed at the steadily burning sphere of light, his eyes as deep as the midnight sky.
Through his mental connection with Comet, he could clearly see everything unfolding inside the orb.
It was not destruction, but rebirth.
A grand metamorphosis driven by the synergy of energy and dragonblood.
When the first ray of dawn pierced the eastern horizon, the white light that had burned throughout the night seemed to exhaust its final energy, beginning to contract and dim with gentle slowness.
At last, the light faded completely.
The mountain of wood was gone, leaving behind only a circle of silver-white ashes a dozen meters across, still radiating faint warmth.
It was over.
“Your Grace…” Jorah choked out a sob, unable to suppress his grief any longer.
Stumbling toward the ashes, he desperately sought even the faintest trace that his queen had ever existed.
Yet as he drew near, his feet froze mid-step, as if bound by a binding spell.
His eyes bulged in utter shock at the scene before him—a sight beyond imagination, beyond myth!
In the soft light of morning, at the center of the pure white, warm ashes— Sat a young woman, completely unharmed.
Her naked form, set against the ash, appeared as pure and sacred as a newborn Venus.
Her silver hair spilled loosely over her shoulders, her skin devoid of the slightest blemish, instead radiating a soft, gentle luminescence like moonlight.
It was Daenerys.
And in her arms and on her shoulders nestled three hatchlings of distinct appearance, purring contentedly like kittens as they pressed close to her.
Under the stunned gazes of those present, Daenerys stepped forward holding the three young dragons, which unleashed crisp, ringing cries that heralded the arrival of a new era!
They were so small, yet imbued with an ancient, noble majesty.
One was midnight black with obsidian scales, its eyes gleaming with innate pride and dominance.
One was deep emerald green, its scales shimmering like fine jade under the morning light.
One was cream-white picked out with gold markings, looking gentle and regal.
Daenerys named them Drogon, Rhaegal, and Viserion.
They were true dragons, like all dragonkind of this world!
The three hatchlings nuzzled Daenerys’s cheeks, recognizing her as their one true mother.
A maternal warmth radiated from Daenerys as she gently cherished the heat flowing from them, bound by blood.
Ser Jorah Mormont’s mind went completely blank.
His mouth hung open, trying to speak, but no words came.
This miraculous spectacle shattered every lingering piece of his mortal understanding.
Enoch Vance stepped forward slowly.
The three freshly hatched dragons immediately raised their heads in alert, issuing squeaky, threatening hisses at this strange bipedal creature.
Enoch Vance did not stop.
Beside him, Comet merely raised its eyelids lazily and let out a deep, rumble of absolute authority from its throat.
It was a supreme suppression rooted in the deepest depths of dragonblood and a higher tier of existence!
The three hatchlings, previously puffing themselves up, instantly shriveled like choked chicks, all bravado evaporating in a heartbeat.
Terrified, they pulled back their necks and obediently buried their heads in Daenerys’s arms, not daring to breathe aloud.
Enoch Vance walked up to Daenerys, unclasped his cloak, and draped it gently over her pure, radiant form.
He reached out and stroked the black dragon Drogon’s head.
The little creature dutifully nuzzled his palm.
And so, a unique position—one capable of influencing all four dragons—was established then and there.
Then, he did something Ser Jorah Mormont would remember for the rest of his life.
This powerful, even arrogant man slowly dropped to one knee.
His voice echoed clear and firm in the quiet morning breeze.
“My congratulations, Your Grace.” “Your legion has arrived.” That single knee was the final straw, utterly shattering the last of Jorah Mormont’s defenses.
The exiled knight, a man who had once harbored doubts and vigilance, could no longer control his emotions.
His knees gave way, and he fell heavily to the ground.
In that instant, all reason and skepticism dissolved into the fiercest, most fanatical loyalty and faith.
“My Queen…” Gathering every drop of strength in his body, he offered his all to the maiden reborn in fire.
“I, Jorah Mormont, swear here and now.
My life, my honor, my sword—all are yours to command from this day forth, until death parts us!” Daenerys cradled the warm hatchlings bound to her blood, feeling the affection and reliance flowing from them.
She raised her head, looking at the two men swearing fealty before her, and at the silent, mighty silver dragon standing nearby.
She was no longer the helpless, frightened Targaryen orphan to be manipulated at will.
For the first time, her purple eyes shone with true regal power, confidence, and radiance.
Daenerys Targaryen, Stormborn, reborn in fire.
From this day onward, she was the Mother of Dragons.
Yet once the joy and exhilaration subsided, a harsh, practical problem confronted this newly formed, meager inner circle.
Three hungry dragon hatchlings, alongside a Valstrax with a monumental appetite, all required vast amounts of food.
Their supplies had been entirely exhausted during last night’s ritual.
How to feed a legion of dragons in this barren Red Waste where not a single blade of grass grew became the first and fiercest trial facing Her Grace and her two loyal subjects.