Tyrion raised his eyes to Oberyn Martell's casually smiling face. His voice was quiet, yet it carried clearly through the stagnant air of the square, reaching every ear.
"May I ask your name, my lord from Dorne?"
"Why has Prince Aegon Targaryen not come in person?"
Oberyn slowly lifted his eyelids, his smile deepening. There seemed to be mockery in it, amusement, and the deadly stillness before a storm.
Just as his lips began to move...
An enormous shadow abruptly swallowed the entire sky, blotting out the sun.
The heavens seemed to turn upside down, and all light vanished.
A savage hurricane descended from above. As though deliberately aimed, it smashed through the stretch of wall bristling with crimson-and-gold Lannister banners, crushing everything in its path.
Stone blocks shattered, flagpoles snapped, and banners bearing the lion sigil tore apart beneath the pressure of the wind.
In a single instant, the entire stretch of wall and every symbol of House Lannister upon it were reduced to dust.
The earth jolted violently.
The dais and square hummed with the impact, the paving stones trembling.
Cries erupted from the watching crowd. Some lost their footing and stumbled to the ground. Panic was about to surge like a wave when the stern black-armored soldiers barred the crowd with their spears and shouted them into submission.
The unrest was brutally snuffed out almost as soon as it began.
Cersei sat upon her throne, her fingertips still holding an engraved silver goblet.
The violent tremor sent wine sloshing from the cup. Scarlet stains splattered her sumptuous dark-red gown, glaring and humiliating.
She gave an instinctive gasp and sprang to her feet.
But in the next instant, her gaze locked upon the Giant Shadow outside the city, unable to shift away.
Pale gold, vast as a mountain.