Chapter 479

The original plan allowed for over half a month, more than enough time to manipulate and adapt as needed. But now, with the sudden changes compressing the preparation period to a mere week, Aegor knew that secrecy could no longer extend to even his closest subordinates.

After dismissing the messenger and the defector from Eastwatch, Aegor immediately convened an emergency meeting with the core leadership of Horgrown. There, he announced his drastic new decision to advance the timetable for the southern campaign and methodically quelled every dissenting voice. He led the group in a detailed discussion of which lower-priority tasks could be deferred or omitted under the tightened schedule. With everyone’s input, he adjusted assignments, rearranged timetables, and finalized a new “definitive” version of the southern campaign strategy.

By the time all the ripple effects of this decision were accounted for and everything had been put into motion, midnight was near. Aegor, ever pragmatic, understood that even the sharpest blade requires sharpening, and even the hardest worker must rest to maintain peak efficiency. With the work settled, he returned to his quarters, took a brief moment to clean up, and allowed himself the luxury of sleep.
----


Under a gray, snow-dusted sky, Horgrown’s inner keep was desolate and silent.

Aegor had barely taken a few steps into the courtyard before realizing he was dreaming.

For as long as he could remember, he had possessed a curious, if ultimately trivial, talent: lucid dreaming. Whenever the dreamworld diverged noticeably from reality, he would instantly recognize it as a dream and regain control.

Over the years, he had refined this skill to the point where he could manipulate his dreams with startling precision. As a high-level lucid dreamer, he could reshape the dreamscape like a god, grant himself any power he could imagine, summon anyone he wanted, or enact scenarios that fulfilled even the darkest corners of his psyche—all without consequence.

It was an extraordinary talent, but ultimately useless outside the confines of sleep. Still, why not make the most of it? Dreams offered a fleeting playground for indulgence.

However, lucid dreams had grown rarer with age, and Aegor couldn’t remember the last time he’d had one. Now, as he strolled through the pristine snow of the courtyard, he found himself wondering how best to use this unexpected reprieve.

That’s when he saw her.

Standing just outside the office building ahead was a silver-haired woman with her back to him.

Her hair wasn’t the dull gray that people often called “silver.” It was a shimmering, liquid-silver cascade that sparkled as though woven from pure starlight. For a moment, Aegor even wondered if it was some kind of liquid metal, like mercury, until a light breeze stirred the strands.

It was Daenerys—or rather, a beautified version of her.

Aegor immediately understood what was happening. His recent abstinence had stirred certain desires, and his subconscious had conjured up the Dragon Queen as a solution.

In the waking world, his discipline and caution kept such urges in check; the stakes were too high to risk indulging. But here, in the safety of a dream, no such constraints existed. Why not take this opportunity to enjoy what reality denied him?

With a smirk curling at his lips, Aegor began to approach her, step by deliberate step.

Closer and closer he crept, savoring the anticipation. His experience with lucid dreams ensured he wouldn’t wake prematurely from overexcitement. But just as he reached her, the silver-haired woman turned—and it wasn’t Daenerys.

It was someone else entirely.

She was breathtakingly beautiful, her features bearing a blend of exotic sharpness and softness. Her nose was delicate, her lips faintly pursed like the petals of a budding flower, and her eyes—those violet eyes glowed like gemstones, cutting through the hazy unreality of the dream with an intensity that seemed almost... real.

Aegor froze, perplexed. The subconscious couldn’t conjure entirely unfamiliar faces—or so he thought. If he had seen this woman before, surely he would have remembered her.

Still, her beauty was undeniable, and Aegor decided to proceed. Stretching out a hand, he moved to take hers.

But the woman stepped back, evading his grasp. Her movements were fluid and almost imperceptible, as though she had slipped through reality itself.

“What are you doing?” they both asked simultaneously, one in confusion, the other in faint irritation.

Aegor stared at her, baffled. It was his dream, his creation. How could she resist him? And in such a manner that he had never seen or imagined before?

Unwilling to let a figment of his imagination get the better of him, Aegor decided to assert control. With a mere thought, he froze the air around her, immobilizing her completely. At the same time, doors opened around the courtyard, and shadowy figures in black—his mental constructs—emerged to subdue her.

The silver-haired woman blinked, seemingly caught off guard. For a moment, it appeared she might surrender—but then she unleashed a force unlike anything Aegor had ever encountered.

With an almost casual motion, she shattered the constraints holding her and released a surge of raw power. Snow evaporated, the ground cracked, and the buildings around them crumbled as if struck by a cataclysm. In mere moments, the entire dreamworld was obliterated, leaving behind a void of endless fire.

And there she was, hovering above the inferno, unscathed and unfazed.

“Now,” she said, her voice cutting through the silence with commanding clarity, “can we talk?”

Aegor, floating helplessly in the void, was too stunned to reply.

For the first time in his life, the master of his own dreams had been bested within them.

“Who are you?” he asked, his voice steady despite his disbelief.

The woman’s violet eyes glimmered. “You may call me R’hllor Foster, the Daughter of True Flame.”