Chapter 626: Direwolf Skull in the Ice Plains

The stern expression on the face of Commander Jeor Mormont seemed to foretell that the matter at hand was not good news.

The weather-beaten face of Eddard Stark mirrored the same sentiment. After a moment of contemplation, the Northerner gave a slight nod, his demeanor calm yet could easily be mistaken for arrogance or indifference.

"So be it, let's proceed," he said.

For a brief moment, Eddard forgot that he was now just a soldier of the Night's Watch and no longer the noble Duke of the North. He strode forward with a firm grip on his sword hilt, the grey wolf skin fluttering slightly over his black cloak with each step.

On the other side, 'Handless' Colin caught this scene and quickly glanced at Commander Mormont, noticing no objection from him.

After all, Mormont once pledged allegiance to the Stark family. Although his rank temporarily surpassed Eddard's, any arrogance on his part would be a dishonor. Jeor Mormont was not a man of such character.

"Lord Eddard Stark, we have met before. I am..."

Maester Pylos, wearing a chain around his neck, approached shakily.

Once a Grand Maester with a white beard, his maester's chain had been stripped away. Yet, Pylos somehow acquired another chain to adorn himself with. But in the Night's Watch, there were no rules from the Citadel, and no one bothered about his little schemes.

As Eddard passed by Maester Pylos, he merely nodded in acknowledgment after hearing Pylos' words.

"Maester Pylos, indeed we have met," he responded briefly, continuing on without waiting for Pylos to finish, leaving the pretend-limp old man trailing behind.

Eddard Stark, Commander Mormont, Maester Pylos, and their entourage hurried back to the scene of the incident. By now, many Night's Watch soldiers had gathered around, peering into the center of the crowd, their intermittent gasps of horror breaking the silence.

"Oh my gods."

"This is horrifying."

"Is this what we are up against in the future?"

Among the onlooking soldiers, many were southern nobles exiled to the frontier following the King's Landing trial. Some had never seen a White Walker before and only heard tales of their terror. However, now, witnessing the 'masterpiece' left behind by these monsters, panic inevitably set in.

In contrast, the soldiers from the North seemed more composed. Most surviving northern soldiers had faced the White Walkers in battle, with only a few recently recruited from the northern refugees.

They had fought these 'monsters' face to face, yet the grotesque scene before them was something they had never witnessed, leaving them exchanging worried glances and whispers.

"Make way!"

"Make way!"

"Commander Jeor Mormont!"

"Lord Eddard Stark!"

As Eddard and Commander Mormont arrived, the crowd parted, making way for them to reach the center of the scene.

"Raven" Yoren and other veteran members of the Night's Watch led the way. The crowd, out of respect, created a passage for the men to enter and behold the scene.

A sharp intake of breath was heard as Eddard, seeing the scene for the first time, couldn't help but gasp. His deep-set eyes narrowed as they scanned the horrifying scene before him.

The ground was littered with corpses and severed limbs, with frozen blood splattered across the soil and snow. Human arms and horse heads spiraled from a central point, creating a massive windmill-like pattern. From a bird's-eye view, it formed a sinister gigantic circle that was soul-chilling.

"These damned creatures are dabbling in 'art' again, are they?" Eddard's brow furrowed as he expelled a breath of misty air, turning to Commander Mormont.

The two had fought side by side against the White Walkers at the Wall and Winterfell. The first White Walker to be killed in modern history was slain by King Robert himself, and it was during that time Eddard and Jeor Mormont had first encountered the White Walkers' 'artistry'.

The creatures had a perverse fondness for arranging human and animal corpses into strange patterns, the meaning of which remained unclear.

Was it to instill fear? Did the White Walkers hope to deter humans?

Or was it some dark sacrificial ritual unknown to them, where the White Walkers formed these circles with corpses as offerings to some nefarious deity?

"Not just that," Commander Mormont, his balding head surrounded by a ring of white hair, shook his head as he replied.

"Torches!"

His stern face remained unchanged as he called for torches, exhaling a cloud of mist before stepping towards the center of the formation.

"Follow me, Lord Stark."

Eddard, somewhat puzzled by Mormont's intent, still followed him towards the center, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword.

A soldier of the Night's Watch, clad in black, handed a torch to Commander Mormont, who then proceeded to the heart of the formation, illuminating the area with the torchlight.

As the day had turned to dusk, the ominous circle's center was obscured from view. But as they approached and the torchlight dispelled the darkness, Eddard finally saw what lay at the core of the formation.

It was a massive wolf's head, larger than any Eddard had ever seen. Its once pristine fur was now filthy, matted with blood and dust. Its ferocious maw opened wide, showcasing formidable fangs. The pair of blood-red eyes stared unyieldingly at the two men, as if ready to snap at them at any moment.

"Is this... a direwolf?" Eddard stepped closer to examine the wolf's head, then crouched down for a closer inspection.

His hand gripped the dagger at his side, fearing a sudden attack from the presumed-dead creature. It wasn't the first time the White Walkers played such tricks.

There was a previous incident where human and animal corpses were arranged in a sinister formation. As human soldiers approached, the heads of the corpses suddenly screamed in unison, scaring the soldiers witless, leaving some with lasting psychological scars.

Eddard recognized this direwolf head as a symbol of the Stark family, an animal that should not exist south of the Wall.

"Do you think this is a warning, Lord Stark?" Commander Mormont, torch in hand, looked down at Eddard who was still crouched on the ground.

However, Eddard seemed to not hear him, his attention fixated on a small bow lying next to the direwolf's head. He picked it up and examined it closely.

As he turned the bow over, he saw a name etched into the handle in a childlike script:

Lyanna Stark.