Far in the North, Ramsay Bolton stood upon the battlements of the Dreadfort, watching as snow blanketed the corpse of a flayed man.
> "He begged so sweetly," Ramsay said with a laugh. "Like music, Reek. Like poetry."
Reek whimpered beside him, trembling from both cold and fear.
But Ramsay paused.
Something shifted in the air.
The dogs began to growl. Then whimper. Then silence.
A figure stood at the edge of the courtyard, cloaked in white furs and wrapped in quiet death.
Köinzell.
Ramsay sneered, drawing his blade.
> "Who are you to come here? Do you know who I am?"
> "Yes," Köinzell replied, eyes glowing beneath the hood. "You're the mistake the gods regret."
The duel was no duel at all.
Ramsay rushed him, laughing madly—but his blade was struck aside like a twig. Köinzell's Devourer's Edge activated with the first contact, draining every ounce of rage from Ramsay's blood like venom from a snake.
Köinzell grabbed him by the throat and whispered one word:
> "Silence."
A single pulse from Soulbreak Pulse shattered Ramsay's spine and crushed his soul. Blood poured from his eyes, ears, and mouth. He died not screaming—but blank-eyed, a silent end for a monster who lived through cruelty.
Köinzell left him tied to the flaying cross—no skin removed, no spectacle. Just a bastard laid bare in the cold justice of the North.
He vanished before Reek could even cry out.
Two tyrants down.
The realm shifted.
The world had gained a quiet protector—an elf who served no house, no throne… only balance.