A few days later, at the Whispers on Crackclaw Point.
Cannibal's immense black silhouette swept over the peninsula. The shadow cast by his vast wings passed across green pine forests and gloomy marshes, startling a flock of unfamiliar birds into flight.
Below lay rolling hills and deep valleys. Every valley seemed to shelter a babbling stream, its waters glittering like scattered silver in the midday sun.
The air carried the scents of pine resin and earth, mingled with the distant, low rumble of waves striking the reefs.
This was Crackclaw Point-a desolate headland at the easternmost edge of Westeros, a "barren land" most nobles of the Seven Kingdoms considered beneath their notice.
But to Aegon, it was the Name Day gift he had coaxed from his father three years ago, his first true foothold outside King's Landing.
The Whispers stood atop a cliff. The ancient ruin, once the seat of House Crabb, had undergone a complete transformation in the three years since Aegon had been granted Crackclaw Point.
The castle's outer walls had been rebuilt with dragonglass. No two blocks were quite alike, but the craftsmen had fitted them together cleverly, filling the gaps with fresh mortar.
After all, his family really did own mines on Dragonstone, and they had all those dragons to provide free labor. Why let that go to waste?
The towers that had once been covered in moss were now newly restored, with the Targaryen red dragon on black flying from their tops.
Now that Aegon had returned, however, they might need another banner: the personal Targaryen variant of Aegon Targaryen, the "Golden Dragon Prince," bearing a three-headed golden dragon on black.
The wall along the cliff had also been rebuilt. The fallen rubble had been cleared away and replaced with a sturdy new wall. No