"The nectar of the dragon is not for the impatient," the screen read. "You sought the fire. Now, you shall feel the heat."
A grainy image appeared on his screen. It was a live feed of his own room, but filtered in a deep, blood-red hue. Sitting on the couch behind his digital reflection was a figure in a hooded, charcoal cloak—the kind worn by the silent sisters of Westeros. Elias spun around. The room was empty. "The nectar of the dragon is not for
Suddenly, his laptop’s fan kicked into an ear-splitting whine. The bottom of the chassis grew scorching hot against his desk. Elias tried to force a shutdown, but the buttons were unresponsive. He watched, horrified, as his webcam light flickered on. but filtered in a deep