After travelling for an entire day, the group arrived at a building whose eaves dripped steadily with water.
This structure was relatively intact — one of the rest stops Lothan had used during his earlier expeditions into the ruins.
Because there was no moss or vines growing over it, it appeared strangely well-preserved, making some believe people might still be living there.
Jorel, who had come here with Lothan two years ago, spoke calmly:
"The Rhoynar built their fountains into the buildings. When the weather gets hot, the falling water cools the air inside."
Jona, unwilling to let her sister take all the credit, pointed to the broken, grey fan-like blades nearby.
"When the water falls, it hits those blades and turns them, helping cool the rooms even more."
Her grandfather was a Grand Elder, and their home had preserved many old books — unlike these "Westerosi bumpkins" who had never seen such things.
Many stared wide-eyed, marveling at the clever design.
Even Arthur looked at the building with admiration.
The sisters were quite pleased with their audience's reaction. They glanced at Viserys — only to find him completely unfazed.
He had experienced air-conditioning before.
And this combination of fountains and architecture existed in his world before he crossed over. It wasn't astonishing to him.
But considering the time period such structures would have been built, Viserys could roughly guess how powerful the Rhoynar had been at their peak.
As the sky darkened, he decided they would rest here for the night.
Just as they began to light fires and prepare food, that roaming magic surged again.
Viserys began counting the moment he sensed it. As before, nearly five hundred heartbeats later, the thunderous, wave-like roar came crashing through the air.
The enormous sound froze everyone in place.
"Grandfather said, if you're lucky, you won't encounter this sound. But if you do, and you stay on Nasar, it will come again and again… until the song appears.
And once you hear the song that bewilders the heart, you'll be lost forever," Jorel reminded him softly.
It was, in a way, a warning: leave now, while you still can.
"Are you planning to leave, then?" Viserys asked calmly.
"Of course not!" Jona lifted her chin boldly. "Unless you decide to retreat, we will not abandon this halfway."
That night, the roaming magic came again and again. Viserys did not sleep.
He thought — if he could sense the movement of this magic beforehand, perhaps he could find its pattern and avoid it.
Because judging from its speed, they could never outrun it on foot.
Fortunately, by observing it the entire night, he discovered its path. They had entered from the western port of Nasar.
The magic moved repeatedly, "from south to north, and north to south," like a pendulum.
It appeared roughly once every hour.
By judging the intensity of his water-magic perception, Viserys estimated its radius was no more than one hundred meters.
In other words, they had enough time to pass through safely.
And as they went deeper, the roar grew louder — meaning they were getting closer to its route.
By the next day, when Viserys still showed no intention of turning back, the sisters continued to follow him.
Before coming here, they had already made peace with dying on their homeland's soil.
And Viserys carried himself with such confidence — maybe he really could foresee the Prince's Roar. Even so, when that deafening roar sounded again, both sisters still turned pale.
After another massive wave of sound faded, Viserys gave the order, and they jogged forward.
"What is he trying to do? Does he think he can outrun the Roar?" Jona muttered.
"I don't know," someone else whispered, "but if he's doing it, he must have a reason."
Regardless of their doubts, when Viserys told everyone to wait in place, they obeyed.
Arthur and Mathos stayed right behind him — Arthur to protect him, Mathos simply for a sense of security.
Viserys turned to the two and said:
"If the next Prince's Roar appears behind us, it means there is nothing left ahead that can block our path."
Arthur didn't fully understand, but he chose to trust him.
Because of the repeated Roars, Viserys could no longer sense the torch markers they had left behind — but the existence of the Roar itself was enough to judge direction.
Just as he was about to order them forward again, cold sweat suddenly broke out across his forehead.
The magic — which had just passed — was coming back the same way.
The others hadn't sensed it yet, but to Viserys, it felt like he was standing on railway tracks… and a train, horns screaming, was rushing towards him.
As the sphere of magic approached, his senses sharpened painfully.
"Follow me! Hurry!"
Viserys ran again — but this time, the magic seemed to be moving straight toward them, as if it could track their position.
BOOM—
Another crashing, wave-like roar rang out. But this time, something different followed.
A song.
It was ethereal, haunting — like it came from a hidden valley deep within mountains, or from celestial palaces beyond the clouds.
It sounded like young lovers whispering their hearts… like ten thousand nightingales singing in harmony.
In a daze, the shattered ruins around them came back to life.
Gardens bloomed with flowers, butterflies drifted through the air, lovers sat together on the steps, leaning on each other.
Fountains glimmered in sunlight, and it felt like a paradise made of poetry, wine, water, and blossoms.
Because he had absorbed the essence of a Water Mage, Viserys broke free from the illusion quickly. He looked around — everyone else was still trapped in the vision.
Arthur whispered, "Prince Rhaegar, let me ride with you to put down the rebellion!"
Mathos murmured, "Father… mother is pregnant again. I hope it's a sister."
Jona laughed dreamily, "Grandfather! I found the Prince's Spear! Hahaha!"
Clearly, they were completely lost in the illusion. Viserys looked toward the soldiers — all of them were slowly walking in the same direction.
He followed their gaze.
At some point, he had arrived beside an artificial riverbed.
In the center of the water, a gigantic turtle — the size of a warship — rose to the surface. Expressionless, it stared at the intruders slowly approaching it.
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