Pain!
A burning pain!
A searing agony like a sharp blade scraping against bone!
Beads of sweat the size of peas formed on Daenerys’s forehead.
She could barely suppress the urge to scream and yank her hand back.
But she fought her subconscious impulses, her hand continuously grasping at the intangible flames.
Her motor nerves and muscles were completely undamaged.
Her slender, pale fingers hadn’t charred and blistered like roasted meat.
She had succeeded.
She had successfully inherited her predecessor’s innate talent—the Unburnt.
“Fire is power,” Daenerys murmured softly, enduring the searing pain.
She could proceed with her plan.
The former Daenerys had always known she possessed an incredibly high tolerance for heat, but she had never actually tried to burn herself—hatching the dragons had been an act of desperation, leaving her with no other choice.
Even though her body was immune to fire, she still felt the exact same agonizing pain as an ordinary person being burned alive.
‘I am not afraid of pain,’ the current Dany told herself.
She kept her hand buried in the glowing red coals, repeatedly muttering, “I am not afraid of pain,” hoping to hypnotize herself as if she were counting sheep.
Sweat soaked her hair, dripping down the strands onto her pillow and blanket.
After half a night of this hazy, agonizing endurance, she licked her parched lips and withdrew her charcoal-roasted hand.
She nudged Irri, who had half-rolled off the bed, dead to the world.
The maid’s blanket was spread on the ground near the campfire, and finding it too hot, Irri had unconsciously rolled away from the flames in her sleep.
“Khaleesi?” Irri slept deeply but woke quickly—the mark of a good handmaiden.
“Bring me some water,” Dany said, her voice hoarse.
“Should I go to the river to fetch some?” Irri asked hesitantly.
Dany froze for a moment before realizing that the horse lords rarely stored water or drank it unboiled, and tea was completely unheard of.
“Never mind.
Just bring me two skins of mare’s milk.” The horse lords rarely drank water.
As nomads, they lacked a fixed, safe water source, making every sip of unboiled water a gamble with their lives.
Whenever possible, they preferred to quench their thirst with milk and fermented mare’s milk.
Back on Earth during the Middle Ages, European nobles who had yet to discover tea also used low-alcohol wine to quench their thirst, as raw water was teeming with bacteria.
And to the Dothraki, mare’s milk was no more precious than safe drinking water.
Gulping down nearly a liter of the pungent mare’s milk, Daenerys felt reborn.
It was incredibly refreshing.
“Irri, throw a few more bundles of firewood on,” she said, lying back on her pillow and pointing to the wood piled in the corner.
“Khaleesi, your hair is soaked with sweat.
Isn’t it too hot?” Irri asked, hesitating.
“It is fine.
A good sweat makes the body feel comfortable,” she said, waving her off.
Watching the flames begin to lick at the tower of firewood, Dany felt a surge of satisfaction.
In a generous mood, she tossed Irri an extra blanket and told her to find a more comfortable spot to sleep.
Once Irri was fast asleep, Dany lay sideways across her wool blanket and rested her slender, pale feet directly on top of the burning woodpile.
When she first placed them there, the flames scorched her so intensely that she hissed in pain, but it wasn’t long before she drifted into a hazy sleep.
In her dreams, Daenerys arrived at a strange place.
Four pillars of fire stood around her, and the world was an endless ocean of flames.
She wandered through it, feeling both pain and a strange, euphoric joy.
She didn’t know how much time had passed before a dark shadow cast itself over the sky above her.
Looking up, she was stunned.
A colossal dragon with black scales was glaring down at her with eyes like pools of molten lava.
Its form was impossibly massive—a head the size of a mountain, eyes as large as lakes, and wings that blotted out the sun when spread…
Unlike her predecessor, who had passively experienced dragon dreams—the former Daenerys had felt deeply unsettled by the dragon eggs’ anomalies—this Dany was far more mature in her thinking and purposeful in her actions.
She had kept the dragon eggs pressed against her bare skin and continuously subjected herself to the fire.
Beyond just building her tolerance to the flames, she had a much more important goal: to achieve soul resonance with the dragons.
She wanted to be…
no, she *had* to be the Mother of Dragons!
Transmigrating into this wretched world, it was practically impossible to survive without dragons!
So, her shock only lasted a moment before she joyfully opened her arms in an embrace, shamelessly calling out, “Are you the black dragon?
I am your mother!
You must remember me, and you must connect with me every day.
If there are any hidden benefits I don’t know about, hurry up and give them to me!
Oh, right, what about your brothers?
The white dragon and the green dragon, where are they?” *Boom—* The black dragon opened its maw—wide enough to drive a carriage through—and unleashed a torrent of blood-red flames mixed with thick black smoke.
The inferno completely engulfed Dany below.
She felt her skin char and blacken, her necrotic flesh peeling away piece by piece, and the blood in her veins boiling and evaporating.
Yet, unlike the agony of burning herself with firewood, there was absolutely no pain.
Instead, she felt as though she were being cleansed and forged anew.
She felt her body become strong and resilient, as if she had been reborn.
At the same time, new information inexplicably surfaced in her sea of consciousness regarding the innate talents of the Mother of Dragons.
There were three main points: 1.
The Unburnt: Ordinary flames may cause varying degrees of burning pain, but fire is a companion to the Mother of Dragons; it will not harm her body.
2.
Dragon Hatching: Imbuing dragon eggs with intense flames and spiritual essence allows fossilized eggs that retain their soul origin, dead eggs, and healthy eggs alike to hatch into young dragons.
3.
Dragon Dreams: The Mother of Dragons and the dragons are two halves of a whole.
Their souls can seamlessly merge.
In an unconscious state (during sleep), she can achieve soul resonance with the dragons.
(PS) ‘Only now have I become the complete Daenerys Targaryen.’ With that sigh of realization, Dany drifted into a deep sleep.
The next morning, she was awakened by Irri’s panicked cries.
“Khaleesi, Khaleesi, are you alright?
It is all my fault for sleeping so heavily last night.
I didn’t even hear you cry for help, boohoo…” Seeing Daenerys with her legs buried in the charcoal ashes, the Dothraki girl was terrified to tears.
“Uh…” After a moment of bewilderment, Dany finally shook off her sleep and quickly lifted her legs to show the young girl.
Her pale, delicate skin was covered in black soot from the smoke, but it remained soft, supple, and completely unblemished.
“How is this possible?” Irri asked in shock.
“I am a Targaryen, ‘Stormborn,’ of true dragon blood,” Dany declared with a perfectly straight face.
“But your brother…” Irri pouted, bringing up Viserys, the ‘true dragon’ who had been killed by molten gold.
“You will understand in the future.
Now, help me change my clothes.”