53: Chapter 53 The Net Closes

The secret passage was the same one as before. When Illyse White Mane came last time, she was alone, and rubble blocked the entrance. Now, the rubble had been cleared, and a torch was placed every ten steps along the passage walls—she had ordered it. She called it a regularized patrol route.

Drogon followed behind Illyse White Mane in his human form. His hands were tucked into his trench coat pockets, and his tail dragged along the ground behind him. After a couple of steps, he noticed the floor was covered in muddy water, so he lifted his tail and coiled it around his waist. It was a very awkward posture.

Illyse White Mane glanced back at him. She didn't say anything, but the curve of her lips widened by a fraction of a millimeter.

The secret passage was narrow at first and then widened. After walking about two hundred steps, the view suddenly opened up into a massive underground space. The dome was so high the ceiling was invisible. At the bottom was the underground river, about a hundred steps wide, its grayish-blue water glowing faintly in the darkness.

Thin Ice Scum floated on the surface of the water, each piece reflecting the light of the Main Rune.

The Main Rune was still flashing in cycles of seven. Blue light pulsed outward from a stone platform in the center of the dark river. With every flash, the stone walls of the entire underground space were dyed a layer of eerie blue.

“The light of the rune wasn't this strong when I came last time,” Illyse White Mane whispered.

Drogon didn't speak. His vertical pupils stared at the Main Rune. His Dragon Perception amplified the rune's energy fluctuations within his consciousness.

“It's accelerating. Before, it was a cycle of seven with a twelve-second interval. Now, the interval is eight seconds. It has sensed that the Sub-runes were destroyed and is rushing to send out signals.”

“Can we just burn it?”

“Yes. But burning it directly will release all the energy stored in the rune. It would cause a localized explosion. The Ice Element shockwave would affect the entire underground river. Since the river connects to the city's waterways, the explosion could cause water vein tremors—or even a collapse.”

Illyse White Mane frowned.

“Then what should we do?”

Drogon extended his right hand, fingers splayed. In his human form, his nails were still black, but a thin layer of eerie blue halo had appeared on his palm—a manifestation of the Ice Element energy from his Elemental Sac leaking into his human form.

“I'll absorb its energy first. When it's too weak to maintain its structure, I'll burn the remains.”

He walked toward the dark river, stepping into the water. The grayish-blue water reached his calves. It was freezing, far colder than normal water. It was near freezing point, yet Ice Scum still floated on the surface. The water was below freezing but hadn't solidified—a distortion of Abyss magic.

Illyse White Mane watched him from behind, her right hand resting on the hilt of her blade.

Drogon reached the stone platform. The Main Rune was right there, its carvings deep, with every groove filled with solidified ice crystals. A fist-sized ice crystal core was embedded in the center of the rune, with eerie blue liquid light flowing inside.

That was the power source of the Main Rune. It wasn't an ordinary ice crystal, but a specialized energy core from the Abyss Demon Realm.

He reached out his right hand and pressed his fingers against the center of the rune. The moment his fingers touched the ice crystal core, an eerie blue light erupted from his palm—the Elemental Sac was actively absorbing. Ice Element energy surged through his fingers, wrist, and arm into the Elemental Sac beneath his left wing's scales. The pulse of the rune began to slow. The seven-cycle rhythm dropped to six, then five, then four.

The ice crystal core shrank from the size of a fist to the size of an egg, then to the size of a fingernail.

The last trace of eerie blue light was drained. The ice crystal core turned into a puddle of clear water.

Drogon let go. A layer of white mist rose from his palm—he had absorbed too much Ice Element, and the blood vessels under his scales glowed with a faint blue light. The base of his left wing throbbed with pain. The Elemental Sac's fill rate had reached ninety-eight percent, nearly overflowing.

“Now—burn it.”

He opened his mouth. While he couldn't breathe Dragon Breath in human form, a tiny, eerie blue flame escaped his throat. The flame landed on the Main Rune, and the residual ice crystal fragments in the grooves instantly vaporized. A scorch mark was burned into the stone platform, perfectly matching the shape of Drogon's palm.

The Main Rune was extinguished.

The underground river suddenly went quiet. It wasn't just silent; it was the kind of silence where all sound vanished—the flow of the water, the cracking of the Ice Scum, even the dripping from the stone walls. The existence of the Main Rune itself had been distorting the environment. With its destruction, the distortion vanished.

Then the river began to flow again. The Ice Scum melted, and the grayish-blue water slowly returned to its normal color.

“Got it. Let's talk once we're up.”

By the time Drogon returned from the underground river, dawn was approaching.

He went straight to Missandei's office. Illyse White Mane had mentioned that Missandei had been researching since evening, only stopping for a single cup of goat's milk. Her exact words were—“That little bookworm has burrowed into the scrolls again. She's even more obsessed than last time.”

The office door was open. The candle was nearly burnt down to the base of the holder. Missandei was slumped over the desk, her head buried in a pile of scrolls. Her hair was a mess, and she still clutched a quill in her hand, though the ink on the tip had dried.

Drogon tapped the doorframe with his tail.

Missandei bolted upright. Her amber eyes were bloodshot but shone with startling intensity.

“Lord Drogon! You've come at the perfect time! I found it—the full name of that runic formation! It’s not an Intrusion Warning Array! It’s the ‘Old God of Ice: Chain Summoning Array’! While the Main Rune sends out a signal, it also stores energy synchronously through the Sub-runes. Once fully charged—all twelve Sub-runes across the city will detonate simultaneously, tearing open a temporary portal to the lower planes of the Abyss Demon Realm in the center of Meereen!”

Drogon's tail froze.

“...A portal. Not to blow up the city, but to open a door.”

“Yes! To open a door! To allow the armies of the Abyss Demon Realm to invade directly from inside Meereen! The array master doesn't need to break down the walls—he just needs to open a door in the city! Ice Scum's death wasn't a failed assassination; it was a stalling tactic!”

“His mission was to draw your attention so the array master could complete the formation! If you hadn't absorbed the energy first and had burned the Main Rune directly—the energy release would have prematurely triggered the charge in all Sub-runes. If the twelve Sub-runes detonated together, the portal would still have opened!”

Drogon fell silent. The dark gold light in his vertical pupils swirled rapidly.

“So. The Abyss never expected Ice Scum to kill me. Ice Scum was a throwaway, a pawn. The real plan was the portal. And that old man—the array master who self-destructed in front of me—his mission was also complete. The array was already charging. He was only there to set the final Sub-rune.”

Missandei swallowed and nodded.

“According to my calculations of the charging progress—if we hadn't discovered and sabotaged it early, the array would have been completed in about four days. Four days from now would have been the day Meereen fell. Not from the outside, but from within.”

Drogon closed his eyes. His tail flicked slowly behind him.

Then he opened them. Dark gold and eerie blue light flashed alternately in his vertical pupils.

“From now on, every member of the Great Masters' families who surrendered must be screened. Every person who has had contact with them must also be investigated. The Abyss has woven a whole net in Meereen. That self-destructing old man was just one knot in the net. We will find the entire net, no matter how long it takes.”

He turned and walked out of the office. His tail paused at the doorway.

“Missandei.”

“Yes!”

“Starting today, your intelligence department will be expanded. You pick the people. The gold comes from my vault. Buy whatever information you need. I don't care if you hire warlocks from Qarth or maesters from The Citadel—root out every single pawn of the Abyss Demon Realm in Slavers Bay.”

Missandei's eyes lit up so brightly they almost seemed to burst. She gripped her quill and scribbled several lines in her notebook. The tip of the pen tore through the paper, but she didn't stop.

“As you command, Lord Drogon!”

Illyse White Mane stood at the door to Drogon's room. In her hand, she clutched the dragon glass shard that had been quenched in Ice Element. The shard's eerie blue glow had dimmed—not because the energy was exhausted, but because she had used it all up.

Over the past few days, she had used this shard to ice the tear on her hand, the bruises on her calves, and the hematoma on her shoulder from the falling rubble. With each use, the shard's color grew lighter.

Now, only a final wisp of eerie blue light remained.

She raised her hand to knock, but it hung in mid-air. She didn't knock.

The door opened on its own.

Drogon stood inside. In human form, he had changed into a clean black trench coat. His hair was damp—he had just finished a bath. His tail was arched behind him, the tip still dripping water.

“You've been standing at the door for forty-five seconds. Is it that hard to knock?”

Illyse White Mane held out the dragon glass shard.

“Returning this. I've used it up.”

Drogon looked down at the shard. Its edges were worn. There was a faint bloodstain on the surface—hers. The tear on her hand had scabbed over, but it had repeatedly reopened and scabbed again, rubbing against the shard multiple times.

“If it's used up, just throw it away. Why give it back to me?”

“It’s not mine. It’s yours.”

Drogon didn't take it.

“I have hundreds of dragon glass shards like this. I don't miss this one. Keep it. Use it as a cushion for your hand next time you're moving rocks.”

Illyse White Mane's fingers tightened slightly, but she didn't withdraw her hand.

“...On the plains, dragon glass is something that can be used as a betrothal gift. You know that, right?”

Drogon's tail slipped on a wet patch.

“...I didn't know.”

“Now you do.”

Silence. The only sound in the hallway was his tail rubbing against the wet floor.

Drogon reached out. Not to take the dragon glass, but to push her hand back.

“Then consider it a gift from me. A betrothal gift isn't taken back. Keep it. If that brand of yours starts burning again, use it to ice the back of your neck.”

Illyse White Mane looked down at the nearly lightless dragon glass shard in her hand. After a long silence, she tucked it back into the leather pouch at her waist and turned to walk away.

At the corner of the hallway, she paused. She didn't look back.

“Tomorrow I'm interrogating Moraz. If you're free—you can come and listen.”

Drogon leaned against the doorframe, his tail slowly drawing circles behind him.

“What time?”

“Sunrise.”

“Fine.”

Illyse White Mane vanished around the corner, her footsteps gradually fading.

Drogon looked down at the water stains from his tail and gave it a light flick. Droplets splashed onto the wall.

“...Betrothal gifts. Just how many things have I accidentally given away as betrothal gifts?”

A system pop-up appeared: “Suggestion: The host should not calculate this. The results may exceed expectations.”

“Were you just snickering?”

“The system does not possess a snickering function.”

“Bullshit. I heard it.”

By the time Drogon returned to the royal bedchamber, the horizon was starting to turn pale. A thin morning mist floated over the waters of Slavers Bay, blurring the line between sea and sky into a grayish-white.

He pushed open the door. Daenerys Targaryen was still asleep, lying on her side with her silver-gold hair spread across the pillow. The blanket was pulled up to her shoulder, but her left arm was outside, the black silk scarf still tied around her wrist. The edges of the scarf were fraying, but he hadn't replaced it. She had said there was no need.

He sat at the foot of the bed. He didn't climb in—not because he didn't want to, but because he had just come from the underground river and was still carrying its chill. He didn't want to freeze her.

He simply extended his tail. The tip slipped under the edge of the blanket and rested against her calf. He didn't wrap it; he just let it rest there.

Daenerys's body shifted slightly. Her breathing rhythm changed. Then, without opening her eyes, she reached back and felt for his hand resting by the bed. She grasped it.

“Is the net pulled in?”

“It is. All twelve Sub-runes are destroyed, and the Main Rune is extinguished. The array master committed suicide. There's one survivor; Illyse White Mane is interrogating him tomorrow.”

“Are you hurt?”

“No. I just absorbed too much Ice Element; I feel a bit bloated.”

She gave a soft hum, her fingers tracing a circle over the back of his hand as if checking for wounds. Finding none, she let go.

“...The emerald is poking me.”

Drogon looked down. The teardrop-shaped emerald was resting against her collarbone. The candlelight reflected off the internal fractures, refracting into a tiny blue-green spot of light.

“Then I'll take it back—”

“No. I said it's poking me, I didn't say it was uncomfortable. It pokes just enough so I know it's still there while I'm sleeping.”

Drogon didn't say anything. The tip of his tail gently brushed against her calf.

Outside the window, the first ray of morning light shot out from the sea level. The mist began to dissipate.