05/26/2024
Aegon Targaryen had soared with Balerion above the clouds, far above, so much so that the dragon looked like a fly to the moon. That was when he started the descent into the inside of the wall. With wings as black as coal, Balerion plunged into the darkness of the night, and when the immense towers of Harrenhal appeared beneath him, he unleashed his fury and, from a roar, bathed them in fire black in red.
The stone does not burn, Harren had molded, but his castle was not just stone. Wood, wool, h**p, straw, bread, cup and wheat: all burned. Neither Harren's iron men were made of stone. Among screams, wrapped in smoke and flames, they ran through courtyards and rushed through the boughs to die against the ground. Even stone crumbles and melts if the fire reaches sufficient temperature. The Lords of the Rivers who waited outside the castle reported after the towers of Harrenhal glowed, red against the night, like five large Syrians... and, like the Syrians, they began to twist and diminish as rivers of molten stone raced up their sides.
That night, Harren and his last children were grazed by the flames that consumed the monstrous fortress.
The H***e house went extinct with it, just like the power of the Iron Islands in the Lands of Rivers.
Fire and Blood
— George RR Martin