Rivers and Castles #25

As consciousness returned to him, Qhorin stirred, his eyes gradually adjusting to the dimly lit cave filled with gnarled, dry roots. Puzzlement etched across his face as he observed the peculiar assembly of the Children of the Forest, Benjen, and Edd.

"Well, it appears the lad managed to rescue me after all," he remarked, drawing the attention of the two rangers. A half-smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "And here I was thinking I'd finally be done with all this mess and get some proper rest."

Benjen retained his reassuring smile, though his words carried a certain weight. "Your watch isn't quite over yet, brother."

Qhorin let out a resigned sigh. "For the time being, then," he conceded, his voice trailing off. "I suppose there's still more left in me to give." Curiosity got the better of him as he inquired about Gale's whereabouts. "So, where's the lad, then?"

Edd pointed a finger behind Qhorin, drawing his attention to Gale. With his eyes closed, the young man sat on the ground before a peculiar, skeletal man ensnared in a tangle of dried roots.

Qhorin couldn't help but rub his temple in bemusement. "There's surely a perfectly logical explanation for all this," he muttered, turning his gaze back to Edd. "Let's hear it."

Edd scratched his head, a gesture that was emblematic of the bewildering tale he was about to share. He started with a note of hesitation, his words laden with the weight of the extraordinary events they had witnessed.

"Well, I wouldn't go so far as to call it logical, but there is an explanation, a rather peculiar one," he began, his voice hesitant yet determined. "It's a story that unfolds like this..." 

And with that, Edd proceeded to recount the entire narrative that had unfolded before them. He spoke of Gale's mysterious condition, the dark origin of the Night King, and the revelations bestowed upon them by the Three-Eyed Raven – a narrative filled with bizarre truths.

Qhorin listened intently, a wistful smile spreading across his face as the story neared its end. "In the end, he was no legendary hero or some prophesized savio-- just a lad caught in the wrong place and time." 

He cast a strange look at Gale. "Then again, I can name a few nanny tales that started just like this...."

Benjen, however, brought them back to the grim reality they faced. "It doesn't matters if he was born of prophecy or mere accident," he asserted with a determined shake of his head. "What matters now is that the Night King is bound to march south, and Gale might be our only chance to stop him."

Qhorin nodded in agreement. "Indeed," he said with a thoughtful expression. "But could anyone explain what the hell he's doing right now?" he inquired, directing his gaze back to Gale.

Edd, still perplexed by the sight, shook his head. "Honestly, I haven't the faintest idea," he admitted.

It was then that Leaf, who had quietly been observing the conversation, decided to offer her insight. "Allow me to explain..." 

...

In Gale's mental realm, he found himself standing on an expansive, verdant plane, the landscape dotted with imposing castles and winding rivers stretching to the horizon. 

Before him, the figure of a man emerged, and Gale immediately recognized him as the Three-Eyed Raven. However, this was not the aged, skeletal form he had seen earlier. 

Instead, the Raven had transformed into a man in the prime of his life, garbed in sleek black armor and a fur-lined cloak. He bore a longsword sheathed at his side and held a hunting bow in his hand. His obsidian-black hair flowed down to his shoulders, and a distinctive red birthmark resembling a crow adorned his cheek.

Gale regarded the transformed Raven with a sense of curiosity and acceptance. "So... how do we go about this?" he inquired, unperturbed by the Raven's changed appearance.

The man who was once the Three-Eyed Raven responded, "There is but one method by which I can impart knowledge that I myself lack. I will show you visions of someone who possesses it – the Night King himself."

Gale furrowed his brow at this proposition, bearing in mind the dangers of such a connection. He remembered how a shared vision had allowed the Night King to locate the Three-Eyed Raven's cave in the show. 

"Is this even safe?" Gale questioned, his expression marked by concern. "In the first place, isn't the act of sharing visions exclusive to greenseers? How is this even possible?" He swept his gaze around, his puzzlement evident.

"You are no greenseer. It's true," The Raven acknowledged with a solemn nod. "However, your very essence was transformed by the magic of the Children of the Forest—a magic bestowed upon them by the old gods as they bestowed the green sight upon me." 

His words hung in the air, carrying the weight of ancient wisdom. "This magic still courses through your being, intertwining with your existence, much like the green sight is a part of me... Through this connection, I can share my visions with you."

Gale contemplated this revelation, his brow furrowed. "You've yet to address the matter of safety," he remarked with a tinge of concern. "I'd rather not attract the Night King's attention."

The Raven's response was firm and unwavering. "Have no fear. It is entirely safe," he assured. "While a less adept greenseer meddling in the Night King's past might alert him, my sight is as far-reaching as it is subtle."

Gale's sigh echoed in the dimly lit cave, an audible testament to his lingering doubts. The prospect of delving into the realm of mind magic left him wary and unconvinced, unwilling to rush into the unknown.

"Let's say we go through with this," Gale began, his expression clouded by skepticism. "You show me visions of the Night King, and somehow he doesn't catch wind of it and turn up at your doorstep..." He paused, his frown deepening. "How long will it take for me to master these abilities?" he inquired, his concern palpable.

The Raven met Gale's question with unwavering certainty. "Two to three years, at most," he stated.

Gale's objection was swift and fervent. "Two to three years? I can't stay here for that long! By then, it might—" He began, only to be cut off as the Raven interjected.

"It will be too late to rally the undivided support of the Seven Kingdoms, I understand," the Raven responded with a knowing smile. "Rest assured, you won't need three years. A day, at most, to witness all that I can reveal..." The Raven elucidated. 

"The rest will be on you—contemplating and assimilating the knowledge you've gained."

Gale's skepticism lingered as he scrutinized the Raven's cryptic demeanor. The Raven's words had hinted at knowledge that Gale found unnerving. The revelation of his two former names and the insinuation that he planned to rally the forces of Westeros before King Robert's demise, which Gale did, had stirred unease within him.

"Are you sure you're not all-knowing?" Gale questioned with a grimace, his mistrust evident in his tone. The Raven, however, offered nothing more than a mysterious smile, leaving Gale even more unsettled. 

The prospect of dealing with someone who seemed to possess boundless knowledge was far from comforting, and Gale struggled to mask his discomfort despite expecting the Raven's know-it-all attitude. 

With a clenched jaw, Gale decided to proceed. "You know what? I don't even care," he stated, exasperation in his voice. "Let's just get this over with..." He gestured impatiently, indicating that he was ready to commence the process.

...

In the heart of the Haunted Forest, the wildling woman found herself with her back pressed against a towering cliff, a band of Craster's wives huddled closely behind her. From all directions, a relentless onslaught of wights charged toward them, their lifeless eyes fixed on their prey.

"That's why I told you to run!" the wildling woman growled, her voice laced with frustration. She brandished two wicked-looking axes, her knuckles white around the grips. "Now we'll all die here like dogs, and no one will bring news about the horn to Rayder!" She kept her gaze locked on the stampeding undead.

"Go where exactly?" Morag retorted bitterly, raising a torch to illuminate their grim surroundings. "We wouldn't have made it far anyway." Behind Morag, the other women armed themselves with whatever makeshift weapons they could find: small knives, clubs, torches, anything that might help them survive the impending onslaught.

The wildling woman was about to argue further, but the encroaching horde of wights silenced her. "Might as well go down kicking and screaming!" she declared with determination. 

With a fierce battle cry, she charged the oncoming wights, fully prepared to meet them head-on.

However, as she closed half the distance, a sudden rain of fire-tipped arrows descended upon the approaching undead horde, igniting the night with a fiery glow.

...

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