DAEMON
He saw them coming.
Three shapes against the gray sky—Vhagar's bulk unmistakable, Vermithor's bronze gleaming, Silverwing's silver catching what light there was.
Finally.
Caraxes shifted beneath him. The Blood Wyrm sensed his rider's anticipation. Tasted battle on the wind.
"Sōvēs."
The red dragon launched from Harrenhal's towers. No hesitation. No retreat.
Not today. Today we end it.
Daemon guided Caraxes straight toward the formation. Not all three—just one.
Vhagar.
Aemond.
Let the bastards watch. This is between blood.
ULF
Daemon didn't do what I expected.
Three to one odds. Any sane commander would have fled, drawn us into unfavorable terrain, used guerrilla tactics.
Instead, Caraxes screamed challenge and dove straight at Vhagar.
"He's attacking!" Hugh's voice carried across the wind. "Just Aemond!"
"He's ignoring us." I realized the strategy immediately. "He wants the duel. Wants it personal."
Aemond took the bait.
Of course he did. Pride won't let him refuse.
Vhagar banked to meet Caraxes. The two dragons collided over the God's Eye with an impact that shook the sky itself. Claws raked. Jaws snapped. Fire erupted from both throats.
They spiraled downward, locked together, ignoring everything else.
"We should help him." Hugh guided Vermithor toward the melee.
"Wait—"
But Hugh wasn't listening.
He banked.
Not toward Aemond's battle.
Toward me.
HUGH
Sorry, White. New order starts now.
Hugh smiled as Vermithor wheeled. The Bronze Fury understood his intent—or didn't care. Either way, the dragon responded to his commands.
Fire built in Vermithor's throat.
Hugh aimed at Silverwing.
"Dracarys!"
ULF
Flame erupted from Vermithor's jaws.
I reacted on instinct. "Jikagon!"
Silverwing dove. The fire passed overhead, close enough to singe my hair.
Hugh. The bastard actually did it.
"New order starts now!" His voice carried through the wind. "Nothing personal, White!"
Everything's personal. You just made it personal.
Silverwing leveled out. I assessed the situation.
Above: Aemond and Daemon locked in combat, spiraling toward the lake. Neither would break off to help.
Below: God's Eye, dark waters waiting to swallow whoever fell.
Around: Hugh on Vermithor, circling for another attack.
Three-way battle. Aemond versus Daemon. Hugh versus me. Chaos.
"Naejot." I guided Silverwing into an evasive pattern. "Sōvēs."
She responded with veteran precision. Sixty years of experience against Vermithor's brute force.
Hugh dove. Fire streamed.
Silverwing twisted. Dodged.
He's stronger. Larger. But she's smarter.
I kicked.
Rankyaku.
The air blade sliced through empty sky—Hugh had anticipated, pulled Vermithor aside.
"Going to have to do better than that!" His laugh was manic. "Vermithor's tougher than your old bitch!"
He's not wrong. Direct combat, he wins.
So don't fight direct.
"Geppo preparation. Weight: 1kg."
I became light. Impossibly light.
Silverwing felt the change. Understood.
"Sōvēs. Maximum speed."
She accelerated. Faster than Vermithor could match.
Hugh's eyes widened as the silver dragon shot away from his bronze pursuer.
"Running, bastard? Running won't save you!"
Not running. Positioning.
THE GOD'S EYE
Below, Vhagar and Caraxes crashed into the lake.
Water erupted in columns. Steam billowed as dragon-fire met ancient waters.
Daemon and Aemond fought in the shallows—dragons and riders both, a tangled mass of scale and steel.
I caught glimpses between my own evasions. Caraxes's jaws closing on Vhagar's neck. Vhagar's claws raking the Blood Wyrm's belly. Aemond screaming commands. Daemon laughing.
Let them kill each other. I have my own problems.
Vermithor came again.
Hugh drove his dragon with whip and curse—brutal, effective, the same way he'd trained. The Bronze Fury was bleeding from where Caraxes had scored him in the first pass, but still fought hard.
"Dracarys!"
Fire erupted.
I dove beneath it.
Silverwing's claws raked Vermithor's underbelly as we passed. Not deep—not fatal—but enough.
Hugh screamed with rage.
"Hold still and die!"
"Where's the fun in that?"
I guided Silverwing around for another pass.
He's stronger. But I'm faster. I'm smarter. I've been doing this longer.
Time to show him what the Dragonslayer really means.
DAEMON
The bastard was fighting.
Through the chaos of his own battle, Daemon glimpsed the silver dragon weaving around the bronze. The White—the man he'd promised to kill—was holding his own against the traitor dragonrider.
Interesting. More interesting than I expected.
Vhagar's jaws closed on Caraxes's wing. Daemon felt his dragon scream.
Focus. Kill the nephew first.
He drove Dark Sister toward Aemond's eye—the good one.
Aemond blocked. Countered.
Their blades met over thrashing dragons.
"You killed my brother!" Aemond screamed. "You started all of this!"
"I killed a weakling. The realm is better for it." Daemon smiled. "You'll join him soon."
They fell together, dragons locked, riders fighting atop them.
The God's Eye swallowed them in spray and thunder.
ULF
Vermithor's claws caught Silverwing's flank.
I felt her pain—a tearing sensation that translated through our bond. Blood sprayed across my face, hot and copper-sharp.
"Steady. Umbas."
She held position despite the wound.
Not fatal. Not yet. But he's scoring hits.
Hugh drove Vermithor into another attack. His dragon's jaws snapped at Silverwing's neck.
She twisted aside. Barely.
He's learning her patterns. Adapting.
Time to change the rules.
"Kelītīs."
Silverwing hovered.
I stood in the saddle.
Hugh's eyes widened. "What are you—"
I jumped.
GEPPO
Air solidified beneath my feet.
I kicked off—not from Silverwing, but from nothing. Walking through the sky itself.
Hugh watched, mouth open.
"What the fuck—"
I was already moving.
Geppo. Geppo. Geppo.
Three steps through empty air. Crossing the distance between dragons.
I landed on Vermithor's back.
Behind Hugh.
He spun, drawing steel. "How—"
Shigan.
My fingers drove toward his throat.
He blocked—barely—the strike deflecting off his armored shoulder.
"You're insane!" He swung at me.
I ducked. Used Soru.
Suddenly I was at Vermithor's neck, where the scales were thinnest.
"Silverwing. Dracarys."
Silver fire erupted toward Vermithor's face.
The Bronze Fury screamed. Twisted. Threw me off.
I kicked. Geppo.
Caught myself in midair.
Hugh clutched his saddle as Vermithor thrashed. "You fucking madman!"
"I told you not to start something you couldn't finish."
I landed back on Silverwing's saddle. She'd positioned herself perfectly—my dragon, my partner, reading my movements before I made them.
Now end this.
"Naejot. Full attack."
Silverwing dove at Vermithor.
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