The fierce wind howled in his ears. Lynn stood on the dragon's back, his robes flapping loudly.
The Other behind him was as quiet as a stone.
Lynn took something out of his embrace.
It was a mask.
It was as thin as a cicada's wing, yet it emitted an unsettlingly vibrant aura.
Petyr Baelish.
This was an item Lynn had crafted a long time ago.
Now, it was time for it to be put to good use.
Lynn slowly placed the mask onto the Other's face.
The moment the mask touched the Other's icy skin, the Other's eyes, burning with blue flames, abruptly narrowed!
An invisible stream of energy surged frantically from the mask into its mind.
That was the life of Petyr Baelish.
From an insignificant foster son of House Tully to the master of coin in King's Landing.
From his humble yet twisted adoration for Catelyn to the shocking conspiracy of trying to incite the War of Five Kings.
Every lie he told, every heart he manipulated, the deepest ambitions and desires hidden within him... all the memories, all the emotions, all the ways of thinking, were forcibly poured into this body composed of death and ice.
The Other's body began to undergo subtle changes.
Its previously stiff posture became relaxed and elegant.
In those eyes that previously only emitted coldness, the blue flames gradually receded, replaced by a cunning, profound light, characteristic of a human.
It even subconsciously adjusted the collar of the robe that wasn't there, the corners of its mouth turning up slightly to reveal a perfect smile—one that felt like a warm spring breeze yet sent shivers down the spine.
"My Lord," it spoke.
The voice belonged to Petyr Baelish's unique, slightly hoarse, and magnetic tone.
"Your loyal servant is ready to follow your command at any time."
Lynn nodded in satisfaction.
Excellent.
Now, the actor was in place... The Eyrie was the most bizarre and most impregnable fortress on the continent of Westeros.
It was unlike the vastness of Winterfell, the prosperity of King's Landing, or the wealth of Casterly Rock.
Its only characteristic was its height!
So high it seemed suspended at the peak of the world, high enough to make any mortal army turn back in despair!
For thousands of years, countless storms and wars swept beneath it, yet no enemy had ever truly touched it.
It was just like the House Arryn's motto—"As High as Honor."
Standing alone and proud above the sea of clouds, looking down upon all living beings.
Tonight, the moonlight was bright, and the stars shimmered brilliantly.
A young guard stationed at the ramparts of the Sky Castle yawned listlessly.
He tightened the cloak embroidered with the sky-blue Falcon and Crescent Moon sigil, calculating how much longer until his shift ended so he could sneak a pot of hot wine from the kitchen to warm himself.
The war between The Vale and The North felt too distant to him.
He only knew that Lady Lysa had gone to Riverrun, and Robert Arryn had safely arrived at The Eyrie.
And at The Bloody Gate, Ser Nestor Royce was returning, preparing to teach those presumptuous Northmen a lesson they would never forget.
Everything was under control.
Just then, the corner of his eye seemed to catch a strange shadow.
The shadow was rising from the sea of clouds below.
At first, it was just a small dot, but it was growing larger and clearer at an incredible speed.
"Wha... what is that?"
The guard rubbed his eyes, leaned over the rampart, and strained to look down.
It was neither cloud nor bird.
It was a silhouette so massive it was capable of obscuring the moonlight.
A pair of enormous fleshy wings spanning a hundred feet when spread, a long body covered in hideous bone spurs, and... one, two, three... three huge and terrifying heads!
"A dragon... it's a dragon!!!"
The guard's mind went blank, and the sheer terror made him emit a scream that was not quite human.
"Enemy attack—! Enemy attack—!"
The shrill alarm bell instantly echoed throughout The Eyrie, thoroughly waking the Sky Castle from its peaceful slumber!
Countless torches were lit, and disheveled soldiers and servants rushed out of their rooms, their faces filled with panic and confusion.
"What's going on?"
"Why is the alarm ringing?"
"By The Seven, have the Wildlings attacked?"
The acting Castellan of The Eyrie, Ser Marq Arryn, a gray-haired collateral relative of the House Arryn past fifty, rushed up the high tower, surrounded by his guards.
When he clearly saw the behemoth circling and approaching The Eyrie, he felt his heart nearly stop beating.
"It's... Lynn's dragon..."
Ser Marq's voice was trembling.
He had heard of this dragon.
But hearing about it was still just hearing about it.
When this magical creature truly appeared before you, gazing at you with its three pairs of differently colored vertical pupils.
That kind of fear, originating from the depths of the soul, was enough to make any warrior's knees buckle!
Winter did not immediately launch an attack.
It merely circled The Eyrie, flying in a posture that was almost mocking.
The shadow cast by its massive body swept slowly over every corner of the castle, like the hand of Death.
Precisely spreading panic and despair into the heart of every person.
"Hold steady! Everyone hold steady!"
Ser Marq drew the longsword from his waist, forcibly suppressing the fear in his heart.
"We are the people of the House Arryn! Descendants of the Falcon!"
"Our castle has never been breached! And it won't be today!"
"dragon pincers! Hurry! Bring all the dragon pincers up here!"
His roar made the panicked soldiers feel as if they had found their backbone.
They frantically pushed the giant ballistas out of the armory and onto the city walls.
These were weapons of war specifically forged by Lysa to counter Lynn's dragon calamity.
Each one required ten men just to operate it minimally.
The iron spears they fired were as thick as lances, capable of piercing the hardest dragon scales!
This was their final reliance!
And their source of confidence.
"Aim! Aim at that dragon!"
"Wait until it gets a little closer!"
"Fire—!"
As Ser Marq gave the command, dozens of dragon pincers simultaneously emitted a harsh whirring sound!
"Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh—!"
Dozens of thick iron spears, carrying a piercing shriek that tore through the air, shot towards Winter in the sky!
That momentum was enough to strike fear into any giant beast!
However, just as the iron rain was about to reach Winter.
A figure on the dragon's back slowly raised a hand.
"Buzz—"
A visible, deep blue cold current erupted violently, centered on Winter's body!
"Crack! Crack!"
The crisp sounds of freezing rang out everywhere!
A crystalline armor, several feet thick and shimmering with a deep blue luster, materialized on Winter's surface!
The armor perfectly fit every inch of Winter's scales, sharp and distinct, as if carved from the purest diamond, radiating absolute zero cold!
"Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!"
Dozens of iron spears capable of piercing city walls slammed violently into the layer of ice crystal armor!
There was no penetration as imagined, and no spraying of dragon blood.
The iron spears shattered as if they had struck an iceberg that had stood for ten thousand years.
They were instantly pulverized by the massive recoil upon contact!
Countless metal fragments mixed with ice shards exploded in the air, then fell weakly into the bottomless abyss below.
Completely unscathed!
"No... impossible..."
Ser Marq stared blankly at the scene, the color instantly draining from his face.
Their proud dragon pincers, their last hope, couldn't even break through the enemy's defense?
That was not an animal.
A man was standing on the dragon's back!
It was that man who protected the dragon using unbelievable means!
And this was only the beginning of the nightmare.
On the dragon's back, Lynn looked at The Vale soldiers below who had fallen into a stupor, then gently patted Winter's neck.
"Give them a little lesson."
"Roar—!"
The three dragon heads roared up at the sky simultaneously!
The Others inside Winter's mouth walked out one after another, hanging their bodies near Winter's jaws to prevent accidental injury from Winter.
The head on the left side suddenly opened its massive maw.
What it spewed was not blazing fire, but a pale, solidified Dragon Breath!
Where the Dragon Breath passed, the air seemed to freeze!
One dragon pincer, along with the ten soldiers surrounding it, were instantly solidified the moment they touched the Dragon Breath!
The terror on their faces and the actions of their hands were all eternally frozen in that moment, turning them into lifelike ice sculptures that radiated the aura of death!
The head on the right followed immediately.
Scorching Dragon Breath shot out from deep within its throat!
"Boom!"
The Dragon Breath accurately struck another section of the city wall.
The solid rock instantly melted under the extreme heat, turning into scorching magma!
That dragon pincer, along with everything around it, was instantly wiped away, leaving behind a terrifying gap with edges still flowing with crimson magma!
And the most frightening of all was the middle head.
It neither breathed fire nor spewed ice.
It simply opened its mouth, and dazzling silver-white electric arcs frantically leaped and converged within it!
"Crackle—!"
A dazzling bolt of lightning, as thick as a water barrel, tore through the night sky and struck down with world-destroying power!
The lightning illuminated every horrified face within The Eyrie.
The third ballista position, along with that section of the wall and all the defenders upon it, were instantly reduced to charcoal and dust by the lightning strike!
Frost, blazing fire, thunder.
Three of the most primal and terrifying forces of nature were, in this moment, entirely transformed into death!
In just one exchange.
The Eyrie's proud defense system was utterly and devastatingly destroyed!
Everyone inside The Eyrie stared up blankly at the demon-god-like giant dragon in the sky, and the god-like figure standing on its back.
Resistance?
With what could they resist?
With Lysa's mouth?
Should they use flesh and blood to fight against frost, blazing fire, and thunder?
Their courage and their honor were crushed into dust in this moment.
Winter slowly descended.
Its massive body finally landed in the Moon Door Garden of The Eyrie, a place symbolizing honor and history.
Countless rare flowers and plants were either torn apart by the violent airflow or scorched by the scorching heat the moment the great dragon landed.
Lynn leaped leisurely from the dragon's back, and the Other behind him followed suit.
He glanced around at the soldiers and nobles kneeling and trembling on the ground, his eyes devoid of pity.
"Ser Marq Arryn,"
"Lady Lysa is absent. Are you in charge here now?"
Ser Marq's body trembled violently.
He wanted to stand up, wanting to speak some grand words to defend the House Arryn's honor, but his legs felt like they were filled with lead and refused to obey him.
"It seems so."
Lynn stopped looking at him, turned around, and slowly raised his hand toward the Other who had been following him.
He pulled down the hood covering the Other's head.
A face familiar to all The Vale nobles appeared beneath the torchlight.
The face was slightly gaunt, sporting a meticulously groomed goatee.
A pair of gray-green eyes always flickered with a shrewd yet inscrutable light.
Petyr Baelish.
"Littlefinger?!"
Gasps erupted among the crowd.
Ser Marq also suddenly raised his head, staring at the face in disbelief.
Wasn't Petyr Baelish supposed to be dead?
How could he appear here with Lynn?
This was bloody seeing a ghost!
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