The Red Keep was nothing but a burning corpse. Its towers, blackened and broken, rose like the teeth of a dying monster, wrapped in wildfire that kept devouring the stone with endless hunger. Kingās Landing was gone. And for a brief, fleeting momentā¦ the survivors on the ship believed it was over.
But then the earth shook.
A rift opened at the base of the keep, deep as a bottomless wound. The ground groaned as if the city itself were cursing its fate. The sea fell silent. And the skyā¦ seemed to pull away.
From the abyss, a ball of green fire erupted with monstrous violence. The air cracked in its path, the sound turning into a shockwave that tore the horizon. The blaze rose arrogantly, as if defying the gods, and then fell like a death sentence upon the coast.
The impact unleashed a storm of snow, smoke, and rubble. Nothing was left untouched. Nothing left standing. And when the dust cloud began to clear, revealed by a heat that melted even the airā¦ a silhouette emerged.
It was Drogon.
Or what was left of him.
He dragged his mutilated body through the burning ruins. His skin hung in charred shreds, scorched down to the bone. One leg was a bloody stump, and his wings... drooped like tattered banners after an endless war. Half his face was a melted, smoking mass, unrecognizable. But what stopped the world was his one intact eye.
Blue.
Cold.
Unnatural.
The survivors understood it all at once. A bolt of ice shot through their souls. Sansaās lips barely managed to shape the horror.
āThe Night Kingā¦ā
And then they saw him.
Behind the dying dragon, a figure emerged through the flames, staggering, consumed by smoke and ash. The Night King was no longer the same.
Before the wildfire explosion, he had managed to turn Drogon, making him his undead servant. That allowed him to use the dragonās massive body as a shield, hiding behind the scales and bones of his new creation to escape the devastation.
But even that barrier of dead flesh and magic hadnāt been enough.
His once-pristine armor was in tatters, parts melted as if the blast had peeled away layers of his very essence. His skin, cracked like ice-glass on the verge of shattering, revealed dark pulses beneath the surface. One arm dangled uselessly, severed at the elbowā¦ and burning.
The wildfire had reached him, and now it clung to his limb with a flame that wouldnāt die, spreading slowly and relentlessly across the dead flesh.
Without hesitation, he cut it off.
With one brutal, clean slash, he severed the burning limb and let it fall among the ashes. The fire kept burning there, devouring what was left, but heā¦ was already free of it. Not a groan. Not a flinch. Just cold resolve.
His steps were slower. Almost human.
And yetā¦ his gaze was unchanged.
Blue.
Cold.
Relentless.
Wounded, yes. Damaged. But not defeated.
The explosion had done the impossible: cracked part of what he was. But not enough. He was still there. And with him, the winter.
A glacial wind descended from the skies. Drogonās final roar rose through the smoke, a cry so agonizing it splintered the souls of all aboard. The green fire consumed him entirely, burning him from within. And thus, the last dragon burned until nothing remained but bone, ashā¦ and an echo.
The Night King turned, slowly, toward the ships. His mere presence seemed to freeze the sea itself. Everything stopped. Everythingā¦ except fear.
From the fog, an army emerged behind him. Walkers. Thousands. Countless. Their bodies marched with fury, not with calm. It wasnāt a processionāit was a stampede. They moved with jaws open, arms like claws, dragging rusted weapons and deformed limbs, bones cracking with every movement. But it wasnāt mindless chaos. They all looked in the same direction. They all wanted the same thing. As they reached the shore, they didnāt stop in silenceā¦ they surged forward.
They crashed against the coastline like a frantic wave. They screamed without voices, a spectral shriek not born of throats, but something deeper, more broken. Some hurled themselves into the sea only to sink like dead stones, others knelt and pounded the ground with fists like caged beasts. Some twisted in frustration, clawing at the sand, spewing hatred with eyes that could break the will. And all of them, without exception, did so while staring at the ships.
It was as if the seaājust water, apparentlyāwas an invisible wall. A barrier holding them backā¦ for now.
And still, they didnāt stop. Their rage was so overwhelming it could be felt even from the ships. Their bodies kept moving, crashing into each other, pushing, seeking a crack in the impossible. As if their hunger to reach the living could break even the laws of the world. As if they knew that out there, drifting away, floated the last heartbeat of humankind.
And there were the living, trembling at the sight. Not because of what they were doing. But because of what they promised: that death does not tire. That the end does not retreat. That what hunted them would never stop.
At the bow, Tyrion understood everything. His face turned pale. There was no redemption. No escape. They had lost. Everything they sacrificedākingdoms, names, blood, loveāhad been for nothing. Even hopeā¦ had been a mistake.
āLetās get away from hereā¦ āhe whispered, though his voice had nowhere left to go.
The sails rose. The ropes screamed. The ships drifted off like ghosts in a fog of defeat. Behind them lay the ruins of a shattered world.
The world had changed forever. It was no longer one, nor did it seek balance. It was broken, split into extremes beyond reconciliation. On one side, ice: eternal, merciless, unstoppable. On the other, fire: agonizing, wounded, but still burning in memory. Thus began a new age. A world of ice and fire.
And as the mist swallowed them, the truth was clear: they hadnāt just lost the warā¦ they had lost the right to dream of anything more.
Only hollow ghosts remained, dragging the weight of failure. Because sometimes, the worst thing isnāt dyingā¦ itās living knowing none of it mattered.
And as the fog devoured all, the Night Kingās eyes lifted toward the sea. There was no emotion in his gaze. Only a frozen silenceā¦ as if he knew there was still more left to conquer.