Chapter 288: The Dragonbinder
(Volume IV: I Came, I Saw, I Conquered)
The Valyrian Peninsula was once the homeland of the dragonlords.
Over four centuries ago, a cataclysm swept through the peninsula, destroying the mighty Valyrian Freehold.
The land fragmented and sank, boiling seas engulfed the volcanoes and rocky outcrops, creating a smoldering expanse now known as the Smoking Sea.
It is said that demons haunt these waters, that the curse which destroyed the Valyrian empire lingers in the air. Any mortal who enters is said to meet one inevitable end: death.
For over four hundred years, countless brave adventurers have ventured into the Smoking Sea to explore the ruins of Valyria—none returned. Among them were King Tommen II Lannister and his famed Golden Fleet, as well as a grand armada from Volantis that sought to reclaim the Freehold's strongholds. All were lost.
During the reign of King Jaehaerys I, Princess Aerea Targaryen once rode Balerion the Black Dread into Valyria's ruins. She returned in a wretched state, dying soon after. Even the invincible Black Dread was grievously injured and passed away not long after.
Since then, Valyria has become a taboo for Westeros. The Iron Throne forbids its subjects from traveling there, and any ship returning from Valyria is banned from docking in Westerosi ports.
But today, a red-sailed ship entered these forbidden waters.
Its black sails bore the golden sigil of a kraken, and its prow featured a black iron maiden figurehead—long-legged, narrow-waisted, with a heaving chest and pearl eyes but no mouth.
The ship's name was carved in jagged letters on its side: Silence.
This was the warship of Euron "Crow's Eye" Greyjoy, brother of King Balon Greyjoy of the Iron Islands.
"Hard to port," Euron ordered.
With his left eye concealed by a patch, his exposed blue right eye reflected the black waters and fiery sky.
Molten lava surged from undersea volcanoes, making the Smoking Sea churn like a boiling cauldron. Smoke shrouded the air, and the carcasses of dead fish and shrimp floated on the surface.
The crew trembled, unnerved by the hellish sights. None dared defy the captain, for every one of them lacked tongues to speak.
On the Silence, only the captain could speak.
The ship narrowly avoided a swirling vortex. Its sharp prow sliced through the waves, reaching calmer waters.
Though no longer scalding, the black sea remained ominously warm, hiding a pervasive sense of danger beneath its deceptive calm.
The crew saw no living creatures in the water—not even their own reflections. The sea seemed to devour light and, perhaps, souls.
Thud!
The ship struck a submerged reef, and steaming seawater poured in through the hull.
The tongueless crew screeched and scrambled to seal the breach.
Euron, however, ignored them. He leapt into the shallow waters and waded forward, waist-deep.
He was the "Crow's Eye," and a crow's gift was the ability to seek out death.
In this apocalyptic wasteland, death was omnipresent, destruction omnipotent. It was a playground for the Crow's Eye.
A guiding force, intangible and unseen, pulled Euron onward.
Ahead lay a bizarre island, its jagged shape like a charred black finger thrusting up from the sea.
The fiery clouds parted, revealing a faint dawn. Pale light painted the dark sea with shades of eerie purple and gold.
The crew, paralyzed by dread, screamed incoherently, desperate to summon their captain back.
Euron did not listen. His solitary figure soon vanished into the billowing mists.
Time passed.
When Euron reappeared, he was stark naked, his bronze skin gleaming over his muscular frame.
In his hands, he carried a massive horn.
The horn was striped with red gold and black iron, its smooth surface reflecting twisted images. Strange magical runes etched into the metal seemed to burn with an unsettling power.
Euron caressed the horn, his grin growing maniacal.
He raised the horn and blew.
Woooooooh!
The sound was piercing, sharp as a blade. The deafening wail tore through the air, a shrill keening that drove the crew to clutch their ears in agony.
Even so, the sound bored into their skulls, as if igniting their very bones.
Woooooooh!
The sea erupted into chaos. Boiling waves churned violently, and the fiery sky twisted into a nightmarish vortex.
Euron's face contorted in pain. Blood streamed from his eyes, but he kept blowing.
His muscles spasmed, his bare chest glistening with sweat. A red, bloodied bird seemed to emerge from his skin, flapping its wings as if to take flight.
Woooooooh!
The hellish sound persisted, as if it were a voice from the depths of the underworld.
Red-gold lines spread from the horn across Euron's body, searing into his flesh and emitting blinding white light.
The crew thrashed and howled, some plunging into the water, but no one could hear their cries over the infernal blaring.
The horn's wail filled the world.
Just as the crew feared it would never cease, the sound abruptly stopped.
A profound silence fell, as though all noise had been erased.
The crew began to vomit blood, their stomachs ejecting food and bile in violent spasms.
When they recovered enough to look up, they saw Euron sprawled on a rock, motionless.
Smoke curled from his mouth, and his throat and chest were grotesquely burned, blistered, and bleeding. His lips and nostrils oozed blood, and the bird on his chest seemed to weep.
Was the Crow's Eye dead?
The crew stared in stunned disbelief.
Had the cursed horn claimed his life?
Tongueless sailors gestured frantically, debating whether to retrieve the captain's body and what to do with the monstrous horn.
But then, Euron's eyes opened.
He rose from the water, standing tall.
The patch over his left eye had fallen away, revealing an eye never seen before.
It glowed red-gold, radiating an unsettling aura that none dared meet.
His right eye now shimmered with a pure, icy blue light, flickering like fire.
The crew instinctively stepped back, awed and terrified by the presence emanating from their captain.
Euron paid no attention to them. He inhaled deeply, drawing in the smoky, scalding air.
The burns on his body began to heal before their eyes. The bleeding bird on his chest faded, as did the red-gold lines etched into his skin.
He picked up the enormous horn, running his fingers over the ancient runes carved into its surface.
"I am the Dragonbinder," Euron intoned, his voice reverent. "No mortal can sound me and live. Blood for fire, fire for blood."
The red glow in his eyes intensified, his grin widening into madness.
"Blood for fire. Fire for blood!"
"I am the Dragonbinder!"
He raised the horn high, proclaiming to the world:
"What is dead may never die!"
(End of Chapter)