Winters Shadow (Moved to another account)

Chapter 1: The Prophecy of the Old Gods

The cold was biting.

Will's eyes snapped open, his body frozen stiff, his limbs numb and throbbing with pain.

It was merely the deep night of early winter, a brief nap while on duty, so how did it suddenly become so frigid, as if he had plunged into an ice cellar?

Wait, what was this he was seeing? Why was the world tilted, and why was his gaze so close to the ground? The sparse, withered brown grass seemed to stretch endlessly, with remnants of snow not far off.

Am I dreaming? When did the hospital corridor transform into this?

Instinctively, Will attempted to raise his head, only to discover that his neck refused to budge. It was as if an overwhelming force was bearing down on him, his head seemingly slanted and pressed against a slab of ice. The cheek in contact had lost all sensation from the cold, and the air was so bitterly cold that each breath felt like daggers piercing his lungs, causing Will indescribable pain.

Was this a nightmare? Was he being haunted?

As an intern doctor, Will did not believe in ghosts or deities, so he didn't believe in being haunted. Yet now, he was willing to entertain the possibility!

He struggled with all his might once more, but to no avail. Panic set in. No, this didn't feel like a dream, but a tangible reality. His nostrils caught a strong scent of blood, and from the corner of his eye, he spotted a dark, icy object beneath his face. It resembled a piece of iron or a fragment of black wood, and the scent of blood emanated from it. With a doctor's expertise, Will recognized the brown stains on the object as dried, hardened bloodstains.

What was happening? What was happening? He was no longer in the hospital; he was in a strange and terrifying place, immobilized by someone's weight. And it wasn't night, but daytime.

Suddenly, a voice boomed, deep and powerful, as formidable as a mountain: "In the name of Robert of House Baratheon, the First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm, I, Eddard of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, sentence you to death."

Wait!

Why did those words sound so familiar?

A Song of Ice and Fire?

Game of Thrones?

He was a fervent fan of Game of Thrones and a staunch supporter of House Stark.

With a resounding clang, a flood of information inundated his mind. In an instant, Will realized he had truly traversed time and space, arriving in the mystical world of ice and fire, embodying the Night's Watchman Will.

Will, a poacher exiled to the Wall for hunting stags in the forest of House Mallister, a seasoned thief renowned for his stealth and tracking skills, and not a young man, but middle-aged.

Days ago, the three-man patrol from the Night's Watch, comprising Will, Gared, and their superior, Waymar Royce, ventured into the haunted forest and encountered the Others, who had been extinct for eight millennia. Gared and Waymar Royce met their end, and Will, paralyzed with fear, fled south. Days later, he was apprehended by Stark's cavalry. According to the laws of the Night's Watch and the North, Will was to be executed, and it was to occur now.

Will, the unfortunate soul, had tragically become this hapless Will.

The sound of metal rang out, long and drawn, as someone above him unsheathed a sword. A sense of lethal intent and death descended from above.

In a flash of life and death, Will, now one with the soul of the original Will, shouted: "Lord Eddard, wait! I bear a prophecy from the Old Gods."

The icy air brushed against Will's neck, and he cried out in a shrill, desperate voice: "Winter is coming, Lord Eddard, I have a message from the Old Gods to report." His voice was so piercing and intense that it stirred the soul.

The renowned Ice sword halted in mid-air, a testament to Eddard's exceptional swordsmanship.

A prophecy from the Old Gods?

House Stark worshipped only the Old Gods: the deities of ancient times.

"Lift him up!" The deep, authoritative voice was like a mountain's weight.

The cold blade of Ice made Will's neck as stiff as stone, unable to bend.

Will was roughly hauled to his feet, confronting a man as formidable as a bull, with a robust physique and towering height. His face was shrouded in a steel-like beard, his skin a frostbitten brown. His eyes were a cold, grayish-brown, and he wielded a super-wide greatsword in his massive hands. The sword's length was not much shorter than Will's height, and the giant man slowly embedded the sword into the ground, its blade gleaming with a silver light.

With one glance at the blade's brilliance, Will knew the sword was exceedingly sharp, much like the surgical steel he was familiar with.

Having narrowly escaped death, Will's heart raced like a tempest, and as he surveyed his surroundings, he noticed several small horses on a gentle slope to his left, with a few teenagers mounted on them. One of them was a mere child of only a few years, with striking features. If the plot hadn't deviated, this child was undoubtedly Bran, aged seven. The other three teenagers all carried themselves with an air of distinction and had penetrating eyes, suggesting that these solemn-looking individuals were Jon Snow, Robb Stark, and Theon Greyjoy.

Behind the teenagers, at a slightly greater distance, were more than a dozen lance riders forming a loose semi-circle. They were expressionless, their gazes indifferent and cruel, regarding Will as if he were a pitiful little insect. The leader of the riders held a large banner that, in the cold wind, unfurled to reveal the intimidating head of a giant wolf—the emblem of House Stark.

The direwolf of House Stark!

Before his transmigration, Will had been an ardent supporter of House Stark. Now, his fervor had waned, replaced by the simple desire to survive.

Evidently, his "winter is coming" had arrived.

Without needing to guess, the individuals standing to Eddard's right were likely his men: the one with the gloves was probably his captain of the guard, Jory Cassel; the old man eyeing Will with a frown was likely the master of horse, Hullen; the stocky man with a short neck, grayish-white hair, and a steel-like stubble was probably the castle steward, Desmond; and the two young men, based on familiar plot points from the original text, were a guard and Hullen's son, Hal.

In short, all these details were taken in by Will in a single glance.

Whether it was a dream or not, his immediate concern was to save his life.

Will still felt a profound sense of disorientation.

"Lord Eddard, I am not a deserter from the Wall. I have received a prophecy from the gods of the First Men, and according to this prophecy, I am here specifically to convey a divine message to you. Once I have delivered it, I will return to the Wall to continue as a man of the Night's Watch, loyal to my duty until my dying breath."

House Stark revered the gods of the First Men, the Old Gods, while Eddard Stark's wife, Catelyn, worshipped the Seven, the New Gods. Mentioning the gods of the First Men made Eddard's expression even more severe.

Eddard did not place much faith in prophecies, but the belief in the ancient gods of the First Men was deeply ingrained in House Stark.

No one responded to Will's words; they all watched him in silence, the atmosphere as icy as midwinter, even though it was actually late summer, and the true winter had not yet arrived.

Eddard Stark's gaze upon Will was as cold as the gleam of his greatsword.

"Winter is coming, Lord Eddard. I have a secret prophecy to tell you in private. The message from the ancient gods of the First Men must not be known to others. If you find that I am lying out of fear of death, I am willing to accept any punishment, even being torn apart and having my ashes scattered."

Still, there was no response. Eddard Stark stared at Will, unmoving. Will had referenced the Stark family's motto, "Winter is coming," indicating that he was not a mere uneducated man of the Night's Watch.

Eddard Stark finally nodded almost imperceptibly.

The captain of the guard, the master of horse, the castle steward, and the other burly men standing next to Will immediately stepped back, leaving only Will and Eddard facing each other.

Will lowered his voice, trembling slightly: "Winter is coming, Lord Eddard. One of the prophecies from the gods of the First Men tells me you have a bastard son named Jon Snow. In the shadows, a true dragon and a direwolf have been protecting him. In the darkness of winter, I see Jon Snow becoming a pillar that supports the sky. Lord Eddard, I do not understand the meanings of the dragon, the direwolf, and the pillar. I only pray that you can find divine inspiration from the prophecy."

Eddard Stark's pupils suddenly constricted, and his entire body shuddered. The veins on the back of his hands, gripping the sword hilt, bulged.