Peace is fragile. Inside the pyramid of Meereen, whispers bloom like mold. Former masters plot in shadows, while Tyrion plays his games of words and wine. Daenerys rules by flame, but doubts crack her crown.
Andrew, ever vigilant, walks the halls in silence. He senses betrayal in the stones. The Codex burns with new visions—of blades in the dark, of fire snuffed by poison. He warns Daenerys.
"Do not trust smiles that come with sweet wine," he says. "Their cups are full of ash."
That night, a servant tries to poison her. Andrew stops her, hand around her throat, eyes glowing gold. No words. Just fire.