92: Chapter 92 Dragon Bone

The main hall of Storms End was built from massive granite. The walls were thick, the windows narrow, making it dim even during the day.

Torches burned on the walls, their black pine-resin smoke drifting toward the vaulted ceiling.

Stannis sat on a high-backed stone chair. At his waist hung that longsword emitting a faint glow, the runes on the blade shining with an orange-yellow light in the gloom—not the light of flame, but the light of the sword itself.

His face was more gaunt than it had been last time on Dragonstone.

His cheekbones were prominent, his eye sockets slightly sunken, and the muscles at his jawline were taut. The rations for his eight hundred remnant troops, the news of Dragonstone's fall, Melisandre's departure—each had carved a new mark on his face. There were more fine lines at the corners of his eyes, and his lips were chapped.

Drogon was led into the main hall by guards. He maintained a merchant-like slight bow, but his gaze swept across every part of the hall.

His Dragon Heritage Perception had its precision halved in full human form, but he could still capture the signals of two dragon relics. One came from Stannis's waist—lightbringer; the signal was real, but it was covered by a layer of magical light, like a mask.

The other came from deeper beneath the main hall, weaker than lightbringer, but purer. Older. It was bone.

"What has Dragonstone sent you to do?" Stannis's voice was like iron. Every word was hammered out hard.

"Two things. First—the non-aggression pact remains in effect. The Mother of Dragons has no plans to attack Storms End. She hopes Lord Stannis will likewise abide by it. Second—"

Drogon took a shard of dragonglass produced from the veins of Dragonstone from his bosom and placed it on the stone table in the main hall. The shard emitted a faint, deep blue glow in the dim hall.

"That sword at your waist. lightbringer. It is a true sword—the blade is genuine valyrian steel. But the light on the sword is fake.

It was something Lady Melisandre applied with magic back then, a light-illusion spell mixed with a bit of dragonglass powder. She admits this now and has entrusted me to convey her apologies to you.

At the same time—she suggests that if the Others march south, you can take this sword to the battlefield. The blade is genuine valyrian steel; it can cut the Others even without the fake light."

Stannis's face went livid. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the sword hilt. His joints cracked—he was gripping it too tightly, the cartilage of his knuckles protesting. But he did not fly into a rage.

He took a full thirty seconds to digest this statement, then slowly unbuckled lightbringer from his waist and placed it on the table. The blade struck the stone table with a dull metallic clang.

"She says it is fake. She has been with me for ten years, and now she admits it." He let out a cold laugh. There was no warmth in the laughter, only disappointment ground into powder by time. "So she has found the true dragon—you. You are that dragon."

Drogon did not deny it. His deep brown circular pupils met Stannis's cold gray eyes for a moment. Then he tilted his head slightly—his hip muscles twitched habitually. He wanted to flick his tail. But in full human form, there was no tail to flick. He forcibly suppressed this impulse.

"I am. But I am not here today to attack Storms End. I am here to recover a relic—beneath your main hall. Not lightbringer. It is something else, something older. You may have never known it was beneath your feet."

Stannis did not refuse. He ordered two soldiers to dig up a loose piece of granite flooring at the back of the main hall—it had been accidentally cracked by soldiers changing shifts weeks ago and had never been repaired.

Beneath the floor appeared a very narrow stone staircase, wide enough for only one person to sidle down. The stone steps were slick with moisture.

Drogon took an oil lamp and led the way down. Stannis followed behind, hand on a sword hilt—not lightbringer, but an ordinary longsword. An iron sword. lightbringer had been left on the table.

At the end of the stone steps was a tiny basement. It was only two paces square. The four walls were natural granite, with no man-made chisel marks. In the center of the basement stood a naturally formed granite pillar, with a fossil about three feet long, shaped like a dragon's rib, embedded inside the column. The fossil was dark gray, its surface densely covered with extremely fine golden veins—not attachments, but the patterns of the bone itself. Those veins reflected the light of the oil lamp slightly, as if something were still flowing within the vessels.

System pop-up. White background with gold text. The border of the pop-up was inlaid with an extremely fine golden halo.

"Detected 'Storm Ancestor Dragon Bone'—a rib fossil of an Ancestor Dragon from the First Era of the Sea of Myriad Cosmos."

"This Ancestor Dragon is named 'Storm Devourer'; according to records of the Dragon Senate, it is the direct ancestor of the first generation Time-Space Ancestral Dragon. The residual bloodline energy in the fossil is approximately a 20% boost to the host's current bloodline, which can be increased to approximately 2400 points."

"It is recommended to absorb it immediately. However, absorbing this fossil will trigger a cost: the residual will of the Storm Ancestor Dragon will briefly awaken, and the host must endure an 'Ancestor Dragon Will Trial' on the consciousness level. If the trial is passed, bloodline increases by 400; if failed, bloodline increases by 100, but the instinct for dragon destruction will permanently increase by 10%."

"A trial. What does residual will mean? It means there is still a wisp of the old dragon's thoughts left in this fossil."

"To be precise, it is a small segment of instinctive will carved into the bone by the Storm Ancestor Dragon before it died—'Prove you are qualified to inherit my power.' The content of the trial cannot be predicted; it is usually related to storms, time-space, or devouring.

The Storm Ancestor Dragon once devoured a star in the First Era. The trial may be related to this. The host's current bloodline is 2000, which is vastly different from the Storm Ancestor Dragon's original bloodline—estimated at over 8000. The probability of passing the trial is approximately 62%. It is not recommended to absorb it immediately here—Storms End is not a safe environment; Stannis is upstairs, and there are eight hundred garrison troops pressing down from above."

"Then I will take it back to Dragonstone to absorb."

He reached out his hand and carefully peeled the fossil from the granite pillar. The moment the fossil detached from the column, it vibrated slightly. A very low, faint whistling sound echoed in the air—woo—like someone blowing a horn from very far away. Then it fell silent.