The summit of the Kingspyre Tower was a jagged wound in the sky. The stone floor was uneven, cracked by dragonfire and tilted at a sickening angle. Rhaegar walked carefully, the violet light of his spear illuminating graffiti scratched into the walls by centuries of doomed garrisons.
From this height, the God's Eye stretched to the horizon, a vast mirror reflecting the stars. But up here, the grandeur of Harrenhal felt hollow. It was a fortress built for giants, now inhabited only by ghosts and bats. No ordinary lord could fill this space. The emptiness itself was a heavy, suffocating presence, amplifying the malice of the curse.
Rhaegar knelt by the wall where he had found the inscription.
Goodbye, my love. My Dragon Prince.
Alys Rivers. The Witch Queen of Harrenhal.
She was one of the great enigmas of the Dance of the Dragons. A wet nurse who claimed to be a bastard of House Strong, she had become the bedmate of Prince Aemond One-Eye. Rumors of her age ranged from forty to four hundred. Some said she was the daughter of Lord Lyonel Strong; others, like the fool Mushroom, claimed she was much older, having nursed not just Lyonel's children but his father before him.
She had survived the Battle Above the God's Eye, watching her lover plunge to his death while she ruled Harrenhal as a sorceress-queen. Armies sent to dislodge her had failed, broken by winter and sickness. Then, she had simply vanished, leaving the castle to rot until House Lothston claimed it.
Rhaegar was fascinated by her. Her unnatural youth suggested blood magic. Her ability to hold a cursed castle suggested power.
He ran his hand over the stone. The curse he had battled earlier—the Crimson Eye—was ancient, born of Harren's hubris and the blood of thousands. Alys Rivers hadn't created it, but she had lived within it.
She didn't fight the curse, Rhaegar realized. She rode it.
He used the tip of the [True Dragon] spear to probe the masonry. The violet fire hissed as it touched a loose block near the inscription.
There was a hollow sound.
Rhaegar worked the stone loose. Behind it lay a small, dark niche carved into the heart of the tower.
Inside sat a small stone box.
As he reached for it, his danger sense flared.
Snap!
The box exploded outward as he touched it, not with shrapnel, but with a lash of crimson energy. Tendrils of cursed magic, like the tentacles of a blood-red octopus, whipped around his hand, trying to burrow into his flesh.
"Still biting, Alys?" Rhaegar gritted his teeth.
He channeled his [Blue Flame]. The healing fire surged from his palm, clashing with the red rot. The curse hissed and evaporated, unable to withstand the purifying heat of a true Dragonlord.
The trap was old, a lingering ward left by the Witch Queen to protect her secrets. For a normal man, it would have been a death sentence—a wasting sickness that would rot the flesh from the bones. For Rhaegar, it was a nuisance.
He opened the now-cleansed box. Inside lay only two items: a splinter of gray wood and a ruby necklace.
Rhaegar picked up the wood first. It was ancient, bleached white like bone, but as he turned it, he saw a faint, shimmering carving on its surface.
It was a rune.
[System Notification: Rune Discovered.]
His heart hammered. A rune was worth more than a kingdom of gold.
He focused his [Blood of Fire] on the wood. The carving flared with a vibrant, emerald light.
A vision washed over him.
He saw a weirwood tree, ancient and vast, its leaves a canopy of eternal green. A black-haired girl, weeping and ragged, knelt at its roots. Children mocked her—"Bastard," "Witch," "No-one."
Her tears fell onto the roots, where a natural rune had formed in the bark. As she touched it, emerald light flowed into her, washing away the dirt and the pain. Her skin smoothed. Her eyes brightened.
The girl did not age. The tree withered in her place.
[Item Acquired: The 'Tree' Rune (Vitality)]
[Rank: Ancient]
[Effect: Grants eternal youth and high-speed regeneration. Draws life from the environment to sustain the user. Symbolizes 'Life' and 'Growth'.]
"So that was her secret," Rhaegar whispered. "She stole the life of the land to keep her own."
Green sparks floated from the wood and absorbed into his skin. He felt a rush of energy, washing away the fatigue of the week's training.
Now he possessed four runes: [Shield] (Defense), [Sword] (Attack), [Hammer] (Force), and [Tree] (Life).
He pocketed the wood and picked up the necklace.
The ruby was large, cut in a heavy, archaic style. It pulsed with a faint, residual warmth. It looked remarkably like the ruby that had once sat in Aemond One-Eye's eye socket.
He held it up to the moonlight and breathed a wisp of fire onto it.
[System Notification: Item Analyzed.]
[Ability Unlocked: Fire Sight (Limited Scrying)]
[Description: See through the flames. Distance and clarity depend on the user's magical strength and the size of the fire.]
"Fire Sight," Rhaegar murmured.
So this was how Aemond had found Daemon Targaryen. Alys hadn't just guessed; she had seen him in the flames.
He tested it. He focused on the ruby, whispering the name, "Ser Barristan."
The interior of the gem swirled. Suddenly, Rhaegar saw a clear image: Ser Barristan standing at the bottom of the spiral staircase, his hand resting on his sword hilt, looking anxiously up at the darkness.
It worked. It was a telescope made of magic.
But as he held the connection, Rhaegar felt a sharp tug in his chest. He looked down at a lock of his silver hair falling over his shoulder.
For a second, the silver turned stark white.
The cost is life.
Fire Sight burned the user's own vitality as fuel. Alys Rivers had countered this cost with the [Tree Rune], draining others to pay the price.
Rhaegar cut the connection. He activated his newly acquired [Tree Rune]. Emerald light surged through him, and the white hair turned back to shimmering silver-gold instantly.
He laughed softly. The combination was perfect. The Tree paid for the Fire.
"Thank you, Alys," he said to the empty air.
He looked out over the God's Eye one last time. Somewhere out there, perhaps she was still watching. Or perhaps she was finally just a ghost.
Either way, her legacy now belonged to the Dragon.
Rhaegar turned and began the descent. He had come to Harrenhal for soldiers. He was leaving with a weapon that could see the enemy before they even drew their swords.
The Stepstones would not know what hit them.