From Storms to Thrones (Part 1)

Chapter 1: When Worlds Collide

I woke up to the sensation of water lapping at my feet, the coolness contrasting sharply with the warmth I felt throughout my body. I startled, shooting up into a sitting position, and blinked against the brightness of a clear, blue sky above. My mind struggled to make sense of what I was seeing.

I was on a beach, the tide washing up around me, the sand warm beneath my hands. Waves crashed gently onto the shore, their rhythmic sound calming yet bewildering. I looked around, my heart racing with confusion. This couldn't be real. It had to be another illusion, like the dragon in the cave. How could I have gone from a dark, stormy night in a cave to this serene, sunlit beach?

The scene was vivid, the colors too bright, the air filled with the salty scent of the ocean. I touched the wet sand, feeling its grainy texture under my fingers, and then glanced down at my body. My clothes were still damp, but the intense heat and sensation of power I had felt were gone, replaced by a calm, almost surreal sense of peace.

A wave crashed over my feet again, the water cold and real against my skin. I shivered, the reality of the situation sinking in. If this was an illusion, it was a very convincing one. I tried to piece together how I had gotten here, but my memories were fragmented. The cave, the dragon, the fire—everything seemed both real and fantastical.

Was it possible that I had hallucinated everything? A traumatic brain injury could explain the bizarre visions, but the sensations, the emotions—they had felt so real. I stood up slowly, unsteady on my feet, and looked around, searching for any signs of civilization or clues about where I was. The beach stretched out endlessly, the ocean vast and inviting, yet offering no answers.

Just then, a sound echoed from above, a sound I instantly recognized—the same deep, rumbling growl I had heard in the cave. I flinched, my heart racing, as my eyes shot upward, expecting to see the massive black dragon from before.

But instead, what I saw made my eyes widen in disbelief. Descending from the sky, with the sun glinting off its scales, was another dragon—this one smaller and a brilliant shade of yellow. It glittered in the light like a shooting star, its scales reflecting the sunlight in a dazzling display of color.

Panic surged through me, and I stood frozen in place, unable to tear my eyes away from the creature as it swooped down toward me. Unlike the black dragon, this one seemed almost delicate, its wings beating gracefully as it approached. But there was no mistaking its power and presence, the air around it humming with energy.

Before I could run or move, the dragon crashed into the ground with a landing that shook the earth. Also, unlike the black dragon, this one snarled at me, baring its teeth. I flinched away, fully prepared for the bite, until suddenly a voice sounded.

"Who are you, and how did you get here?"

My eyes shot wide as I looked up at the dragon. Did this dragon just speak? I stood there in shock, unable to say anything but a surprised gurgling sound in the back of my throat as my tongue felt too big for my mouth.

"I won't ask again," the voice demanded.

I realized the voice wasn't coming from the dragon but rather from behind its massive head. Leaning to the right, to see past the dragon, my eyes widened at the sight of a woman astride the dragon, looking at me with just as much ferocity as the dragon she rode.

She was dressed in armor that glinted in the sunlight, her hair flowing wildly in the wind. Her eyes were sharp, scrutinizing me with an intensity that made me feel exposed and vulnerable. She held a spike at the dragons back with one hand, the other resting on a sword at her side.

I took in the woman before me, my eyes drifting from her piercing violet eyes to her striking white hair, and then to the crown perched on her head. Something stirred within me, a sense of recognition I couldn't quite place, as though I had seen her before in a dream or a distant memory. My gaze traveled down to a large engraving on her breast plate—a three-headed dragon. My eyes widened in realization. The violet eyes, the white hair, the crown, the three-headed dragon symbol, and the fact that she was riding a dragon—it all clicked into place.

I let out a disbelieving laugh, the absurdity of the situation overwhelming me.

"You find this funny?" the woman asked, her tone incredulous.

"I think I hit my head too hard—because this can't be real," I muttered, more to myself than to her.

"I can assure you, woman—this is very real. My patience is wearing thin, and you will soon find out how real Syrax's teeth will feel on your neck as she removes your head from your body."

Syrax . The dragon's name was Syrax.

Jesus .

The black dragon from the cave, the magic, the power I felt—it somehow transported me into my favorite book series by George R. R. Martin.

I was in the land of fire, blood, and dragons.

I was in Westeros.

I was standing before the Dragon Queen, Rhaenyra Targaryen.

And for the third time that day, I promptly passed out.