After the Iron Islands rebellion stirred a wave of public discussion, the buzz gradually faded—leaving only a small group still interested in the role the Wyvern dragoons played in the battle.
Once everything had settled down, Lynd began preparing to leave the continent of Westeros for Ny Sar. He knew that in the coming years—perhaps for many years—he would likely need to remain on Westeros. Augustus was still close to him, but Katarina and Caesar, who were born earlier, had grown somewhat distant. After all, over the past few years, he'd only visited Ny Sar two or three times a year, and his last visit was already half a year ago. He was worried that by now, the two little ones might see him as a stranger—just some unfamiliar uncle.
The last time he left Ny Sar, Nymeria had been pregnant again. Judging by the timing, she should be nearing her due date when he arrived, and Lynd planned to stay for at least two more months after the birth.
He had everything mapped out—even turning down King Robert's invitation to attend the twelfth name day tourney for his son. But plans rarely go unchanged. On his way to Miracle Harbor to board a ship, he was intercepted in Blackhaven by a raven from Jon—because the dragon egg that had been resting in the dragon nest incubation chamber for years had suddenly shown signs of activity in the past two days.
While everyone else believed the egg was dead, Lynd had always known it held a vitality far beyond any other creature's egg. That's why he had a special hatchery built just for it, with assigned caretakers observing and recording its condition daily. He'd even whimsically placed Wyvern eggs in the same chamber, hoping their activity might somehow stimulate the dragon egg.
But hundreds of Wyvern eggs had hatched by now, and the dragon egg remained still. Lynd had begun to believe it wouldn't hatch until the red comet appeared. Over the past two years, his attention to it had waned, and he often glanced at the caretakers' logs more out of routine than genuine hope.
When he read Jon's letter handed to him by Blackhaven's steward, Lynd instinctively suspected the dragon egg might be a pretext—that Jon had something else he couldn't say directly. After all, Lynd had checked on the egg himself before leaving Summerhall and found nothing unusual. And now, not even two days later, the egg was suddenly reacting? It was strange.
But then again, Jon wasn't the type to make things up. If something had truly happened, he would've said so outright—he wouldn't hide behind such a flimsy excuse.
With those doubts in mind, Lynd altered his plans and returned to Summerhall.
"What exactly is going on?"
As soon as Lynd arrived in Redemption Town, Jon was already waiting at the gate with his men. The moment he saw Lynd, he stepped forward to meet him.
"My lord," Jon began, but then hesitated. Glancing around at the passing townsfolk and those who had paused to see what was going on, he added, "It's what I wrote in the letter."
"So it really moved?" Lynd paused in surprise and quickened his pace toward the castle's lift.
Jon quickly followed. "Right after you left, there was movement. At first, the caretakers thought it was just their imagination and didn't report it. But a day ago, the movement intensified—even the Wyvern hatchlings in the Dragon Nest were startled. They all took off in panic. The ones that couldn't fly yet fell to their deaths. Dozens died, and the rest were found at the Redemption Sept. Also..." He paused, then added, "All the Wyvern eggs that were incubating in the same room as the dragon egg shattered. But there were no yolks—none. It was as if something had drained them from inside the shell. My lord... that dragon egg the ghost gave you at Summerhall—it's evil. You need to be careful."
Lynd was deeply surprised by what he heard and fell into silent thought. He said nothing further as they rode the lift back up to the castle.
...
Upon returning, Lynd headed straight to the Dragon Nest. The caretakers were gathered on the plaza platform, whispering nervously, their faces pale with fear. The moment they saw Lynd, they fell silent and lowered their heads.
Lynd started walking toward the incubation room, then suddenly stopped. He turned and addressed the dragon handlers watching over the eggs and hatchlings.
"I don't want to hear any nonsense leaking outside. Don't give idle people something to gossip about. Do you understand?"
"Yes, my lord," they all responded at once, heads bowed. They knew full well that if they let rumors slip, the bottomless pit would be their final destination.
As Lynd entered the dragon nest, he immediately saw the neat rows of Wyvern hatchling corpses inside. Just as Jon had described, the ones whose wings hadn't fully developed had died from falling. The idea that Wyverns would throw themselves to their deaths out of fear... it could only be caused by a creature more terrifying than a Wyvern—only a true dragon could do that.
Inside the incubation chamber, Lynd was startled to find Glory crouched next to the dragon egg, staring intently at it.
Glory rarely stayed at the castle these days. It usually roamed the Red Mountains, and according to those who had seen it, it was now followed by a number of Shadowcats—enough to form an actual pack. But anyone familiar with Shadowcats knew they were solitary creatures. Unless it was mating season or time to raise young, they never lived in groups. It seemed Glory had broken that rule.
In most places, a pack of Shadowcats would be a major threat. But in the Red Mountains, Glory's pack was more helpful than harmful. They actively assisted in clearing out the bandits who hid in the deep wilderness, making the Red Mountains the safest region in all of Westeros.
"How do you have time to come here? Where are your men?" It had been months since Lynd last saw Glory, and he had missed him dearly. For the moment, he set aside his focus on the dragon egg and reached out to gently stroke Glory's head.
Glory affectionately rubbed his head against Lynd, then turned to gaze at the dragon egg and let out a low cry.
It was the growl of a beast, but Lynd understood its meaning clearly. Glory was saying that something terrifying was growing inside the egg.
Lynd was surprised by that. Glory had seen the Cannibal before, and even when describing such a massive creature, he had merely called it a "big one." He had never used a word like "terrifying." And yet, here he was, using it to describe an egg that hadn't even hatched. That alone spoke volumes about the fear Glory felt toward whatever was inside.
It didn't take long for Lynd to understand why Glory felt that way. Just moments ago, right before his eyes, the dragon egg had stirred slightly, and an overwhelming aura—like that of some ancient, primeval beast—had emanated from within. In that instant, even Lynd himself had felt a flicker of fear, an instinctive urge to kneel. Glory had it even worse; he collapsed straight to the ground.
The aura spread rapidly, reaching those outside as well. One by one, people fell to their knees involuntarily, as if bowing in submission before some supreme being.
No wonder the Wyvern hatchlings had panicked and thrown themselves from the cliffs. Clearly, the aura's oppressive force had exceeded their limits. Submission wasn't the instinct of creatures still ruled by wild nature—their first instinct was to flee, to escape from this terrifying presence radiating such overwhelming power.
The aura dissipated quickly, and Lynd's tensed body finally relaxed. He patted Glory's head, signaling him to stay outside, then stepped toward the dragon egg. After a brief hesitation, he made up his mind and pressed his hand to the shell.
The moment his hand touched the egg, an ancient voice echoed in his ear.
"Deltos."
Immediately, the magic stored within the rune of the Nameless King in Lynd's heart surged forth like a dam bursting, flooding into the dragon egg. The surface of the egg began to pulse with alternating hues—red, silver-blue, white, and black.
In recent years, Lynd had barely used any of that magic. Even in battles, he relied on enchanted artifacts like the Cloudtop Bell instead. After years of accumulation, he wasn't sure exactly how much power the rune had stored, but he had always believed it would be enough to serve him in the war against the White Walkers.
And yet, that magic—meant for that coming war—was now being consumed as nourishment for the dragon egg. It was unexpected, but Lynd didn't feel much regret. Even if the power was spent, recovering it wouldn't be difficult. At most, a month. Because the rune's magic didn't regenerate from zero—it recovered from a base of one hundred, one thousand, ten thousand. The more it had once held, the faster it could rebuild.
As Lynd's magic poured in, the egg's absorption quickly reached saturation. The pull from the shell faded and disappeared, allowing Lynd to withdraw his hand.
Though the magic drain hadn't exhausted the rune's reserves, fatigue still crept into Lynd's expression. He stepped back a few paces, watching the egg shift and shimmer, while turning over the name he'd just heard in his mind—Deltos.
This wasn't the first time he'd heard that name. He had encountered it once before, in the memories of the Nameless King. Deltos had been an ancient Dragonlord, one of the gods' most powerful foes. After his death, his body had blanketed an entire mountain range, which became both his final resting place and the secluded retreat of the Nameless King after he was stripped of the title of War God and Dragon Slayer.
As time passed, the flickering patterns on the eggshell began to pulse more rapidly, and Lynd could faintly hear a heartbeat—like the thundering beat of war drums, stirring something primal inside him, an urge to fight, to charge into battle.
Soon, the heartbeat and the rhythm of the flickering patterns synchronized and quickened again. Cracks began to form across the surface of the dragon egg, spreading wider and deeper until, with a final shudder, the shell shattered into countless fragments. As the pieces fell away, the creature within unfurled its wings, revealing itself at last.
From the Cannibal, it was already clear that the dragons of this world were bipedal with two wings—hind legs and forelimbs that bore wings—making them somewhat resemble Wyverns at first glance. That similarity had once led Maester Barth to speculate that dragons were simply Wyverns transformed through blood magic.
But the hatchling now before Lynd was something entirely different: four legs, four wings. Its body was long and sinuous, its neck as slender and elongated as the Cannibal's. From beneath its front limbs, a pair of wings extended back toward the middle of its body, while a second pair of wings grew near the ends of its hind legs, stretching all the way to the midsection of its tail. The result was both alien and breathtakingly beautiful.
Its skin, too, was nothing like the Cannibal's. Where the Cannibal was covered in metallic scales, this hatchling's skin looked like polished marble—smooth, solid, and gleaming. The wings were etched with intricate, unfamiliar markings, each glowing faintly in different hues. The two front wings shimmered with silver-blue and silver-white light, while the rear wings burned in deep red and jet black—echoing the four colors that had shone from the egg just moments ago.
Then the hatchling opened its eyes and looked straight at Lynd.
He could feel it watching him, studying him. Softly, he said, "Deltos."
The moment it heard the name, the hatchling moved closer, pressing itself affectionately against him, its wings brushing gently along his body.
Lynd felt its closeness immediately—deeper than anything he'd known with Glory or even the Cannibal. It was as if they shared one mind, one soul, like reflections of each other.
The most striking sensation came from the rune of the Nameless King within him. The magical energy stored there flowed naturally between him and the hatchling, shared seamlessly, as though their bodies were one.
And in that moment, Lynd understood why dragons were the cherished children of this world. Their ability to absorb magic was astonishing. The magic he had just poured into the egg—enough to fuel weeks of battle—was already beginning to replenish. He realized he might not even need a full month to recover, perhaps only half that, or even ten days.
And this was while magic in the world was still largely dormant. Once the Red Comet returned and magic began to stir anew, Deltos might allow him to absorb so much power that running out of magic would become a concern of the past.
Lynd lifted Deltos in both hands and held him up. Though the dragon looked small, it was far heavier than expected—far heavier than it had been as an egg. Clearly, something strange and powerful had occurred during its incubation.
He murmured, "Deltos... you've come too soon. If only it had been two years later."
Lynd wasn't worried about owning another dragon—after all, the Cannibal had paved the way. But he didn't want the world to know he possessed a dragon like this. Not yet. Not until Deltos had grown strong enough to protect himself.
Sensing Lynd's thoughts, Deltos curled up in his hands. Its wings folded tightly around its body, and then its form began to change—its limbs, wings, and even its glow merging into itself—until it returned to the shape of an egg, just as it had been before.