Smoke Over Whispering Castle

The first glimmer of dawn had barely climbed over the fences of the Crabb Lands when Daemon's party was already prepared to depart.

Glutton stretched its wings at the cliff's edge. The Black Dragon's scales gleamed dark purple in the morning light, and from time to time it spat small clusters of black sparks that sizzled against the rocks.

"Can't you really take me with you?" Gael hugged Daemon around the waist, her cheek pressed against his armor, her voice still heavy with sleep and obvious worry.

Dreamfyre rumbled softly behind her, its pale blue wings beating gently as the silver scales along its spine reflected the rising sun like scattered diamonds.

Daemon lowered his head and kissed the top of her hair. The coldness of his armor stood in stark contrast to the girl's warmth.

"Glutton and I are enough." His voice was gentle, yet carried an unquestionable firmness. "Whispering Castle is full of wounded stragglers. We don't need two dragons."

"But I want to be with you." Gael's fingers tightened around his cloak. "Dreamfyre is really powerful. Yesterday, it..."

"I know it's powerful." Daemon cut her off, cupping her face as he looked seriously into her light purple eyes. "But I'd rather it protect you. I never intended to send you onto a battlefield. Gael, protecting you is my responsibility, not your duty." He pointed toward the women and wounded still busy in the town. "Your task is to take care of yourself, Dreamfyre, and them."

Gael bit her lip, but in the end, she nodded. Her eyes had reddened. "Then you have to keep yourself safe." Rising onto her tiptoes, she tried to give him a light kiss on the lips. "I'll wait for you here."

Daemon smiled and nodded before turning to mount Glutton. The Black Dragon gave a deep reply, beat its wings, and rose into the sky. It circled above the town once before flying toward Whispering Castle.

Lubert Crabb led his horse over to Berna Blount, who was watching his father, Count Bren, direct the gathering of their clansmen.

The soldiers of House Bren were all in high spirits. There were even some unfamiliar faces—distant relatives said to have come from Brown Burrow Mountain.

"Your father is rather enthusiastic this time," Lubert said quietly.

Berna said nothing, only gripping his sword hilt tightly. He could tell that the urgency on his father's face was not entirely about redeeming himself. It was more an attempt to make up for yesterday's "miscalculation"—what had once seemed like a chance to reap the fisherman's profit had instead become a backdrop to Daemon's bravery. And the might of two dragons had clearly far exceeded his expectations.

"Stay sharp, all of you!" Count Bren's roar rang through the ranks. "If we can't take Whispering Castle today, House Bren might as well stop showing its face on the Crab Claw Peninsula!" He mounted his horse and pointed his spear toward Whispering Castle. "Move out!"

The noon sun was like a red-hot iron ball, baking the ground until it scorched. The air was so dry it seemed a struck match could set it ablaze. Heat steamed from the distant sea, warping even the outline of Whispering Castle.

Daemon sat upon Glutton's back, looking down at the camp below.

Whispering Castle was utterly quiet. Those Wildlings were clearly still napping, completely unaware of the catastrophe about to descend upon them.

"Now!" Daemon patted Glutton's neck. The Black Dragon let out a deafening roar and plunged downward.

Black dragonfire poured down like a waterfall, instantly swallowing Whispering Castle's wooden watchtower.

The dry thatched roofs caught fire like tinder. Thick smoke billowed upward, mingled with the screams and panicked cries of the Wildlings within.

"Charge!" Count Bren's roar came from below.

He had clearly been unable to wait any longer to claim merit and atone for his sins. The instant dragonfire erupted, he led his forces charging toward the ruins of Whispering Castle.

Daemon directed Glutton in circles high above. The black three-headed dragon brand on his right shoulder faintly burned as Glutton's dragonfire repeatedly swept across gatherings of Wildlings.

He saw the Wildling leader in bearskin charge out of the burning tower. Smoke rose from his entire body, yet he still waved his battle-axe, trying to organize resistance.

"Father! Watch out!" Berna Blount's cry pierced the chaos.

Daemon's heart suddenly tightened. He watched the Wildling leader endure the flames covering his body and hurl the battle-axe in his hand at Count Bren with all his strength.

The bloodstained axe carved an arc through the air like black lightning, striking the charging Count Bren squarely in the chest.

"Argh—" Count Bren let out a short scream and fell from his horse, instantly swallowed by the chaotic melee of soldiers and Wildlings.

"Father!" Berna Blount roared as he charged forward, his longsword hacking wildly as he cut a bloody path through the battlefield.

Daemon frowned and directed Glutton to sweep low overhead. Dragonfire completely consumed the Wildling leader.

With their leader gone, the Wildlings collapsed completely. They fled toward the caves beneath the cliffs, only to be cut down by soldiers waiting there.

The battle ended quickly. The ruins of Whispering Castle still burned, thick smoke blotting out the sky. The air was filled with the pungent stench of roasting flesh and sulfur.

Daemon landed Glutton in the clearing before Whispering Castle. Berna Blount knelt on the ground, holding Count Bren in his arms, his face deathly pale. Several soldiers stood around them, helpless.

"How is he?" Daemon walked over, his heart sinking. Count Bren's chest wound was horrific. The axe blade had nearly split his chest open, and blood had dyed the ground beneath him red.

"The maester... get the maester, quickly!" Berna's voice trembled as tears mixed with dust and ran down his face.

Daemon crouched and checked Count Bren's breathing. There was still a faint trace of life. "Get him back to the Crabb Lands," he told Berna. "There may still be hope."

At dusk, the exhausted party returned to the Crabb Lands.

Glutton's black shadow fell across the town walls like an enormous ink stain.

The moment Daemon jumped down from the dragon's back, Gael and Mysaria threw themselves into his arms at the same time.

"You're back!" Gael cried, clinging tightly to him and refusing to let go. Mysaria said nothing, but buried her face in his cloak, her shoulders trembling faintly.

Daemon patted their backs, but his gaze fell upon Count Bren, whom the soldiers were carrying.

Baron Kleb was already standing at the entrance with his cane. At the sight, his expression turned grave.

"Take him to the maester," Daemon told the soldiers. Then he turned toward the captured Wildlings, his gaze turning cold. "Bring them here." The remaining dozen or so Wildlings were pushed into the center of the square, all ashen-faced.

Daemon drew Blackfyre and, without the slightest hesitation, executed them cleanly and decisively. After drinking blood, Blackfyre's blade seemed to glow with a faint red light.

"Count the casualties," Daemon told Rayford. Rayford soon returned, his expression complicated. "Your Highness, on our side... only Count Bren was seriously wounded. Everyone else suffered no more than minor injuries."

Daemon nodded, but felt no joy in victory. He walked outside the maester's room and heard Berna's muffled sobs coming from within.

Pushing open the door, he saw Count Bren lying on the bed, his face pale as paper, his breathing as faint as a candle flame in the wind. Baron Kleb stood nearby, his brow deeply furrowed.

"How is he?" Daemon asked softly.

The maester shook his head and sighed. "The wound is too severely infected. It's already... beyond saving."

Count Bren seemed to hear them. He opened his eyes with difficulty, his gaze settling on Berna. "Berna..." His voice was barely a whisper. "Come here..."

Berna rushed to the bedside and clasped his father's hand. "Father, I'm here."

"I know who you want... to follow..." Count Bren panted, though his eyes had grown clearer. "He and his dragon... truly are strong... and he's worth it..." He paused and coughed several times. "But later... I won't be here... You must keep your eyes open... Don't... don't act on emotion... Protect your mother... and your younger brothers..."

Berna sobbed so hard he could not speak. He could only nod forcefully.

Count Bren turned his gaze toward Baron Kleb and suddenly began to laugh. The laughter pulled at his wound, making him grimace in pain, but he still said, "Damn it... I fought your House Crabb... my whole life... and in the end... I died fighting... for your house..." He caught his breath, his tone softening. "Old friend... for the sake of our friendship in youth... take care of my son..."

Baron Kleb's eyes reddened. He nodded. "Don't worry. I will."

Count Bren looked at Daemon one last time. There was a trace of relief in his eyes, along with envy. "Your Highness... my foolish son's... future... is in your hands... Damn it... Berna, you brat... how are you so lucky... I want to... follow someone this worthy too..."

He drew a deep breath, then suddenly raised his voice and shouted at the maester, "Maester! Give me a quick end! Holding on like this... hurts too damn much!"

The maester hesitantly looked at Daemon. Daemon closed his eyes and nodded.

The maester took a small vial of medicine from his case and fed it to Count Bren.

Soon, Count Bren's breathing steadied, and the pain on his face gradually faded. At last, at the moment the sun set and the moon rose, he closed his eyes forever.

The room fell deathly silent, with only Berna's sobs echoing through the quiet night. Daemon gently patted his shoulder and walked to the window, looking at the moon that had just risen, his heart filled with tangled emotions.

Night once again shrouded the Crab Claw Peninsula in sorrow. Beside his father's body, Berna Blount gripped his sword tightly. Beyond grief, there was now a deeper resolve in his eyes.