"Are you alright, Your Highness?" Jorah asked with concern.
The Dragon Dream was once again a hazy white light. Daenerys said, her voice tinged with irritation, "No! Now I can't see anything at all."
"See what?" Jorah asked, bewildered.
"What did you see?" Euron asked eagerly.
Daenerys looked around, puzzled. "How long was I gone?"
"You were staring blankly at the candle for a quarter of an hour. I was worried—"
Euron pulled Jorah aside and leaned close to Daenerys. "I told him not to worry, but he insisted on waking you from your trance. Mother of Dragons, tell us quickly—did you see something different?"
Regaining her composure, Daenerys roughly understood the situation.
"Through the candle's white light, I saw the starry sky, then the Dothraki Sea. Then I felt a hard punch on my shoulder, and I woke up," she said, looking bewildered.
"I didn't punch you! I just gently touched you," Jorah protested.
"To her, that felt like a punch," Euron glared at him, his tone sharp. "The Mother of Dragons is no ordinary person. Through the glass candle, her sight can pierce mountains, oceans, and plains, reaching tens of thousands of miles. She might even traverse time, glimpse the future, penetrate minds to see thoughts and dreams."
Daenerys's lips twitched slightly as she deliberately adopted a skeptical tone. "That sounds a bit exaggerated. I think it's more like a fantasy."
"It's true," Euron said gravely. "The ancient Valyrian Empire had only twenty-odd Dragonlord families. How did they rule such a vast world? Entirely through glass candles. Through them, their wizards could communicate across half the world."
"If they could see the future, why were all the Valyrian Dragonlords wiped out in the Great Cataclysm?" Jorah scoffed.
"Who is she?" Euron pointed at Daenerys, retorting. "Why did the Targaryen family sell all their assets and lead their entire clan away on the eve of the Great Cataclysm?"
Daenerys carefully recalled the fairy tales Viserys had told her predecessor. "They say Daenys the Virgin was a 'dreamwalker.' The insights she gained in her dreams weren't from glass candles."
"The principle is similar," Euron said, waving his hand and sighing. "Glass candles are just tools. With a spoon, you can eat. Without a spoon, you can still shove food into your mouth with your hands."
"What fuels the glass candles?" Daenerys asked. "And why is their light so peculiar?"
"It's made of obsidian, solid through and through. Look closely—there are no pipes connected to any fuel source."
Euron directly pulled the twisted glass rod from the stone pedestal, shook it left and right, but no oil or any other substance dripped out.
*Shit, a perpetual motion machine?*
*Has the second law of thermodynamics been broken?*
A cascade of question marks flashed across Daenerys's mind.
"It must be drawing Magic Power from the very roots of the world. The dragons have returned!" Zaro, who had been silent until now, smacked his lips and said with a nonchalant expression, "I'm not one to be easily surprised, but the glass candle hasn't been lit in over a hundred years. That was right after those Targaryen fools started the 'Dance of the Dragons'—a bunch of madmen who shattered the very foundation of their dynasty."
The Dance of the Dragons had been the most brutal and bloody civil war in the middle of the Targaryen dynasty.
The Targaryen siblings, Aegon II and Rhaenyra, had led their respective factions in a decade-long war for the Iron Throne, riding their dragons and clashing in fiery battles.
Almost all the Targaryens and their dragons had perished in the conflict. Within a few years, the great dragons had become extinct.
Daenerys didn't comment on the Dance of the Dragons. Instead, she asked the warlock, "Can you see the future through the glass candle?"
"No, my talent isn't strong enough. All I can do is make it burn," Euron said dejectedly.
Having fully recognized the limits of his own talent, he had grown less obsessed with mysterious powers.
"What other magic do you know?" Daenerys asked.
"Curses," Euron replied, his voice cold. As he spoke, the air seemed to drop several degrees.
"Do you know Katie Marazovan?" he asked.
"No," Daenerys shook her head.
"Katie? The wife of Massos, the administrator of Midtown West?" Jorah stared in horror at the blue-lipped warlock, his vigilance soaring. "She's become a laughingstock in Qarth. A few days ago, she went mad in the crowded streets and stripped herself completely naked. They say even the softest Eastern silks torture her like knives and biting insects."
"That's correct. I cursed her," Euron nodded. "It was merely a minor punishment—all she had to do was undress to end it."
"Katie mocked his wizard robes for being old-fashioned, ugly, and not nearly grand enough," Zaro explained to Daenerys.
"How can I avoid being harmed by mysterious powers?" Daenerys asked, revealing the primary purpose of her visit.
"Mother of Dragons, what price are you willing to pay?" Euron smiled, a smile as shrewd as a merchant's. "Every step a warlock takes on the Wizard's Way comes at a tremendous cost."
Zaro gave Daenerys a meaningful look, signaling her to present the gold and silver as agreed.
"Aggo," she commanded the Bloodrider.
Aggo unfastened a soft leather pouch from his waist. It was as large as a warm water bottle, bulging and heavy, and he placed it with a *thud* on the stone pedestal where the glass candle had been.
Euron glanced at the pouch, estimating its contents, and smiled in satisfaction. "Blood is the most crucial medium for spellcasting, and demons from the shadows are the most potent offensive force.
Pay close attention to these two elements—blood and shadow—and you can evade over eighty percent of witchcraft attacks.
I'm not certain about the most powerful wizards, but generally, the methods of mystics are no more effective than a sword.
A warrior's blade is more direct and effective. A warlock might toil in the shadows for hours and not even scratch an ordinary person.
In the end, witchcraft, magic, and ritual arts are all applications of wisdom. There's no fundamental difference between them and a blacksmith's forging skills or a weaver's textile techniques. Using them to harm others is merely a perverted path."
"That's it?" Daenerys was displeased.
She had paid 200 Gold Dragon coins for his "consulting" fee, and this "expert" was proving to be rather... low-key.
"I've heard that R'hllor's priests can conceive Shadow Children, using shadows to kill unseen," she said.
"That..." Euron hesitated, his expression uncertain. "I've also heard of similar blood magic, but it's only found in ancient legends. They say it requires centuries of magical cultivation to perform. But how could humans live for centuries? Unless—"
"Unless what?" Daenerys asked urgently.
"It's just a rumor," Euron said reluctantly, his voice tinged with doubt and fear. "Legend has it that ancient warlocks froze time itself and hid within the Hall of Immortality, achieving eternal life. They became Immortals."
"The legend of the Immortals?" Zaro scoffed, shaking his head. "Even the Hall of Immortality has crumbled into the Hall of Dust. Where are these Immortals now? The entire tale is nothing but a trick by the warlocks, designed to make people believe they wield immortal power and thus inspire awe."
"Do you doubt the power of warlocks?" Euron asked coldly.
"No, don't misunderstand me!" Zaro quickly waved his hands, offering flattery. "My presence here, and the fact that I've brought such esteemed guests to this place, already proves my reverence for the warlocks' power. But the Immortals... Euron, as a warlock yourself, have you ever seen them?"
Euron lowered his gaze and murmured, "Only the High Sorcerer Paya..."
"No one who entered the Hall of Dust ever returned," Zaro said, shaking his head. "Except for Paya, no one can prove the existence of Immortals."
"Aside from the legendary Immortals, have any other wizards lived for centuries?" Daenerys returned to her earlier question.
"No," Euron replied with certainty. "The power of magic has been severed for over a century, only recently beginning to recover. If anyone truly remained immortal during the era of magic's depletion, they must have been a God."
*That makes sense, but what about Melisandre?*
*It seems this warlock who charges for answers is just a hack.*
"What are Gods?" Daenerys asked again.
"Gods are just Gods. What else could they be?" Euron looked bewildered.
Daenerys rolled her eyes, completely disappointed in him. His wisdom was far from enough to answer the questions burning in her heart about the world.
"Thank you for your hospitality, Lord Warlock," Daenerys said. "It's getting late. We won't disturb your rest."
She signaled Jorah and the others to leave.
The night was deep. Under the dim glow of the yellowed horse lanterns, the street seemed unusually peaceful and serene. Apart from the *clop-clop* of hooves and the *rumble* of wagon wheels, the only sound was the faint din of the distant night market.
Leaving the upscale residential district west of the city, the streets gradually narrowed, flanked by towering stone and timber buildings with tightly shuttered windows. They pressed close together like lovers, plunging the space into increasing darkness and confinement.
The moon, like a mischievous child, followed the convoy, peeking through the gaps in the chimneys to observe the procession in the hazy night.
"Huh? What's that?" Rakharo suddenly drew his curved saber and pointed to a narrow alley to the left, shrouded in deep shadow.
Daenerys leaned forward to look and gasped. "Is that... a turtle? A glowing, flying turtle? Could it be a Turtle Demon?"
A turtle the size of a rice cooker hovered two meters off the ground, its body emitting a faint, ethereal dark blue light. It darted through the alley at the speed of a galloping horse, an utterly conspicuous and bizarre sight.
"No need to panic. That's a Phantom Turtle, a wizard's pet. Like ravens, they're used for sending messages." Zaro glanced at it, then casually lay back down.
Daenerys craned her neck, watching in disbelief as the Phantom Turtle passed through a solid stone wall as if it were air. "A pet? It doesn't even have wings. How can it fly? And how can it pass through walls?"
Zaro shrugged nonchalantly. "A spirit summoned by witchcraft? I don't know much about it."
"Because of the Magic Tide, wizards have begun to regain their legendary powers."
"Lately, people have gotten used to seeing Phantom Turtles delivering messages between the windowless houses along Wizard's Way."
"Wizard's Way is just down the street. Not every warlock can afford a detached house like Euron's."
"Ah, I grew up hearing stories about Phantom Turtles. I never thought I'd actually see one."
"Is that really so dramatic?" Daenerys didn't know what to say.
"How far can a Phantom Turtle travel? Can it reach Westeros?" Jorah asked curiously.
As a native of this fantasy world, he had been taught by the Maesters that there was no god and no magic. But after witnessing it himself, he readily accepted these magical phenomena.
"They can only carry messages over short distances. Otherwise, why would warlocks keep ravens?"
-----------------------
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