The air in the Tower of the Hand smelled of beeswax, old parchment, and something faintly sour—like milk left too long in the sun. Varys stood by the window, his back to them, his bald head gleaming in the candlelight. He didn't turn as Arion and Ellyn entered.
"Ah," he murmured, his voice soft as silk. "The boy who stole from Littlefinger."
Arion's grip tightened on the scroll case. The System pulsed a warning:
CHARACTER DETECTED: VARYS (THE SPIDER) - LEVEL ???
THREAT ASSESSMENT: EXTREME
PERKS:
Master of Whispers (Sees all, hears all)
Faceless Ally (Cannot be betrayed by subordinates)
Shadow's Patience (Never acts in haste)
Ellyn shifted beside him, her bandaged shoulder stiff. "We brought what Tyrion promised."
Varys turned. His face was powdered, his smile benign. But his eyes—his eyes were pits. "Did you now?" He glided forward, his lilac robes whispering against the stone. "And what do you want in return, I wonder? Gold? Land? Power?"
*DIPLOMACY CHECK (CHA 7/10):*
Option 1: Demand Protection for Rosby (Direct, but risks seeming weak)
Option 2: Offer Mutual Benefit (Align interests, but requires trust)
Option 3: Defer to His Wisdom (Flattery, but surrenders initiative)
Arion chose the blade's edge. "I want Littlefinger's fangs pulled."
Varys' smile didn't waver. "A bold request. And how, pray tell, would you achieve that?"
Arion placed Rhaegar's testament on the table. "With this."
The Spider's fingers hovered over the scroll, but he didn't touch it. "A dangerous thing, truth. It topples kings. Burns cities. Are you prepared for the consequences?"
Ellyn's voice was steel. "We're prepared to survive."
Varys studied them for a long moment. Then he sighed. "Very well. Here is my offer: I will ensure Rosby's debts are forgiven, not deferred. In return, you will deliver this scroll not to me… but to Lady Olenna Tyrell in Highgarden."
*WIS Check (7/10):*
Varys wants the Tyrells to act against Littlefinger, leaving no trace back to him.
QUEST UPDATED: THE SPIDER'S WEB
New Objective: Travel to Highgarden and deliver Rhaegar's testament to Olenna Tyrell.
Reward: Rosby's debts erased, Tyrell alliance unlocked.
Arion nodded. "We'll do it."
Varys' smile widened. "Oh, not we, dear boy. Just you. Lady Ellyn must return to Rosby and prepare her house for the storm to come."
Ellyn's eyes flashed. "I'm not leaving him to—"
"Your cousin Alyn is eight years old," Varys interrupted gently. "If Littlefinger moves against Rosby while you're gallivanting across the Reach, who will stop him?"
The truth of it struck like a dagger. Ellyn's jaw clenched, but she didn't argue.
The dream came that night.
Arion stood in a field of black grass beneath a bleeding sky. Dawnbreaker lay before him, its pale blade humming with a sound like distant thunder. A shadow loomed over it—a figure armored in night, his helm crowned with twisting horns.
"You took what was mine."
The voice was not a voice. It was the scrape of steel on bone, the whisper of ash in the wind.
Arion tried to step back, but his feet were rooted. The shadow reached for the sword—
—and the world split.
DREAMWALKING SKILL TREE UNLOCKED!
Abilities Gained:
Lucid Awareness (Lvl 1): Recognize dreams as unreal (Resist possession).
Prophetic Fragments (Lvl 1): Glimpse possible futures (10% accuracy).
Nightmare Ward (Lvl 1): Reduce mental debuffs from bad dreams.
Arion wrenched himself awake, gasping. The inn room was dark, the sheets damp with sweat. The System pulsed red:
WARNING: EXTERNAL INFLUENCE DETECTED
Entity: "Night's Herald" (Identity: Unknown)
Objective: Claim Dawnbreaker.
Threat Level: Apocalyptic.
A fist pounded on the door.
"Arion!" Ellyn's voice, sharp with urgency. "Open up!"
He staggered to his feet. The moment the door unlatched, Ellyn shouldered inside, her face pale. "Rosby's under attack."
*WIS Check (7/10):*
Littlefinger's retaliation. Expected, but too soon.
"Who?"
"Brune's men." She spat the name like poison. "Or what's left of them. They rode in at dawn, screaming your name, demanding the 'dragon keys.' Ser Tallad's holding them off, but—"
"Go." Arion was already strapping on his sword. "I'll meet you at Rosby."
Ellyn grabbed his arm. "You don't understand. They're not just men anymore."
The System flashed a new notification:
HIDDEN MECHANIC REVEALED: NIGHT'S TOUCH
Effect: Fallen minions of the "Night's Herald" exhibit enhanced strength, pain immunity, and rapid regeneration.
Arion's blood turned to ice. "What did they look like?"
Ellyn's whisper was barely audible. "Their eyes were black. All the way black."
The road to Rosby was a blur of hoofbeats and dread. Arion pushed his stolen horse to its limits, the System's Threat Assessment screaming with every mile.
APPROACHING ROSBY KEEP
Status: Under Siege
*Enemies: 12+ (Night-Touched)*
Allies: Ser Tallad, Rosby Guards (Outnumbered 3:1)
The keep's gates were shattered. Bodies littered the courtyard—some Rosby men-at-arms, others Brune's mercenaries. But the attackers weren't dead.
They weren't human anymore.
NIGHT-TOUCHED MERCENARY (Level 3 - Corrupted)
Perks:
Unnatural Vitality (Regen 5 HP/second)
Pain Immunity (Ignores stuns/debuffs)
Soul Hunger (Drains 1 INT per hit)
A Rosby guardsman stumbled backward, his spear buried in a Night-Touched's chest. The creature didn't slow. It ripped the spear free and lunged, its jaws unhinging like a snake's—
THWACK!
Ellyn's bolt took it through the temple. The creature spasmed… then kept moving.
Ineffective Damage! (Night-Touched weak spot: HEART)
Arion barreled into the fray, his sword flashing. He aimed for the nearest Night-Touched's chest. The blade punched through ribs, piercing something that squelched unnaturally.
CRITICAL HIT! (Night-Touched HP: 0/50)
WEAKNESS EXPLOITED: Heart Destruction
The creature collapsed, its black eyes fading to milky grey.
"Aim for the heart!" Arion roared.
Ser Tallad fought like a man possessed, his longsword shearing through corrupted flesh. But even he was tiring. A Night-Touched clawed his back, drawing blood.
SER TALLAD HP: 40/80 (-15, Bleeding)
Arion carved a path toward him, the System's combat prompts guiding each strike.
COMBAT LOG:
*Dodge (Success) → Counter (Crit) → Night-Touched #3 Down*
*Parry (Fail) → Grazed (-8 HP) → Dirty Fighting Eye Gouge (Stun)*
Ellyn provided covering fire, her bolts finding hearts with lethal precision. But the creatures kept coming.
Then—a horn blast.
From the tree line, a dozen riders charged, their banners a riot of colors: red, blue, gold. At their head rode a giant of a man in black plate, his greatsword glowing faintly in the dusk.
CHARACTER DETECTED: THOROS OF MYR (Level 5 - Fire Priest)
COMPANY: BROTHERHOOD WITHOUT BANNERS
Thoros raised his hand. Fire erupted from his fingertips, engulfing two Night-Touched. They shrieked, flailing, before collapsing into charred husks.
FIRE WEAKNESS DISCOVERED! (Night-Touched take 200% fire damage)
The Brotherhood crashed into the fray, their flaming swords cutting through the abominations like wheat. Within minutes, the last Night-Touched fell.
Silence settled over Rosby's corpse-strewn courtyard.
Thoros dismounted, his jovial face uncharacteristically grim. "Well. That was new."
Ser Tallad wiped blood from his brow. "You have my thanks, priest."
Thoros waved him off. "Don't thank me yet. These things are popping up all over the Riverlands. And they're heading south." He turned to Arion. "You're the one they wanted, boy. Why?"
*CHA Check (7/10):*
Lie (Risk: Alienate potential allies)
Partial Truth (Gain Brotherhood aid)
Full Disclosure (Dangerous, but earns trust)
Arion chose the middle path. "They want something I found in the Dragonpit."
Thoros' eyes gleamed. "Ah. That explains the dreams."
QUEST RECEIVED: THE NIGHT'S HERALD
Objective: Discover the origin of the Night-Touched.
Reward: 300 XP, Thoros' Fire Magic Training.
That night, as the wounded were tended and the dead burned, Arion stood atop Rosby's walls, watching the horizon. The System pulsed with a new alert:
HIDDEN MECHANIC: NIGHT'S INFLUENCE SPREADING
Current Corruption Zones:
Riverlands (15%)
Crownlands (5%)
Effect: Random encounters with Night-Touched increase at night.
Ellyn joined him, her arms crossed against the cold. "You're still leaving for Highgarden."
It wasn't a question.
Arion nodded. "And you're staying."
"Rosby needs me." She hesitated. "But you need this."
She pressed a wrapped bundle into his hands. Inside lay Lady's Kiss, the Myrish crossbow, along with a dozen bolts.
"I'll get another," she said when he tried to protest. "And you'll need every advantage you can get."
ITEM RECEIVED: LADY'S KISS
*Condition: 25/100 (Poor, but functional)*
Ammo: Bodkin Bolts x12
Arion slung the weapon across his back. "I'll return. With an army, if I have to."
Ellyn smirked. "Just come back alive."
As she walked away, the System flickered with a final, ominous message:
PROPHETIC FRAGMENT (10% Accuracy):
Vision: A pale sword in a field of black grass. A horned shadow laughing. A city burning beneath a bleeding sky.
The game had just become a war for the world.
The Reach smelled of honeysuckle and hypocrisy.
Arion rode through fields of golden wheat, past vineyards heavy with ripe grapes, past fortified manors where lords feasted while their smallfolk starved. The Tyrell banners—a golden rose on emerald green—fluttered from every tower, a constant reminder of who ruled here.
LOCATION: THE REACH
FACTION: HOUSE TYRELL
REPUTATION: NEUTRAL (0/100)
The System's Diplomacy Tree hummed with warnings as he approached Highgarden's gates. The castle was a masterpiece of white stone and blooming gardens, its walls draped in climbing roses. Beautiful. Deadly.
Like its lady.
The guards at the gate wore polished steel and smug expressions. "State your business."
Arion dismounted, keeping his hands visible. "Arion of Brownhollow. I bring a message for Lady Olenna."
The captain smirked. "And what makes you think the Queen of Thorns receives peasants?"
*CHA Check (7/10):*
Option 1: Invoke Varys' Name (Risks Tyrell suspicion)
Option 2: Mention the Dragonpit (Dangerous, but intriguing)
Option 3: Play the Fool (Underestimate me, please)
Arion scratched his head, letting his accent thicken. "M'lord Varys said to tell her it's 'about the silver harp and the black dragon.'"
The guards exchanged glances. The captain's smirk vanished.
Five minutes later, Arion was escorted through Highgarden's labyrinthine halls by a pair of stone-faced knights. The System tagged the route in glowing blue—exit paths, potential weapons, hidden doors.
HIGHGARDEN LAYOUT MAPPED (42%)
The solar was a sunlit chamber overlooking the Mander. Lady Olenna Tyrell sat embroidering, her tiny frame swallowed by an ornate chair. She didn't look up as Arion entered.
"Another of Varys' strays," she mused, her voice like a razor wrapped in silk. "Tell me, boy—did the Spider send you to poison me or bore me to death?"
Arion placed Rhaegar's testament on the table between them. "He sent me to give you this."
Olenna's needle stilled. Her eyes—sharp as Valyrian steel—flicked to the scroll. "And what is that supposed to be?"
"The truth."
She snorted. "How dull." But she took the scroll, broke the seal, and read. Her expression never changed. When she finished, she tossed it into the fire.
Arion lunged—
—and froze as a dagger pricked his throat. A shadow detached from the curtains behind him.
CHARACTER DETECTED: "THE BLUE BARD" (Level 4 - Faceless Ally)
STATUS: Ready to Kill
Olenna sipped her wine. "Relax, child. That was a copy. The original is somewhere… safer." She nodded, and the dagger withdrew. "Now. Why should I care about Rhaegar's delusions?"
*DIPLOMACY CHECK (CHA 7/10):*
"Because Littlefinger does."
Olenna's eyebrow arched. "Petyr? What's that slithering weasel got to do with this?"
"Everything." Arion leaned forward. "He's been hunting these secrets for years. With them, he could prove Jon Snow's parentage. Undermine the Lannisters. Control the realm."
"And you want me to stop him." Olenna chuckled. "Why? The Lannisters are my enemies too."
"Because Littlefinger doesn't just want power," Arion said quietly. "He wants chaos. The kind that burns even the roses."
Olenna studied him for a long moment. Then she waved the Blue Bard away. "You're smarter than you look. Pity." She rang a tiny silver bell. "We'll discuss terms over lemon cakes."
QUEST COMPLETE: THE SPIDER'S WEB
REWARD: 200 XP | TYRELL ALLIANCE UNLOCKED (50/100 - Cautious Support)
Highgarden's library was a cavern of ancient knowledge, its shelves groaning under the weight of millennia. Arion pored over a crumbling tome—The Long Night: Accounts from the Age of Heroes—while the System's Valyrian Lore Skill translated fragments:
"...the Herald of Night bore a crown of black ice…"
"...his touch turned men into hollow things…"
"...only dragonsteel could pierce his shadow…"
A hand slammed the book shut.
"Boring yourself to death, are you?" Margaery Tyrell stood over him, her smile as perfect as her gown. At sixteen, she was already a master player, her eyes alive with cunning.
CHARACTER DETECTED: MARGAERY TYRELL (Level 3 - Political Prodigy)
PERKS:
Rose of Highgarden (+40% Persuasion vs. Nobles)
Hidden Thorns (Can deploy poisons undetected)
"Lady Margaery." Arion stood. "Shouldn't you be planning a wedding or three?"
She laughed, light as bells. "Oh, I'm always planning those. But Grandmother said you'd seen the Night-Touched." Her smile faded. "Is it true? Their eyes are… black?"
Arion nodded. "And they don't die easy."
Margaery's fingers traced the book's spine. "There's a maester at the Citadel—Marwyn the Mage. He studies… unnatural things. If anyone knows how to stop these creatures, it's him."
NEW QUEST: THE MAGE'S SECRET
Objective: Travel to Oldtown and seek Maester Marwyn's knowledge.
*Reward: 150 XP, Intel on Night-Touched weaknesses.*
The dream returned as Arion slept in Highgarden's guest chambers.
He stood once more in the field of black grass, Dawnbreaker humming beneath his feet. The horned shadow loomed closer now, its armor etched with runes that bled.
"You cannot hide it forever."
Arion's hands burned. He looked down—his fingers were translucent, the same pale hue as the sword.
DREAMWALKING EVENT: MANIFESTATION
Effect: Physical changes begin in waking world.
He woke screaming.
His left hand—from wrist to fingertips—was no longer flesh. It shimmered like opal, cold and unyielding. The System's diagnostics flared crimson:
WARNING: DAWNBREAKER'S CURSE
Assimilation Progress: 5%
Effects:
+2 STR (Temporary)
-1 CON per day (Permanent)
Final Stage: Full transformation into "vessel."
A knock came at the door.
"Arion?" Margaery's voice, uncharacteristically hesitant. "Are you—"
The door opened. Her eyes locked onto his transformed hand. For a heartbeat, she didn't breathe. Then, with terrifying composure, she closed the door behind her.
"Well," she murmured. "That explains the dreams."
*PERCEPTION CHECK (WIS 7/10):*
Margaery has been dreaming of the horned shadow too.
"You've seen him," Arion said.
She didn't deny it. "Every night since the first Night-Touched appeared." She reached into her sleeve and produced a folded parchment. "This came for you. From Oldtown."
The seal was a raven with a key in its beak—the Citadel's mark. Inside, in a spidery hand:
"Seek the Glass Candle. Time runs short."
- Marwyn
QUEST UPDATED: THE MAGE'S SECRET
New Objective: Find Marwyn's Glass Candle in Oldtown.
The road to Oldtown wound through the heart of the Reach, its inns overflowing with refugees fleeing rumors of "black-eyed demons" in the Riverlands. Arion rode hard, his transformed hand hidden beneath a glove. The changes were spreading—tendrils of opal flesh now crept past his wrist.
ASSIMILATION PROGRESS: 8%
CURRENT EFFECTS:
*STR: +3 (Temporary)*
*CON: -2 (Permanent)*
At an inn called the Quill and Tankard, he overheard two acolytes whispering:
"…Marwyn's locked himself in the Black Vault again…"
"…they say he lit the Glass Candle…"
"…dreams of the dead walking…"
SKILL ACTIVATED: EAR TO THE GROUND
Clue Gained: Marwyn is in the Citadel's forbidden archives.
Oldtown itself was a marvel—a city of white towers and winding canals, dominated by the Hightower's blazing beacon. The Citadel's gates stood open, but the moment Arion crossed the threshold, the System flashed:
HIDDEN MECHANIC: ANTI-MAGIC WARDS
Effect: Magical abilities suppressed (Dawnbreaker assimilation paused).
A stout maester with ink-stained fingers intercepted him. "No weapons in the library."
Arion reluctantly surrendered Lady's Kiss and his sword. The moment the blade left his hip, his transformed hand ached.
DAWNBREAKER'S WHISPER:
"Return to me."
The Citadel's lower levels were a maze of dusty scrolls and snoring acolytes. The Black Vault, however, lay behind an iron door etched with runes. Arion didn't knock.
The door swung open before he touched it.
Inside, amidst floating globes of blue fire and skulls that chattered, stood Maester Marwyn—a bear of a man with a nose broken in three places and a chain heavy with Valyrian steel links.
"Took you long enough," he grunted.
CHARACTER DETECTED: MAESTER MARWYN (Level 5 - Mage)
PERKS:
Glass Candle Ignited (Can send/receive dreams)
Valyrian Lore Master (Deciphers dark magic)
Chainbreaker (Ignores Citadel restrictions)
Marwyn thrust a pewter cup into Arion's hands. "Drink. It'll slow the transformation."
The liquid tasted of burnt sugar and blood. The moment it hit his throat, the System registered:
POTION EFFECT: ESSENCE OF SHADE
Assimilation Halted (24 Hours)
Marwyn didn't wait for questions. He pointed to the center of the room, where a pale green candle flickered without melting. "Look into the flame."
Arion obeyed.
The world twisted.
GLASS CANDLE VISION ACTIVATED:
Scene: A frozen throne room. The horned shadow sits atop a dais of skulls. At his feet—a kneeling figure with silver hair and violet eyes. A crown of black ice rests upon their brow.
"The third head," the shadow whispers. "At last."
The vision shattered. Arion staggered back, gasping.
Marwyn's voice was grim. "The Night's Herald isn't just coming. He's choosing a vessel."
Arion's blood turned to ice. "Who?"
The maester's eyes flicked to Arion's gloved hand. "Someone already touched by his power."
QUEST COMPLETE: THE MAGE'S SECRET
REWARD: 150 XP | INTEL GAINED: NIGHT'S HERALD'S VESSEL
That night, as Arion lay in a Citadel guest cell, the dream came again.
The horned shadow stood closer now, its armor creaking like glacier ice.
"You resist," it mused. "But your blood is mine."
Arion's transformed hand burned. The opal flesh spread to his elbow.
ASSIMILATION PROGRESS: 12%
NEW EFFECT:
Night-Touched ignore you (Friendly Status)
He woke to screaming.
Outside his window, Oldtown burned.
Black-eyed figures surged through the streets, their mouths unhinged, their fingers ending in claws. At the city's edge, standing atop a mound of corpses, was a figure in Lannister crimson—his eyes pools of endless night, his smile too wide.
CHARACTER CORRUPTED: "SER GREGOR CLEGANE" (Night's Herald's Champion)
LEVEL: 7
PERKS:
Unholy Strength (STR x2)
Terror Aura (Foe morale breaks on sight)
Marwyn burst into the room, a satchel of books in one hand, a Valyrian steel dagger in the other. "Time to go, boy."
Arion grabbed Lady's Kiss from under the bed. "Where?"
"North." Marwyn tossed him a map. "To the one person who might understand Dawnbreaker's curse."
The parchment unrolled. The destination was marked with a crude wolf's head.
Winterfell.
NEW QUEST: THE WOLF AND THE SWORD
Objective: Reach Winterfell and seek Bran Stark's guidance.
Warning: Assimilation will continue during travel.
As they fled through burning streets, the System pulsed a final, dire warning:
NIGHT'S HERALD ACTIVITY DETECTED:
Corruption Spread:
Riverlands: 35%
Reach: 15%
Next Target: The Westerlands.
The Long Night had begun.
The road north was a graveyard in the making.
Arion and Marwyn rode hard, leaving Oldtown's pyre-smoke behind. The Reach's golden fields gave way to the war-scarred Riverlands, where villages stood abandoned, their crops rotting in the fields. The few living they encountered spoke in hushed tones of black-eyed riders and entire holdfasts gone silent overnight.
NIGHT'S HERALD CORRUPTION UPDATE:
Riverlands: 45%
Reach: 20%
Westerlands: 10%
Marwyn rode like a man half his age, his maester's robes traded for a brigandine and a broadsword. The Valyrian steel dagger at his belt caught the light like a sliver of frozen blood.
"Keep your glove on," he grunted as they forded the Blackwater Rush. "If the wrong people see that hand, they'll burn you before the Night's Herald gets the chance."
Arion flexed his fingers—or tried to. The opal flesh now reached past his elbow, its surface etched with faint, glowing runes. The System's diagnostics were grim:
ASSIMILATION PROGRESS: 18%
EFFECTS:
STR +4 (Temporary)
CON -3 (Permanent)
Night-Touched Ignore You
New Debuff: Dawn's Hunger (Must consume Valyrian steel to slow assimilation)
They avoided the Kingsroad, sticking to hunter's trails and forgotten paths. At night, Marwyn forced Arion to drink bitter draughts that tasted of iron and lightning.
"Shade of the Evening," the maester explained, grinding more of the indigo leaves into a paste. "Slows the transformation. Won't stop it, though."
ITEM RECEIVED: SHADE OF THE EVENING (3 DOSES)
Effect: Assimilation halted for 8 hours per dose.
Side Effect: Vivid hallucinations (10% chance).
The first dose's vision struck as they camped near the ruins of Harrenhal.
Arion stood in a frozen throne room, his breath pluming in the air. The horned shadow loomed over him, its armor shifting like living darkness.
"You resist," it murmured, its voice the crackle of dying embers. "But your blood sings to me."
Arion's transformed arm burned. The opal flesh spread to his shoulder.
ASSIMILATION PROGRESS: 22%
He woke screaming, his left arm encased in shimmering crystal up to the collarbone. Marwyn cursed, forcing another draught down his throat.
"Faster than I thought," the maester muttered. "We need steel."
QUEST UPDATED: THE WOLF AND THE SWORD
New Objective: Find Valyrian steel to feed Dawnbreaker's hunger.
Clue: The Isle of Faces holds a hidden cache.
The Isle of Faces was a mist-shrouded nightmare.
Their stolen rowboat scraped ashore on the haunted island, where the last of the sacred weirwoods stood in a silent grove. The faces carved into the pale bark wept red sap, their eyes following Arion as he staggered onto the shore.
LOCATION DISCOVERED: ISLE OF FACES
DANGER LEVEL: EXTREME
Threats: Green Seers, Old Magic, ???
Marwyn made a warding sign. "Stay close. And don't touch anything."
The deeper they went, the heavier the air became—thick with the scent of wet earth and something older, sharper. Like lightning about to strike. The System's Valyrian Lore Skill flickered:
"Weirwood sap + dragonblood = ???"
Then they found the clearing.
At its center stood a weirwood unlike the others—its trunk blackened, its face twisted in agony. Embedded in its heartwood was a sword.
Not just any sword.
Dark Sister.
ITEM IDENTIFIED: DARK SISTER (VALYRIAN STEEL)
Last Wielded By: Brynden Rivers (Bloodraven)
Properties: ???
Marwyn sucked in a breath. "Well. That explains the dreams."
Arion reached for the blade—
—and the weirwood screamed.
A thousand voices shrieked through the grove. The ground trembled. From the blackened tree's roots, skeletal hands clawed free, their bones strung with rotting sinew.
ENEMY DETECTED: *WEIRWOOD WRAITHS (Level 4 - Undead) x6*
PERKS:
Rootbound (Cannot leave the grove)
Soul Scream (Stuns living foes for 3 seconds)
Marwyn's Valyrian dagger flashed, shearing through a wraith's skull. "Take the sword!"
Arion grabbed Dark Sister's hilt. The moment his opal fingers touched it, the blade shuddered, its rippled steel glowing blue-white.
VALYRIAN STEEL DETECTED!
Dawnbreaker's Hunger: SATIATED (For Now)
Assimilation Halted (48 Hours)
The wraiths recoiled, hissing. Arion swung.
Dark Sister moved like liquid light, carving through undead flesh like parchment. Where it struck, the wraiths burned, their bones crumbling to ash.
COMBAT LOG:
Dark Sister Crit (Wraith #1 Destroyed)
Dodge → Counter (Wraith #2 Annihilated)
*Marwyn Fireburst (Wraiths #3-4 Incinerated)*
As the last wraith fell, the blackened weirwood split with a sound like a dying god's sigh. From its hollow heart tumbled a skeleton clad in rotted black robes, its skull crowned with raven feathers.
ITEM OBTAINED: BLOODRAVEN'S CODEX
Contents: Forbidden knowledge on the Night's Herald.
Marwyn snatched it up, his eyes blazing. "Now this is worth the trip."
The codex's pages were filled with mad scribblings and maps of the Far North. One passage stood out:
"The Herald is no mere Other. He is the first Other. The one who knelt to the darkness when the world was young. His crown is his prison. His sword is his key."
Arion's stomach turned. "Dawnbreaker."
Marwyn nodded grimly. "And you're becoming its sheath."
QUEST UPDATED: THE WOLF AND THE SWORD
New Intel: The Night's Herald seeks to transfer his essence into a new vessel via Dawnbreaker.
Current Vessel Candidates:
Arion (18% Assimilation)
???
They rode harder after that.
The Neck was a sucking, stinking quagmire that slowed them to a crawl. Frogmen watched from the reeds, their eyes unblinking. Crannogmen, Marwyn said. Guardians of the North.
One night, as they camped on a rare patch of dry land, the System pulsed:
PROXIMITY ALERT: *NIGHT-TOUCHED WARBAND (12+ Hostiles)*
Arion grabbed Dark Sister. Marwyn extinguished their fire with a hissed curse.
The creatures emerged from the mist like nightmares given flesh—twisted versions of men, their eyes black pits, their fingers ending in claws. At their head rode a figure in ruined Lannister plate, his greatsword weeping shadows.
CORRUPTED SER GREGOR CLEGANE (Level 7 - Night's Champion)
STATUS: Hunting
"Run," Marwyn breathed.
They didn't get far.
The Night-Touched swarmed. Arion cut down three before a claw raked his back.
HP: 42/60 (-18, Bleeding)
Marwyn unleashed a gout of blue fire from his palm—Pyromancy (Level 2)—scorching two more. But Clegane kept coming, his shadow-wreathed blade humming with fell power.
Then—a horn blast.
From the trees erupted a dozen riders clad in fur and iron. At their head rode a giant of a man with a flaming sword.
CHARACTER DETECTED: THOROS OF MYR (Level 5 - Fire Priest)
COMPANY: BROTHERHOOD WITHOUT BANNERS
"Fire and blood!" Thoros roared, his blade carving through a Night-Touched.
The Brotherhood hit the warband like a hammer. Clegane snarled, bisecting one man with a single swing, but the tide had turned. With a final, baleful glare at Arion, the corrupted Mountain retreated into the mist.
Thoros dismounted, his jovial face grim. "You're a hard man to find, Arion of Nowhere."
Arion panted, Dark Sister dripping black ichor. "You're a long way from the Riverlands."
"Aye. We've been tracking him." Thoros nodded toward where Clegane had vanished. "He's heading north. Same as you."
Marwyn wiped blood from his brow. "Winterfell?"
Thoros' smile didn't reach his eyes. "Further. The Wall."
QUEST UPDATED: THE WOLF AND THE SWORD
New Intel: The Night's Herald moves on the Wall. Time is running out.
The Brotherhood escorted them as far as the Twins, where the Freys—those still alive—barred their gates and rained arrows on anyone who approached. They detoured west, through the barren hills of the Neck, and crossed into the North near the ruins of Moat Cailin.
The moment they passed the ancient fort, the temperature dropped.
Winter had come.
Snow swirled in the air as they pressed north. Arion's opal arm ached with every mile, the runes pulsing in time with his heartbeat. At night, the dreams grew worse:
The horned shadow standing at the foot of the Wall.
A pale sword buried in ice.
A boy with three eyes watching from the trees.
ASSIMILATION PROGRESS: 25%
Then, on a dawn stained pink with frost, they saw it—
Winterfell.
The ancestral seat of House Stark rose from the snow like a grim sentinel, its towers clawing at the iron sky. Smoke rose from its chimneys, and the direwolf banners snapped in the wind. But something was… wrong.
The System's Threat Assessment flared crimson:
ANOMALY DETECTED: TIME DISTORTION
Effect: Events within Winterfell are progressing faster than they should.
Marwyn cursed. "Bran's doing. The boy's playing with forces he doesn't understand."
As they rode through the gates, a voice echoed in Arion's mind—soft, sad, and infinitely ancient:
"You're late."
CHARACTER DETECTED: BRAN STARK (THE THREE-EYED RAVEN) - LEVEL ???
STATUS: Waiting
The game was nearing its end.