"We consider the True Dragons treasures, so how did you find information about them?" Gendry asked Quaithe.
"Portents in the sky, a storm. Not just me, many mages must have noticed," Quaithe replied.
Gendry nodded. The red comet was indeed striking, and it was inevitable that some would associate it with dragons.
"Besides that, there's also the strengthening of magical power," Quaithe said, glancing at Qyburn and Jon Strong, the tall warrior behind him, her words hinting at something. "Half a year ago, I doubt the Old Maester's 'headless' guard ever succeeded."
"Are everyone's spells getting stronger?" Maester Qyburn couldn't help but ask.
"The river of magic has always existed; it's just a matter of the tide's size. When the tide is too small, most people cannot perceive the wonders of magic. But now, magic is gradually reviving, and dragons are the strongest product of the magic tide. With the return of True Dragons, the environment for mages also improves," Quaithe explained to them, her eyes watery. "In Qarth, I saw a Pyromancer who could summon a fiercely burning ladder forty feet high. The mage would leap forward and climb it swiftly, hand over hand, like a monkey. With each step, the rung behind him would dissipate, leaving only a wisp of silver smoke. When he reached the top, both he and the ladder vanished without a trace."
Gendry listened to Quaithe's words, and indeed, what she said was true. Dragons represented a change in the magical environment. Even in eras without dragons, when magic was scarce, there were mages like Bloodraven who broke through limitations. After the magic tide, the conditions for mages to cast spells improved, and even a novice Red Priest like Thoros gained magical power.
"Is that a trick?" Anguy asked curiously.
"It's not a trick," Quaithe countered.
Daenerys looked at Quaithe: "What do you mean by that, madam?"
"Half a year ago, that Pyromancer in Qarth couldn't even light a fire with dragonglass. He only knew petty tricks with gunpowder and wildfire, at best attracting a few ignorant fools to watch so his pickpockets would have work. He could walk across hot coals or make burning Roses bloom in the air, but he would never expect to climb a ladder of fire, just as an ordinary fisherman wouldn't expect to catch a sea monster in his net."
"So you're saying Daenerys and I made their powers stronger?" Gendry asked Quaithe.
"Storm, True Dragon, you are the parents of dragons, aren't you?" Quaithe looked at them. "Your path is the right one, Storm. Rely on yourself rather than others."
Gendry looked at Quaithe. Power comes from bloodline or faith. He had no firm faith, so he had to choose a different path.
"Of course they are, mage," Ser Barristan said, looking at Quaithe. People of the shadows made him uncomfortable.
"Go where you must go, to the battlefields where you must fight," Quaithe told Gendry.
"Where do you want us to go?" Daenerys asked.
"To go north, you must go south. To reach the west, you must go east. To go forward, you must go back. To touch the cold, you must pass through fire. To touch the light, you must pass beneath the shadow."
"Asshai and Dragonstone?" Gendry asked Quaithe. "Asshai is the land of shadows, Dragonstone is the land of fire. But what would I do in Asshai? Asshai is the land of shadows. No ships, no army. What exactly is in Asshai?" However, besides Dragonstone, the land of fire might also include the Valyrian Ruins.
"Truth," the masked woman replied.
"Why do you want to help us?" Daenerys asked curiously, looking at Quaithe with her violet eyes.
Quaithe not only didn't harm them but also offered help, prophecy, and warnings.
"Seeing dragons brings joy. You are the ones who will break the deadlock, the parents of dragons," Quaithe said. "Dragons are blood and fire. Too many people covet the True Dragons, but I am not that kind of Warlock. For the flesh and blood of dragons are made of fire, and fire is power. Mages have different paths."
"Are you a relative of Gendry and me?" Dany couldn't help but ask. Were there such good mages in the known world? This seemed illogical.
Quaithe neither shook nor nodded, not answering the question.
"Actually, you should visit the House of the Undying. The House of the Undying has some visions."
"Visions are unfathomable, and prophecies are hard to grasp. Chasing prophecies will cost you your life," Gendry said loudly, like an atheist warrior dispelling superstition. There was no need to eagerly pursue these ghostly things; they could be referenced but never obsessed over. Many Targaryen had dreamed of dragons, and those dreams cost each of them their lives.
Quaithe looked at Gendry, then smiled. "Storm is Storm. No wonder Durran was nicknamed Godsgrief. Fearless, defying the gods, that is the true Storm. Originally, these words were not meant to be said here, but after you went to the House of the Undying, but I couldn't wait. I see mountains of corpses and seas of blood behind the Storm. Your crown is greater than before, and your war is greater than before. I wonder when you will reach Qarth."
"Listen to me, Gendry, Daenerys Targaryen. The glass candle will be lit, the pale mare will come, and other things will follow. Believe not the sea monster and the black flame, the titan and the griffon, the son of the tower and the mummer's dragon. Beware The Undying, and beware the perfumed seneschal." After delivering this prophecy, Quaithe bowed to the two of them, then left the tent. Her speed was so swift, like a hazy mist.
Quaithe's figure was no longer in the room. She truly seemed to be a person of shadows, leaving several people looking at each other in bewilderment.
Common magic is divided into: elemental control, prophecy and divination, Skinchanging, resurrection and necromancy, and enchantment. Having seen Quaithe, Gendry had at least heard of three of these.
"She is a true mage, exceptionally skilled, and without the corrupting smell of magic," Maester Qyburn sighed. It was a pity that such a miraculous mage would never be at their service. Facing Quaithe, Qyburn felt the narrowness of his own abilities. Quaithe could prophesy, disappear quickly, and perhaps even enter dreams—all truly miraculous.
"Watch my dragons, and tell that Warlock in Qarth to get lost," Gendry said, completely uninterested in The Undying. They had some ability, but not much. Mages who hid in the shadows, clinging to life, were like crumbling houses. These people even tried to drain their life force to prolong their own lives.
"Yes," Maester Qyburn nodded.
"Why is she so good to us?" Dany was still somewhat confused.
"She doesn't covet the True Dragons, which means she is a wise mage," Gendry said.
Quaithe left them two prophecies, both foretelling future wars and upcoming figures. The sea monster, the Red Priest of rhllor, the griffon, the Braavosi, the son of the tower, Rhaen, The Undying, Varys the fat man—it seemed war was ultimately unavoidable.
Gendry suspected Quaithe might be some relative of the Targaryen, but this could not be deduced.
"We also have similar talents. There are doctors in The Citadel who are proficient in mysticism," Qyburn announced. "I believe he will receive our message, and I have already sent ships to Oldtown."
"Maester" Marwyn was a doctor at The Citadel, and an old acquaintance of Qyburn. He possessed a valyrian steel necklace, representing his profound expertise in magic and mysticism.
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