PREVIEW

... pped through my hair as Viserion soared above the Flat Lands, her golden scales catching the sunlight in dazzling patterns.

Beside us, Drogon's massive black form cut through the sky, his crimson wings extended like blood-soaked banners.

I inhaled the air, savoring the rush of coolness filling my lungs.

This—this was power. This was what it meant to be Targaryen. To ride the winds, to command fire made flesh, to look down upon the world with the eyes of a god.

Wit ...

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