Chapter 151 – The Cave and the Withered Corpse
At first glance, the oval stone sealing the cave entrance looked utterly ordinary—gray-black in color, its surface crusted with hardened snow.
But once the snow was brushed away, its true nature became clear.
It wasn't stone at all.
It was a massive block of ice.
Ice so dark it bordered on black.
Draped in red robes, Melisandre reached out and lightly touched it—only to recoil at once. She withdrew her hand and looked toward Charles with a tight expression.
"It's filled with cold power," she said.
"Cold power?" Charles arched a brow and extended his own hand.
The instant his fingers made contact, a bone-piercing chill surged up his arm.
"So cold…"
He frowned slightly.
Though the Eye of Reality had already indicated that the object sealing the cave was no ordinary obstruction, it hadn't revealed the specifics. Now that he'd touched it, the sensation was unmistakable.
This wasn't stone.
Nor ordinary ice.
It felt closer to liquid oxygen from his past life—cold enough to strip warmth from the soul.
After observing it for a moment, Charles glanced back.
There weren't many people nearby.
Some soldiers were clearing snow around the mountain to ensure no other traps remained. Others had descended toward the enormous sinkhole at the mountain's base—peering down into its abyss, pondering how it might be crossed, or simply pacing restlessly.
The mountain was large; once dispersed, the troops seemed sparse.
Only Charles and Melisandre remained at mid-slope, accompanied by a small contingent of guards.
A dozen or so.
Enough.
At Charles's signal, the guards stepped forward and began prying at the dark ice-block using swords and other sturdy tools.
It was not easy.
All ten-plus men strained with clenched teeth, weapons wedged into narrow gaps. After long effort, they managed only to force open a thin crack.
The space allowed no more manpower; calling reinforcements wouldn't help. They simply had to endure, pushing again and again with brute persistence.
But persistence paid off.
With repeated exertion, the massive ice-block finally shifted.
It rumbled as it rolled free, gathering speed down the snowy slope. Soldiers below had already been warned; they scattered to either side, watching as the dark mass thundered past.
It rolled and rolled—
Until it plunged into the yawning abyss at the mountain's base.
The sound vanished into the depths.
Only after several long seconds did a deep, muffled boom rise from far below—so powerful it felt like the earth itself trembled.
"…That pit's deeper than I thought," Charles murmured, calculating the fall time in his head.
He let the matter drop and turned back to the now-open cave entrance.
And then he noticed something unusual.
Melisandre couldn't enter.
She had approached the threshold—but stopped as if hitting an invisible wall.
Her brow furrowed. She tried again, stepping forward cautiously.
Nothing.
An unseen barrier prevented her from crossing the entrance.
The red priestess stood there, halted by something intangible—something ancient.
Charles narrowed his eyes.
"Old Gods…" he muttered softly.
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Chapter 151 (continued) – The Cave and the Withered Corpse
While Charles had been examining the massive dark ice-block, the red priestess had already attempted to enter the cave.
No matter how hard she tried, however, an invisible wall sealed the entrance, barring her from taking even a single step inside.
Charles tried it himself.
There was no resistance whatsoever.
He walked straight through.
Turning from the dim interior to look outside, he saw the faint irritation on Melisandre's face.
"Seems they don't welcome you," he remarked lightly.
"That only proves the dark false gods fear the coming of light," she replied with a cold snort, abandoning further attempts.
"Be careful," she added before stepping away from the entrance and heading toward the vast abyss below, clearly intending to investigate the sinkhole instead.
Charles then motioned for several guards to try.
They failed as well.
No one could pass—
Except Jon Snow.
"Why can I…?" the young Night's Watch ranger asked in confusion, touching the cave's blackened stone edge. He felt no barrier at all.
"Because he likes the Starks," Charles answered casually, glancing down the descending tunnel. "Let's hope our ally hasn't been wiped out."
Muttering to himself, he pulled out a sheet of inscribed parchment. After a brief incantation, flames flickered to life in his left hand, casting light into the tunnel. In his right, he drew a short sword and began moving cautiously downward.
Jon followed silently behind.
Charles didn't know whether danger lurked inside. Bringing a weapon was only prudent.
But perhaps he was being overly cautious.
After only a few steps, someone approached from the darkness.
---
Before he even saw the figure clearly, a notification from Eye of Reality drifted across his vision.
The newcomer was short—child-sized, barely reaching Charles's abdomen.
Under the firelight, she wore a cloak woven of green leaves. Her skin was an unusual deep brown, mottled and textured like deer hide.
And she was staring fixedly at the flames in Charles's left hand.
"You can cast fire magic here?" she asked.
Her voice was sweet—unsettlingly so. It didn't match her small body at all. Instead, it carried an undertone of maturity and ancient weariness, laced with genuine surprise.
"Hello," Charles greeted gently.
Noticing the torch she carried, he shook his hand and extinguished his spell. The act seemed to surprise her even more.
She bowed in an unfamiliar gesture before speaking again, sorrow coloring her tone.
"We thank you for coming. The white demons have sealed us in for days. We have been unable to leave."
"You walked into their trap," she added softly.
That much was obvious.
Charles shrugged.
"They blocked us in. We wanted to warn you… but we cannot speak beyond this place."
"Can you deal with the sinkhole outside?" Charles asked. "Build a bridge, or something similar?"
She shook her head.
"It is filled with cold and death. Our power cannot approach it."
"Do you at least have enough supplies?"
Another shake of the head.
"No…"
So that was the real problem.
Charles sighed but didn't panic. If necessary, he could use the Traversal Gate to transport food here. No one would starve. Still, he preferred not to rely on that unless absolutely forced.
As he considered options, the childlike forest being spoke again in her soft voice:
"Perhaps the greenseer has a way."
She blinked at him.
"Come. The greenseer is waiting for you."
Charles had no objections. He had come precisely to find the greenseer—the so-called Three-Eyed Raven.
He gestured for Jon to stay close and followed her deeper into the cave.
---
The narrow tunnel wound steadily downward—sometimes steep, sometimes gradual.
The surrounding black stone was hard and slick with moss and faintly glowing fungi. Torchlight revealed only the immediate path ahead; beyond that lay thick darkness. Behind them, the entrance's light dwindled to a faint sliver.
Charles had expected a long descent.
Instead, they arrived sooner than anticipated.
They stepped into a vast cavern chamber deep within the mountain.
Dozens of small figures—creatures much like their guide—stood throughout the hall, staring unblinkingly at the newcomers. At a glance, there were at least fifty of them.
And at the far end, seated within the trunk of a weirwood tree, was a withered corpse.
Its robes were tattered. Its face gaunt and hollow. Pale hair was tangled with dark red leaves and mushrooms. Branches coiled around its body—one even piercing through its empty left eye socket before burrowing into its neck.
When Charles met its gaze, the corpse's single remaining red eye regarded him in silence.
Its thin, shriveled lips moved.
"Long time no see, Charles Cranston."