The winds above Dragonstone were different that day charged, heavy, restless. The skies themselves seemed to hold their breath.
From the crags high above the volcanic mountain, Vezdaryon stood alone, wings partly unfurled, his amber eyes narrowed as he gazed out across the sea. Smoke curled from his nostrils, rising in slow, lazy tendrils. He had grown into a mighty beast scaled in bronze and black, lean but powerful, every movement full of quiet control and coiled power. He bore the marks of his many years across Essos and the distant north: old scars glinting pale over his flanks and chest, reminders of battles fought and survived. His body, once unfamiliar, now belonged to him entirely. He no longer thought in the language of men. He had become something else older than kingdoms, older than crowns.
And now, something stirred.
A sound rolled over the cliffs low, deep, and ancient. A roar that felt less like noise and more like the Earth groaning beneath its own weight. Vezdaryon's head snapped westward. It wasn't thunder. Not a storm.
Another dragon.
And not just any dragon.
The Cannibal.
The name meant nothing to Vezdaryon, but the scent on the wind did. Old smoke. Old blood. Rot and ash. A dragon so ancient the stone itself seemed to remember his presence. He had no sagging belly of weakness his loose neck and folded wings were deceiving. He was slower, yes. But like a mountain in motion. Heavy. Irresistible. Hunger and hate had given him endurance where time should have brought decay.
Vezdaryon's body tensed, muscles rippling under his scales. He bared his fangs, exhaled a slow stream of smoke, and beat his wings once, twice then launched.
Above the Isle
The sky was bruised and streaked with fire.
He rose quickly, riding the hot winds from the caldera below. Ash drifted from the mountain like snow. The moment he broke the upper cloudbank, he saw it a shape vast and black, gliding across the sky, nearly silent but far too large to miss. The Cannibal.
Pitch-black, with ragged wings that dwarfed even the largest of Targaryen dragons, the beast moved with the weight of centuries. His neck sagged not with weakness, but with bulk. Muscle and history. His maw opened briefly, releasing a low snarl, and a stream of green flame licked the sky.
They circled.
Not a clash. Not yet.
This was the weighing of titans.
Below, unseen by them, people along the cliffs and towers of Dragonstone watched from the shadows. Maesters clutched ledgers to their chests. Dragonkeepers stopped in their tracks. Children screamed and pointed while guards cursed under their breath.
A knight whispered, "Gods… it's the Shadow and the Cannibal."
Two monsters in the sky.
The First Strike
Vezdaryon surged forward without warning. Fire roared from his throat deep orange flame that split the air in two. It crashed over the Cannibal's shoulder, scorching black scales and igniting the sky in a sunburst of heat.
The Cannibal turned and opened his jaws. Green fire erupted, different and wild. It came slower but burned hotter, hissing as it cut through the smoke. It missed Vezdaryon by feet, but the blast boiled the clouds.
Claws met first.
The two dragons collided midair with a sound that shattered the thunder made flesh. Talons gouged scales, wings beat like war drums, and the two fell into a death spiral toward the sea, locked together in roaring fury.
Vezdaryon pulled free with a twist, agile and brutal. He dove under, slashing the Cannibal's belly, drawing thick, dark blood. The older dragon shrieked not in pain, but in rage.
And then they rose again.
Blood in the Clouds
The second clash came higher, above the clouds. Vezdaryon burst through the mist and found the Cannibal waiting, wings wide, green fire bubbling from his jaws.
The blast hit him this time—scalding heat across his side, blinding for a moment. He roared and spun, banking hard. His vision swam, but his instincts kept him alive. He twisted, found the Cannibal's exposed wing, and clamped his jaws down.
Bone cracked.
The Cannibal shrieked and beat his other wing, slamming into Vezdaryon with his massive body. The two dragons tumbled, clawing, biting, fire lashing in all directions. Vezdaryon bit at the older dragon's neck, but the skin there was thick as rock.
The Cannibal smashed him downward, using weight as a weapon.
Thunder Falls
They struck the ocean.
Water exploded upward like a tower of white smoke. Steam hissed and rose for miles as dragonfire met sea. Vezdaryon broke free and flew again, wings heavy but burning with will.
They hovered now, circling again scarred, breathing hard, blood dripping from claw and fang.
But neither would yield.
From the cliffs of Dragonstone, watchers stood in silence. No one spoke. Even the dragons on the mountain had gone quiet. This was not a duel. This was something older.
Fire and fire. Strength and fury.
And the skies trembled.
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Hope you enjoyed the chapter