The Shattered Pass fell behind them in a blur of gray stone and biting wind, but as the caravan crossed the invisible threshold into the Kingdom of the Stars, the world did not wake up. Instead, it grew hauntingly quiet. Daenery leaned her forehead against the cool glass of the transport window, her breath fogging the pane. Outside, the landscape was trapped in a translucent, shimmering haze—the remnants of a fifteen year sleep spell that had turned a vibrant empire into a living museum of grief.
They passed through a village nestled in the foothills of the Lunar Peaks. It was a place that should have been bustling with morning commerce, but the people moved with an agonizing, molasses like slowness. A woman stood by a well, her bucket suspended mid air, her eyes unfocused and dim, like a
