Chapter 46: The Gods' Scheme

It was midday.

Sunlight poured over the main keep of House Targaryen, draping the ancient stone walls in a soft golden glow.

Aegon stirred slowly from the bed. Warm, brilliant sunlight streamed through the tower window, its dazzling brightness like an unseen hand pulling him out of slumber.

He blinked drowsily and opened his eyes. A tingling numbness spread across his body, and a dull ache throbbed in his lower back.

Flashes of the wild indulgence from the previous night surfaced in his mind.

Something's not right... Daenys usually pulled him into her dreams to help him recover. She was always the one who woke first, then gently roused him. But today, she still lay beside him, fast asleep.

Aegon glanced over, confused.

The thin sheet covering Daenys had slipped slightly with his movement, revealing the elegant lines of her collarbone and the pale skin beneath, still bearing faint traces of their passion—soft red marks like plum blossoms blooming on snow.

He raised a hand and gently patted her hip—smack, smack—the sound sharp and distinct in the quiet room.

"Daenys, what's going on?" he called softly.

But she didn't move, didn't even stir. It was as if she had fallen into a deep, impenetrable sleep, unmoved by his voice.

A jolt of unease struck Aegon's heart. Something's wrong. Was she attacked?

Daenys possessed formidable spiritual strength—far beyond that of ordinary people. There was no way she'd sleep this deeply unless something was very, very wrong.

He quickly ran through the possibilities. Who would have the motive to target the wife of a Dragonlord? And more importantly, who could overpower Daenys in the dream world, where she held the gift of the Dream Lord?

The answer, once formed, was self-evident.

Aegon muttered the name coldly: "Pan."

At that moment—knock knock—

A gentle knock came at the bedroom door.

"Your Highness, apologies for disturbing your rest," came the familiar voice of the steward, Farlen. "A group of priests claiming to be from the Church of the Night are here to see you."

The Church of the Night... The Lion of Night god? Aegon frowned. Could they be connected to what happened to Daenys?

He called back, "Tell them I'll be in the hall shortly."

"Yes, Your Highness," Farlen replied and began to turn away.

"Wait, Farlen," Aegon called after him.

"Is there something else, my prince?" Farlen stopped in his tracks.

Aegon turned back to his desk, picked up a sheet of parchment, and wrote Aenar's name at the top. He scribbled quickly: If no confirmation letter arrives from me within one month, take one of my two children and hide them in the North of Westeros.

He folded the letter, opened the door, and handed it to Farlen with a grave expression.

"Go to the basement. Take all twenty-two life seeds from the growth tanks and deliver them to Dragonstone along with this letter. You must go in person—and be extremely careful."

Farlen took the letter, stunned, his voice trembling. "Now, my prince?"

"Right now. Immediately. Take every precaution—leave discreetly, stay hidden, especially when boarding the ship."

"Yes, Your Highness!" Farlen bowed deeply, then turned and rushed away without hesitation.

Aegon watched him go, not moving until his silhouette disappeared completely. Then he summoned a maid and Illya, instructing Illya to take good care of the still-sleeping Daenys.

With the maid's help, he bathed, dressed, and prepared himself before stepping out of the room.

...

In the main hall of the keep, a group of black-robed priests stood in silence. Their long robes followed the style of holy vestments, and their hoods covered their faces completely, making them appear like wraiths lingering in the dim hall.

At the center of the group stood a long, jet-black wooden box.

Aegon entered from the left, face stern, his massive greatsword Bloodflame in hand. He climbed the steps and seated himself on the high seat, resting one hand on the armrest while the other gripped the sword. His cold gaze locked onto the priests.

The tension in the room was suffocating. Even the air seemed to still.

His fingers lightly traced the Valyrian steel hilt, as if ready to rise and strike at any moment.

The lead priest took a step forward. From beneath his dark hood came a low, somber voice:

"Prince Dragonlord, this crystal ice was prepared by the god-blessed Pan for your lady. It will preserve her body for a thousand years without decay."

"You're bringing death upon yourself!"

Aegon erupted in fury. He leapt from the dais, Bloodflame raised high. The blade flared into a sweeping arc of frost-bright light, slicing down toward the priest.

In that instant, a crimson figure appeared out of thin air. His robes twisted like living flame, coiling around the descending blade.

Aegon snarled through clenched teeth, "Pan! Was this your doing—why my wife won't wake?!"

Pan's expression revealed nothing. "It was an accident. Daenys wandered into my dream and became trapped."

"Let her out."

Aegon yanked his sword free of the crimson robes and growled, "Or your grand plan ends here. You can forget it. Dream on."

Pan paused, then slowly said, "Preserve her physical body first. Once the plan is complete, her soul will return."

"I want her soul now," Aegon said icily.

He raised the sword again, ready to strike.

Pan stepped forward quickly, placing a hand on Aegon's arm. "I'll give her to you—but you must swear to carry out the grand plan."

The two stood face to face, breath mingling. Aegon stared into Pan's eyes, then slowly nodded.

Pan sighed, defeated. "Bring Daenys over."

Aegon ordered the maids to carry her in.

Daenys, still fast asleep, was dressed in an elegant silver and red court gown. She was gently propped in a chair and carried into the hall. Her breathing was steady, her pale face serene, as if she were simply resting—wrapped in a calm that felt almost too perfect.

Seeing this, Pan raised his hand, and an invisible force enveloped Daenys' body, lifting her gently into the air. With a subtle motion of his fingers, the wooden box placed among the priests of the Lion of Night slowly opened. Inside lay a solid block of deep blue ice—crystal clear, as though it had been formed from the coldest depths of the ocean, radiating a faint chill.

Pan waved again, guiding Daenys' body down until she rested softly atop the glimmering blue ice.

He then stepped forward, placing his hand lightly on her forehead. Wisps of silver mist emerged from the void, winding and swirling like slender silver serpents as they slowly burrowed into her skin.

"I've already returned Daenys' soul to her body," Pan said calmly. "But she won't be able to wake up for now—not until the grand plan is set into motion. You can try using a Bloodmage's resonance technique. You should be able to sense her soul within."

Aegon stepped up to the ice bed and activated the Bloodmage's resonance technique, reaching out with his spirit in an attempt to connect with Daenys. Sure enough, after a few moments, he sensed her presence—her soul was there, but it remained dormant. Even when he extended his own spiritual energy to touch hers, there was no response.

"I want her awake. Now," Aegon said with a scowl, voice laced with displeasure.

"This is the limit of what we can do," Pan explained patiently. "Daenys came across something forbidden within my dream. If she wakes now, she could disrupt the grand plan irreparably."

So she discovered something—some hidden truth Pan doesn't want me to know. And it's tied directly to his so-called grand plan, Aegon quickly deduced. His expression darkened as his grip around Bloodflame tightened instinctively.

Pan noticed and sighed quietly, already bracing for the fight he knew might come.

But just as tension reached its peak...

Aegon suddenly paused. His fingers loosened around the sword. He had remembered something—he could use the system item [Emerald Dream] to draw Daenys' soul into a space under his own control.

[Emerald Dream: Within the Void, you may create a domain exclusive to you, up to the size of a village or town. You may send your house members into it. Upon entering, all negative status effects will be removed, allowing them to become spirits.]

If it clears negative soul states... could that bring her back?

"You all can leave now," Aegon said coolly, issuing the command without a trace of politeness.

Seeing Aegon's emotions settle, Pan let out a quiet sigh of relief. As his figure faded away, the priests of the Night Lion followed in silence, leaving the hall empty.

Once they were gone, Aegon stepped forward and placed his finger gently on Daenys' forehead. He activated the [Emerald Dream].

A soft green glow began to radiate from his fingertip, drifting outward like mist or smoke. It slowly extended, brushing over Daenys' soul. In her unconscious state, her spirit offered no resistance, and the strange power of the Emerald Dream quietly drew it into an unknown and mysterious realm.

...

The green light gradually faded, and silence returned to the hall.

Aegon stood quietly at the edge of the crystal ice bed. He could feel it clearly—a link had been formed in his spiritual sea, connecting him to a space beyond.

He focused on the link. Instantly, it felt as if his soul were pulled into a burst of brilliant green light. The world spun, and in the next moment, his consciousness arrived above a vast, unfamiliar forest.

His soul floated gently in the air, adrift. All around him was an endless expanse of vibrant green mist, rolling like waves—an emerald ocean with no shore in sight.

Below his feet stretched a great woodland formed entirely of weirwood trees. Fine veils of vapor drifted among the trunks, soft and shimmering like gauze, giving the entire place a surreal and otherworldly beauty, as though he had stepped into a land of myth.

A strange sensation bloomed in Aegon's heart. It felt as though he were inside a game—like Minecraft—with full command over his environment. With a mere thought, he rose higher and gazed down over the mysterious realm.

The forest itself wasn't vast—perhaps only ten or so kilometers across. It floated atop the green mist, suspended in the void. The mist spread in all directions like an infinite sea of clouds, hazy and boundless.

So this is the Emerald Dream...?

As he took in the scenery, a familiar voice suddenly called out from within the heart of the forest.

Aegon looked down—and there she was.

Daenys stood on the forest grass, waving excitedly as she jumped and called out to him.

"Aegon! Aegon, I'm here!"

Daenys, in her soul form, glowed with a soft radiance. She wore a silver-and-red court gown, the hem swaying gracefully with her movements like flowing flame. Her tall, slender figure and supple curves exuded the allure and elegance of a mature woman.

Aegon dove toward her and embraced her tightly.

"You scared me to death," he whispered. "How did you end up sealed inside Pan's dream?"

"I entered it by accident," Daenys replied, still shaken. "Where are we? Wait—Aegon, you have to be careful. Pan is using you Dragonlords. His so-called grand plan... it's really just a scheme to become a god."

Aegon explained that they were inside a space he had created—an inner realm where heroic spirits could reside. Then the two sat together on the grass of the heartwood forest to discuss how to deal with Pan.

As Daenys detailed everything she had learned about Pan's plan, Aegon felt a mounting headache.

He had once believed the Doom of Valyria was simply the result of the Bloodmages bringing ruin upon themselves. But now, it was clear that a host of divine powers were involved—the situation was far more complex than he'd imagined.

Take today, for instance. The Church of the Lion of Night had openly backed Pan and even sent the precious crystal ice. That alone suggested Pan wasn't bluffing.

Aegon drew a circle in the grass with his finger, and the two began mapping out the forces entangled in the Doom of Valyria.

The known parties involved in the grand plan were:

First, the Bloodmages led by the Dragonlord Council—including Aegon himself. They had been lured in by Pan's promise of immortality, unwitting pawns in a much larger scheme.

Second, Pan. His stated goal was to eliminate the Star God beyond the stars, freeing the Valyrian people from their spiritual corruption—and, in doing so, to seize godhood for himself.

Third, the Star God beneath Bloodsource Peak. This foreign deity, whose body had fallen from the heavens in a meteorite, seemed to lie at the center of the entire plan. Its true purpose remained unknown, but everything revolved around it.

Fourth, the native gods of the world—like the Lion of Night—who had apparently allied with Pan to execute the grand plan and oppose the alien god.

As Daenys narrated, Aegon used his finger to section off the circle into smaller parts, each representing a different faction.

Daenys picked up a twig and, without hesitation, scratched out the part representing the Bloodmages. "The Dragonlord Council got the worst of it. On the surface, they're just like ordinary Valyrians—but they've been used."

"What about Pan and the native gods? They look like they're working together, but I don't buy it. There's no way the plan is that simple," Aegon said, tapping Pan's piece of the diagram.

"If Pan's being used too," Daenys murmured, "then maybe the real conflict is between the gods of this world and the gods from beyond the stars."

"We don't have enough information. This is all we can piece together for now," Aegon said, brushing away the circle with his foot in frustration.

Daenys looked up at him. "So, what will you do? Should we flee Valyria while we still can?"

"There's no escaping," Aegon said, shaking his head. "Tiamat is still trapped in the Abyssal Pit. And the gods—and Pan, now a demigod—are watching me. I can only make my move when the grand plan is actually set in motion."

He leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to Daenys' forehead. "Don't worry. I've got a few ideas already. I will make him pay for what he did to you."

As their lips parted, Daenys gave a small nod. "I don't think I can leave this Emerald Dream... but I can still channel my powers through your body. Maybe I'll be able to help you when the time comes."

Aegon nodded as well, holding her close.

"Don't be afraid. I swear, I'll bring you back."

Hearing that, Daenys nestled into his arms and slowly closed her eyes.

...

In the real world, Aegon opened his eyes. A quiet seriousness filled his gaze.

He leaned over, gently brushing his fingers across Daenys' pale cheek as she lay on the crystal ice bed. He let out a quiet sigh.

Then he called for a servant.

"Go stop Steward Farlen. Hurry—don't let him get too far."

The servant bowed and rushed out.

Soon after, he returned with Farlen, who had already disguised himself and was about to depart.

Aegon looked at him and felt a warmth in his chest—his house still had loyal, dependable men.

He stepped forward, took back the letter he had given Farlen, and said, "Things have changed. There's no need to go to Dragonstone anymore. The crisis has been temporarily averted. Thank you."

"My prince, it's my duty to serve House Targaryen with my life. No thanks needed," Farlen replied calmly, bowing respectfully.

Aegon nodded slightly at that, then reached out and helped the old steward to his feet, offering a few words of encouragement.

"Have Daenys and the ice bed moved to the master tower bedroom. Be careful—don't let anything get scratched or bumped."

...

Once everything was arranged, Aegon made his way alone to the Targaryen Dragonpit.

As he stepped inside, the thick scent of sulfur from the dragons hit him at once. He walked straight to Dreamshade's lair.

Dreamshade, a relatively docile dragon, chirped affectionately at the sight of him.

Aegon smiled and slowly approached, raising his hand. Silver dream-energy—Daenys' power—began to swirl around his palm. As the silver mist clung to his hand, he touched Dreamshade's smooth, glass-like scales.

Dreamshade was a normal dragon, unlike Tiamat, whose lifespan had been shortened by her own unique gifts. Still young by dragon standards, Dreamshade was barely a few decades old.

Sensing something odd, Dreamshade tilted its head. Though Aegon stood before it, the spiritual energy it felt was unmistakably Daenys'.

Aegon climbed the rope ladder and settled into the saddle on Dreamshade's back. The dragon showed no resistance.

Because Daenys, using her dream powers, had projected her spirit into the physical world—successfully forming a psychic bond with her dragon.

"Dreamshade, out of the Dragonpit!" Aegon called out in High Valyrian.

"Lah~"

Dreamshade responded with a cry and moved according to Aegon's command.

As it stepped out of the Dragonpit, the 30-meter-long dragon spread its powerful wings and slowly rose into the sky.

It was Aegon's first time riding someone else's dragon, but with Daenys' spiritual power assisting him, controlling Dreamshade felt nearly the same as riding his own Tiamat.

Dreamshade flew with grace and agility, completely unlike Tiamat's heavy, powerful flight. It could easily perform intricate maneuvers—even a full 720-degree spin midair wouldn't have been difficult. But Aegon didn't attempt anything that risky.

Under his control, Dreamshade seemed unusually excited, like a cat sneaking out behind its master's back. Aegon guided it steadily upward, and before long, they were soaring into the thin air high above.

He circled Dreamshade around the massive formation that covered the Valyrian Peninsula, hoping to find some kind of clue—anything that might help him.

As he surveyed the formation from above, Aegon noticed that many of the critical energy nodes were marked by temples—each dedicated to a different god. These shrines were positioned at key points in the formation, and even in remote, desolate areas where no one ever visited, temples had been constructed.

Clearly, these weren't built for worshippers.

Are these temples part of Pan's plan? Or are the gods doing this behind his back? Aegon wondered.

After flying nearly halfway around the peninsula, he could find nothing else of value. Disappointed, he turned Dreamshade back toward the Targaryen Hills.

...

In the days that followed, life for Aegon seemed to settle back into a familiar rhythm.

He spent his time studying Blood Sorcery, experimenting with bloodline synthesis techniques, and staying close to Daenylis, who was nearing childbirth.

Eventually, Aegon gave in to Illya's persistent coaxing and allowed her to "eat meat."

Time passed quickly. In the blink of an eye, half a year went by.

Daenylis gave birth to another daughter, whom Aegon named Elenei. He didn't rush to send the newborn to Dragonstone, still debating whether to send Daenys' body along with her.

Another four years slipped by.

One day, Aegon flew out of the Abyssal Pit on Dreamshade's back. He had just finished practicing Bloodmage resonance techniques with Tiamat, though they'd started a little late. Now the sky was completely dark.

As Aegon and Dreamshade emerged from the chasm, they were greeted by a sky full of glittering stars.

Aegon gazed up at the starlit heavens.

Suddenly, a thought crossed his mind.

What if I tried resonating with the stars themselves? Or even... the Star God buried deep at the bottom of the abyss? How fast would my spiritual power grow then?

Would I go mad the instant I tried resonating with an Outer God?

Startled by his own reckless idea, Aegon quickly forced the thought from his mind.

Dreamshade was flying in the direction beyond the Fourteen Flames when something on the ground caught Aegon's attention: a massive bonfire gathering, with tens of thousands of people. It pulled him out of his thoughts.

He quickly ordered Dreamshade to activate its mimicry scales, cloaking them in shadow, and they quietly approached the gathering.

Looking down, Aegon realized the crowd consisted of ragged, poorly dressed mining slaves.

Ah—he remembered now. There was a Burning Steel mine nearby, operated by House Edderion.

Burning Steel was a crucial material used in forging Valyrian steel, but it was incredibly difficult to extract and extremely rare. During smelting, the loss was immense—often a ton of ore was needed to produce just a single kilogram of finished Valyrian steel.

A booming wave of prayers echoed up from the ground. Though not perfectly unified, Aegon could make out some of the chants.

"You are the embodiment of all things… the weaving of light and shadow… the union of mercy and judgment…"

"All men must die…"

"All men must serve…"

...

Aegon sighed softly and turned Dreamshade away from the gathering.

The Many-Faced God… the gods' influence over Valyria has already reached this level…

They flew past the dazzling lights of Valyria's capital, then returned to the Targaryen Dragonpit.

As Aegon dismounted, he found Steward Farlen waiting just outside. The old man stepped forward and brushed the dust from Aegon's shoulders, then gave his report.

"Prince, the Dragonlord Council issued an order today. All Dragonriders stationed outside the Freehold are to return immediately—with their dragons."

So the grand plan is finally about to begin, Aegon thought.

He turned to Farlen and said, "Ignore it. The Targaryens aren't part of that."

"Understood," Farlen replied with a nod.

...

A few days later, the tide rose again in the Targaryen Bay.

Taking advantage of the high water, ships were able to enter the harbor. Aegon had arranged for a vessel to carry his family away from the Valyrian Peninsula. Along with them, he placed Daenys' body and her ice bed onto a cargo ship.

If they waited any longer, they might never get the chance to leave.

According to the agreement between Aegon and the fourteen Dragonpillars, Valyria would go into full lockdown during the final five years before the grand plan's activation—no one allowed out. Only entry, no exit.

At such a sensitive time, Aegon dared not risk sending Aenar riding Balerion to retrieve the family. What if they couldn't make it back?

Before his two wives boarded the ship, Daenys—through the Emerald Dream—used her innate Septon of Restrain abilities to suppress their physical desires completely.

Aegon stood again on the seaside cliff overlooking Targaryen Bay, watching as his family waved to him from the ship's stern.

He couldn't help but feel a sting of sorrow deep in his chest.

Once, the four of them had stood here dreaming about the future.

Now, he stood alone, watching them depart.