Capítulo 3: Wings of Midnight
Wings of Midnight
The night was still, a thick fog rolling over Dragonstone's jagged shores, where the waves crashed rhythmically against the dark rocks. Under the cover of moonlight, ten-year-old Annatar slipped through the shadows, his curiosity getting the better of him. He often came to the shores of Dragonstone when sleep wouldn't come, when the quiet halls of the castle grew too oppressive, and he felt that unyielding need to breathe in the cool, open air.
Tonight was different. A strange hum filled the air, a pull that felt like the blood of Old Valyria was stirring within him, urging him to go further. He found himself making his way to a secluded cove at the edge of the island, surrounded by towering cliffs and darkened sands, the faint light of the moon casting an otherworldly glow across the waves.
As he reached the shoreline, Annatar suddenly froze. From the mist, a shape emerged—a vast, gleaming figure stepping delicately onto the beach, her wings folded gracefully at her sides. Annatar's heart skipped a beat. A dragon. And not just any dragon—he recognized the silvery-white scales immediately from the tales he had heard. This was Silverwing, the beloved mount of Queen Alysanne, who was said to be one of the gentlest dragons, yet still mighty enough to have crossed the skies of Westeros countless times.
For a moment, Annatar was torn between awe and terror. He took a tentative step back, his eyes locked onto Silverwing's, and in that instant, the dragon's gleaming violet gaze caught his. A low rumble rose in her chest, like a warning, and Annatar's breath hitched. He thought perhaps this was the end, that he would be burned to ash by dawn.
But then, to his surprise, Silverwing lowered her head and nudged him, her warm breath washing over him like a gust of summer wind. She didn't bare her teeth or snarl; instead, she emitted a soft, rumbling purr, a sound Annatar had only ever heard from her in stories. He stared at her, wide-eyed, barely daring to breathe.
"Are you..." Annatar stammered, unsure if he should speak. He reached out a trembling hand and gently touched her silvery scales, feeling a smoothness that was warm beneath his fingers. A strange sense of calm came over him as he continued to stroke her. Silverwing's eyes half-closed in pleasure, leaning slightly into his touch. She wasn't just tolerating him—she was inviting him to come closer.
Annatar felt a thrill race through him, a strange connection that pulsed between them like an invisible cord. The dragon felt it, too, he could tell. It was as though he had known her for years, as if their souls had brushed across each other in some ancient, unseen bond. With growing confidence, he scratched gently under her jaw, eliciting another deep purr from Silverwing. She tilted her head back, revealing her full grandeur against the moonlight, her scales shimmering in waves of silver.
"Would... would you let me fly with you?" Annatar whispered, almost disbelieving as the words left his lips.
Silverwing crouched low, folding her wings to her sides, as if she understood his request. Heart pounding, Annatar climbed up her side, finding footholds in the curves of her scales. Once he was situated between the powerful ridges of her shoulders, Silverwing rose slowly, adjusting her stance as if to ensure he was secure. Then, with one mighty beat of her wings, they were in the air, and the shore disappeared beneath them.
Annatar let out a startled gasp, gripping tightly as they soared up into the night sky. Dragonstone stretched out below them, the lights from the castle barely visible through the mist, which parted like smoke as Silverwing cleaved through it. The cool wind whipped against Annatar's face, and he felt a rush of exhilaration unlike anything he'd ever known. He could see the ocean stretching endlessly around them, a vast, dark mirror reflecting the stars above.
They flew higher and higher, Silverwing's massive wings gliding effortlessly through the air, carrying him up into a world where only dragons belonged. He felt weightless, a part of the sky itself, and all his fears and doubts melted away with the warmth of Silverwing beneath him. The moonlight shone down, casting them both in silvery light as they circled above Dragonstone.
For the first time, Annatar felt utterly free. There were no walls here, no expectations, only the endless sky and the rhythm of Silverwing's wings carrying him wherever he wished to go. He whooped with joy, a laugh bursting from him as they soared higher. He imagined himself as a Targaryen prince, riding proudly beside the kings and queens of old, his laughter echoing against the stars.
Silverwing flew gracefully, her movements smooth and powerful, each beat of her wings steady and sure. Annatar could feel the immense strength within her, yet she moved with a gentleness that seemed meant just for him. This was his first taste of the life he dreamed of, a life of boundless possibility, a life where he could be more than just a boy on Dragonstone.
They circled back towards the island as dawn began to break, casting soft pink and gold hues across the horizon. As they descended, Annatar felt a pang of longing, wishing he could remain aloft with Silverwing forever. But as they landed gently on the shore, he knew he would remember this night for the rest of his life. Silverwing nudged him once more before lifting her head to the sky, her eyes gleaming as if she, too, had felt the bond that had formed between them.
"Thank you," he murmured, placing a hand on her neck one last time. He could sense her understanding, a deep wisdom in her gaze as she watched him. She had chosen him, just as he had chosen her, and he knew in his heart that this was only the beginning of their journey together.
As Silverwing vanished back into the mist, Annatar stood there on the shore, the thrill of the flight still coursing through his veins. He looked out over the water, feeling as though he had touched something ancient and powerful, something that would change the course of his life forever.
Back in Dragonstone's halls, he returned with a quiet sense of awe, a secret he carried within him like a flickering flame. The dragonriders of old had flown just as he had tonight, with nothing but the sky before them, and now he was one of them. In his heart, he knew he would fly again with Silverwing, for he was no longer merely a boy on Dragonstone—he was something more, and his destiny lay not just in the halls of men, but in the skies where dragons soared.
Load failed, please RETRY
Estado de energía semanal
-- Ranking de
Poder 
-- Piedra de
Poder