The effects of the Red Cot continued to ripple outward. In most places, it was little more than the spark for rumors—so claid it was a harbinger of doom, a star of calamity, foretelling chaos and upheaval across the world.
But in Sumrhall, the impact ran far deeper. It wasn't just that the Mage’s Association, the Silent Court, and the Church of the God of Magic had begun to fully assu their intended roles. The changes within the Black Cavern alone were enough to force Lynd to drop all other matters and spend several days straight working there alongside Malora, sorting through experintal data.
Over the past few years, the Black Cavern had run many different kinds of experints. Most had ended in outright failure, or yielded underwhelming results. Only a few had t expectations—and those were mostly related to magical potions.
Despite the failures, Lynd had never scrapped those projects. Instead, he sealed them away temporarily, fully aware that their failures likely stemd from environntal factors. Many of the experints required a magic-rich atmosphere to work, and he knew that with the Red Cot’s arrival, magic would begin to return across the world of Ice and Fire.
So once the Red Cot appeared—after calming Glory and the Cannibal, and sensing that Deltos had gone into a deep slumber—Lynd went to the Black Cavern and restarted those sealed projects. He also summoned a large force from the Silent Court to assist with the renewed experints.
And just as he had anticipated, many of the previously unresponsive experints began to show signs of activity. While still far from completion, progress was clearly being made—and it was all moving in the direction Lynd had foreseen.
However, not everything brought by the Red Cot was positive.
So of the Valyrian runes Malora and her team had previously refined for use in crafting magical weapons began behaving unpredictably. Once stable and reliable, these runes now showed signs of magical instability upon activation. In several cases, the chaos within the magic built up to a critical point and triggered explosions. One such incident killed three master craftsn skilled in rune inscription and more than a dozen advanced apprentices who had nearly completed their training. The losses were devastating.
To prevent further casualties, Lynd had no choice but to halt all rune inscription projects and take over the testing himself, examining the altered runes one by one to find solutions.
“Rune 73: effect distortion detected. Proceed with continued balancing trials and explore stabilization techniques,” Lynd concluded after finishing his final test, issuing new directives while instructing a nearby warlock assistant to record the results.
“It would go faster if we ran guided tests,” Malora suggested from the side.
“No,” Lynd rejected the idea imdiately. “Guided testing would accelerate the instability and trigger magical surges. That puts our people at risk. The data can wait. Human lives cannot. It takes far too much ti, effort, and coin to raise a skilled mage.”
Malora didn’t argue further. She turned and gave a signal to Qyburn, who had been waiting patiently nearby. Qyburn stepped forward to report his latest progress.
Among all the ongoing experints in the Black Cavern, aside from Malora’s work with potions, Qyburn’s undead warrior program had been the least affected—and, in fact, had benefited the most.
His undead soldiers had proven ideal test subjects. Many experintal magical techniques were directly applied to them, which in turn enhanced their abilities dramatically.
One example was the subject Qyburn presented now: an undead warrior who, following an experintal trial involving parasitic organisms recovered from the ruins of Valyria, had developed traits similar to a lava dragon. His heart had undergone a lava-like transformation, and his body now displayed extraordinary resistance to heat and fire—almost matching the fabled resilience of the Unburnt. Most significantly, his body and weapons could unleash extre heat with every strike, making him, in Qyburn’s words, a perfect weapon against White Walkers.
Lynd, however, remained skeptical and asked to see it for himself.
Qyburn promptly led him outside the lab to where the test subject was being held.
There, Lynd saw it: the Lava Undead Warrior. Its body was encased in skin as blackened and cracked as burnt charcoal, its chest aglow with the dull-red pulse of molten fire.
As he looked at the creature before him, one absurd yet involuntary thought crossed Lynd’s mind—he couldn’t help but think of a certain third-rate "weakling" from a past life.
“Let’s see him in combat,” Lynd said, still half-lost in thought.
Qyburn imdiately ordered the lava undead warrior to be ard, then summoned a few other undead warriors to serve as sparring opponents.
Just as Qyburn had claid, this lava-infused undead didn’t show any noticeable increase in pure combat ability. But with each strike, flas erupted from his body and clung to his weapons and armor, giving them the effect of a fla enchantnt. While this had little effect in a duel against other undead warriors, it would be devastating on a battlefield filled with wights. As Qyburn had said, the warrior was practically made to counter White Walkers—a perfect weapon against the dead.
Lynd then asked the critical question: “Is this lava undead warrior a rare exception, or do you have a reliable and safe thod for producing them in quantity?”
Qyburn thought for a mont before replying, “Two undead warriors have already completed the parasitic transformation using the sa thod. Mass production should be possible.”
“Should?” Lynd caught the uncertainty in his tone. “What’s the current success rate?”
“Roughly one in ten,” Qyburn answered, lowering his head slightly.
“That low?” Lynd glanced between Qyburn and Malora. “Keep going. Continue the experints until the success rate reaches at least one in two.”
“We’re running low on test subjects,” Qyburn added.
Lynd frowned. “Didn’t I just send you a batch not long ago?”
Qyburn looked awkward. “There was a problem with the potion we used when the Red Cot appeared. All the test subjects were poisoned.”
Lynd rubbed his forehead in frustration. “Then you’ll just have to wait. The next batch won’t arrive for another month.”
Malora, standing nearby, offered a suggestion. “There are plenty of monstrous types running loose in the Riverlands with the war going on. We could always...”
Lynd shot her a look. “I’ve already said I won’t interfere in the Seven Kingdoms’ civil war. If I send people to the Riverlands to capture test subjects now, it’s the sa as breaking my oath.”
Seeing Lynd’s stance was firm, Malora dropped the matter and simply shrugged at Qyburn.
...
After leaving Qyburn’s lab, Lynd visited several other key laboratories to check on progress. When he finally returned to the castle, Jon, Bert, and Mus were already waiting for him.
“What’s going on?” Lynd asked, noting the serious looks on all three faces. “Sothing big happen?”
Jon handed him a dossier. “Sothing major, yes. But not here—on the continent of Essos.”
Lynd took the file and scanned it, though his expression barely changed.
The report ca from Slaver’s Bay. It docunted the events that occurred on the day the Red Cot appeared. During the wedding banquet of Khal Drogo and Daenerys, an assassin took advantage of the celebration, sealed the tent entrance, and set it ablaze using wildfire—killing everyone inside.
Everyone except Daenerys the Unburnt.
She alone erged from the flas, having not only survived but hatched the three dragon eggs gifted to her by the Red Temple. She had also secured the loyalty of both the Golden Company and the Dothraki.
The report didn’t na the assassin. Speculation abounded—so even pointed to Lynd himself, as he was the only known figure in the world with access to stable wildfire, and he had used it in battle before.
But as soon as Lynd read through the details, he already knew who was behind it.
The mastermind had likely been Robert Baratheon—already dead in the blast. He had been the only one to purchase two wildfire bombs from Lynd, and Lynd had only ever sold two.
So the suspicion wasn’t unjustified.
Three lives traded for three dragons.
And once again, Lynd felt the cruel, heavy hand of fate strike him across the face.
Mus saw that Lynd had finished reading the report and imdiately asked, “My lord, Daenerys Targaryen now commands three dragons and has secured the loyalty of the Golden Company and Khal Drogo’s khalasar. Should we be doing sothing?”
“Doing what exactly?” Lynd replied calmly.
Bert offered a suggestion. “While Daenerys’ dragons are still young, maybe we—”
“There’s no need,” Lynd cut in, shaking his head. “They’re just three dragons. The Red Cot has already brought all kinds of changes to the world. More dragons will appear, along with other strange and unpredictable things. There’s no need to panic. Even if those three dragons reach full maturity, they won’t pose any threat to .”
Seeing Lynd’s composure, no one pressed the issue further.
Still, even though Lynd wasn’t particularly concerned about Daenerys having three dragons, he didn’t want her showing up in Westeros at an inopportune mont. So he instructed Jon to have their agents gather more intelligence related to Daenerys.
He then announced that he would be leaving Sumrhall for a few days, and left managent of the territory to Jon and the others. They were to ignore matters in King’s Landing and the rest of the Seven Kingdoms. Their only responsibility was to take in as many refugees from the Riverlands as possible.
With all the orders given, Lynd mounted the lava dragon Neltharion and took off from Sumrhall Castle, heading across the Narrow Sea.
He wasn’t going to Qarth to see Daenerys, nor to Ny Sar to see Nyria. His destination was the ruins of Valyria—to check on Deltos.
Since the Red Cot triggered the magical tide a few days earlier, Lynd had sensed that Deltos had fallen into a deep sleep. If Deltos had been resting sowhere safe, like Sumrhall, Lynd wouldn’t have worried. But Deltos was sleeping in the ruins of Valyria—a place teeming with strange and unknown creatures. Lynd didn’t know whether the cot’s surge of magic might affect those entities, and that uncertainty ant he had to go himself. If necessary, he would bring Deltos out.
Perhaps because of the heightened ambient magic, Neltharion’s flying speed had greatly increased. It took barely an hour to cross the sea from Sumrhall to Tyrosh.
As the lava dragon soared above the city, everyone below couldn’t help but look up. Its arrival was nothing short of awe-inspiring. Fire poured from its body, and with each powerful beat of its wings, flas scattered outward, making it appear even larger than it already was. Trails of black smoke laced with embers followed in its wake, giving the impression that it was setting the sky ablaze. It looked like a creature straight from the depths of hell.
Lynd paused in Tyrosh briefly to have Neltharion fed so molten tal. While the dragon’s flight was powered by the magic in its lava heart, it still required lava-like materials to keep that core nourished.
When news of Daenerys hatching three dragons reached Tyrosh, so locals believed it was an opportunity. If they could spark conflict between Daenerys and Lynd, they might be able to leverage the situation to pressure him and reclaim so of their lost influence.
But the mont they laid eyes on the lava dragon Lynd rode, those fantasies vanished. No one believed that a typical dragon could stand against such a monstrous creature.
What they didn’t realize was that so of their recent actions had already drawn the attention of the Blood Armored n in the castle. They had been marked, and would be dealt with when the ti was right.
Lynd didn’t linger in Tyrosh. Once Neltharion was fed, they continued on.
He flew along the Orange Shore, passed over Volantis, crossed the Bay of Valyria, and followed the coast until he entered the ruins themselves.
The mont he crossed into Valyria, Lynd noticed sothing different. The thick clouds of volcanic ash and toxic smoke that once choked the skies had thinned noticeably. In so areas, sunlight now pierced through, casting light onto the ruined land below.
More importantly, the chaotic magic that once surged wildly through the region had beco far more stable. It was nothing like the overwhelming instability Lynd had encountered on his first visit.
Now, for instance, he could channel so of the ambient magic into the rune of the Naless King, converting it into usable power. On his last trip, that had been impossible.
It had been months since his last visit to Valyria, so Lynd wasn’t sure whether this change was caused by the Red Cot or by Deltos, who had been drawing in magic from the surrounding area.
After locking onto Deltos’ position, Lynd flew straight to him. When he saw the massive creature sprawled atop a giant slab of black stone, the tension on his face eased—if only slightly.
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