At the top floor garden of the Great Pyramid of Astapor, the sunlight dispersed the thin morning mist, lazily casting its glow on people's faces.
The bedsheets were damp with morning dew, leaving visible stains. Untying the ropes wrapped around them, they were spread out on the red brick floor, causing a clatter as swords, shields, books, and crystal balls scattered across the ground.
Thud! Ser Barristan loosened the curtain bundle and carefully placed the massive glass candle on the nearby tea table.
"Your Grace, Ser Selmy already has a scimitar. This two-handed sword suits me perfectly," Jorah Mormont declared, tightly gripping the deep purple snakeskin scabbard of the greatsword, eager to strap it onto his waist immediately.
"In your dreams!" The old knight snatched the sword from his hands, sneering, "The scimitar was only lent to me by Aggo for the purpose of protecting Her Grace. Now that I have Sun Swallower, the scimitar naturally goes back to Aggo."
The sword, looted from Oros, was named Sun Swallower, with Valyrian script engraved on its golden crossguard.
Neither of the two Queensguard even considered giving the sword to Daenerys, as it was far too long—its blade measured 1.3 meters, and its hilt was a 30-centimeter golden dragon.
The dragon's mouth gaped open, spewing forth the blade, while its upper and lower jaws formed the crossguard. Its wings and legs were folded in, not interfering with the grip, and its tail coiled around itself, adorned with colorful tassels.
It was an exquisitely crafted sword.
"This sword is too ostentatious. It will attract unnecessary attention," Jorah cautioned.
"No problem, just have a blacksmith darken the color," the old knight replied, unfastening the arakh from his waist and replacing it with Sun Swallower.
With his towering and robust build, the sword's length suited him perfectly.
"What about the shield?"
"The shield belongs to Grey Worm," Barristan interrupted. "You're using a two-handed sword—do you have a third hand to carry a shield?"
A small round shield could be strapped to the arm, but this curved greatshield was meant to be used with a short sword and spear. In fact, the Valyrians had designed it in the style of the ancient Ghiscari legions.
"Grey Worm already has a Valyrian steel short sword," Jorah grumbled. "Might as well melt it down and forge another sword."
"What kind of books did you even pick?" Daenerys asked, holding up a stack of heavy tomes with frustration. "An Overview of Genetics," "The Secrets of Color," "An Analysis of Optical Principles," "The Elements of Geometry," *"The Magic of Numbers"…
She sighed and turned to the old knight. "None of these are of any use to me."
"Truly useless? At least they're better than poetry and storybooks, right?" Whitebeard asked awkwardly.
"Forget it. They may be useless to me, but they're priceless treasures to this world," Daenerys conceded with a sigh.
"What about the magical crystal balls?" The old knight pointed at several red, purple, and colorless crystals. "Are they of any help to you?"
"They're of very high purity. Excellent as bedside ornaments."
Whitebeard's face flushed red as he recalled where he had found the crystal balls—in Jeyne's bedroom.
He had assumed they were tools for the High Priestess's daily magical practice. After all, stories often depicted witches using crystal balls to divine the future.
"Sigh, the glass candles, which real sorcerers actually use, remain largely unknown, while those third-rate authors writing about witches have misled countless people," the old knight lamented.
After spending a full day and night in the Land of Long Summer, they returned to Astapor. Daenerys, exhausted, drank a bowl of lamb and turnip stew, washed up, and went straight to bed.
The red sun slowly sank into the western sea, painting the world in crimson hues. Ghostly red light beams streamed through the skylight, casting a warm glow on the beige wallpapered walls, adding a sense of tranquility and peace to the stone chamber.
Suddenly, as she slept, Daenerys furrowed her brows, as if enduring some kind of discomforting prickling pain.
She opened her eyes. A faint, eerie light flickered in her violet irises. Raising her right wrist to her eyes, she saw a tiny red dot glowing beneath her pale skin.
"Quaithe?" Daenerys' gaze gradually sharpened. After a brief hesitation, she withdrew the warding sorcery around her wrist.
The red dot transformed into a hair-thin, glowing red line, shooting towards the wardrobe across the room.
In an instant, the red line dimmed and vanished.
A woman appeared before the wardrobe, draped in a floor-length hooded robe. A red lacquered wooden mask concealed her face beneath the hood.
It was Quaithe.
"Daenerys, you continue to surprise me," Quaithe said.
Though her hood hid her eyes, Daenerys could feel her gaze fixed intently upon her.
Lowering her wrist, Daenerys sighed. "I only just realized someone had marked me with sorcery. Thinking back, you touched me only once."
—That encounter on the streets of Qarth, where she had seemingly casually placed two fingers on Daenerys' right wrist. (Chapter 48)
"I remember feeling a strange prickling sensation at the time, but I dismissed it as my imagination. I recall you once promised you would never harm me."
"And I haven't," Quaithe said. "It is merely a coordinate. Using a glass candle to locate someone without a coordinate is like searching for a single coin in the vast ocean—it is far too difficult. Now that you wield mystical power yourself, you should understand my reasoning."
"To be honest, I don't," Daenerys replied bluntly. "I have no idea how to use glass candles. I don't even own one."
Quaithe's voice softened. "I can sense a solidified power within you—strong, vast, and awe-inspiring."
"I only just learned a basic meditation technique in Oros yesterday. I can't even perform a single spell yet," Daenerys admitted.
Discovering that Quaithe had secretly left a magical mark on her naturally made Daenerys furious.
After gaining her first trace of magical power the day before, she had sensed something was off within her body. At first, she wasn't entirely certain. But now, with Quaithe revealing herself through an actual teleportation spell, Daenerys, though shocked and enraged, also found herself unexpectedly calm.
If Quaithe possessed such incredible abilities and truly intended to harm her, she would likely have been dead long ago without ever knowing what had happened.
Thinking along those lines, her resentment towards Quaithe lessened slightly.
Of course, that didn't mean she would let down her guard.
"Oros?" Quaithe pondered for a moment before gasping. "You are bold—venturing into the Land of Long Summer."
"Why shouldn't I?" Daenerys asked.
Quaithe took a deep breath, her tone grave. "Do you remember the prophecy I once told you?"
"To go north, you must journey south. To reach the west, you must go east."
Daenerys was stunned. "When you said not to go west, were you referring to the Land of Long Summer, west of Slaver's Bay? I thought you meant Westeros."
"I do not know," Quaithe replied—leaving Daenerys so exasperated she nearly choked.
It seemed that through the blisters on her face, she could see her displeasure. The Ashaii priestess continued, "I can give you a prophecy, but I cannot help you interpret its meaning.
However, I can be certain of one thing: the Land of Long Summer to the west of Slaver's Bay, the Free Cities, and Westeros—all are places of misfortune for you."
Dany pondered for a moment, somewhat understanding Quaithe's prophecy.
Just like the previous line, 'To go north, you must head south.' From the moment she left the Red Waste, if she hadn't gone south but instead traveled north to the Dothraki Sea, things likely wouldn't have ended well for her.
Had she gone to the Dothraki Sea before gaining control of Slaver's Bay, she would have—
Conversely, once she truly controlled Meereen, Yunkai, and Astapor, she would have the capital to move north and take the Dothraki.
To go north, she must head south.
As for 'To reach the west, she must go east'—
The original Daenerys did not travel east. Instead, she returned directly to Westeros and met a tragic end.
"What can the East give me?" she asked.
"The truth."
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Just as in Qarth before, Dany received the same answer.
"So, going east is not the goal; the main purpose is to obtain the 'truth.' That way, I will have the capital to head west?" Dany asked.
"This—" Quaithe was momentarily speechless.
This girl doesn't follow the script!
The prophecy tells you to go east, so just go. Why are you always trying to outmaneuver it?
Finally, Quaithe said, "Don't expect me to tell you what the 'truth' is, because I don't know either."
"I do."
"Uh—" Holding back her irritation, the prophet asked the one she had prophesized for, "What is the truth?"
"Isn't it obvious? The Land of Long Summer has my enemies, the Free Cities have my enemies, and Westeros has my enemies. If I enter these places unprepared, I will certainly face danger."
Can it really be understood this way?
It seemed—perhaps—it actually could be.
"What enemies did you encounter in Oros?" Quaithe asked.
"The Valyrian god, Balerion, the same name as the black dragon of House Targaryen," Dany replied.
"So, it still isn't dead…" Quaithe murmured.
"If that bastard dares to strike at me, I'll kill it sooner or later!" Dany declared proudly.
Then, she added with a playful smile, "Eliminating evil gods is everyone's duty. How about you teach me some witchcraft secrets, Sister Quaithe?"
"Balerion is a Valyrian ancestral god—your ancestral god!"
Hearing Dany speak so lightly about such a blasphemous idea, the Ashaii priestess was deeply shocked.
"Have you forgotten? House Targaryen converted to the Seven Gods three hundred years ago!"
"Uh—"
"I have no witchcraft to teach you because our cultivation systems are completely different," Quaithe regained her composure and said.
"Nonsense!" Dany raised her wrist and sneered. "You think I was just sleeping before? I was analyzing your magic coordinate runes! And I've already mastered thirty percent of them. In just a few more days, I'll be able to leave coordinates for others too."
When awake, she merged her soul with her dragon's to become a dragon spirit. In sleep, she entered the great black soul sea—this was the Dragon Dream.
As long as Drogon was resting, whenever Dany slept, she would enter the Dragon Dream. In that state, she could better observe the essence of her soul.
Though the coordinate rune seemed to be marked on her right wrist, the real imprint was on her soul's wrist.
Simply put, even if Dany cut off her right hand, Quaithe would still be able to locate her.
Thus, the Dragon Dream state was highly beneficial for studying that string of mysterious runes.
As Quaithe had said, her cultivation system was different from Dany's. Not a single rune belonged to Valyria's "108-character" script.
However, Dany discovered that she didn't need to understand the meaning of the runes. She could simply use her witch power to outline them identically, and they would still function as intended.
"Are you certain?" Quaithe made no attempt to hide her astonishment.
"Why would I lie?"
"A perfect inheritance—you have obtained the full meditation system of Valyria's great sorcerers!" Quaithe said slowly, her tone filled with certainty.
"You guessed correctly." Dany was puzzled. "Is that special?"
"Valyria ruled the world—do you know that?"
"Everyone in the world knows that."
Quaithe sighed and said in a ghostly tone, "If you ruled the world, would you not plunder all its gold, knowledge, slaves, and treasures?"
(End of Chapter)
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