Clip-clop! Clip-clop! Clip-clop!
The rhythmic pounding of horse hooves shattered the silence of the Rainwood. Armor clinked softly with every movement, while mud splashed beneath the riders traveling along the damp forest roads.
The Rainwood was a world of endless green and moisture.
Dark forests stretched across the land like an ocean of shadow, while streams and rivers cut through the wilderness in twisting silver lines. The ground was thick with wet soil, rotting leaves, and moss-covered roots. Countless caves hid beneath the tangled forest, giving the land an ancient and mysterious atmosphere.
South of Storm's End, near Cape Wrath, Gendry and his party rode through the outer edges of the Rainwood while the young dragons patrolled overhead.
Leading the group were Gendry, Daenerys Targaryen, Stannis Baratheon, Qyburn, and Melisandre, the Red Woman. Ser Barristan Selmy, Anguy, and several guards accompanied them as escorts.
It was an extraordinary gathering.
A dragonlord, a sorceress, a legendary knight, a maester, and deadly warriors all rode together beneath the ancient canopy of the Rainwood.
Gendry sat tall upon his horse, dressed in a black studded jerkin over dark wool trousers. A golden surcoat embroidered with intricate patterns hung from his shoulders, while black leather boots completed the outfit. Mounted atop his horse, he looked imposing—like a storm wrapped in gold.
The black dragon, Balerion, rested around Gendry's shoulders, his tail coiled around his master's arm. Beside him clung the timid white dragon, Viserys.
Nearby, Daenerys rode a silver mare.
She wore the white lion pelt known as Hrakkar, a trophy once taken from the Dothraki Sea. The lion's head formed a hood over her silver-gold hair, while the massive pelt draped across her shoulders like a royal cloak.
The green dragon, Vhagar, nestled comfortably beside her neck, its claws buried deep within the lion's mane while its tail wrapped around her wrist.
At first glance, the dragons appeared no larger than small dogs, though Balerion was clearly bigger than the other two.
But once they spread their wings, the difference became obvious.
A dragon's wingspan stretched nearly three times the length of its body. Most of a dragon's frame consisted of neck, tail, and wings, making them lighter than they appeared. Combined with the strange properties of dragonbone—light yet incredibly durable—the creatures moved with unnatural grace.
Suddenly, Balerion let out an excited roar.
The open forest and vast sky stirred the dragons' instincts. One after another, the three young dragons launched themselves into the air.
Their wings beat against the sky like dark sails catching the wind.
The scent of sulfur and smoke spread through the forest as the dragons circled high above the trees.
Dragons were not creatures meant to be trapped underground forever.
The sky itself belonged to them.
Gendry and Daenerys watched silently as the black, green, and white dragons soared overhead, becoming little more than silhouettes against the heavens.
Among them, Balerion had already learned how to hunt. He flew the highest and farthest, naturally taking the lead while the other two followed behind him.
The Rainwood itself felt alive.
Towering trees surrounded the riders on every side, blocking much of the sunlight overhead. The trees here were larger than any Gendry had ever seen before.
Massive redwoods, white oaks, ironwoods, and towering sentinel trees twisted skyward like ancient giants. Moss hung from their branches like silver hair on an old man's head. Ferns and wildflowers flourished beneath the canopy, while mushrooms sprouted from roots and fallen logs like pale hands reaching toward the rain.
Even the rocks were covered in thick layers of lichen.
Poisonous fungi grew beside decaying wood, filling the air with an earthy scent.
"The dragons rarely come this far into the Rainwood," Stannis said as he rode beside them. "Historically, the wild dragons of Dragonstone hunted closer to the Wendwater."
"This place is still quite far from Dragonstone," Qyburn added thoughtfully.
Gendry glanced around the endless green forest.
"It's incredible. The Rainwood feels completely different from Dorne."
Daenerys nodded quietly.
Beyond the Rainwood and the sea lay Dorne—a dry and scorching land utterly unlike this lush wilderness.
Though House Martell had once been tied to the Targaryens through Rhaegar's marriage to Elia Martell, Daenerys still felt distant from the Dornish. During the years she and Viserys wandered in exile, Dorne had offered them no aid.
Whatever friendship Gendry held with Oberyn Martell did little to change her feelings.
"This is because of Durran Godsgrief," Melisandre suddenly said. "The first Storm King stole the daughter of the sea god and the goddess of the wind, earning their eternal hatred."
Qyburn smiled faintly.
"The Citadel would disagree with that explanation. Most maesters believe the storms are caused by winds gathering moisture from the Summer Sea before colliding violently with Cape Wrath."
"But that still doesn't explain why the storms rarely strike Dorne," Melisandre replied calmly.
"That is why Dorne became dry and barren."
Qyburn looked around the forest with fascination.
"The Rainwood is ancient beyond measure. Giants and the Children of the Forest once lived here."
Daenerys blinked in surprise.
"The Children of the Forest?"
"Yes, Your Grace," Qyburn explained. "Long before the First Men arrived, Westeros belonged to older races—giants and the Children of the Forest among them."
"From Cape Wrath all the way to Sea Dragon Point, forests once covered the land. The Children of the Forest thrived here, especially in places like the Rainwood."
"Wars were fought between them and the ancient Storm Kings."
Ser Barristan nodded slowly.
"There are indeed many legends about such things. Though most people now consider them nothing more than stories."
"The Pact was real," Qyburn insisted.
"When the First Men first arrived, they warred with the Children of the Forest until peace was finally made on the Isle of Faces in the Gods Eye."
"The First Men accepted the old gods, and the land was divided between them."
"But later, the Andals invaded Westeros. The Storm Kings abandoned the old gods in favor of the Faith of the Seven. Over generations, the races mixed together, and eventually the Children of the Forest vanished from the south."
The history of Westeros was a history of conquest and migration.
First came the Children of the Forest and giants.
Then the First Men.
Then the Andals and the Rhoynar.
Countless civilizations had risen and fallen upon this land.
Gendry knew even more truths hidden beyond the Wall.
The White Walkers.
The dead.
The ancient magic sleeping in the far north.
"Giants and the Children of the Forest are real," Gendry said quietly. "Lord Commander Mormont has written to every lord in Westeros asking for aid."
"Wildlings are fleeing south in increasing numbers. Among them are surviving giants."
"They're running from something."
The group fell silent.
Melisandre's voice suddenly echoed through the forest.
"The night is long, and darkness approaches."
"Fire and ice. Light and shadow."
"The wars of men are temporary. The final battle is yet to come."
No one responded.
By now, everyone had grown accustomed to the Red Woman's prophecies. Most ignored her religion, but few dared dismiss her warnings entirely.
Especially now.
Dragons had returned to the world.
Magic was growing stronger.
Anything seemed possible.
"There are only two castles within the Rainwood?" Gendry asked Stannis.
"Yes," Stannis answered. "Mistwood lies to the south, while Rain House stands farther north."
"The Rainwood is rich in timber, amber, and furs, but the climate is harsh. Most settlements developed closer to the coast instead."
"Weeping Town remains the largest trading port in the Stormlands."
As they rode onward, ancient stone watchtowers appeared along the coastline in the distance.
Most were crumbling ruins now.
Long ago, they had served as warning towers against Dornish raids crossing the sea.
Villages had formed around some of those towers over time, eventually growing into towns.
"The coast must be rebuilt," Gendry said firmly.
"Myr, Lys, and Dorne are all nearby. If enemies ever arrive by sea, Cape Wrath will become the first line of defense."
The Stormlands possessed difficult terrain, but also enormous potential.
Especially near the Kingswood and Rainwood.
At that moment, Balerion suddenly descended from the sky carrying a plump gray rabbit in his claws.
The dragon landed proudly before Gendry.
"Hiss!"
Black-red flames burst from Balerion's jaws, instantly roasting the rabbit.
Only dragons, much like humans, preferred cooked meat.
The dragon eagerly devoured his meal while the other two dragons returned carrying smaller prey of their own.
Dragons consumed astonishing amounts of food each day.
And as they ate, they grew rapidly.
Balerion's black scales shimmered beautifully beneath the forest light.
"They won't remain in the Dragonpit forever, will they?" Stannis asked.
"I doubt it," Gendry replied.
He remembered the ruined Dragonpit in King's Landing well.
The massive domed structure upon Rhaenys's Hill had once housed the Targaryen dragons, yet every generation raised there had grown smaller and weaker.
"The Dragonpit confined them," Gendry said. "Even dragons cannot thrive in chains."
Qyburn nodded in agreement.
"I believe the walls themselves weakened them. Though they were fed and protected, they lost their freedom."
"After the last dragon died, winters grew colder and longer. Perhaps dragons truly are tied to the balance of the world."
"There's another reason," Melisandre added.
"When Valyria fell, magic itself began fading from the world."
"The dragons born afterward could never compare to those of ancient Valyria."
"Balerion the Black Dread was likely the last dragon to witness Valyria with his own eyes."
"Even during the height of House Targaryen's power, they possessed only dozens of dragons. Old Valyria once had thousands."
Ser Barristan sighed softly.
"I've seen the dragon skulls in King's Landing."
"They became smaller with every generation."
"The last dragon was said to be weak and sickly, with stunted wings."
Daenerys looked toward her dragons proudly.
"My dragons are different."
Indeed, the three young dragons were overflowing with vitality.
They hissed excitedly while devouring strips of salted beef thrown by Gendry and Daenerys.
The dragons even roasted the meat midair before swallowing it whole.
Soon, Balerion launched himself skyward again to continue hunting, the other two racing after him.
Watching them fly, Gendry felt certain of one thing.
Magic was returning to the world stronger than it had been in centuries.
Perhaps even stronger than it had been since the Doom of Valyria itself.
After a while, Gendry raised a letter in his hand.
"Robb Stark sent word."
"Besides discussing the war, he mentioned that he sent Theon Greyjoy to Seagard."
Ser Barristan frowned immediately.
"That was a mistake."
"If I were Theon, I'd use the opportunity to flee back to the Iron Islands."
"Let him go," Gendry said calmly.
"Robb will eventually learn that mercy can become dangerous."
If Theon betrayed Winterfell, the North would pay dearly for it.
Daenerys looked troubled.
"Betrayal… is truly hateful."
Pain flickered briefly through her violet eyes.
She remembered Braavos.
The house with the red door.
Ser Willem Darry.
The betrayals that followed after his death.
Gendry gently squeezed her hand.
"The Greyjoys worship cruel gods," Melisandre said coldly. "The Drowned God teaches only blood and conquest."
Stannis snorted.
"The Ironborn are weak now. They can do little."
"Do not underestimate them," Gendry warned.
"Storm Kings once lost entire kingdoms to the Ironborn."
What worried him most was not their fleets…
But the ancient blood magic tied to Euron Greyjoy.
Melisandre's ruby necklace glowed faintly.
"The scent of magic lingers strongly in certain places," she said.
"Dragonstone. Harrenhal. Winterfell. Oldtown. Storm's End."
"And even the Iron Islands."
Qyburn nodded thoughtfully.
"Harrenhal especially feels cursed."
"House Hoare was deeply involved in strange magic long before Aegon's Conquest."
As the conversation continued, Gendry silently considered everything.
Old gods.
Fire magic.
Blood magic.
Valyrian sorcery.
The Others beyond the Wall.
All the hidden powers of the world were beginning to awaken once more.
It truly felt like the beginning of an age ruled by gods and monsters alike.
Finally, Melisandre turned toward Gendry.
"To face what is coming, you will need my power, Stormlord."
Gendry met her crimson eyes calmly.
"The Storm does not seek partnership."
"It seeks obedience."
"Even gods must kneel beneath the crown."
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