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Logar stepped back from Grey Ghost's corpse and dropped to the ground, drenched in sweat and blood.
Every second of that hunt had been walked on a razor's edge. One mistake and they would have been torn apart.
Alyn and the rest collapsed beside him, faces pale with exhaustion and the dizzy relief of still being alive.
Staring at the massive dragon carcass, they could hardly believe it. A handful of men had just killed a wild dragon.
"My lord… we did it," Alyn's voice was hoarse.
Logar nodded, but there was no joy in his eyes—only bone-deep weariness and a heavy weight in his chest.
"Wrap it up," he said, forcing himself to stand. "Cover the body in sailcloth and move it to the crater near the Cannibal's lair before dawn."
He knew killing Grey Ghost was only the first step.
Next came the true gamble: facing a beast several times larger and infinitely more vicious—the king of the wild dragons.
Alyn and the men jumped into action without hesitation. These were the same hard bastards who had followed Logar through blood and fire in the Stepstones. They were used to his impossible orders.
They hacked the chains free, wrapped the corpse in thick sailcloth, then used levers and ropes to drag the enormous body toward Dragonmont.
The night was pitch black. Logar allowed no delays. They pushed on through the dark, hauling the dead dragon up the mountain.
Thanks to the scouting trip with Baela, he already knew the rough location of the Cannibal's lair. It still took every ounce of strength they had left to reach the spot.
"Stop here and rest," Logar ordered, breathing hard as they reached the edge of a steep cliff. "From this point, I go alone."
"My lord, that's suicide! Let me come with you!"
Only now did Alyn fully understand the plan: Logar meant to offer the fresh corpse of Grey Ghost as a gift to the Cannibal.
Shock hit him like a hammer, but he still begged.
In Alyn's eyes, Logar was more than a lord—he was the man who had pulled a bastard like him upward, a living legend.
He couldn't bear to watch Logar walk alone into that monster's den.
"It's fine," Logar said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Some roads a man has to walk by himself. You've come far enough."
He turned without another word, grabbed the rope tied to Grey Ghost's corpse, and dragged it alone into the black mouth of the cave.
Alyn and the others watched his back disappear into the darkness. In the end they could only sink to their knees, powerless.
ROAR!
The moment Logar stepped inside, a deafening bellow slammed into him, nearly bursting his eardrums.
Deep in the cavern, cold wind howled. The air stank of dragon musk, sulfur, and the sour rot of old bones. Darkness pressed against him like wet cloth, making every breath feel thick.
He didn't retreat. He kept dragging the corpse forward, one slow step at a time.
The Cannibal's lair was enormous—big enough for several dragons to move freely.
Jagged stalactites hung from the ceiling. The walls were blackened by years of flame. The floor was carpeted with layers of bones, some animal, some human.
In the deepest shadows, two sickly green lights slowly opened—dragon eyes.
Logar clenched his jaw and kept moving.
Soon he could see it clearly.
A monstrous black dragon, body so huge it seemed to fill the cavern. Scales like cold-forged iron. Wings folded tight. Every joint and spike radiated pure savagery.
It lounged lazily on a bed of warm rock, but the moment it lifted its gaze the entire cave seemed to freeze.
The Cannibal had noticed him.
Those emotionless green eyes locked onto Logar with cold contempt. Its wings twitched open slightly, radiating open murder.
"Cannibal," Logar forced the words out in perfect High Valyrian, voice steady despite the terror clawing at his spine. "I bring you a gift. I wish to become your rider."
He took another step, dragging the corpse behind him.
"I am Logar, of the blood of the Valyrian dragonlords. I swear to you: if you accept me, I will let you rule the skies. From Westeros to the Shadow Lands of Asshai, every realm will bow beneath your wings. Ten thousand voices will sing your name!"
The ancient oath echoed through the cavern like a challenge.
The Cannibal didn't react. Not even a flicker in those cold eyes.
It simply stared, then slowly raised its monstrous head and opened its jaws.
BOOM.
A raging torrent of dragonflame exploded toward him.
Logar dove behind a boulder just in time. The superheated air scorched his back.
"Damn it!"
He had risked everything—hunting Grey Ghost in secret. If this failed and the queen found out, she would never forgive him.
And if word of him and Princess Baela ever leaked… the punishment would be far worse.
The Cannibal let out a low, contemptuous growl. It rose, massive body unfolding, and began stalking toward the rock.
It had gone too long without fresh human meat. It wasn't going to be polite.
Just as it opened its mouth for a second blast, a swift dragon shadow burst into the cave entrance.
"Logar!"
The shadow dove straight down. Logar's heart stopped.
It was Baela—and Moondancer.
"How did you get here?! Get out!" Logar roared, eyes wide with horror.
He had walked into this death trap ready to die alone. But if Baela died because of him, he would never forgive himself.
Baela leaped from Moondancer's back and threw herself into his arms, eyes red, voice cracking.
"I knew it. I knew it had to be you."
She clung to his waist, trembling. "The man I chose has a heart bigger than the Seven Kingdoms. How could he ever settle for anything less than the king of wild dragons?"
She looked up at him, tears shining. "The castle guards reported to Ser Robert that someone killed the wild dragon Grey Ghost on the coast and dragged the corpse up Dragonmont. Ser Robert was about to tell Mother. I was terrified for you, so I flew here on Moondancer the second I heard."
"Leave! Now!" Logar shoved her toward Moondancer.
The Cannibal had already gathered flame again. Its jaws glowed bright orange.
ROAR!
The savage king of wild dragons fixed its icy stare on the two tiny humans and slowly opened its maw.