Chapter 77 - Rest
Samael61
Not too sore, are you?
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Hello there,
If you enjoy my stories, you can read up to 15 chapters in advance per story on my Patreon page / patreon.com/Samael61.
Robert is a badass who treats killing gods and slaying demons like just another Thursday. Did you know it was inspired by Thairon, the protagonist of my original story, Arrival : Ruptures, long before I began to write it? Comments, likes and reviews are appreciated. Here are the links for : AO3, Spacebattles, Royal Road and Webnovel.
—
King's Landing
The Red Keep
"Is it true?" Lyanna asked after barging into her husband's room.
"It is," Rhaegar said. He did not even bother to rise, gazing at the ceiling with blank eyes.
"Can't Varys be wrong?" She sat down on the bed, right next to her husband. "He has not been as reliable as before."
Rhaegar turned his head, glancing at her before continuing to look at the ceiling. "Volantis is gone. There is nothing but a gaping hole left there now."
Varys was not the sole source of word on Volantis. Every trader that had sailed through the waters of Volantis brought the same tidings.
"Oh."
"What now?" she asked. If Robert truly managed to kill a god, or whatever R'hllor was, then House Targaryen had truly lost. Who would heed their words when the Lord of Asgard could even bring the gods to their knees?
"I don't know," he muttered. What did it matter anyway?
Lyanna intertwined her fingers with her husband's. "Your son misses you, and so do I. How long are you going to be buried in your books of prophecy?"
Jaehaerys wanted his father, and she wanted her husband.
"It is not about the prophecy, Lyanna. I am seeking a way to stop Robert before it is too late." His search so far had not revealed anything beyond worthless legends.
"Have you found anything?" she asked. Rhaegar closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.
"Then come have an outing with us." It would hopefully raise his spirits, as well as her son's.
"I cannot."
She pulled her hand away, storming off. "I was a fool to ever believe you. Once your prophecy was fulfilled, you had no need of me anymore."
"Lyanna, you are being childish. If I only wanted you for the prophecy, I would have taken a lover by now."
That was the wrong assurance to give.
"I am being childish?" she asked, her nostrils wide, lips trembling. "You are more obsessed over Robert than anyone else. If he wanted to destroy us, do you think he would need a reason? By the old gods, the man is straight out of the Age of Heroes. No one would dare cross him."
Tywin Lannister had given up on punishing his youngest son. Her father and Lord Hoster did not even dare seek revenge for all the insults Robert had laid on them.
"Perhaps you should have wed him then," he said in a moment of weakness. His eyes widened as he realized what he had just said.
"Perhaps I should have," she said, her voice even. The fury that should have accompanied such a statement was absent. "At least he wouldn't ignore me like this."
"Lyanna, Lyanna, wait," he shouted, running after his wife.
—
Eddard was enjoying the sunlight in the courtyard with his wife. The smell of flowery perfumes announced the arrival of a most unwelcome visitor before he graced Eddard with his presence.
"Lord Eddard, Lady Ashara." The eunuch of the court stood before them, smiling.
"Lord Varys," he greeted the Master of Whispers. His eyes had hardened like stone.
"Have you heard the latest word on Essos?" Varys asked.
Unlike his wife's, Ned's face twitched at the mention of his former friend. "We have."
"Is it true Robert was the one responsible?" Ashara asked. The implication that he had slain a god was too much to believe, even with all he had accomplished so far.
"Two dragons were seen flying away before Volantis was lost in an enormous pillar of fire," he responded. The sight of the dragons said enough about who could be responsible for the utter destruction of a city.
Varys tilted his head up, gazing at the sky. "It is such a pity we have no one to tie us to Robert. Should he rebel, I cannot imagine the harm he would cause."
He knew it was on purpose. The eunuch wasn't the only one to throw such jabs at him. It had become quite common for people to remind him of his friendship with Robert.
"Though, perhaps the gods will smile on us soon. My birds tell me he has been wounded grievously."
Ashara's purple eyes widened, as had the grey ones of her husband. "I wouldn't hold my breath, Lord Varys. The Stranger seems unwilling to take him yet," she said.
Robert had proven to be able to overcome everything thrown at him so far.
"Provided he does not kill the Stranger either," Varys said as he left the courtyard to find another target.
—
Lys
"How is he?"
"Not good. If it was anyone else, he'd be long dead by now."
"Fucking hell."
"We are doing our best, but the infirmary is only meant to treat small wounds. There isn't even a doctor here."
"Those operators, where are they?"
"This way."
"Reach out to Tyrion Lannister. I need to speak to him."
"You may speak now."
"Tyrion, can you hear me?"
"Sandor? Where is Lord Robert? What happened?"
"He is wounded. Tell the doctor to be ready; I'll try to convince the dragons to take me to Asgard. If not, send him to Lys by ship."
"Fine. Tell me one thing. Is it actually true?"
"It is."
—
"Hey," he shouted at Obelisk. It was a dangerous action to take. The dragons rarely treated anyone except their father gently.
The beast rose to all fours, peering down at Sandor. A huff of hot breath left its nostrils.
"We need to go to Asgard. Robert needs it," he explained. He didn't even know if the dragon would understand, much less listen to him.
Obelisk titled his blue head to the left. He knelt, extending his neck. Sandor held with all the strength he could muster. The dragon threw him at the saddle. He barely had time to grasp the handles before the beast took off.
He couldn't even raise his head, lying flat on the dragon's back. Even then, the winds were deafening.
Obelisk must have understood the urgency of the situation. He did not even take any breaks, flying all the way from Lys to Asgard before the sun reached the middle of the sky.
The dragon landed in the courtyard of Valhalla. He had barely slowed down, sending violent winds that shook the trees. Doctor Korryn was already waiting with his tools and medicine.
He nodded at the dwarf, and the dragon took off as soon as the saddlebags were secured.
The flight back to Lys was just as fast. He could feel the beast's low, dragging growls, but it did not stop. Once on solid land, the dragon collapsed, asleep.
"Get those bags now," Sandor screamed at the men. He helped the doctor get off, dragging him towards where Robert lay.
Korryn reached for Robert's neck, checking his pulse while appraising his state. Bruises in the chest, abdomen, neck, and most of the body. The leg was broken, most likely in multiple places, but the healers had set it straight.
As much as they could.
Possible fractures in the ribs. The breathing was labored, but there was no sign of a pneumothorax or fluid in the lungs. Skin around the neck had been charred up, exposing the flesh beneath, and the sterilized gauzes were covered in fresh blood.
His face was almost unrecognizable. Eyes and lips were swollen, and the skin was entirely purple.
Korryn brought forward all the knowledge he had learned under Elia Martell's tutelage, as well as the experience he had earned in Asgard. He worked until sundown. Stopping the bleeding was simple. Resetting the leg bone, which had been broken in three places, in addition to pulling the ribs into place with wires, was not.
Once Robert was stabilized, he took a break to eat.
"How is he?"
"I did everything I could. The rest is up to him. The leg, though…" Korryn shook his head. "Unless there is a miracle, he won't be able to walk without a cane."
"Shit."
"There will be a scar around the neck, or rather, the skin of his neck will be a giant scar."
"But he'll live?"
"As I said, it is up to him now."
"Good."
—
He felt weightless, as if he were floating in a sea. The currents swayed his mind to and fro. It would have been a pleasant experience if it weren't for the voices.
Or rather, screams.
It started small, a child of clear Valyrian descent appearing before him, screaming. Flames consumed the boy. From his ashes, more people were reborn, consumed by the flames, which led to more and more.
The screams had quickly become constant.
He tried to plug his ears, run away, and do anything to silence the gut-wrenching wails.
It had not worked.
He did not know how long it lasted. Eventually, he was left with blissful silence. Or so he thought. He fell, gravity taking hold of him once more. The light orange purgatory became darker and darker, turning to a crimson red.
He looked around, sucking in a breath.
People were arrayed around him, and he could not see the end of it. Children, adults, the elderly, and even babies.
"You who freed our souls, go forth and claim what is yours." A million voices spoke as one, and he lurched forward.
—
When he came to be, the first thing he felt was the pain.
Everything was hurting at once.
"My lord, my lord, lay down, please," a familiar voice pleaded. He was in no hurry to refuse and laid back on the bed.
He could not see shit.
"Water," he rasped, feeling his throat burn.
"Slowly," the voice said, guiding a cup to his lips. He drank, feeling the cold spread through his lips, tongue, and throat.
"What happened?" His mind felt like he was swimming through thick mud.
"What do you remember?" the voice asked. He thought, but the only thing in his mind was the screams.
"Screams, so many of them."
There was a beat before the voice spoke again. "You were in a fight, my lord; your wounds are severe, but you will heal. You must sleep now."
"Yes, sleep," he mumbled. His mind felt heavy, and his breathing evened in seconds.
—
Korryn opened the door for Sandor. "He woke up briefly but fell asleep again. As long as he rests, he will pull through."
"Did he say anything?" he asked, glancing inside.
"That he heard screams."
"Go and sleep, doctor; I'll keep watch."
"You must rest too. You are no good as a guard if you fall asleep on your feet."
—
When he came to awareness again, he could actually see, at least through one eye. The left side of his vision was blurry.
"My lord, how do you feel?" A voice—Korryn—asked him.
He took a deep breath. "Like a truck hit me."
"I don't know what a truck is, but you are healing well," he said, checking Robert's wounds.
The memories came rushing forward to his mind now. "Right, right, I was fighting R'hllor." He almost lurched forward, but the doctor pushed him back down.
"You killed him; at least we believe so," Korryn said, explaining what had happened after the battle.
"Volantis is gone?" he asked. There were more people in that city than in King's Landing, and most were slaves.
He did not know the exact numbers, but close to a million people must have died.
"Correct. There was a pillar of fire reaching the heavens. It left nothing but a gaping hole where the city used to be." Which was terrifying, even if he was on the side of the man who had killed a god.
A vision of a flash of heat followed by rising flames played in his mind. "I think I remember something about it."
"That is good. Your memory is intact." That part was trickier than everything else to restore.
"My vision is blurry on the left side."
"I believe a hit must have damaged the nerves. For now, please eat and rest."
He could taste meat in the soup. When he asked for solid food, the doctor said he was in no condition to chew anything.
The warmth of the soup and his sated hunger sent him to sleep once more.
—
Two continents waited with bated breaths. The man that had slain a god and destroyed Volantis was not seen for weeks. Rumors rose, propped up by the word of Robert Baratheon's wounded state.
He was dead, crippled, had fallen into an eternal sleep, and had lost his memory. None knew what the truth was, not even his family.
One certain word was that Robert had been in Lys for weeks, and his special healer had been brought there.
It was seen as an opportunity to kill him. Wounded, Robert was at his weakest. The threat of the dragons disabused them of that notion. The beasts acted like guard dogs, sniffing every single man who approached the trade post.
Should the beasts dislike someone, they either had to run or would be an appetizer.
Which left them to pray that he would die. Some, mostly traders in the slavery business or the ones suffering losses to Asgard Trading Company, had taken to the streets to celebrate.
Voices to ascertain what had truly transpired in Volantis had risen. No one was brave enough to visit the site of the greatest calamity ever since the Doom of Valyria.
The Doom was the result of a mad Valyrian summoning a demon. A demon that Robert Baratheon had slain. If word was that he had also slain R'hllor, they would not question it.
The Free Cities, as a whole, were terrified. Robert's distaste for slavery was well known. Now that he had destroyed Volantis, whether by accident or on purpose, how could they hope to stop him should he wish to do the same to Myr, Lys, and the others?
Animals, and in some cases slaves, were sacrificed to the gods, all for the same purpose. If Robert did not succumb to his wounds, the future that awaited the Free Cities—except Braavos—would be dire.
At Asgard, the citizens were lost. Had their gracious and generous lord done the impossible once more? If so, where was he? He had always returned without wounds, whether against the archdemon, the kraken, or the White Walkers. Why was he in Lys and not home?
Words of his demise were met with scorn. Robert was invincible in their eyes. None would sully his prowess in battle.
Though, the idea of him slaying a god wasn't simple to accept. Foreign or not, a god was a god. If killing one was so easy, it would have been done before.
As his ancestor, Durran Godsgrief, had done, he too could have easily defied R'hllor. But he had gone beyond that. Even the wildest tales from the Age of Heroes did not compare to his deeds.
There was no choice but to wait for his return to learn the truth.
—
In the next chapter:
"What the fuck is that?" he muttered to himself. Right at the center of the hole, he could see a crimson glow now that the sun was setting.
"Get up, we are here."
"Huh? Oh, right."
"There is something glowing down there."
Robert couldn't see it from his side. He nodded, opening the window on his side. "Boys, land near the glow down in the hole."
His dragons growled.
Curious about the next chapter? Please consider supporting me on Patreon.
If you enjoy my stories, you can read up to 15 chapters in advance per story on my Patreon page / patreon.com/Samael61.
Robert is a badass who treats killing gods and slaying demons like just another Thursday. Did you know it was inspired by Thairon, the protagonist of my original story, Arrival : Ruptures, long before I began to write it? Comments, likes and reviews are appreciated. Here are the links for : AO3, Spacebattles, Royal Road and Webnovel.
—
King's Landing
The Red Keep
"Is it true?" Lyanna asked after barging into her husband's room.
"It is," Rhaegar said. He did not even bother to rise, gazing at the ceiling with blank eyes.
"Can't Varys be wrong?" She sat down on the bed, right next to her husband. "He has not been as reliable as before."
Rhaegar turned his head, glancing at her before continuing to look at the ceiling. "Volantis is gone. There is nothing but a gaping hole left there now."
Varys was not the sole source of word on Volantis. Every trader that had sailed through the waters of Volantis brought the same tidings.
"Oh."
"What now?" she asked. If Robert truly managed to kill a god, or whatever R'hllor was, then House Targaryen had truly lost. Who would heed their words when the Lord of Asgard could even bring the gods to their knees?
"I don't know," he muttered. What did it matter anyway?
Lyanna intertwined her fingers with her husband's. "Your son misses you, and so do I. How long are you going to be buried in your books of prophecy?"
Jaehaerys wanted his father, and she wanted her husband.
"It is not about the prophecy, Lyanna. I am seeking a way to stop Robert before it is too late." His search so far had not revealed anything beyond worthless legends.
"Have you found anything?" she asked. Rhaegar closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.
"Then come have an outing with us." It would hopefully raise his spirits, as well as her son's.
"I cannot."
She pulled her hand away, storming off. "I was a fool to ever believe you. Once your prophecy was fulfilled, you had no need of me anymore."
"Lyanna, you are being childish. If I only wanted you for the prophecy, I would have taken a lover by now."
That was the wrong assurance to give.
"I am being childish?" she asked, her nostrils wide, lips trembling. "You are more obsessed over Robert than anyone else. If he wanted to destroy us, do you think he would need a reason? By the old gods, the man is straight out of the Age of Heroes. No one would dare cross him."
Tywin Lannister had given up on punishing his youngest son. Her father and Lord Hoster did not even dare seek revenge for all the insults Robert had laid on them.
"Perhaps you should have wed him then," he said in a moment of weakness. His eyes widened as he realized what he had just said.
"Perhaps I should have," she said, her voice even. The fury that should have accompanied such a statement was absent. "At least he wouldn't ignore me like this."
"Lyanna, Lyanna, wait," he shouted, running after his wife.
—
Eddard was enjoying the sunlight in the courtyard with his wife. The smell of flowery perfumes announced the arrival of a most unwelcome visitor before he graced Eddard with his presence.
"Lord Eddard, Lady Ashara." The eunuch of the court stood before them, smiling.
"Lord Varys," he greeted the Master of Whispers. His eyes had hardened like stone.
"Have you heard the latest word on Essos?" Varys asked.
Unlike his wife's, Ned's face twitched at the mention of his former friend. "We have."
"Is it true Robert was the one responsible?" Ashara asked. The implication that he had slain a god was too much to believe, even with all he had accomplished so far.
"Two dragons were seen flying away before Volantis was lost in an enormous pillar of fire," he responded. The sight of the dragons said enough about who could be responsible for the utter destruction of a city.
Varys tilted his head up, gazing at the sky. "It is such a pity we have no one to tie us to Robert. Should he rebel, I cannot imagine the harm he would cause."
He knew it was on purpose. The eunuch wasn't the only one to throw such jabs at him. It had become quite common for people to remind him of his friendship with Robert.
"Though, perhaps the gods will smile on us soon. My birds tell me he has been wounded grievously."
Ashara's purple eyes widened, as had the grey ones of her husband. "I wouldn't hold my breath, Lord Varys. The Stranger seems unwilling to take him yet," she said.
Robert had proven to be able to overcome everything thrown at him so far.
"Provided he does not kill the Stranger either," Varys said as he left the courtyard to find another target.
—
Lys
"How is he?"
"Not good. If it was anyone else, he'd be long dead by now."
"Fucking hell."
"We are doing our best, but the infirmary is only meant to treat small wounds. There isn't even a doctor here."
"Those operators, where are they?"
"This way."
"Reach out to Tyrion Lannister. I need to speak to him."
"You may speak now."
"Tyrion, can you hear me?"
"Sandor? Where is Lord Robert? What happened?"
"He is wounded. Tell the doctor to be ready; I'll try to convince the dragons to take me to Asgard. If not, send him to Lys by ship."
"Fine. Tell me one thing. Is it actually true?"
"It is."
—
"Hey," he shouted at Obelisk. It was a dangerous action to take. The dragons rarely treated anyone except their father gently.
The beast rose to all fours, peering down at Sandor. A huff of hot breath left its nostrils.
"We need to go to Asgard. Robert needs it," he explained. He didn't even know if the dragon would understand, much less listen to him.
Obelisk titled his blue head to the left. He knelt, extending his neck. Sandor held with all the strength he could muster. The dragon threw him at the saddle. He barely had time to grasp the handles before the beast took off.
He couldn't even raise his head, lying flat on the dragon's back. Even then, the winds were deafening.
Obelisk must have understood the urgency of the situation. He did not even take any breaks, flying all the way from Lys to Asgard before the sun reached the middle of the sky.
The dragon landed in the courtyard of Valhalla. He had barely slowed down, sending violent winds that shook the trees. Doctor Korryn was already waiting with his tools and medicine.
He nodded at the dwarf, and the dragon took off as soon as the saddlebags were secured.
The flight back to Lys was just as fast. He could feel the beast's low, dragging growls, but it did not stop. Once on solid land, the dragon collapsed, asleep.
"Get those bags now," Sandor screamed at the men. He helped the doctor get off, dragging him towards where Robert lay.
Korryn reached for Robert's neck, checking his pulse while appraising his state. Bruises in the chest, abdomen, neck, and most of the body. The leg was broken, most likely in multiple places, but the healers had set it straight.
As much as they could.
Possible fractures in the ribs. The breathing was labored, but there was no sign of a pneumothorax or fluid in the lungs. Skin around the neck had been charred up, exposing the flesh beneath, and the sterilized gauzes were covered in fresh blood.
His face was almost unrecognizable. Eyes and lips were swollen, and the skin was entirely purple.
Korryn brought forward all the knowledge he had learned under Elia Martell's tutelage, as well as the experience he had earned in Asgard. He worked until sundown. Stopping the bleeding was simple. Resetting the leg bone, which had been broken in three places, in addition to pulling the ribs into place with wires, was not.
Once Robert was stabilized, he took a break to eat.
"How is he?"
"I did everything I could. The rest is up to him. The leg, though…" Korryn shook his head. "Unless there is a miracle, he won't be able to walk without a cane."
"Shit."
"There will be a scar around the neck, or rather, the skin of his neck will be a giant scar."
"But he'll live?"
"As I said, it is up to him now."
"Good."
—
He felt weightless, as if he were floating in a sea. The currents swayed his mind to and fro. It would have been a pleasant experience if it weren't for the voices.
Or rather, screams.
It started small, a child of clear Valyrian descent appearing before him, screaming. Flames consumed the boy. From his ashes, more people were reborn, consumed by the flames, which led to more and more.
The screams had quickly become constant.
He tried to plug his ears, run away, and do anything to silence the gut-wrenching wails.
It had not worked.
He did not know how long it lasted. Eventually, he was left with blissful silence. Or so he thought. He fell, gravity taking hold of him once more. The light orange purgatory became darker and darker, turning to a crimson red.
He looked around, sucking in a breath.
People were arrayed around him, and he could not see the end of it. Children, adults, the elderly, and even babies.
"You who freed our souls, go forth and claim what is yours." A million voices spoke as one, and he lurched forward.
—
When he came to be, the first thing he felt was the pain.
Everything was hurting at once.
"My lord, my lord, lay down, please," a familiar voice pleaded. He was in no hurry to refuse and laid back on the bed.
He could not see shit.
"Water," he rasped, feeling his throat burn.
"Slowly," the voice said, guiding a cup to his lips. He drank, feeling the cold spread through his lips, tongue, and throat.
"What happened?" His mind felt like he was swimming through thick mud.
"What do you remember?" the voice asked. He thought, but the only thing in his mind was the screams.
"Screams, so many of them."
There was a beat before the voice spoke again. "You were in a fight, my lord; your wounds are severe, but you will heal. You must sleep now."
"Yes, sleep," he mumbled. His mind felt heavy, and his breathing evened in seconds.
—
Korryn opened the door for Sandor. "He woke up briefly but fell asleep again. As long as he rests, he will pull through."
"Did he say anything?" he asked, glancing inside.
"That he heard screams."
"Go and sleep, doctor; I'll keep watch."
"You must rest too. You are no good as a guard if you fall asleep on your feet."
—
When he came to awareness again, he could actually see, at least through one eye. The left side of his vision was blurry.
"My lord, how do you feel?" A voice—Korryn—asked him.
He took a deep breath. "Like a truck hit me."
"I don't know what a truck is, but you are healing well," he said, checking Robert's wounds.
The memories came rushing forward to his mind now. "Right, right, I was fighting R'hllor." He almost lurched forward, but the doctor pushed him back down.
"You killed him; at least we believe so," Korryn said, explaining what had happened after the battle.
"Volantis is gone?" he asked. There were more people in that city than in King's Landing, and most were slaves.
He did not know the exact numbers, but close to a million people must have died.
"Correct. There was a pillar of fire reaching the heavens. It left nothing but a gaping hole where the city used to be." Which was terrifying, even if he was on the side of the man who had killed a god.
A vision of a flash of heat followed by rising flames played in his mind. "I think I remember something about it."
"That is good. Your memory is intact." That part was trickier than everything else to restore.
"My vision is blurry on the left side."
"I believe a hit must have damaged the nerves. For now, please eat and rest."
He could taste meat in the soup. When he asked for solid food, the doctor said he was in no condition to chew anything.
The warmth of the soup and his sated hunger sent him to sleep once more.
—
Two continents waited with bated breaths. The man that had slain a god and destroyed Volantis was not seen for weeks. Rumors rose, propped up by the word of Robert Baratheon's wounded state.
He was dead, crippled, had fallen into an eternal sleep, and had lost his memory. None knew what the truth was, not even his family.
One certain word was that Robert had been in Lys for weeks, and his special healer had been brought there.
It was seen as an opportunity to kill him. Wounded, Robert was at his weakest. The threat of the dragons disabused them of that notion. The beasts acted like guard dogs, sniffing every single man who approached the trade post.
Should the beasts dislike someone, they either had to run or would be an appetizer.
Which left them to pray that he would die. Some, mostly traders in the slavery business or the ones suffering losses to Asgard Trading Company, had taken to the streets to celebrate.
Voices to ascertain what had truly transpired in Volantis had risen. No one was brave enough to visit the site of the greatest calamity ever since the Doom of Valyria.
The Doom was the result of a mad Valyrian summoning a demon. A demon that Robert Baratheon had slain. If word was that he had also slain R'hllor, they would not question it.
The Free Cities, as a whole, were terrified. Robert's distaste for slavery was well known. Now that he had destroyed Volantis, whether by accident or on purpose, how could they hope to stop him should he wish to do the same to Myr, Lys, and the others?
Animals, and in some cases slaves, were sacrificed to the gods, all for the same purpose. If Robert did not succumb to his wounds, the future that awaited the Free Cities—except Braavos—would be dire.
At Asgard, the citizens were lost. Had their gracious and generous lord done the impossible once more? If so, where was he? He had always returned without wounds, whether against the archdemon, the kraken, or the White Walkers. Why was he in Lys and not home?
Words of his demise were met with scorn. Robert was invincible in their eyes. None would sully his prowess in battle.
Though, the idea of him slaying a god wasn't simple to accept. Foreign or not, a god was a god. If killing one was so easy, it would have been done before.
As his ancestor, Durran Godsgrief, had done, he too could have easily defied R'hllor. But he had gone beyond that. Even the wildest tales from the Age of Heroes did not compare to his deeds.
There was no choice but to wait for his return to learn the truth.
—
In the next chapter:
"What the fuck is that?" he muttered to himself. Right at the center of the hole, he could see a crimson glow now that the sun was setting.
"Get up, we are here."
"Huh? Oh, right."
"There is something glowing down there."
Robert couldn't see it from his side. He nodded, opening the window on his side. "Boys, land near the glow down in the hole."
His dragons growled.
Curious about the next chapter? Please consider supporting me on Patreon.