"Best not breathe in this fog if you don't want to catch greyscale," said Collinthar. "Garin's curse has already surrounded us."
Jogo was in a foul mood. "If we're not supposed to breathe it, we might as well cut our noses off."
By all logic, greyscale wasn't a curse—but the Sorrows were too eerie for Drogo not to indulge such thoughts.
The fleet sailed on without rest, everyone hoping they'd soon break free of the mist and return to familiar waters.
But fate had other plans. The stone men drifting in the water were frightening enough, but less than three leagues ahead, a pale stone plaza slowly rose from the murky river, stopping abruptly about ten feet above their heads, blocking the fleet's path.
Strangely, as the structure emerged, the water and mist seemed to part around it, revealing a headless statue of a hero.
It all felt oddly familiar—like yesterday.
Then Drogo realized: the sudden appearance of the structure reminded him of the Plaza of Saeheru Town. And the headless statue? It was Horonno, a legendary hero from Valyria's "Century of Blood."
For forty consecutive years, Horonno had been elected to political office until he grew tired of elections and declared he would remain consul for life.
The Elephant Party Valyrians weren't pleased.
Horonno belonged to the Tiger Party. When the Elephants took power, they had him drawn and quartered, then knocked the head off the statue erected in his honor.
It was all too similar—and the way it appeared was far too uncanny. Everyone was shaken.
"How could Horonno's headless statue be here?!"
"Is it an illusion?"
Those who had passed through the Sorrows before asked this question—they had seen mirage-like visions here before.
Inspired by that thought, Drogo ordered Karatha, "Ready the scorpions. Aim at the statue!"
Thwip! Thwip! Thwip!
Stone bolts shot forth like meteors, crashing into the statue and leaving it cracked and fractured.
The Bloodriders cried out, "It's real! A real statue!"
"There really is a curse here!"
Cursing under his breath, Drogo barked, "Sail into the mist—go around the plaza!"
The first mate received the order and quickly turned the helm, with deckhands below assisting. With some close calls, they safely steered back into the fog.
The Rhoyne was wide. Even a large plaza couldn't block more than the length of two ships.
At full speed, half an hour later, Ago warned, "There's a light ahead. Could it be pirates or merchants?"
Drogo saw it too. This place was too strange—he doubted it was anything real.
As the warship drew closer, the light grew brighter—like a soft star twinkling in the mist, beckoning to them.
Then it became two lights, then three, four… until they were too numerous to count.
At first, there had only been one. Even a pig could tell that each light was kindled in sequence, one by one.
The Karathas grew nervous and began to panic. "Is that ghost fire?!"
These savages were ruthless on land—but on water, they were like old women and children. Their panic gave Drogo a headache. He snapped, "Silence! Or I'll toss you overboard to feed the stone men!"
From afar, Captain Collinthar couldn't be sure—but up close, he confirmed it.
"That's the Bridge of Dreams," he said.
"There are stone men on the bridge. They lit those torches. Our arrival has alarmed them. They'll watch us like predators eyeing prey—but most of them pose no real threat. They're weak, clumsy, dim-witted, and nearly blind. As long as we don't provoke them, they shouldn't become dangerous."
The captain solemnly warned, "But whatever you do—don't let them touch you. Or you might become one of them."
Everyone fell silent at his words. Whether from fear or the damp chill, they couldn't stop trembling.
Ahead of them, the bridge loomed larger and larger.
The Bridge of Dreams—but this dream was broken. Not only its people, but the bridge itself.
A pale stone arch stretched through the mist, connecting to the Sorrowful Palace on the river's western bank. Thick gray moss covered it. The bridge was half-collapsed. The wooden arches had rotted through, full of holes. Yet a few lights still glowed.
As the warship approached, Drogo could make out the silhouettes of stone men in the light, shambling aimlessly like gray moths around the torches.
The bridge was too low—tall warships could never pass beneath it.
Rakharo called out in worry, "If we don't destroy these stone men's dreams, we'll have to stop here!"
A timid sailor warned, "Shhh! Quiet! Don't anger them!"
The fate of the fleet was not for the crew to decide. Only the Khal could.
Drogo wanted to leave this haunted place as quickly as possible. He ordered Jogo, "Blood of my blood—go fetch Roman. Tell him to bring his hammer."
Soon, the lazy giant rubbed his sleepy eyes and stomped over.
Roman didn't even bow. Yawning, he asked, "Your Grace, what do you need?"
Drogo let his disrespect slide and said coldly, "Big guy, swing that hammer of yours and crush the dreams of the stone men. Smash that bridge."
Roman, like the demon dragons, feared nothing in heaven or earth. Without a word, he strode to the bow with his massive hammer, waiting for the ship to get close enough to the bridge.
Only five paces from the shattered bridge now. Four or five stone men clustered together around the flickering lights, whispering—seemingly uninterested in the approaching warship.
Of course, that was just the wishful thinking of those who feared greyscale.
CRACK!
The warship's bow struck the bridge. The stone men went berserk, tossing aside their torches and charging barehanded, teeth bared, straight for Drogo and the others.
One stone man made it aboard. Drogo drew his Valyrian arakh and slashed hard at its neck.
CLANG!
The blade struck like it hit stone, sparks flying. But no hide, no matter how tough, could withstand a Valyrian blade. The creature's head flew off.
Its cracked, dried body spilled blood, disturbing Drogo. "Roman, now!"
"Right!"
Roman swung his hammer with both hands and brought it down hard on the bridge.
BOOM!
After just a few blows, the centuries-old bridge collapsed with a thunderous crash, and the stone men fell into the water with it.
"Wooooooaaaah!"
The sound echoed through the Sorrows, enraging the stone men wandering the misty waters. They howled in madness.
Drogo shouted, "Everyone, stay sharp! Looks like we're in for a full battle with the stone men!"
Woooo!
The horns of battle woke the entire Sorrowful Domain!
Just as the stone men rioted and everyone scrambled in panic, the hull of the large ship guarded by Tiger Warriors was pierced from below. A tiny hole grew larger—enough for a person to pass through.
Dripping wet, Jon Connington crawled out of the hole, clutching a small hammer and chisel in his hands.
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🐉 Dragon King of Ice and Fire
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