The flames in the furnace had gone out completely.
Jeor Mormont stood rooted to the spot, the muscles in his face twitching slightly as he stared at the strange creature inside the furnace.
That was not the dragon of legend.
The dragons of legend were graceful and deadly, rulers of the skies.
But this thing before him... looked more like a cruel joke, a deformed creation abandoned by the gods.
It had four legs, but the front two were noticeably thinner and shorter, unable to support its body as powerfully as its hind legs. They looked more like a pair of arms capable of grasping things.
Most unsettling of all were the three heads on its neck.
Each looked different from the others.
The middle head was the largest, with molten-gold amber eyes that held an innate majesty and curiosity.
The left head was slightly smaller, its deep blue eyes like the glaciers of the far north, filled with wariness and cold indifference.
The right head was the smallest, but its eyes were blood red, holding nothing but pure, undisguised savagery and hunger.
Lynn knelt on the ground, his body still weak.
The sight of Maester Aemon just before he faded away was seared into his mind.
It had been a complete sacrifice, with nothing held back.
With his life, his soul, and the last honor of a Targaryen, he had kindled the Dragon Egg that had lain dormant for a hundred years.
"Grrr..."
The little three-headed monster gave a soft, satisfied rumble from its middle head.
It lowered that head and happily gnawed on the broken eggshell with its serrated teeth, making crisp crunching sounds.
Its other two heads remained raised and alert, one staring coldly at Mormont while the other hissed threats into the surrounding darkness.
They seemed